The Broken Mirror

~~~

The next day, Christine drove out to the house for what she hoped would be the last time. Anne came with her, as much for moral support as anything else. Bob wasn't there when they arrived, and Christine was grateful he had the decency to stay away. Christine packed up the rest of her clothes, the few pictures she had around the house, and the frame from the broken mirror. She and Anne packed four boxes of books, including the cookbook shelf, and a few CDs and DVDs, and that was it. Christine was a little shocked to realize how little an impact she had on the house that she had shared with her husband for over two years.

Over the next few months, Anne and Christine settled into their new shared life together. They weren't a couple, certainly, but they were closer than roommates. Christine felt a little like she had a brand new big sister, and potentially something more when she was ready, and it was wonderful. It was the first time since she was a little girl that she lived with someone and felt completely comfortable. She had loved Bob when they were married, but there was always a little distance between them, and living together was an effort. Living with Anne felt perfectly natural, no effort at all.

For Anne, it was a little more complicated. Christine was her best friend, but the more time they spent together, the more Anne realized she needed Christine to be more than just her best friend. Living together was wonderful, but being around Christine made her heart ache a little. She was willing to give Christine some time to get over her life with Bob, even a lot of time, but she couldn't live this way forever.

Christine quickly discovered that Anne was a very good cook, and they really enjoyed cooking and eating together, so they expanded their kitchen arrangement when they had the time. Christine learned a lot in the process.

They also spent some time discovering the DC theatre scene together. They both liked theatre, in theory, but had never seen much before moving in together. Going alone was not much fun, and Bob certainly didn't have any interest.

After she got over the initial adjustment, Christine was much happier with her life. She didn't miss the big house - even the modest apartment was a little larger and much nicer than where she had grown up. And the commute was so much better she wondered how she ever put up with living in Virginia. It was like getting an extra hour of life back every day.

The only real reservation Christine had about living with Anne was after she went to bed at night and pleasured herself. She didn't feel guilty about the act anymore, but she did feel very strange when she was thinking about her roommate, who was just on the other side of her bedroom wall. She was very careful to stay quiet while she did it - she would have been mortified if Anne heard her.

Anne managed to put her feelings on hold and live with Christine as just a friend, and it became a very happy time in her life. She didn't have much in common with her previous roommate Jamie, a physical therapist who slept with any doctor who was interested, male or female. When Jamie finally found a guy who wanted more, Anne was relieved to have the apartment to herself. But living with Christine was almost like having a partner for everything but sex, and although she wanted more, what she had was great.

~~~

Christine found a divorce attorney the week after she moved out. Virginia is a pretty strict state, and she wasn't a DC resident when she was married, so she settled for a separation agreement and then a six month wait for a full divorce. She might have been able to push it faster with the glass-throwing incident, but there was no police record, and she didn't want it made public anyway. She didn't want to hurt Bob; she just wanted to be free of him. Bob apparently felt the same way - as long as she didn't make a claim on the house, he wanted the whole thing to be as quiet as possible. There was no benefit for him in letting it get ugly, other than spite, and quite a bit of risk to his reputation and his career.

She updated her paperwork with the firm once when she moved in with Anne, and then again when she was formally separated, but she didn't tell anybody else at work about it. It was her own business, and nobody else needed to know about it. She wanted to change her name back to Christine Dewey after the formal separation, but decided it would cause too much confusion.

Christine found herself working a little more - not commuting to Virginia made her schedule more flexible - but enjoying it less. She was still very good at her job, and billed more hours than most of her peers, but after her marriage fell apart, she started to question some of her other assumptions about what she wanted out of life. She was on track to become a partner in a few years, and that came with a lot of money, but she wasn't sure that was what she really wanted anymore. A conversation on a Friday afternoon a few months later forced the issue.

Anne had gone to Boston for a long weekend to visit her family, so Christine had been alone since the middle of the week, and was a little grumpy. Schulte walked into her office a little after four and closed the door. Schulte was kind of a legend in the DC legal community - Christine had studied a couple of his cases in law school, and he was a big part of the reason she came to the firm. The reality didn't quite live up to the legend - he was over eighty, and his best days were behind him. He still impressed the clients and drew in a lot of business, but he didn't do much actual work anymore, which was probably for the best.

He sat uncomfortably for a moment, and then started in. His tone sounded ominous, and his words very carefully enunciated, as if he had planned them out in advance. That couldn't be good.

"Christine, I'd like to discuss something with you. I'm concerned that your priorities may no longer be conducive to partnership in this firm."

He paused, and Christine waited for him to continue for an uncomfortably long moment, but he just sat there, apparently waiting for her to respond.

Christine didn't quite know where he was going, and asked "Was there something wrong with my work on the ZQSoft matter? The settlement was quite favorable."

"No, that was fine work. Fine work. I'm concerned with your ... situation. The firm values family and stability, as you know.

I understand you've separated from your husband. A husband who, I will point out, works for a very influential Senator. Further, it seems you've moved in with a single woman, a friend of yours. She's a physician, I believe.

I hope it's just a temporary arrangement. It's just not proper, living with another woman in a small apartment in Mount Vernon Square. Not the kind of lifestyle for a partner in this firm.

The other partners and I have been very impressed with your work, Christine, and I'd hate to see you fall short of your potential."

Christine felt like she'd been punched in the gut, but she remained calm and replied "I understand your concern. I'm going through a difficult phase in my life right now, but I've been very careful not to let it affect my work. I know the firm has certain ... expectations of its attorneys, and that my behavior is a reflection of the firm, even outside the office."

Schulte seemed satisfied with that, and stood up to leave.

"I'm glad we had this talk, Christine."

Christine sat in her office for a while after that, quietly fuming. She had suspected that word about her separation would get out and cause her trouble at work, and now she had confirmation. What she didn't expect was the implication from Schulte about living with Anne. It wasn't like they were sleeping together, despite Christine's fantasies, but she supposed that didn't matter. Perception is reality.

Christine knew she wouldn't make partner as long as she lived with Anne, definitely not anytime soon and maybe not ever. It didn't matter how much she billed, or if she was a better lawyer than any of the other associates. She had given them an excuse to pass her over, to promote somebody else, and they would take it.

~~~

Christine left early that day, and she was in a foul mood. She wanted to go home to Anne and bitch about how unfair it all was while Anne told her it would be okay. But Anne was still in Boston with her family, and wouldn't be home until late the next afternoon. She couldn't even call - Anne had texted her that they were going out for the evening, and her phone would be off.

She didn't want to go home to an empty apartment, so she went downstairs and across the street. There's an old bar that's been there forever, and generations of politicians, lobbyists, lawyers and journalists have gone there to do business and drown their sorrows.

The place was quiet - it was still fairly early. Christine sat at the bar and ordered a Scotch, neat. She sat for a while swirling the Scotch around her glass before she took a sip. She didn't really like Scotch, but she could appreciate it, especially the good stuff. It tasted like fire, but went down smooth. She took her time with it, getting the full experience out of every sip.

She had just finished her second when he sat down next to her. She hadn't noticed him come in, but he had her full attention now. He was improbably handsome - well over six feet, perfectly cut dark hair and a strong, rugged face weathered just enough to convey maturity, not age. Christine sized him up in an instant: Texan. High priced lobbyist, probably oil and gas. Apartment in the city, ranch back home.

He bought her another drink, and one for himself. When he introduced himself, Christine knew she was right about Texas. They chatted for a while, and she found out she was right about the rest too, mostly. He used to work for an oil company, but had recently become chief lobbyist for a business-funded think tank. It was really all the same to him; he was a political operative, not a policy driver.

Christine nursed her last drink for a long time - three was one more than she usually allowed herself - while he caught up. When the subject of the apartment in the city came up, he asked if she wanted to see it.

A voice in her head started yelling at her as soon as she said yes, but she ignored it. "A one night stand with a lobbyist? What the fuck is wrong with you?"

Christine knew it was wrong, that she was doing it for the wrong reasons, that she would regret it in the morning, but she didn't care. She had already lost the perfect family, half of the perfect life that she had worked so hard for, and now the other half, the perfect job, was being ripped away from her.

This tall, handsome man wanted her, and she needed to feel wanted. It didn't matter why.

The apartment was everything Christine expected - compact but exquisite. This man really knew how to live. She was all over him as soon as the door shut - she didn't want him to change his mind, realize he had made a terrible mistake. Or maybe she was afraid she'd realize she was the one who had made the terrible mistake and run away.

Clothes were shed pretty quickly, and she found herself holding the third dick she had ever seen up close. She wondered if she should feel insulted that he wasn't completely hard, but the thing responded quickly enough to her touch. She took him in her mouth, but she really didn't know what to do from there. Bob had never been very responsive to oral sex. Fortunately, this man knew how to communicate what he wanted, with subtle moans and with his hands brushing against her face. He stopped her after a while, before he came, and she felt a little pride at doing a reasonably good job.

He picked her up and carried her to the bedroom - no man had ever been strong enough to do that before - and laid her on the bed. He paid just the right amount of attention to each part of her body, from soft kisses on her neck and her hardening nipples to the soft part inside her thigh, before she felt his tongue between her legs.

He was a very skilled, considerate lover, and if Christine had been there for the right reasons, she would have been screaming in ecstasy. As it was, she was a giant ball of frustration, without any hope of release. She tried to think of Anne, like she did when she touched herself, but that just led to guilt and shame.

So she did what she had done so many times with her husband - she faked an orgasm. She put a lot of effort into the performance - this man really was doing his best, and her problems were not his fault. He deserved her best in return. If he had any clue that it wasn't real, he had the tact not to show it.

While he was inside her, Christine made an effort to please him, kissing his neck and his ear and using all the tricks she had learned from two years of marriage. She did it partly out of a sense of obligation, but mostly she just wanted it to be over faster.

When she went into the bathroom to clean herself up, she buried her face in his bath towel and screamed out her frustration. He was asleep when she came out, so she quietly retrieved her clothes and made her way to the elevator.

The cabbie on the way home was unnaturally chatty, and Christine had to smile in spite of herself. But when she came home to the empty apartment, she had to face the full weight of what had happened to her, and what she had done, and she broke down in tears.

She had it out with herself about her career and what Schulte said to her, and she realized that she had been chasing a prize she no longer really wanted. She didn't mind the work - much of it was quite interesting - but she was always on the side of the big companies, because they were the ones who could afford her firm. Some of the things she did for them, like developing clear, solid privacy policies, made the world a better place. But much of it was defending companies that had screwed over their customers, and she had to battle her conscience a little to do that. And that was even before she considered the schmoozing she'd have to do as a partner.

So she decided Schulte was right, in a way - her priorities were not conducive to partnership in the firm. She thought briefly about going to another firm, or even striking out on her own. She knew some of her clients would follow her, partner or not. But that wouldn't be any better than what she was doing now.

There were plenty of other things she could do with her skill set and feel better about herself. The government probably wasn't hiring, but there were quite a few public interest groups in the area that might be looking. The pay wouldn't be as good, but she'd still make a comfortable living.

That left the other item - what she had done that night. For some reason, it had become a much bigger weight on her mind than her career, even though objectively it wasn't that important in the scheme of things. She was ashamed of herself for the one night stand, especially since she knew it was wrong before she did it, but she could live with that. What she couldn't live with, what was eating at her, was the sense that she had betrayed Anne.

She went to bed and thrashed about for a long while before finally falling asleep. When she did sleep, it wasn't very restful.

~~~

Anne was a little worried as she stepped off the Amtrak train. Christine had talked about meeting her at the station and then going somewhere for a late lunch on the way home. Anne had texted from the train, but she hadn't heard anything from Christine since the previous afternoon. Anne looked around the station a bit to make sure she hadn't missed her, and then headed home.

When Anne walked in the door, Christine was curled up in a ball on the couch under a blanket. The TV was on, but Christine wasn't really watching. Anne could tell she had been crying earlier in the day. Christine was a big girl - six feet tall, with broad shoulders and long, athletic legs - but Anne thought she looked small sitting there on the couch.

Anne dropped her bag, sat down next to Christine and put her arm around Christine's shoulder. "Wanna tell me about it?"

Christine just sat there for a while, trying to come up with the words to tell Anne what had happened and how sorry she was for betraying her. The job stuff was easier, so she started with that.

"Schulte came into my office yesterday afternoon and basically told me I wouldn't make partner unless I went back to my husband."

Anne had expected it had something to do with work, but she wasn't prepared for that.

"That's terrible, sweetie. They can't really expect you to go back to Bob, can they?"

"Not really, but it gives them an excuse to pass me over."

Christine paused for a moment, trying to phrase the next part as delicately as possible. "And they don't like the idea of me living with you. Schulte said it was 'not proper'. There's nothing improper about it at all - we're just roommates - but that doesn't matter. Even the possibility that you and I might be, well, whatever is enough to hold up my career."

Anne was outraged for Christine. "How can they do this to you, after how hard you've worked for them? Can't you do something, legally? Aren't there discrimination laws or something?"

Christine was touched and a little amused by Anne's outrage, and smiled. "Not really. Maybe if they fired me, but they can promote whomever they want to partner.

Anyway, it's okay. It made me think about what I really want from my life, and I don't think being a partner is it anymore. Don't get me wrong - the money would be great - but I want to do something better with my life than defending the Fortune Five Hundred.

I'm going to start looking for something on Monday - probably some sort of public interest group. Something will work out."

Anne was kind of shocked - Christine was taking everything so much better than she would have. But something else had to be wrong - she wouldn't be moping on the couch if she had already sorted out her career issues.

"You seem like you're upset about something else too - do you want to talk about it?"

Christine buried her head in Anne's shoulder and almost shouted "No!"

Anne put both arms around her and held her while she cried. "It's okay, sweetie. You can tell me, whatever it is, but you don't have to."

There was nothing in the world Christine wanted less than to talk about what she had done the night before, especially with Anne. She wanted to bury it deep, forget it ever happened. But she knew if she didn't say something, right then, she would never be able to look Anne in the eye without guilt and shame.

She stared off sounding a little angry. "After Schulte had his little talk with me, I was really pissed, so I went to the bar across the street."

After that, though, her voice got small and soft, and Anne strained a little to listen. "I met a guy and I went home with him. I knew it was a terrible idea, but I did it anyway. I felt awful the whole time I was with him - how could I do something so stupid? And the worst part was how ashamed I felt when I thought about what you would think of me. Can you ever forgive me?"

Each word was ice water in Anne's veins. At first, she just wanted to kill this man, whoever he was, for preying on Christine. She was fragile and vulnerable and he had no right. Then she started to think about what Christine had done, and why she had done it. Maybe she should have felt hurt and betrayed, but all she saw was Christine's pain, and she knew she had to do what she could to make it go away. She held Christine closer and rocked back and forth a little.

"It's okay, sweetie. Everything is going to be okay. I'm right here, and I'm not going anywhere. You're a sweet and wonderful person and you're my best friend."

Christine sat up and looked Anne in the eye and asked "You're really not mad at me?"