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One thing that drove Lexa's mind in obsessive circles was not understanding people's motivations. Not only did she dislike irrationality and illogical arguments, she would fixate on them. Clarke made no sense to her. She obviously didn't know how to read dog behavior, which made Lexa doubt that Clarke had ever had a dog, yet she had chosen to hang out with her at the dog park. Lexa knew that this nagging thought would not go away on its own, so she googled the museum's department of conservation hoping to find Clarke's contact. Instead she found a list of 14 departments within the department.
Now, how would she explain how she had found her in case she asked? Oh, I just looked through all 14 departments on the website, no biggie!
The prospect of embarking on this labor-intensive venture made Lexa realize that she was just mildly curious about the blonde, yet she took a sip of chocolate chai and started browsing through the site anyway. Only when the room got dark and Lincoln started whining signaling his boredom, did Lexa notice that she'd been reading too much about the X-ray fluorescence. She looked away from the computer and tried to retrace her steps.
Due to the nature of Lexa's work, it was not uncommon for her to read about things beyond the scope of her own interests. Unless it was a simple contract, the translation had as much to do with the law as Slaughterhouse-Five had to do with killing animals.
She felt embarrassed when she remembered what she had been looking for. She closed her notebook and leaned back in her chair, reevaluating her interest in Clarke, while petting Lincoln. To his buoyant delight, she decided she needed some air to get her mind off things that didn't matter.
The next week was as routine as any. Lexa got more translations and pressing deadlines. She walked with Lincoln three times a day, but didn't hope or expect to see Clarke, who by the end of the week had become just another person who stopped to chat to her about her adorable puppy. Yet, as far as Lexa recalled, Clarke had been the only one who had introduced herself.
On Friday Lexa worked really hard not to let any of the translations hang over her head during the weekend. She planned to spend some quality time with Lincoln and Netflix on the couch in the next two days. When she was done proofreading her last project, she raised her eyebrow at the dog and said in a dead serious tone, "Would you care to join me on a promenade, sir?"
They didn't go to the dog park right away, but took a long route and then walked around the museum building. That was where Lexa saw her, with another woman, walking from the main entrance. Clarke was pretty, she thought, though she was not attracted to blondes. She was slim but with feminine curves. She was wearing tight clothes, no extravagant giraffes this time, but her grey long sleeve v-neck had a very risky cleavage.
For a moment Lexa hesitated calling her and almost decided against it, when Clarke noticed her and gave her a warm smile. Lincoln got impatient when instead of going to play with other dogs he had to wait for no good reason.
"I'm surprised you remembered me," said Lexa.
"You are hard to forget," replied Clarke. "And by you, I mostly mean the pooch," she quickly added as Lexa raised her right eyebrow.
"Do you actually like dogs?" Lexa gestured to impatient Lincoln to stay.
"Not really!" Clarke chuckled. "I'm scared of them, to be perfectly honest with you, but yours is adorable."
"Oh yeah, he's a real chick magnet!" Lexa winked at Lincoln.
"You're going to the park?"
"Yeah, wanna come?" Lexa asked just to be polite.
They walked in silence. Lexa was fidgeting with the leash.
"What's his name?"
"Lincoln. A tribute to my outraged twelve-year-old self, who read Gone with the Wind and decided that the US history is the epitome of injustice and prejudice."
Clarke raised her eyebrows.
"I was in love with Scarlett, which fueled my extensive research into the time period. Learning about Abe Lincoln made me want to become a lawyer. And President."
The dog park was completely silent because Lincoln was sniffing around completely alone. Lexa wondered why Clarke wasn't asking if she had indeed become a lawyer when she grew up. Clarke seemed to be pondering over something.
"I wanted to become a surgeon like my mother. I took all the AP classes, was a national chemistry olympiad finalist, busted my butt in college, did research work before I went to med school. I was in my third year of internship when I messed it all up."
Suddenly she stopped firing angry bullets of words and looked at her hands. She proceeded to speak more slowly, as though she was choosing her words very carefully.
"A friend of mine thought that I should see an outside counsel. He set up a meeting because I was paralyzed by the nightmare my life seemed to have become. After so many years, you know."
She shook her head and swallowed hard.
"Anyway, I went to see a lawyer, she turned out to be a fighter, exactly what I thought I needed. Things didn't go to court but my hospital fired me. I couldn't find any hospital to continue my internship at. And that was it."
Lexa felt uncomfortable at Clarke's oversharing. Though intrigued by what Clark might have done, Lexa knew she wasn't ready to extend a reciprocal gesture, so she felt she had no right to intrude on her privacy. She just shrugged and shook her head in bemusement.
"I might've killed someone," said Clarke very quiet and very slowly.
Lexa's face didn't change. She didn't want to push for details. She didn't want details. She wouldn't be able to explain her own actions that led to her temporary disbarment. It was unethical but something she had felt needed to be done. She cared too much and put people she loved in danger. Her weakness cost her, and she would be happy not to think about the past. She felt Clarke's situation might have been the same.
Lexa seized Clarke up and peered at her, wondering how this innocent-looking blonde could be a potential murderer. Then she looked within herself and realized that sometimes we just do what we feel we have to do.
"My lawyer's name was Anya," said Clarke out of the blue, and she stared intensely at Lexa, who felt a spike of chill run down her whole body.
"Anya Grounder?"
"Yes. She told me you'd be her second chair."
Lexa felt as though she was losing the grip on reality. Was this a setup? She didn't remember working that case, she didn't remember Clarke, she'd never worked a medical malpractice case, and she would remember a blonde intern who thought she might've killed someone.
"I never worked your case," was all she said harshly.
"I know." Clarke gave her a faint smile.
"Then how do you know it was supposed to be me?" Lexa was more bewildered than ever, searching her memory for any traces of Clarke. Establishing a timeline would be helpful, but she didn't have a reference point.
"Because we got introduced."
"It can't be true, I would've remembered you." Lexa uttered without thinking, still running search in her head.
The truth was, Lexa could barely remember people who had worked at the firm with her. She wouldn't be able to recall the faces of half of her former clients. She did know all of their cases by heart, remembered every trial, could recite verbatim most of her closing arguments, but on numerous occasions she would bump into her own clients or key witnesses and not recognize them so it had almost developed into a phobia. In her former life, she had looked people in the eyes to intimidate them, not to make a connection or admire their features. Even when she was looking for signs of weakness, she would take in sweating, scratching of an ear, difficulty swallowing, not the whole face.
"When was it?"
"About two years ago."
Of course it was! Was it Lexa's turn to be honest? She really didn't owe Clarke anything.
She realized that with this unpleasant walk down the memory lane she had absolutely no idea what Lincoln was up to. He was bored alone, chewing on a plastic bottle.
"Lincoln, drop it!" yelled Lexa.
The pup ignored her.
"You little devil!" Lexa went after him. Lincoln saw that as a play opportunity and started running away. "You lil' …" She suddenly came to a halt and marched back to Clarke.
"I'm sorry I didn't have an opportunity to work on your case. I had my hands full with a major class action."
"It's fine, I just thought I'd be upfront with you. I stopped to talk to you because I thought I recognized you, and I was surprised a lawyer could keep leisurely hours."
It was now or never.
"I'm not a lawyer anymore."
It was Clarke's turn not to ask for details. She pursed her lips and gave an awkward smile.
"So, what do you do?"
"I'm a certified translator. German and Spanish."
"Do you miss practicing law?"
"Yes, but I will return when my suspension is over." She knew that, just like Clarke, she'd be unwelcome by the industry but she couldn't think of that without seeing a black void her life would be. Law gave her purpose.
"Look, I have to go but would you like to have a drink some time?" Clarke interrupted her thoughts.
"Sure," answered Lexa noncommittally.
And then it hit her that she had just been asked out. She could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times someone actually had asked her out. When she was younger, she thought it was due to her being a nerd. In college and law school she told herself that it was because people were scared of her competitiveness and brains. When she joined the firm, she worked so hard on gaining the reputation of one of the most ruthless and intimidating lawyers in the state, that she stopped expecting anyone to ever ask her out.
Clarke handed her a business card.
"Clark Griffin, conservation scientist," Lexa read out loud with snide excitement.
"I analyze what materials are used in the production of art," Clarke replied defensively.
"Production of art? That's a clinical way to put it." Lexa sneered.
"I dissect art." Clark played along with a smirk.
While, in fact, you want to be dissecting bodies. Lexa simpered, happy with the change of topic.
Later on her way home, she started wondering whether all the choices we make in life are rooted in our childhood, and we remain haunted by the things we wanted as children. She thought that maybe it was time to let go of law and instead of doing her time and waiting for the suspension to be over, to find a new purpose in life. She had absolutely no idea what she wanted. There's got to be more to it than work and walking Lincoln. She looked at the pup apologetically.
"You're the cutest little pumpkin," she said out loud. "But I'm afraid, serving a dog is not a good purpose." He tilted his head and gave her a quizzical look.
Instead of catching up on House of Cards, Lexa got under a throw blanket with Kurt Vonnegut and a cup of hot cocoa. Rereading The Sirens of Titan had always made her feel better about life. Its pages had yellowed with time and bore coffee cup stains left by the previous owners; many lines were underlined and some were highlighted. The inside front cover was full of handwritten quotes.
A purpose of human life, no matter who is controlling it, is to love whoever is around to be loved, one of them said in a black Sharpie.
Lexa didn't remember what it felt like to love someone. She wasn't a fool to confuse it with being in love. She thought of how Clarke had been able to hold her gaze without blinking, the fact that she had remembered her from a brief encounter two years ago, the odds of her coming for counsel to save her career exactly when Lexa was going through her final case, and it made her ticklish.
It's probably because she's new and interested in me for some reason, Lexa thought. She took Clarke's card from her back pocket and created a new contact on her iPhone. She didn't text or call. She put away the phone and turned on Netflix.
Love is an illusion created by the brain. It gives people an idea that they are on a good side while they play their games killing time on this planet. It's how they justify sex, it's how they justify their is no love; there is the human ego and survival of the fittest.
And with that thought, Lexa started watching the latest season of House of Cards.
After the scene where the Solicitor General argued in front of the Supreme court, Lexa paused the video. She turned her head away from the TV and sat in numbness for a few minutes staring at her color-coded bookcase. She would make a deal with herself. There was less than a year left on her suspension. If she managed to find a new purpose by Christmas, she'd give it a go. However, if no matter what she did, she'd still think she'd be happier as a lawyer, she'd fight tooth and nail for it.
Lexa moved to her desk and searched for Clarke on Facebook. She smiled when she recognized her face in the profile picture. Clarke was wearing glasses. Her blonde wavy hair seemed longer and bigger. She looked like a college hipster girl, so different from an extravagant yuppie Lexa met in the park. Lexa scrolled down her page, expecting nothing to filter through the privacy setting, however Clarke's page seemed to be pretty public. Her countless YouTube posts collected hundreds of likes.
What the hell?
Lexa clicked on a random video. It was a tutorial on how to draw Earth from space set to The Killers. Lexa was mesmerized by confident strokes, meticulous attention to details, the beauty of the final result. Watching Clarke's hand create an almost photographic copy of the planet with a pencil gave Lexa shivers. When she went to Clarke's channel wanting to find videos with her voice, she saw that Clarke also posted fun science experiments, complete with commentary. Hearing Clarke's raspy voice and watching her handle chemicals just as well as pencil gave her tingles from her brain down her spine. Not only was Clarke easy on the eyes, she was crazy talented and brilliantly smart.
Lexa friended Clarke in a heartbeat. Whatever tristesse she might've had about the way her life was going had been lifted, and Lexa caught herself being infatuated with the image of Clarke she's created in her head.
An alert sound jerked Lexa out of the meditation on her thoughts about the predicament she got herself into. She glanced at the clock, it was just past 1am, and Clark had just accepted her friend request.
"Saw your youtube channel. You're good."
"Thanks! What are you doing up so late?"
"Watching House of Cards."
"Didn't it come out more than a month ago?"
"I didn't have time."
"I watched it the first weekend."
"With all the drawing and blowing stuff up on camera you have time to watch a whole season in one weekend?"
"What do YOU do at the weekend?"
"I read."
"Read what?"
What she was reading was a never-ending story of sulk and pain mixed with determination and tenacity, which was legal ethics. It made her feel stronger but not happy. She wanted to snap out of her gloom, so she resolved to not talking about herself.
"Fiction. How come a talented artist like you was training to become a doctor?"
"It runs in my family. Besides, why settle on one thing when you can do both?"
"Do you paint?"
"I do. If you ever come over, I'll show you my private art gallery."
The idea stirred up a thrill of excitement. Lexa rolled her eyes at how easily she became aroused by an Internet illusion, yet she was in a flirtatious mood.
"Maybe I will. Though before, how about I take you up on your offer? A drink, tomorrow?"
"I wanted to check out one gallery tomorrow, modern art, nothing fancy, free admission. Will you be interested? Or we can meet up afterwards."
"Gallery's fine."
"How does fivish sound? 1316 Broadway, Showz Gallery."
"Sounds great, see you there, Clarke."