Laura and Bill's Story

Did I even know what love was? Probably not I thought, but other than Warren I had no yardstick by which to compare. Hell, we had only had coffee twice. Both times had basically been at 'my' bidding truth be told. It couldn't be love I rationalized. The wine now gone, I left it unsettled in my mind in favor of bed.

That lonely conversation over too much wine in my apartment haunted me all summer in New York. Returning senior year, I was determined to buckle down and finish my undergraduate degree, take the LSATs and get into law school.

As I mentioned at the start of this tale, senior year was nearly a disaster. The reason is Bill Davenport. He hit me like a freight train as I was starting my senior year. Not literally, but emotionally he took my breath away. A fellow law major, he matriculated in from Boise State, Idaho. I could barely spell Boise, much less have any real idea where it was located geographically in the country, but that mattered little to me.

By our senior year in pre-law, the class sizes were relatively small. Add to that, there were always some type of group project that required a pairing off of three to five of us depending upon the class. It was in contract law, that I first met Bill. On the surface, he wasn't model gorgeous, but certainly attractive enough. He had brown hair, brown eyes, and short cut hair. But he had an air of confidence. He was six feet even, broad shouldered with long legs that looked good in shorts.

He dressed a little preppy with an Alligator shirt and blue or white button down over it, which I found interesting considering his mid-west upbringing. I found out in one of our contract law group projects he wasn't dating anyone, since he just moved to the area and didn't know anyone. We talked about the project which was just a threesome with one other guy name Steve Jenkins. Steve was the typical book nerd, being able to recite chapter and verse of virtually any obscure judge's opinion on anything constitutional. He was a good asset to our little team, I thought.

Our assignment was passed out at our second class. We were given a contract and told it had intentional flaws, and our job as a team was to find all of them, then provide corrected language. Our final was an open debate as to why we thought the language we singled out was incorrect or flawed, offer our opinion as to why, then demonstrate the better corrected language. The contract was about fifty pages long and was based on a real estate transaction. It would take all of us, divvying up the work evenly of tirelessly going through our little patch of the contract as well as viewing it against the overall contract to finish the assignment I concluded.

Being in close proximity with Bill during our group sessions twice weekly, I could tell, he thought this assignment was a little beneath him. After only two weeks, he had diagrammed his section of the contract, even offering language corrections. I was impressed having only gotten through a cursory read of the entire contract once. Steve also had more to show after two weeks than I did.

Bill offered to share his analysis with the group. I, being the stubborn, self-centered person I still was, claimed it was too soon. I needed another week of my own analysis before we started showing each other our finds.

I busted my ass that week to dig into my section. I thought I did a great job. At the next week's group meeting I was ready to compare notes. I even offered to go first.

After I finished, Bill got this look on his face that said, "Not bad, but you missed a few of the finer points."

He began to show me how if I had simply tweaked the opening clause in my section, by redefining it, that all of my other numerous changes were unnecessary, as one change at the beginning essentially changed the meaning throughout the rest of the contract. I felt like a fool, honestly.

He offered to take the group out for drinks when we finished, and Steve declined, stating he wanted to go study some more. Figures, now I was going to get stuck with the smartest guy in the class so he could rub it in.

He did take me for drinks, but he didn't rub my nose in my foible. Instead it was one of the nicest times I can remember spending in the company of any man. He seemed grounded, like he knew something the rest of us didn't. Perhaps it was just his confidence coming through. He truly believed that success after law school lay just around the corner. He piqued my interest during that conversation.

We talked about goals, the future, even views on marriage and kids which I thought odd at the time with law school just on the horizon, where no one had time for dating much less, marriage or children. I dismissed the conversation as just meaningless banter.

We finished our contracts class, earning our 'A'. Much of the rest of the class had missed the same thing as I had initially. They didn't take the larger view like Bill had. Propped up somewhat by the fact the rest of the class interpreted the contract as I had, my self-esteem was buoyed.

Bill and I went our separate ways over Christmas break. I thought about Warren of course, but not in the same light as I thought about Bill. I suppose I categorized Bill as the real deal, solid, whereas, I thought Warren was an enigma. He would be too driven in his personal quest for wealth to really ever amount to anything worthwhile from a relationship perspective, even though I knew he was smart and hard-working -- two very important tenets to success.

I was very pleasantly surprised, when Bill called my parent's home the day after Christmas asking if I was home. I no longer needed a nanny of course, but the butler had answered the phone that day asking the caller's name. He repeated the name Bill Davenport before handing me the phone with his white gloved hand.

Somewhat startled, "Hi Bill, uh how did you get this number?" This was long before cell phones were popular, and my parent's phone number was unlisted. I was genuinely curious.

"Hi Laura. You're right, it is, as I came to find out. But after a little detective work, found out you shared an apartment with a girl named Sheila. She had your number and was more than happy to share it with me if I invited her to dinner." He sounded pretty proud of himself. I'll bet Sheila was more than happy to go to dinner with Bill. That little tramp, I'll bet she was falling all over herself and out of her clothes, trying to take Bill to bed as quickly as possible after dinner.

Sensing my hesitation, Bill followed up, "Let's just say, I found out a few things about Sheila. And you too." He just stopped, leaving me to my own thoughts about what that meant. My anger was starting to surface, but then I stopped just as quickly and asked myself why? It wasn't like Bill and I had ever had a date much less even kissed. We parted platonically before Christmas break. Was I jealous of that little trollop, for bedding what I assumed to be my man? Perhaps.

"Laura, look, I did take Sheila to dinner. Let's just say she wasn't on her best behavior, but I was. I got your number, that's all. Since I'm a gentleman, I'll never kiss and tell, but since there wasn't even that, there's nothing to tell."

I was relieved at that, again not sure why. "So why are you calling Mr. Private Eye?" I responded trying to lighten the mood between us, more for my benefit that his.

"Well, I thought since my father has business this week in New York City and I'm here with him and my mother, I wanted ask if you would like to have dinner with us Thursday night. I realize it's short notice, only being Monday, but this trip is last minute for him and my mother decided to tag along to catch a show."

My antennae was up. If the trip was last minute, how is it he had time to get my number after having dinner with Sheila? Something was fishy. Instead of twenty questions over the phone, I decided to accept his dinner invitation and ask more questions later.

Thursday rolled around faster than I would have liked, what with dress shopping, hair, nails, new shoes and jewelry. Bill had offered to pick me up, but I declined, indicating I would have our chauffer take me. I think it offended him a little, but didn't faze me in the least. I wanted to make a good impression not only on Bill, but his parents as well. Hence the need for all my ministrations regarding personal grooming and prepping for dinner.

Bill had chosen, or perhaps his father selected the Waldorf Astoria restaurant, one that my mother and I had dined several times, so I knew the food would be very good. Maybe we had more in common than I previously thought. This might be fun. I was starting to look forward to it.

Bill greeted me at the limo door, but before the chauffer could get around to open it, he was helping me out of the back. He was dressed in a very dashing dark blue suit, with polished shoes and a white handkerchief in his breast coat pocket. He escorted me to a table which I noted was empty. I suppose it was possible both his parents had to freshen up and chose just that moment to do so together, but I noticed there were only two place settings.

I was doing my best to hold up my little black dress with its spaghetti straps through my cover-up, balanced precariously on my black four inch pumps. I couldn't of course wear a bra with this dress, instead counting on my 36C very proud girls to stand up straight tonight.

I did have the decency to wear underwear along with stockings since it was cold. Bill was very appreciative and gave me several compliments. I had yet to take my shawl cover-up off since I was still shivering from just walking the ten feet from limo to front door. The temperature was in the low twenties by seven-thirty when I arrived thirty minutes fashionably late.

After being seated, we exchanged compliments and pleasantries. I inquired as to where his parents were. He told me they had gotten tickets to the "Phantom of the Opera" on Broadway. They expressed their regrets for not being able to attend, but they didn't often get to New York, and his mother really wanted to see the show. Something about it, sounded a little contrived. Just a little too convenient to my thinking. I asked a few follow-up questions to test his sincerity when he came clean.

"Okay, here it is Laura. I did come here with my parents, but we took a family vacation. We'd been planning it for over six months. This is my last year in school before law school when things will really get crazy, and my parents always wanted to come to New York. They do want to meet you, but I purposely picked tonight knowing my mother already had tickets to the show. I wanted to have dinner with you. I enjoy spending time with you, but was afraid if I didn't include my parents in the invitation you wouldn't agree."

And there it was. A heartfelt statement of his intentions. Finally, I thought, he succumbed to my charms, just like all the other boys and men in my life. But then, if I thought about it, I had succumbed to his. It was probably my last defense he broke through when he admitted he was pursuing me. I felt so sexy and loved at that moment that he would go through all that subterfuge to finagle a date with me. Dinner was great, now that the truth was on the table. We were both on equal footing. I had actually liked Bill quite a bit from the start. Not enough to completely erase Warren, but it was a strong start.

We traded childhood stories until the waiter came by for probably the tenth time indicating they wanted to close the restaurant. At about that time, my chauffer stuck his head into the lobby. I could see just the top of his cap coming through the door. I looked around and didn't realize the restaurant was empty.

We parted holding hands, with a brief kiss that left me wanting more as he helped me into the limo.

That was the turning point in our relationship. From dinner the next night with his parents all the way through supporting each other through law school which took three years instead of my planned two to the bar exam. We both passed on our first try. That was almost unheard of, but I expected it of Bill. I doubted myself a little, but was proud of our collective accomplishments.

We seemed like a good partnership. At least it felt balanced to me. We had decided not to pressure ourselves while in law school with getting married, instead choosing to live together. Not surprisingly, we had both been accepted to UCLA's School of Law. Bill got in because of his academic record and LSAT scores. I got accepted primarily because of my parent's bequeath of cold hard cash to UCLA since my LSAT scores were not nearly good enough. Graduating with a GPA of 3.5 didn't hurt my chances and did go a long way towards appeasing anyone's sensibilities during the admissions process, so I guess you could say I earned my way into law school at least part way.

Bill and I flew home after the whirlwind of graduation parties from law school to an August wedding in New York City replete with all the trimmings of a high society wedding. My mother had a grand time our last semester of law school, planning, organizing and yes scheming the details of the wedding with some of her highbrow socialites. I could have cared less. Bill and I had been a couple for over three years. The wedding was almost anti-climactic from my perspective. We did enjoy a perfect honeymoon in Greece, courtesy of my parents of course.

I really loved Bill and felt he loved and respected me. Our social life had been practically non-existent during law school, instead choosing to take solace in each other arms, for passionate love-making almost every chance we dared given our workloads. Our tiny two bedroom apartment, seemed a fitting beginning to the partnership. Our bedroom was our sleeping and recuperation area, while the second bedroom had two desks with chairs positioned so our backs were to each other for obvious reasons. It would have been all too easy for either of us to look up from studying, see the other one, and then jump immediately into a sexual frenzy.

Married life took us to Chicago. Bill had managed an internship at a fairly prestigious firm in the mergers and acquisitions department, while I took a somewhat less fancy job at a smaller local firm specializing oddly enough in real estate law. I guess that pre-law course on contract law and subsequent group project with Bill was finally coming home to bear fruit. It was a pleasant thought actually; thinking about how we met.

I loved Bill for all his smarts, calm demeanor and steadfast support he had provided to me through the last half of senior year, as well as law school. He was a passionate lover, as I came to find out that always saw to my pleasure first, before his. It seemed he and I were a perfect match.

Aside from the wedding and paying for law school, my parents chose not to insert their money into our relationship, which I believe helped us tremendously. Bill had a small nest egg with which he funded law school, but when that was depleted, he resorted to taking on a job in a small legal office for essentially minimum wage during our last semester of law school. It actually broke my heart to see him going to work, knowing I could more than easily afford to take care of both of us.

I suppose, men have their pride, and due to his, he felt it necessary to work to, "put food on the table." I accepted it, but never let on, that I had more money than 'God' at my fingertips. He felt good about it, and life moved forward. I still don't know if Bill ever knew how much money my parents were worth. I never told him and he never asked. My father insisted on a pre-nuptial agreement, which we both reviewed as strenuously as that first real estate contract. Neither of us saw anything glaring. It became a non-event.

We managed to buy a small condo on the Gold Coast, overlooking Lake Michigan not too far from the gaggle of stores on Dearborn Street that had recently sprung to life. I was in shopping paradise. It was a good place to call home. It had its own doorman, private parking and a view of the lake. What more could an upwardly mobile couple hope for with night life just a short cab ride away.

The next five years were tougher than I had ever thought they would be. We were both bearing down hard on thirty, each working our respective sixty to seventy hours a week to try and get a leg up on the next guy in our grunt level positions within the law firms we worked. Then Bill got his first big shot at first chair in a fairly substantial acquisition. The client was unimportant. The terms of the deal less so. The only important point is that he was virtually unavailable to me emotionally, physically and even mentally when he was home.

I didn't appear destined for stardom, working on boring house closing contracts, not the mega-deal real estate contracts I had hoped for upon joining the firm. Bill seemed to thrive at his firm. Truthfully, I reveled in his successes throughout the years. But I needed something more. I suppose I was still the spoiled little princess my parents had raised. The spoiled princess reared her ugly head from time to time, but Bill didn't have the patience or frankly the time to deal with her. He was dismissive at times, something I found quite infuriating.

I had hinted at having children, as I wanted them. Bill seemed unfazed and in fact told me he had thought maybe children might not be in our best interest just yet, since his career was starting to take off and he didn't want to be burdened with having children. That might have been the first betrayal from our first discussion on marriage and children over eight years previous. It certainly wouldn't be the last as I would discover.

I suppose in every relationship, a partner has to learn to give and take. I however, was much more into the taking as opposed to giving, and given my penitent for being spoiled began thinking about, "what if?"

Bill's Story

Growing up with modest means all my life, my parents scraped by to send me to Boise State. That made an impression on me. I had an older sister of six years, that chose to pursue a degree in nursing after graduating high school, but instead got pregnant, much to my parents chagrin. The guy was at least decent in offering to marry her. My sister Jana, declined his proposal. It shocked me, but practically devastated my parents.

We were raised Catholic in the relatively large, but very small town of Boise, Idaho. I, the younger brother, took it in stride never missing a beat from my studies, instead choosing to remain on the sidelines and let the drama unfold. It did. And I moved on, without collecting too much collateral damage in the process. My sister did have to deal with the disdain and wrath from my parents, but in the end, they came around as I suppose all parents do, to love and cherish their new grandchild, even taking Jana back into the fold.

My older sister was like a beacon to me. She stood in front, seemingly taking the hurtful comments from my parents while still standing proud once the dust settled. I came to respect her for her decisions and frequently sought her advice on all things. Being born first, I suppose she wore some of the rough edges off of my parents. By the time I came along, children were not that difficult to raise according to my mom. Maybe she was just tired, or Jana had really taken her toll on my parents.

I once asked Jana, if she had it to do over again, if she had any regrets about getting pregnant. She was quick to respond, that it was the best time of her life, before, during and after. I was confused and asked her clarify. She said, "I felt cherished while being pursed, loved and sexy while doing it, and joy at the outcome. Why would I have any regrets?" I guess that about summed up Jana's philosophy on life. It was one that made sense to me. I tried to adopt a similar approach.