Judging Beauty 02

The judge had looked with an unfathomable expression in his eyes. His friend had smiled when he saw us, and said something to the judge which caused him to glare at me. Perhaps they were comparing me to Hillary and how different I was from her.

I have gotten to know about Hillary only through hearsay. From the various separate conversations I had in the art of gossip, I gathered that she was successful, quite a head-turner, smart and had captivated Stoner for the past two years. One who held on to Stoner for two years was remarkable enough. She certainly was smart and a force to be reckoned with.

It was none of my business to look at him. My business was Stoner now. We were partners in this project for the reforming of the draconian Act.

“Why did you kiss my hands like that? Are we really dating?” I asked Stoner.

“Bea, would you like to date me?” He asked.

“You do like me a little then?” I asked.

“Dear old Bea, I like you but I hardly know you. I don’t even know your name but how is it that the grumpy old judge knows your real name? At the moment let us just enjoy each other’s company. Let our relationship take its full course naturally. Why rush things?” He asked.

“I don’t see why you had put up a show of display in court and just now in front of the judges when you don’t mean it.” I said.

“And I don’t see why, Bea, that you didn’t bother to tell me your real name.” Stoner said.

“But I have already told you, Stoner, that I don’t use my real name. Why should it matter? A name is just a name. To quote Shakespeare :

“What’s in a name? That which we call a rose,

By any other name would smell as sweet.” I said.

“Stop that, Bea. You think you’re so smart, don’t you? You made me look stupid in front of the judges. I was a fool there because my girl never told me her real name. I am supposed to know everything that is going on given my reputation.” Stoner said.

“I don’t use it. You know how silly it sounds to people. As a lawyer, I won’t be taken seriously.” I said.

“Why is it then your judge gets the full privilege of knowing? Even when he made you cry, Bea…” Stoner retorted back. 

He sounded possessive and jealous of the judge. 

“Because when he introduced himself, he told me his full name. So I did with mine too. It was automatic. I did not give it a second thought. But with you…it’s different. I want to impress you.” I said, heaving out a heavy sigh. 

“Yeah. Right. Shall we start on lunch?” Stoner asked.

Our lunch came but I barely ate. I felt sick. Stoner did like me a little but he was hurt that he did not know my real name. 

Yet lying dormant but alive in my heart was the thought that he was probably working the circuit with other women lawyers as well.

After lunch, I had to check in to office for the first time today. However everything in me told me to make it up to Stoner. Outside the Rubik Cube, there stood a little stall selling trinkets. It was most likely a stall set up without a proper licence. Impermanent until an enforcement officer issues the operator a summons.

A small, dark string necklace caught my eye. It had a little stone pendant on which the words “Trust” were inscribed. Instinctively I purchased the pendant and gave it to Stoner. 

“Let us trust each other to know each other better?” I said, more of a question which I hoped he would answer.

“Trust…” Stoner said, while latching the necklace around his neck, and tugging it into his shirt.

Now it was unseen by the eye.

“Trust…” I said, looking at the collar of his shirt and slightly lower where the first few buttons of his shirt were undone.

Trust was now leaning at his heart. It was up to him to embrace that for me.

I must have been deeply caffeinated by the black coffee during lunch. After Stoner and I said our goodbyes, some erratic gut feeling told me to square it out with the judge. I was losing the eligible bachelor of the century. I would not let go now that there was some chance of us being together. Little does it, step by step.

I still had the courtesy to knock on his door. I felt like I was about to commit a premeditated crime. He certainly did not expect to see me raging with hurt and betrayal at his childish behaviour.

He was standing at his table studying some documents.

“You did that on purpose, didn’t you? Nobody calls me Beauty. Nobody but the deluded you. I thought that we had already made up. Why can’t you just let me be? I did not report on you! What are your motives?” I yelled.

I strode to his table in a dash. I wanted to punch his chest. It was payback time. I was not going to keep quiet while he bullied me. I was not going to let him touch me ever again. He cannot take advantage of me again. I was not going to let him abandon my favourite feather pillow. Most of all, I was not going to let him affect my sleeping time.

I leaned over the imposing table as far as I could. While my body bent like a gymnast against the barrier of wood; my right hands were obstinately curled up into a ball while my left hand gripped the sides of the smooth table. How far had I stretched. I made a go at his chest. 

I punched him there, as hard as I could. Before I could have another go, he grabbed my right wrists; in the process, throwing me off balance from my precarious position at the front of the table. I stumbled and almost fell had he not caught me in the nick of time.

He caught me hard. Rushing forward to my side of the table while still gripping my wrists, I was thrown unceremoniously into his chest.

And my unusual name was clearly printed as the writer of the whole article incorporating Stoner’s last page of propaganda.

The judge sensed that I was in shock. I told him that there must be some mistake in the printing process. Stoner would have discussed everything with me. He would not have done so without my consent. After all, we were a team. The one judge I knew insisted that Stoner did not bother as long as he achieved his goals and that I should not trust Stoner anymore.

I shook my head. I stood by Stoner.

“Just why, Beauty, are you so into him? What has he that other men do not have? You are blinded by his sweet talk. It’s about time for you to wake up.” He said.

He looked concerned and I believed he was. Yet I refused to listen. He just did not see it from my point of view. There had to be an explanation to this. I would speak to Stoner tonight. Maybe he had assumed that I would agree. Maybe he misread the signs. Maybe he misunderstood me.

“No. I have to listen to Stoner’s explanation first. Greg, you can’t just go accusing people like that. I don’t know what grudge both of you have against each other but it’s time you both put it aside.” I said firmly.

“Beauty!” He spoke in a soft but powerful voice.

He walked towards me and stood me up from my cushiony seat like a doll.

“For Heaven’s sake, what are you doing now?” I asked, not wanting to make a scene.

So saying, I stood up voluntarily when he lifted me from my seat.

Had I known, I would have made a run for my life. This savage man which he had become enveloped me in his arms. He pulled me closer to him, bent down and crushed his lips on mine. His rough stubble grazed over my mouth. His kiss was hard, deep and possessive. He moved his arms from my waist to the small of my back and towards my neck, at the same time deepening the impact of his kiss.

I was lost in his world. I resisted initially, then as I realized the futility of it, it became half-formed protests. Then as I stopped resisting, I found myself lost in complex emotions I could not fathom. Surrendering to his kisses, my lips parted and my hands went all over his back, pulling him closer towards me. I tasted the fire in his strength and the power in his possession over me.

Suddenly he let go of me.

“Any man can do that, Beauty. Any man can make you feel like a woman. You don’t need him.” The judge said.

“Greg, how can you say that?” I asked, still breathless.

His hot kisses were still stinging on my bruised lips.

“You responded to me, Beauty. You kissed me back.” He said in a ragged voice.

On hearing the uncouth words, I slapped him real hard on his face.

Caught unaware, he stumbled backwards but picked himself up just as quick. His gaze on me, intense; his lips still parted; I tried to comprehend what was happening and how I was to react ideally in a world filled with imperfections.

“How could you do this, Greg?” I whispered.

Tears streamed from my eyes. I felt intense hurt and humiliation with his treatment and thoughts of me as a woman.

“I’m making a point, Beauty. A woman like you does not deserve a man like Stoner.” He said, reeling still from my slap.

Did he mean to say that I was either too good or too bad for Stoner? I did not know. He raised his fingers to wipe away my burning tears.

“Greg, no, please.” I pleaded.

“You have no right to tell me whom I deserve. No right at all.” I said.

Yet still, his fingers brushed my cheeks, drying away my tears.

“I’m so sorry.” He said, looking at me with regret.

Too many times had this happened. Not again. Too fresh in my mind.

“No. Greg, you do not listen. You don’t listen at all.” I cried softly.

I rushed out of the café, oblivious to my surroundings. I flagged down a passing cab and told the driver to rush me to Rhine. I was going to Stoner’s office right now. It did not matter that I was expected to be back at office.

The two hour journey gave me time to think. I was going to consult Stoner without creating a scene. I would be rationale and understanding in listening to his explanation. I also called on Joseph, telling him that I had succumbed to a bad case of food poisoning and would not be back to office. He was alright about it because by hook or by crook, I had always finished my work before the deadline he set. Generally he was happy with my work. He said I saved him a lot of time with the drafting work I did. 

“Stoner! Could I have a word?” I asked, when I arrived in his spacious office two hours later.

He was surprised to see me but hurriedly rose to plant me a light kiss on my lips.

“What brings my girl to the capital?” He asked.

I showed him the Bar journal, asking him why he did not consult me about the article.

“I thought that you had agreed to do this with me, Bea.” He said.

“Not in those revolutionary words. You know I don’t want to get into trouble. Even so, you should have put your fat name in the article as well. Now it implicates only me.” I said, as calmly as I could.

“No, Bea, no. We are in this together. If trouble arises, I would protect you. I would go down with you. I’ll never leave you because I love you so much. You are not like the other women. You are the smartest woman I know. You are the only one who makes me complete. You make me the luckiest man on earth. I swear to you, Bea, I will be with you every step you take.” He said.

He raised his right palms to his side and swore to me that he would love and protect me. The omission of his name in the article was an oversight of the press. He went on bended knee for everybody in his office to see.

“Meet Bea, the woman whom I love dearly.” He told his employees.

His receptionist and clerks said hello to me and congratulated us. It felt very surreal and I reciprocated when he kissed my lips in front of everyone in the office including clients which were waiting to see him. They cheered and clapped when we kissed. In the midst of all the attention, I felt like a wooden doll in his arms. 

Things were alright for me again. I spent that night with him at his place for the first time. We made passionate love and I marvelled at his perfectly sculptured body by the moonlight shining through the windows in the high rise apartment. I felt like I was in heaven when I was not supposed to be there, toying with fate. It did not seem real. I wanted it to last forever so much that I hugged him the whole night through, tightly and rigidly. Until he released my grasp on him, saying that he could not have a proper sleep unless I let go of him for a bit.

“But know this, Bea, never has there been a woman like you. You are the only one who amazes me all the time. You keep me on my toes. You have that spark in your eyes that I cannot read. You shall always excite me.” He said, before slipping into deep sleep.

Long after he slept, I was still awake, gently caressing his perfectly chiselled features. I slept at the rise of dawn, content and satisfied. Never would I forget the Stoner Corts who made me feel a multitude of emotions. The highs with him were pleasant; the journey towards him was a long road though. All the more it made being with him feel extra special. I was glad that I had finished that journey.

I slept barely for a few hours, yet I awoke refreshed and alert. Stoner was solemn. He showed me a section by the side of his clothes cupboard in which there were women’s attire, make-up and toiletries. He selected a cotton blouse, a pair of black pants and a black coat from the medley. He handed them over to me.

“Since you did not wait for me to pick you up in Rubik yesterday as originally planned with your suitcase included, you would have to do with these.” He said.

I looked at the clothes. They were approximately my size and I desperately wanted to wear something fresh other than the clothes I had on yesterday.

I turned the coat over and found embroidered in its label seams were the initials “H”. It did not take a fool to conclude that they belonged to Hillary. How was it that she did not take her belongings with her when they broke up, I wondered. Was the break-up so bad that she could not bring herself to see him again?

I realized that that Stoner had more important things today than of his ex-girlfriend’s belongings. I too had no desire to bring up Hillary after our heart-felt conversations the previous night. Let bygones be bygones, I thought. Stoner was all for myself only, and reminding him of the ghosts of the past yielded no advantage to me. It only brought him thinking about her again.

Stoner already had a concrete plan. He told me that an estimated ten thousand people were going to rally today. Of the crowd, half would consist of Bar Association members, non-governmental organizations and political parties. The rest would be from the public.

We did not speak much while Stoner drove to the court. His mobile rang non-stop throughout the way from human rights activists, lawyers, the press and co-organizers. I did not want to put more pressure on him than necessary by asking questions about the Walk of Peace. I understood it to be a peaceful walk from the Rhine Court Building to parliament which was five kilometres away. The participants would be in black and white to demonstrate the solemn state of freedom in the country. Some would be holding candles, some adorned with flowers and others just walking hand in hand to show solidarity.

We were to walk in groups showing our profession and what we stood for. Stoner thought that it was more effective than to be walking without distinction of the identities which shape the country. One group would consist of the lawyers; the other the human rights activists from non-governmental organizations, the third the opposition parties and the last group would be the public. The latter would be walking right at the back of the first three groups. Stoner thought that it was important for the first three groups to explain and answer to the press if questions were asked.

A few international news organizations were also present in addition to the regional restricted press. While walking to the meeting point with Stoner, a few people dashed over to us. A man with horn-rimmed glasses pushing a supermarket-like trolley spoke first.

“We will give out pamphlets to onlookers while marching.” He said.

He introduced himself as Henry to me. He handed over a box of the material to me without so much as saying please.

Then other people started talking to Stoner in ninety to a dozen. I was left to my own devices alone.

I watched Stoner holding the pre-gathering with leaders of various organizations. I stood in awe as he spoke in his perfect-pitched voice. His charismatic personality shone as easily as the sun did through clouds. He was very expressive with his hands. His voice held an emotional longing when he spoke of the state of freedom in the country.

I laid the box down on the grass. We were in a small square which was part of the court building. I had time to study my surroundings. The court building in Rhine was five times larger than that of Rubik. I wondered if I did represent clients here, how was I ever to find my way around court? I already had enough trouble looking for court rooms around the minuscule Rubik Court.

It may be intuition that I felt I was being watched. In the periphery of my sight, I noticed a dark-haired woman observing me with interest. Deciding that I could as well network here, I glanced in her direction. She glanced back, neither smiling nor scowling.

I walked towards her direction with a cherry smile.

“Hi, I’m Bea. Are you walking today?” I asked.

She looked at me haughtily then.

“I believe you are wearing my clothes.” She said.

“I beg your pardon?” I asked.

It must have been my ears.

“You just have to wear my clothes, didn’t you? And I believe that you have ransacked my cosmetic pouch too.” She spoke with a forced primness in her voice.

I did use her make-up. I had found the lavender eye-shadow very appealing. 

“Hillary?” I asked.

I said her name slowly; syllable by syllable. This was an awkward situation. I desperately needed Stoner here to explain everything.

“Take off that coat right now.” She demanded.

I did as she asked. I was a sucker for instructions. I always listen. Did I not say I was a follower in a chaotic world? The problem with that was that I needed a good leader to follow. Give me a bad leader and I am screwed. 

I could do with the blouse and pants. I tossed her the coat.

“Look, you did not collect your stuff when you moved out.” I said.

“Who said I moved out?” She asked. 

She glared at me. I did not like her glare. I looked the other way. I was not out to confront her today. I was out to rally peacefully for the reform of the Terrorism Act of 2000. Most importantly, I was out for the man I love, Stoner Corts who was organizing the event.

Stoner’s voice came over a loudspeaker. To my astonishment, a large crowd had already gathered within the time frame of a few minutes. Stoner asked everyone to stand in rows. I went by Stoner’s side and so did Hillary but he appeared disinterested. Instead he asked us to stand a few rows behind him, saying that the front rows were meant for leaders of various organizations. 

The arrangement of the rows took some effort as people were scattered about. Then we all marched from the court square to the main road. In the chaotic atmosphere, I nearly forgot about the box. I picked it up in one swap and since Hillary was standing by my side, still glaring, I dumped a handful of pamphlets in her hands.

What a waste of energy to be glaring like that, I thought. I might as well put her to good work. Stoner and various leaders from political and non-political organizations lead the crowd of people. The first five rows of twenty people per row consisted of various politicians, influential lawyers, prominent leaders of society and a few movie stars even. I wonder who drafted them in. Perhaps later I could get an autograph from one of them whose movies I enjoyed quite a bit.

These hundred people marched in front of us. We were not able to get closer to Stoner who was in the front row with some politicians from the opposition parties. Many people were behind us as well.

The noise was deafening and the atmosphere lively. By now I was in a pamphlet distribution mode. Some even came to ask me for them. And yet, we were just a hundred metres away from the court building.

We were now on the main road. The Federal Reserve Unit of the police force had set up barriers on both sides of the road within a short time. I looked at them. They wore their navy green uniform and they carried shields with them. If it were not enough, they had to wear some sort of over-sized eye wear. There must be thousands of them for they lined up the whole stretch of the road and beyond over where my eyes could see. There were police cars and motorbikes scattered behind the barriers.

The crowd had started to throng in by the thousands too. They seemed to come from all directions. It was however still a lively atmosphere. I did not sense any real danger. The judge was all wrong. In fact some people in the crowd were dancing and laughing. News coverage was all over. It was a happy march. I liked that. 

The police just stood there like statues observing the crowd. Some of the marchers gave them white roses as a sign of peace. I looked at Hillary. I did not know if she was part of the march because the last time I heard, she had distanced herself from the legal profession. I did not know if she had gotten a new job.

Then we were all silenced by the shrill pitch of the loudspeaker. This time it was not Stoner’s voice but of someone else. He prompted the crowd to sing our national anthem and hold hands while doing what was designated prior to the march. Some would light candles, some would carry the single white rose which they had brought along and some would distribute pamphlets. Apparently I had my job cut out for me already, and so did Hillary, thanks to me.

We sang the national anthem while marching. It was out of tune with various voices meshed together, yet I had never heard our anthem sung so patriotically before. I felt inspired for change. We walked hand in hand, and to my dismay, I found myself holding Hillary’s hand. We tried to walk in sync with right foot first and then left.

There were thousands more of people watching from behind the police barriers. They were cheering us on.

Then the crowd started chanting slogans.

“Away with the Terrorism Act of 2000!”

“Away with the government!”

“Away with the police!”

A bit too radical for my liking but I guessed it got the message across. Ask and you shall receive. Ask for less and you would get a pittance of wittered away rights.

We had been walking for three kilometres now on the main road, causing a great deal of stalled traffic. The police had also blocked roads leading into the city. I had distributed all my pamphlets by now.

Another two kilometres to go before we reached parliament where the organizers would hand a memorandum to the cabinet which was having a sitting right at this moment. The rally was timed precisely to coincide with the cabinet sitting.

We had another kilometre to go when I saw over the horizon army tanks streaming towards us. I gasped. There were at least twenty of those tanks. I wondered when the leaders would stop walking. There was no turning back for me now because the crowd behind me was still walking and I would be trampled on if I were to run backwards.

The imposing tanks streamed quickly to full frontal view. There was now a standoff between us on one side and the army in front and police on both sides of the road. I hoped that it was just a display of power and nothing more. 

“Stop walking right now. If you proceed, you will be breaking the law. If you leave right now, there will be no charges against any of you.” 

A haughty voice bellowed over a loudspeaker. It came from a soldier with some medals pinned on his uniform. I could only see his head as it towered above the tank.

“We are walking for peace. We are not breaking the law. We are here to hand a memorandum to the government. After we hand in the memorandum, we will disperse.”

It was my Stoner, speaking clearly and bravely over the loudspeaker.

There was silence all around us. It was deafening. I could hear my heart beating inside me, as if ready to pounce out at the slightest change of situation.

It was the herd mentality I guess. I felt the marchers tense up and some looked really afraid, showing it more than others.

“By the order of the Prime Minister, you are to disperse right now. Rallying here is a breach of the peace and security of this country. You are instilling fear in the minds of the people of this peaceful nation. Our religion does not tolerate such shows of dissent.”

The same voice was bellowing louder and more forcefully now.

“We have obtained permission to march and rally today. We will not leave until we hand our memorandum to the government. Religion has nothing to do with political dissent.”

Stoner was adamant. I could not see him from where I was, but I wished he was with me right now. All I could see in front of me were the imposing tanks and the backs of the marchers directly in front of me.

There was a standstill between us versus them. The silence was eerie.

Then all of a sudden, I heard a loud bang typical of a gunshot or explosion in front of me. I could not tell which was which. I saw smoke bellowing in the air. Then it was pandemonium all over. People were trampling backwards. It was a stampede. People were running in all directions.

Shouts and screams were muffled by the sound of footsteps. For a moment, I was stunned. I could not move. And then I looked at Hillary. She looked at me. Somehow we held hands and ran backwards together. Her coat which she demanded from me earlier had fallen to the ground.

“Let me go, Greg!” I said sharply.

“When you’re angry, you call me Greg. Finally. What else does it take you to get angry, you prim and proper creature?” He asked.

He freed me of his grasp. He took off his coat and flung it on his chair to reveal a white linen shirt.

“It’s better if you punch me without the coat on. The coat absorbs quite a bit of the impact. I barely felt a thing.” He said.

I gave a cry of indifference.

“Go on if it makes you feel better.” He urged me.

I stared at him. 

“Did you not hear? I said; go and punch me now. Do it properly.” He yelled.

My hands went at lightning speed towards his chest. I had longed so much to punch him and bruise him. It was almost there. Yet I stopped midway. I baffled myself. Until today I have no inkling why I stopped short of the second punch.

My hands were there all right but they ended up sprawled on his chest. I could feel his heart beating in quick, irregular paces. I moved closer towards him.

I curled my hand into a ball again. I pounded on him softly. I could not hurt him anymore. I just could not.

I was a good person. This is me. I was so angry just now that I thought I could. I did punch him once. It was enough.

I had calmed down and came to myself. My breath slowed as I looked into his eyes.

“I can’t. I’m done. I’m satisfied.” I stammered.

He looked down at me. Silence filled the air. In quiet grace, he took my stubbornly curled hands and shoved it to his chest.

“Beauty, I honestly did not know that Stoner did not know your real name. You might not believe me but hear my heart out. Can you feel its’ beats there? It is true, every word I say.” He said.

My hands against his chest; I felt his throbbing heart beating unsteadily. Its’ beats were quick and I felt my hands sting with each beat.

“You make me confused.” I said.

“I am confused.” He said.

Silence loomed in the chambers again. I heard the steady ticking of the clock on the wall and felt the beats of his heart. Too much beating, too much ticking; I was surely out of my mind today.

“I’ll tell you now that I never had the intention to report your wrongdoings to the authorities. I never had, so you need not have tried to pretend to be friends with me overnight. I keep to my word. I mean what I say. I’m not a bad person, Greg. You need not have done anything to silence me.” I said.

He looked at me; the blue in his eyes suddenly bright.

“I trust you, Beauty. It’s only myself that I don’t trust.” He said.

An aching trepidation crept in the both of us.

He bent his head lower and raised my chin with his other hand. We were absorbed into each other. The world ceased to exist. Then he gave me a huge bear hug, squeezing me tight. In his embrace, I felt a tingling sense of warmth.

“Friends, Beauty?” He asked me very softly.

“Yes, Greg.” I said.

“Call me Bea then. All my friends call me Bea.” I said.

“But Beauty just suits you. I’ve started our torrid acquaintance by calling you Beauty. I hope to make it up to you the same way it began. Thus I humbly ask you – may I be spared the name change? I have other reasons if you want to hear them.” He said.

“Yes, I believe it is in my interest to know.” I said.

“Your boyfriend Stoner mentioned Beauty and the Beast. I can’t help thinking that I am the beast here. You are a beautiful person, Beauty, on the inside and outside. I am the beast. When I’m with you, I feel like I’m blessed by an angel.” He said.

“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard you say, Greg. Seriously, after the punch, I think you got off rather badly. You’re concussed. We are not living a fairy tale!” I exclaimed.

“It’s difficult to explain, Beauty, when I do not comprehend it myself. Just bear with me if you could. Maybe someday I’ll call you what you want to be called.” He said.

“If you say so, Greg.” I acquiesced, lost in the blue of his eyes.

“Are you sure that you don’t have a concussion? How do you feel?” I asked, just to make sure.

“Almost perfect.” He answered.

“Why not totally perfect?” I asked.

After giving him my assurance that I would not exploit his wrongdoings, surely he would be on top of the world.

He shrugged his shoulders but gave me a warm smile.

A déjà vu locked us in a time warp. As he did a few days ago, he tucked my unruly hair behind my ears. As he did with this gentle gesture, my ears tingled; setting my heart a-flutter. 

I paid no attention to the time. He was so engaging. He did not say anything but he made his presence felt everywhere he went. It was true the Lord Justice Greg Rhodes was an enigmatic personality.

“Stoner was not happy with me because of what you said. He felt that I didn’t trust him enough.” I spoke, as a matter of fact.

There was no hint of malice in my voice towards the judge. I could not explain why I felt comfortable enough to look upon him as an advisory figure within so short a space of time. 

Add another five years to him and he would be as old as my father. Maybe that explains it.

With his fingers, he brushed the top of my hair to the nape of my neck, smoothing out the ballerina bun. Then he spoke, his voice reassuring.

“It takes time to build trust. Both parties have to trust one another. It cannot be one-sided. If your relationship can withstand the passage of time, then you both have earned the trust and respect from one another.” He had said. 

“How would I know when that happens?” I asked.

He smiled but shook his head.

“Your heart will tell you. So will your head if you choose to use it properly.” He said.

I felt he was mocking me.

“Are you mocking me?” I asked.

“Are you going to the right person for advice?” He asked me in reply.

“Given your worldly experience and position, surely there is a duty of care?” I shot back in legal terms.

I saw that the blue in his eyes came with a hint of olive green in certain light. The fluorescent tube was glaring, yet the blue-green in this enigmatic personality was bright yet translucent. Now you see it, and now you do not. 

“After the incident with your witness, surely I’m serving my own motives, don’t you think?” He asked.

“What then, is your motive?” I asked.

Again, we had gone into question time mode. I was getting a little dizzy in my head.

“Has it ever occurred to you that I may be attracted to you?” He asked.

I was not sure if I heard the question right. When I did think I heard it right, I wondered if he was playing the fool with me.

He gazed straight into my entirety. He was solemn.

“Is that for better or for worse?” I asked softly.

I looked at him, perplexed. My fingers trailed my lips. I bit my nails hard. The moment I did so, I realised my immaturity and clasped my fingers on my black handbag.

He meant to say something. I saw his lips quiver but words did not follow. His expression grew tense and troubled.

“Don’t say anything. I know the answer.” I answered for myself, upon studying his disposition.

“Beauty, I meant to say I appreciate that we are friends.” He said.

He reached to my hand that was clutching my handbag and grasped it warmly.

“Me too.” I said.

He changed the topic. How quickly he had done that. He led the conversation based on his terms. He knew my deepest desires for my career and of my inability to break out of the rut I was in. How could he have known? I must have been out there like an open book for everyone to see. 

“Beauty, if litigation experience is what you want, do speak to Joseph about it. I’m sure he would let teach you the ropes of advocacy if you assure him that you’ll still do the work required of you.” The judge said.

“Right now, drafting cause papers takes up nearly all my time. How would he ever agree? I do write defences which lead to acquittals and he relies heavily on this.” I said. 

“He would, when he sees how keen you are. After all, he knows that he can’t afford to lose you should you resign. You are his secret weapon.” He said. 

I was deliberating there and then whether it was a good idea. 

“What if I don’t make it in court? Should I perform miserably…” I said. 

“You’ll not fail. Have more confidence in yourself. You are stronger than you think you are. I’ll teach you how to handle a judge as well.” He said, with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. 

“All judges are different.” I said. 

“We have certain unspoken rules that we normally don’t tell lawyers.” He said. 

“Ah, I see.” I said. 

Then we said our goodbyes. I was two hours late for work. Luckily Joseph was not in. He had left for an afternoon trial in the Supreme Court of Rhine. However the supporting employees in office were quick to comment on my lateness. I knew sooner or later, this news of my flagrant disregard to my new-found independence would reach Joseph’s ears. I left a short message on Joseph’s mobile apologizing that I was late. I stated that I was late because of a complex legal aid issue.

Perhaps I had hardened to some extent. This was a lie. Yet I felt no remorse like I normally did whenever I told a lie. Something changed in me that day. I felt being pulled with half-hearted protests to the dark side. The rest of the way I was a voluntary accomplice. This realization hurt me more than the lie itself. 

That night, I managed to claim my pillow back. I slept soundly. The earlier recollections of his gentle touches on my ear became assurances of our unconventional friendship.

…

In one month, I had finished the article that Stoner wanted. He was happy with it and with his illuminating influence, he got the Bar Association to publish the article immediately. In the following month, he called to inform me that he had gathered enough activists comprising of supporters and lawyers for the Walk of Peace which he was organizing, part of the on-going freedom movement. He urged me to join them.

I agreed to join them. I was happy. Stoner and I met almost every day to discuss the progress as a result of the article. We went out to fancy restaurants every night. He flirted with me and I found it exciting. I laughed a lot. I never felt this alive in my entire life. We got to know each other better. I knew what he liked and disliked and vice-versa. It seemed like we were old friends. I could not invite him to my home for I was still living with my parents. I did not want to explain myself to them. He could not invite me to his apartment because Rhine was too far away. I would have to spend the night there, and rush to work early the next morning. 

Stoner was an experienced lover. He liked to play the Casanova. He planted me a kiss here and there; slowly but seductively. Since we were always in a restaurant, there was only so much we could do without behaving improperly. 

I had good restful nights too.

Often when the moon emitted a warm glow and when its rays shone on my bed from the window, I thought about the erratic judge. I felt fuzzy and warm to have made peace with him. I did not see him during the wonderful months I spent with Stoner. There were also no court demands from Joseph.

…

The day before the Walk of Peace, I received a call on my office phone from the judge. He wanted to know if I was walking. He had read the mass e-mail forwarded online to all lawyers in the country. I answered in the affirmative.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea, Beauty. Police will fire tear gas and water cannons. Some people could behave rowdily.” He said.

“I had already promised Stoner. I’m going to support him. A promise is a promise. The same way I promised you that I would not tell on you with your secret.” I said indignantly.

I just wanted to make a point to him that a promise was a promise. 

He was silent and in a grave voice said, “With you so unwavering with your promises, I hope that you did not undertake many of them from the wrong parties.”

“I have only promised Stoner. Nobody knows that I am going to walk. ” I said. 

“Politics and the law are two different spectrums, Beauty. Politics in our country triumph over the law. It might not be safe to walk.” He said rather forcefully.

“I’ll take my chances. I’ll be fine, don’t worry.” I said.

Was he really concerned about me or was it because of something more sinister?

“I never told anyone your confession. I’ll bring it to the grave. Are you worried that I should blurt out to some stranger?” I asked.

“No…Shall we meet for dinner tonight?” He asked.

“I have an appointment with Stoner but I could do lunch. But I don’t want to go to the Rubik Cube.” I said.

“Fine, Beauty. Pick a place. I want to talk to you.” He said.

We exchanged mobile numbers for the first time. I chose a quaint little café in the outskirts of town away from the lawyers’ haunt. I did not want them to see us lunching together. Word might go to Stoner and he was quite possessive of me. I also knew how much he disliked the judge.

The judge shook my hands for an eternity it seemed. It had been three months since we last met and we had no contact until he called me on the office line. 

“Stoner can get carried away. You should not go for the Walk. I’m sure you did enough for him. Why did you write such a strongly worded article?” He asked me.

The judge fished out the Bar Journal which he brought with him and showed it to me. I skimmed through the article and everything seemed fine to me until the last page where Stoner had added in his own thoughts. It was not what I expected.

Stoner had condemned the government and the police, especially the Special Force which oversees intelligence matters. He accused the government of bribery, corruption and racism. He had praises for opposition parties. He wanted to start his own revolution. He called for a takeover of parliament. He called for the country to be declared a state of emergency pending fresh elections. He was so radical I was in shock. He did not seem like that in person. It was all a front which he put up for this freedom struggle.

I had called for the Act to be reformed but never had I criticised any governmental structure. It is already known that words of dissent had to be done mildly and indirectly so as not to arouse arrest under the Act. We had limited freedom of speech and expression in this country.

I heard people screaming. Tear gas was being fired along with water cannons from the army. The police were restraining the crowd from escaping through the barriers. Some people grimaced on the ground, some shouted for help, some were crying and some just appeared lost, not knowing what to do.

“Stoner. Where is he?” I yelled to Hillary.

I did not look at her but in front of me for there were so many obstructions in front of us. We could not run a straight line.

“I don’t know.” She yelled back.

I let go of our grip.

“I’m going back.” I yelled.

“It’s too dangerous!” She exclaimed.

“But Stoner is there.” I shouted.

My voice was now hoarse. The white blouse which I was wearing was all drenched in sweat and dirt.

I ran back towards where I heard the first explosion. He was standing approximately in the area where the explosion was heard. I did not wait for Hillary. I just knew I had to go back. This was the man who loved me. This was the man whom I spent my whole night with for the first time last night and I was not about to let go.

I trampled over a few people, debris, sticks and poles. Some marchers had used the sticks and poles they could find to attack the police when they prevented the marchers from leaving the barrier. The police had retaliated with their batons and shots were fired indiscriminately. Meanwhile the army tanks rolled forward. I tried to avoid them as much as I could.

“Stoner, Stoner!” I yelled in the sea of men against the army and police.

Many people were grimacing on the ground yet my eyes were only for Stoner. Some of them begged me for help but I was cruel. I kicked them off me when they pulled my legs. I just had to find Stoner. I thought of nothing else.

Thinking back, I guess I would have done the same over and over again to save Stoner above everyone else. I could go back for the others after I knew that Stoner was safe. 

Had I been more rational, I would have been thinking about my safety first. Yet here in times of real trouble, I acted only by command of instinct.

Lady luck must have been shining on me because there I spotted Stoner against a garbage bin. He was unconscious. His perfect face was ghastly, covered in debris and ash. He was not bloodied, thank God!

“Stoner!” I cried.

I shook his body hard. An army tank was approaching us. I tried to lift him up but he was quite heavy.

I saw another pair of hands over Stoner’s body in the smog.

“Hurry, the tank is coming!” Hillary yelled.

We both managed to lift Stoner up. Since Hillary was slightly bigger in size than I was, she took the bulk of his weight over her back while I clutched his stomach to propel him forward.

“Did you intend to march today, Hillary?” I asked her suddenly.

“No. I only intended to see Stoner and get even with you.” She yelled.

We were not quick enough for the tank grimly approaching us.

“Take good care of Stoner. I’ll stall the tank.” I shouted.

I did not know how I did it then, but I let go of the man whom I loved to my rival. Hillary stumbled forward with the impact of Stoner’s weight. I pushed both of them forward even more. There was no time for civilities or manners. The tank was too close.

“No, we go together and fight it out over Stoner!” She yelled.

“Go! You can have him! After all, that was what you intended!” I shouted over all the noise.

Like an automaton, something animalistic commanded me to take to the ground. I flung myself to the ground, lay there did like an automaton and for what seemed like an eternity, I closed my eyes imagining what could have been. My whole life flashed across me. My failures, my successes, the things which made me happy and my simple-minded parents. They wanted me to be teachers. They said it was a very fulfilling life. That was why I stayed teaching for five years although I studied at law school.

Like in a dream, the men who had made an impact in my life, for better or for worse appeared to me amidst the rumble of the droning tank streaming nearer and nearer me. Stoner’s face flashed into my head. Then the one judge I knew blinded my vision, replacing that of Stoner. I felt my hands stinging still with the hard slap I gave him. 

I opened my eyes with sudden velocity.

I braced not for death nor did I brace for life. I braced only for the protection of Stoner. I hoped that Hillary managed to get him somewhere safe out of the pandemonium.

I heard the tank stream forward in dull roars and I felt the tarred road vibrate with the impact. Then I heard a clang; felt someone with rough hands drag me above the ground and pushed me into the direction of someone else who immediately gripped my palms together. Obscenities were hurled at me. I could hardly see now, could only see masked men with breathing apparatus.

Everywhere was smoke, debris and ash. The smell of carbon monoxide from cars now paled in comparison. How I did not like that in Rhine earlier this morning and was complaining to myself this morning while Stoner drove us to the court building. It was so trivial compared to this.

This smell of toxic ash reached my lungs. I choked and coughed, pressing on my chest tight.

Then I felt cold metal at my palms; heard a clacking sound. I was shepherded with a baton into a dark truck belonging to the army.

Handcuffed now and so very incapacitated in my senses of sight, smell and touch, I curled up into a cocoon and prayed for a good ending to the day. I recalled being huddled into people in the truck with me. I did not know how many there was or who they were.

All I knew was that I was numb. Yet it was enough for me. I was braver than I thought myself to be. I always thought that I would be afraid and be the one to cower waiting for someone to rescue me. I had proven myself wrong. All for Stoner. Not for freedom. Not for justice. Something made me turn back. It was him.

When I regained my faculties, I saw that there were about twenty of us arrested in the rally. Some were politicians whom had stood on the front lines while others were people I did not recognise. I first thought that we were headed to the police station where we would be detained for a maximum of twenty four hours; after which we would be released when there were no charges against us. If we were to be detained longer than that stipulated in the Criminal Procedure Code (Act 475), then we had to be produced before a judge who would grant the police further legitimacy to investigate. 

My mind was working hard now. I did not want to lose myself in fear and resignation. I thought of the law. The hard law which I knew and would be my defence to save me. 

I should not have been surprised though. It was the biggest rally in the history of our country. We were brought to the infamous detention facility which was situated between Rhine and Rubik in an empty wasteland. The drive took two hours. Just one building stood in the middle of nowhere; where once there was a lake which was reclaimed twenty years ago. The lake exists no more except for its namesake; the Lake Side. The detention facility took the same name only that it was no holiday resort there. 

The detainees were all separated from each other. I was roughly barracked into a small, empty cell where only a bed and a sink stood. It was dark and damp inside without any ventilation. There were no windows. I thought of how I disliked the judge’s chambers because his windows were never opened. Now I wished there was just a window so that I could see outside. It struck me how calm I was in this situation. Thinking back, it must be that in the absence of certainty, my strength and courage shone. I knew no one would help me now, at least immediately. There was no fairy godmother to save me.

I knew I was alone and I would have to tough it out until something happened. I had read of ordinary people being detained for months and years without charges pressed against them. It seemed that time had forgotten about these people except when there was some human rights issue. It was essentially the Guantanamo Bay in our country, albeit on a small scale.

I remembered how once I had this dream of my father driving our family car with me seated in the passenger seat. We were head on with an oncoming tow truck. I saw the flashes of light and heard the sounds of a blaring horn. Then there was bright light. Before everything turned dark to which I later awoke to the comforts of my room, I remembered thinking to myself in my dream, “How calm I am. How strangely so.”

I felt like I was living my nightmare over again. Here I was biding my time to wake up from deep slumber. The horrid dream had taken over my life. The strange calmness I had made me feel uneasy. I should be crying buckets. That was the way I had perceived myself. 

I asked the prison guard for information on what they were going to do with us here. He was the guard who locked me in the cell. He said that he did not know. He was only acting on orders from above. I believed that he was telling the truth and did not pester more. I was given some bread and water for dinner. I spent the night in the dark cell. I could not sleep. My stomach was growling. And then I thought of my parents again. I hoped that they did not worry about me.

They had known that I was going to march today. I told them that I would be back tomorrow. At this very time, they were not expecting me. I thought of Joseph, wondering if he knew I was arrested. I had taken a day off work. And of Stoner, I knew he would be fine. He would pull through. That was just so him. I was waiting for him to come and get me out.

What bothered me were thoughts about the judge. How right he had been in a twisted way. Perhaps before I did anything rash next time, I should consult his crystal ball. He would definitely delight in it, for all he ever did to me was instil emotions of heartache and torrid growling of the heart; if ever a heart did growl. 

The next morning, investigation officers questioned me about my involvement in the rally. I told them that I was just supporting a friend and nothing more. Then that one officer who refused to tell me his name threw some pamphlets on the bare, rickety table of the interrogation room lightened only with a single light bulb.

“Liar! How do you explain these? You were more involved than you said you were.”

I looked at the crumpled pamphlets.

“Look, some guy called Henry passed them to me to hand out to the public. That is all I know about the pamphlets.” I said, as calmly as I could.

The officer looked at me with menacing eyes.

“Whose name is it on the pamphlets?” The interrogation officer shouted into my right ear, banging the table at the same time.

I grabbed one pamphlet immediately. The shout was frightening. I felt my heart beating erratically. I skimmed through the words. I did not get the chance to do so yesterday. I gasped. I recognised every word of it. It consists only of Stoner’s one page addition to my original article. Yet here instead of his name, my name appeared.

I was baffled. I gasped, my hands on my lips. I felt that it was another mistake.

“You also e-mailed this radical propaganda to unsuspecting workers in the private sector as well as honest civil servants.” The officer continued, stretching his neck forward towards me.

His eyes bulged like that of a goldfish. Yet his stare tore into my eyes like shrapnels. Then he tossed a list of e-mail attachments purportedly sent from my e-mail account.

I browsed through the papers.

I could not speak. It was as though a knife had plunged deep into my heart.

I had thought of being released today because I was just a marcher, nothing more. They had nothing against me. Yet now with all these pamphlets, I was in deep trouble.

I chided myself too. Why did I not take the time to browse through the pamphlets yesterday? Hillary had distracted me for sure! Still, I had many opportunities to read the damn thing.

“Someone must have hacked into my e-mail account.” I said finally.

The officer laughed.

“You really like testing my patience, don’t you? It looks like you, sounds like you but it is not you. That is what you are trying to say, isn’t it?” He asked.

“But every word I say is true. Someone used my name for all this. I’m framed.” I pleaded now, recovering from the initial shock.

My mind was in a muddle. Something sinister was going on. I could not bring myself to come to a rational conclusion. It could not have been what I had thought. I could not accept that. There had to be a better explanation. There had to be something which I had missed out on.

“Yeah, and you didn’t write the article for the Bar journal either?” The officer asked.

“That was limited readership. It was not meant for the public.” I said.

He looked at me with a sly look.

“You can run but you can’t hide. We are smarter.” He said. 

“I wrote about reforming the Act only. The last page of that was not written by me.” I said.

“Who wrote it then?” The burly officer asked.

“I…I don’t know.” I said.

“Liar! You can’t tell because you wrote it yourself.” He said.

I did not want to give Stoner away despite the stack of accusations levelled against me. I felt sick now. Why did he not discuss this with me? Why had he used my name for his pamphlets when he had written it himself? Did he also use my e-mail to send out that propaganda to everyone he knew? He knew my password as I had given it to him when he asked. It was silly of me to do so yet at that time I did not think he would scoop to something as low as this. He said he wanted my password so that he could save some ideas he had in my e-mail instead of e-mailing it to me because his e-mail account had been hacked due to some virus.

I was not allowed to ask any questions. I was taken back to my cell. I spent the whole day inside; mostly I sat staring at empty spaces in between the bed and sink. I thought of my friend Ana. She always complained that she had a boring administrative job keying in data. How I would want that now.

I spent another night in the detention centre. I was drained and I felt old. I remembered the judge when he said he must have been an old man without realizing it. I felt the same way. I felt all hope fading away. Would Stoner come and get me out? Would he after all he had done? Would he care? Deep inside, I felt that he was done using me as a pawn. A willing stepping stone to further his noble agenda. It made me cringe in despair. Was I that silly or was he simply that smart?

The second night, I thought of everyone I knew. Different people fleeted in and out and of my mind. I did not have many friends. In fact I had not told any of them that I was going to march. I just thought it would be unimportant to them whether I did march or not. I had not planned on getting arrested either.

I had a fitful sleep, tossing and turning like an omelette in the pan. It was too stuffy, too hot and too lonely. I was afraid I would go crazy already, for I did not know my level of resistance. Sooner or later, I was bound to break.

I must have slept finally at the wake of dawn. I was jolted awake by the same prison guard who told me that I was now free. He whisked me to the grilled entrance of the facility while handling me a plastic bag of my stuff. Basically it was only my purse which was snugly fitted in my pants pocket. My mobile had been lost sometime during the rally. 

“Consider yourself lucky to have friends in high places.” He said, in a gruff voice.

I did not ask any questions. I was a zombie acting on prompt. I stepped outside into the open air. Bare waste land stretched all over the horizon, as far as my eyes could see. It was very windy here. The passage of wind was unhindered by anything of solid structure. Fine grails of grass swayed with the wind; following its every command. 

There was a narrow tarred road in front of the facility. I had no idea how I was to reach home. Yet I started walking. It seemed the most natural course to take. Between waste land and a clear road, the road has to be one to follow.

The wind blew grains of sand, causing a small whirlwind of sand a few feet above the ground. I blinked and blinked again; covering my eyes with my hands.

Then I saw him through grains of sand upon the wilderness. My heartbeat quickened, my feet lifted itself without violation and I ran and ran towards him. He seemed so far yet so near. Tears started streaming down my face but I did not care. I just had to catch him before he left.

He was now running too towards me. It had to be real, I was in no dream. I stumbled over some dried twigs but I picked myself up carelessly, never letting him out of my sight should I lose him again.

Now we were standing face to face. We looked at each other for what seemed like an eternity. Suddenly unsure what to do, I gazed at him through a film of tears and sand. His pale blue eyes with hints of the olive green reflected by the landscape portrayed strong emotion which I had not seen before. When he was done looking at me, he took the last step towards me and eclipsed me in his arms.

He hugged me tight. I hugged him back; felt the warm tenderness of his body moulded against mine. I went limp against him. His hands stroked my back repeatedly in soothing, regular motions. He kept on whispering into my ears, telling me that everything will be fine. He would take care of me. 

It was then I realized I was crying my heart out against his chest. I was sobbing. My resistance and endurance during detention had crumbled into shreds. My emotions were a complex web of undeciphered clots lumped into my throat that I could not speak. I could only cry to release the pent up feelings in me.

I should have been grateful to have been released. I was. Yet I was also sad at the same time. Floods of emotion poured into my entire being and I cried them out just as quickly as they came in. Two days of solitary confinement had taken its toll on me.

I looked not at him. I was too broken; buried into his chest, staining his fine shirt with my tears. My arms clung as tightly as I could around him. I would not let go should he suddenly break free from me. 

All this while, he kept on reassuring me countless times that everything would be fine. He would take care of me. He now stroked my head and neck, and gently smoothened my hair; tucking my hair behind my ears.

I lost sense of time. It felt like we were standing there with arms curled around each other for an eternity. My sobs gradually decreased, my breathing lowered at a steady pace and I tried to control my remaining sobs now that I was aware of them.

My eyes puffy; I gazed up at him for the first time since I started crying. Gazing down into my drained face, he wiped away my tears with his fingers, ever so gently that I swallowed a lump of wasteland air. I tasted the salt in my tears and the razor-sharp sand in my throat. 

My breathing was regular now but deeper than it usually was. Some madness ensured. It was my delirium taking over me now.

I got caught up in this warmth and I raised my lips to his. It was a light touch, and then I felt him respond to me. First he was gentle towards me, and then he was probing and going deeper, asking more of me each time; which I readily gave to him. I moulded my body around his. I collapsed like a tower of cards blown by the wind. He caught me and supported me, grasping my waist while he pressed my head closer to his. And behind my ears, he gently grazed them again on the pretext of looking at me clearly.

I felt my whole body streak with sensations of magnificence. I felt enraptured. I knew he must have felt the same way.

Then with reality flooding back, I pulled away from him.

“Beauty…” He said, his voice unsteady.

He let go of me. I took a few steps backwards. 

I looked at him, bit my lips till I tasted blood in them.

“Come, let’s get you home. You must be tired.” He said.

He walked me to his car with his arms around my waist. I felt the cushions of the passenger seat of his car. They were so comfortable. He drove along the narrow tarred road carefully as he manoeuvred the sharp bends and corners.

I looked out at the window. Haphazard rows of trees lined both sides of the road. I saw a grey rabbit hopping amongst the towering grails of grass, partially hidden from sight as the car sped by. How beautiful the rabbit is, I thought. Like the grey curtains in his chambers. They seem comforting now.

We did not speak as he was driving. Yet now and then, he endeavoured to keep an eye on me. I felt safe now and relaxed. I must have trusted him enough for I loosened all inhibitions and with a content sigh fell into deep slumber in the car all the way home.

I felt him gently nudging my shoulders. I awoke and found myself right at the gate of my parents’ house. I guess I had slept for three hours or so because it was now noon. The sun was a fiery red in the skies.

I heard my parents squeal in delight. They rushed towards the gate; pushing the grilled gates aside with a loud bang. They bombarded the car door, and soon, I was in their arms. Wet kisses on my cheeks from my mother and hearty hugs from my father.

I heard them thank him for his help in getting me out of the detention facility. Sudden awareness came to me that I did not let him know how much I appreciated what he did for me.

“It was nothing, Mr Sands. I had owed your daughter a favour and I’m merely honouring it.” He had said.

On hearing him mouth those simple words, I felt my heart crush for an unknown reason. Yes, of course he was paying back his debt to me. We were on equal footing now.

My mother invited him to stay for lunch. He searched my face inquiringly, letting me decide.

“If you could spare the time, I would be pleased.” I said, telling myself not to bite my nails.

He said yes to my mother who then turned to look at me in one of those knowing looks she had. She seemed amused.

I justified myself with a long shower before lunch. After all, he was well taken care for by my parents. My father was a great conversationalist while my mother in general was a great nagger. He would never be bored with them.

My mother, especially was eager to know how he got me out of the Lake Side. I too, heard it for the first time at the dining table.

“My classmate at law school is the current Supreme Court judge. The Supreme Court is the highest in the court hierarchy. I explained to him what happened. He used his influence on the government to get Beauty out. I do not yield enough power to do so.” The judge said.

“I’m glad you did. This naughty girl of mine never listens. She lives in her own world. I told her not to march but she insisted. What’s there to change in our country? We are safe enough if we don’t interfere with politics. Do you know, she always tells me that we should all fight for our freedom, and yet here she is at nearly forty; still living with us.” My mother said, looking at him and then at me.

Obviously she meant it as a humorous way to start lunch.

“Mum! Please. I wanted to move out but you wanted me to stay.” I said.

I was always treated like a child when I was at home with my parents. But at my ripe age, I had to have some footing around here although I still lived with them.

The judge had a sincere look in his face though, which surprised me. He was not laughing at me. He was quietly observing me cutting pieces of chicken in a very unlady-like manner. Why would my mother cook chicken today knowing that I had never liked her chicken dishes? I was a little grumpy also because my mother called me a naughty girl as if I was five years old.

There goes the impression I would like outsiders to see – the confident, successful lawyer who was not hen-pecked by her mother.

This private home life of mine was very different from the professional life I showed at work. The judge would be in the work category. Yet it was always downhill with him. I could never raise myself higher to be that ideal lawyer. Every time I met him, most of the time, he would somehow make me cry. Or rather, I would cry when I met him. I would be a five year old with him too. I was ashamed of myself.

Thus with all said and done and what he had gathered of me, I could not make myself presentable anymore because I was such a klutz. So I stopped trying. It was too late to do damage control to my reputation.

My parents dominated the conversation with him. I marvelled at how well the three of them got together. They did not leave me out on purpose; rather it was because I was tongue-tied when I hear people speak. I did enjoy listening to them, and it must have somehow transcended into a norm which defined me.

My solace was in my writing and reading. In my own world of escapism, I was free to venture all realms. I was free to speak unfettered; to fly unbound. I was able to flap my wings and look down at the world below me. I was more of a poetic philosopher than of an ardent observer of facts. I lived to inspire others. I wanted change for my people, for my country.

I finished my lunch early. He was still with my parents at the dining table. Quietly I left the table and watched from aside, the judge in particular. He seemed very much at home. His fine shirt was crumpled though, courtesy of the crying woman. His eyes had a gaiety in them and his deep voice was very soothing to hear.

I took a stroll in the garden, watching sparrows on their branches chirping and a rare squirrel hurriedly making a dash into the tree hollow when it caught me spying on it the same way the judge had been observing me. I jolted, having being caught without inhibitions in my own world.

The judge was behind me. How could I not realise? I was always on my guard. 

“I hope I had not startled you?” He asked.

“Not at all.” I said, civilly, turning to look at him.

I pointed up to the hollow in the tree above us.

“I was preoccupied with a squirrel.” I said.

“Beauty…it was a good lunch. Your mother is a good cook.” He said, a little hesitantly.

I wondered why on earth my mother’s cooking was a solemn matter.

“Beauty…I want to talk to you about some things about that other day when we had lunch together.” He said.

I could not look at him. That memory was etched so sharply in my mind that to talk about it made me shudder.

“Oh, look at the squirrel again. It is coming out from the hollow now.” I said, ignoring his question deliberately.

“Beauty, I behaved badly towards you. I should not have kissed you. I deserved that slap I got.” He said.

“Ah, it’s now jumping across the branch to the other tree.” I said, my eyes still on the squirrel.

“I hold on to my words though. Stoner does not treat his women right. He never did. He doesn’t love anything but the thrill of doing something dangerous; that is for revolution. Yes, he is doing something for the greater good but at a cost. He uses women. That is how he is. You were the perfect candidate because you wrote brilliantly for his propaganda.” The judge said.

He just had to carry on. I did not want to listen, not right now, because I would start crying again. I missed Stoner alright; the clandestine moments which we had. The discussion of our work, our elaborate, romantic dinners and our one and only night spent together was now in a time warp. It would never happen again.

“Hush, Greg, hush now.” I said, raising my fingers to his lips.

“Don’t speak about it now. I will cry again. Somehow you always make me cry.” I said.

I heard my own voice tremble now. I was not going to cry again.

“Okay. I won’t speak of it again.” He said.

“Greg, I never got to tell you how much it meant to me that you got me out of the detention facility. There were so many others inside, yet you got only me out of there.” I said.

He was silent.

“I owed you a favour, remember?” He asked.

“Had you not a debt to repay, would you have done so?” I asked.

He did not answer me but he gazed even deeper into my eyes. There seemed to be some conflict within him. I did not pester him.

Events and happenings in life work in mysterious ways. Had I not kept his secret, he would not have helped me when I needed it most.

“Then, I’m glad we are on equal footing.” I said, extending my hand to him.

“Friends.” I said, when he braced my hands with his warm ones.

“How did you know I was arrested?” I asked. 

“The BBC has broadcasted the event on their news network. You were very brave. You protected Stoner. They called you “The Angel” for what you did. Had you ran, you would not have been caught.” He said. 

“How is Stoner? Have you heard from him?” I asked.

“He is well. Hillary is taking good care of him. I’ve not heard from him but that is what our Matthew says.” He said. 

The one judge I knew left soon after saying his goodbyes to my parents. But he did not say goodbye to me. Well, he had forgotten. I saw him drive away until I could spot his car no longer at the horizon.

My mother must have been watching me at the gate, long after his car was gone. She startled me by speaking to me first.

“He said he likes my cooking,” my mother said, beaming.

“That’s nice of him to say so.” I said, shuffling with my sandals on the pavement.

“Invite him over again for lunch.” She said.

“He is a busy man. I don’t know him that well either.” I said.

I felt like I had lost him. Then with a heavy heart, I walked back into the house, back to the hustle and bustle of family life. My parents were entertaining to say the least. I treasured them a lot despite their idiosyncrasies.

“To know someone better, you would have to spend more time with them.” My mother said with a sharp look in her eyes.

“If you want to know him better, why not you invite him for lunch?” I snapped.

“And this guy you’ve been seeing – this Stoner, where is he when you needed him most?” She asked. 

“I don’t know, mum. You don’t have to rub it in. I’m feeling very hurt that he is not with me because he should have been here.” I said, very honestly.

Well, after that, my mother did not question me anymore. She sensed my distress, and left me alone. She was never a good counsellor. Happy times were shared but sad times like these, I was mostly alone with her knowledge of me crying it out by myself. 

…

For two weeks after that, I buried myself in work, my parents and friends outside the legal circle. I managed to get myself a mobile with a new number and with regret, I found that I did not have the judge’s number to remember him by. I was disappointed that I could no longer keep in touch with him despite being friends. Or maybe we had an uneasy alliance but that was about it. I did not remember Stoner’s number either given that I always speed-dial.

I supposed I could have called their office numbers but I just did not feel like doing so. Stoner did not contact me through office which I silently prayed that he would. Because we were in love, weren’t we not?

Stoner did come to see me just as I was leaving office one pleasant evening. The weather was perfect. He was dressed in a checkered shirt and a pair of loose pants. He had not been at work, I could tell from his choice of clothes.

“Bea, thank God you are alright!” He lunged into me, and peppered my face with kisses.

“Where have you been these two weeks?” I asked.

“Working. I had been so busy. With all the attention from international news agencies, I was doing interviews and stuff. I told them that you were indeed an angel. I also finally kicked Hillary out of my life.” He said.

“I thought you had kicked her out long ago.” I retorted.

“Oh…she kept coming back. What was I to do? I had more important matters on my mind than some crazy woman.” He said.

“Doesn’t matter. Why did you use my e-mail account and distribute your own pamphlets in my name?” I asked.

“Because I was too important to get caught. Do you understand, Bea, that if I were caught, no one would continue my work. The people would suffer. I was their leader. I had to lead. I knew you were able to get out of that mess. After all, your judge seemed to take quite a liking for you. In fact, he was smitten with you.” Stoner said.

“What?” I asked.

“I knew you were going to be alright. Your judge caused such a fanfare in court to gather support for you from the other judges. I just had to watch to see how amusing it was. Judges after all, should not be involved in politics, strictly speaking.” Stoner said.

“And you did not do anything to get me out?” I asked.

“There was no need to, Bea. You were well taken care of. You would get through by and by. Now you are the symbol of the revolution. You are the poster girl now; the Joan of Arc. Don’t you get it? Have you not seen your photos as a human shield in front of the tank while Hillary carried me to safety? We’re all over now in the papers. We’re making headlines, Bea. The reforms are coming, I can sense that.” He said.

His voice was oozing with excitement. He was seeing things from a whole different perspective from what I saw. I saw only love betrayed; not dreams achieved.

Did I fight for our country’s freedom of expression and speech? Yes I did. Yet I was not wholly into it the way Stoner was. We had been living in fear of the authorities ever since I could remember. I did not mind if it did not change overnight. It is a crude fact but we have all been subjugated for so long that it could wait. We no longer knew what real sunlight was. We only felt sunlight through window panes. 

“I did it for you, Stoner. For you! I did not choose to be a sacrificial lamb.” I cried with hurt in my voice.

“And it’s working, I tell you. It’s going to be a very effective revolution. A photograph is worth a thousand words. Our photo has been selected for the Peace Prize Photograph of the Year.” Stoner said. 

“Our photo? Ironically a threesome isn’t it?” I asked, my voice slicing through the words.

A sudden wave of jealousy weaved through me as quick as a blink of the eye.

“Why didn’t you give any interviews? I’m sure you had many news agencies calling you non-stop. You could have been famous. Tell your side of the story. What you did to save me. What was going on in your mind when you used yourself as a human shield.” Stoner said. 

“I’m uneasy with attention, Stoner. I want to help the freedom movement but I’m not really a people person.” I said. 

“Then it’s too bad, isn’t it, Bea? You can’t do both at the same time. Something has got to give. You can’t have your cake and eat it too.” Stoner said. 

I clicked on the button of my car keys. I was going home now. Just a few steps away from the car parked right in front my office.

“Don’t be immature, Bea. See beyond it. We were the epitome of solidarity in the midst of chaos. We are all equal. We fight for the same thing – our freedom!” Stoner said passionately.

“Bea, of course I care about you. Have I not been devoting all my free time with you? But I cannot comprehend why you cling to me so much. You have to be more independent. You have to get a grip on yourself. You’re much more capable than you think you are.” He said.

I walked towards the driver’s seat of the car. I opened the door. I would lose in an altercation with Stoner. He was always right. I was either always selfish, wrong or dumb.

Yet Stoner slammed the door shut the moment I pulled the lever open. He was not letting me go easily.

“Why are you here, Stoner?” I asked, feeling tired at our merry-go-round conversation.

“I would like to have dinner with you.” Stoner replied.

“So that you can propose another project?” I asked.

“Well, now that you said it, yes, but only after we have had time to ourselves. I do have a few suggestions you might like.” The handsome Stoner said, with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“No, Stoner. It’s over. I’m done with you. What we had was special and you ruined it. You did not respect me enough to tell me what you were doing with my writing. You used my name for your propaganda and my e-mail to spread your message across. When I was detained at the Lake Side, you did not bother. At the least, you could work with the judge.” I said.

“So it’s always back to the judge again, isn’t it? Is that why you’re not going out with me anymore? Did you return the favour by warming him in bed?” Stoner yelled at me.

“No. This has nothing to do with the judge. You betrayed my trust.” I shouted back at Stoner. 

Stoner yanked the top buttons off his shirt.

“This, Bea…what is this? Damn you, I have been wearing this cheap trash since you gave it to me. I trusted you, Bea, and just because I don’t come rescuing you like a knight in shining armour, you head for the first Tom, Dick and Harry that comes along. Typical of you, isn’t it? You have no mind of your own. The same way I had to get you to write that article for me.” He kept on shouting. 

He flicked the necklace from his neck and threw it on the ground. 

Hot tears welled up my eyes. I was furious. 

“I put my life in danger for you when you were unconscious lying by a pile of trash. You have no decency to thank me. Instead you come hurling insults at me! Everything you say about me and the judge is untrue.” I cried. 

I felt very disappointed. It could have been a lovely relationship had there been trust and openness, not selfishness and self-endurance masked in the name of freedom.

“Are you sure? You stand to lose if you do not have my association. I am the most eligible bachelor after all.” Stoner warned.

“I have lost enough, and I am content to be without you.” I replied.

“No, that’s not true! You always wanted me.” Stoner raised his voice.

He gripped my wrists tightly. I forced myself free from his tight grip.

“Let me go!” I said to Stoner.

“Bea…” Stoner said, his voice rigid.

“Whom do you love more, Stoner? Your freedom fighting or me? Tell me the truth.” I said softly.

“You, Bea, you! That’s without question.” Stoner said, looking right into my eyes.

I looked at this perfect specimen of a man with his melodious voice and strive for freedom. How he had captivated me and still he does; setting my heart aflutter with wings which would fly. Yet this time I did not take-off. I could not go out with a man who concealed things from me and who put his cause ahead of me. This man also thought quite lowly of me. 

Yes, dear reader, perhaps I am not selfless enough to give in to a greater cause if things were to remain the same with Stoner. It was either the man or the cause now; not both melded into one. I had to choose. 

“Stoner, I want to fight for freedom too. But I’ll do it on my own terms. I’ll definitely help you but not as your girlfriend. You don’t need to play the Casanova just to get me to do something. You can tell me what it is and if I agree with it, I’ll help you. No strings attached.” I said.

Stoner was silent. He let go of his one hand at the car door and released his grip on my wrists. He was willing to take the fact that I was still going to help him with the cause. Yes, he loved my help alright.

“If you say so, Bea. But one day you’ll return to me, the same way that I’ll always come to you.” He said.

I looked at him and gave him a light kiss on his cheeks. 

“We might very well do that. After all, Stoner, I had told you right from the start that I was never going to forget you ever.” I said.

“Friends for now? But I do love you, Bea.” He said.

“Friends. But you don’t love me enough.” I replied. 

“What about dinner tonight?” He asked, with a hint of trepidation in his eyes.

I smiled and shook my head.

“Another day perhaps, Stoner. Have a safe drive back to Rhine.” I said.

He gave me a bear hug and waited as I started my car. Through the front mirror, I could see him standing still waving at me. I saw him pick up the necklace and string it back around his neck. I looked back until I could see him no more when my car turned around a corner.

… 

One month later, I heard Hillary had moved back with him and was keeping an iron grip on him again. Sophia, now her new rival, was prone to having public catfights with her in and out of court, much to the entertainment of the profession.

Stoner either revelled in the attention or was ignorant about it. He continued campaigning for the reform of the Terrorism Act. I still admired him for that despite his actions towards me. I was a softie, I know. In reality, things are like that. I was not so rational with my feelings.

This man had a one track mind and strove to finish what he started. I contributed in every legal way I could by my writing. I was content to take a side line in the fight for freedom. We hardly met now yet we communicated mostly through e-mail and phone.

Slowly but surely, the love I had for him diminished; akin to a great flash flood which overtook the town by storm and then ran out of steam when the sun shone.

My love for him was a great infatuation. I guess we both got caught up in our own vulnerabilities and had mistaken the void for the need of love. I needed him to fill some void in me. He had represented a prince charming in a fairy tale. It had been surreal. He was, as he always was, from my first observation; a sculpture of an archangel. For that, I would never forget him.

The few months that passed, I learnt more of the ropes of which the profession demanded of litigation lawyers. I wanted to be involved in the action, so I asked Joseph to teach me the tricks of the trade, which he grudgingly did. My big, bad boss could be a good teacher if he wanted to. From what I learnt from him, I would say that he was not really bad, but behaved that way because of the nature of clients who came to see him. Those with shady undertakings had demanded his cooperation which he had to give in to and at the same time; he lost his soul to the darker side of the profession.

Some would think that it is a matter of choice; that one could choose if one were strong enough to make that judgment. True enough, yet the road of right and wrong is often blurred. There is this whole grey area of uncertainty where ethics gets you nowhere unless you choose a side. A choice has to be made before the path is known; and only from this initial choice, ethics comes in play. It would or not shine depending on the torch of the seeker of truth.

I accompanied Joseph to court more often and I would listen to him present his case. Finally I had gained enough confidence to represent clients in complex cases and did my best to uphold the dignity of the profession and the duty to my clients.

I did bump into the judge often. Sometimes I had matters in his court and other times, I just walked my way through into his chambers when Joseph did not expect me back so soon. He liked that apparently when I appeared at the least expected times without warning. He would always welcome me with open arms and our friendship blossomed into an intricate web of paradigms for matters of the heart are a complicated matter. He would teach me about the unspoken code of conduct that judges employ towards lawyers, and he would also teach me how to litigate properly. He was, after all, prior to being a judge, a successful criminal advocate. In fact, I was surprised to find out that he used to be a human rights lawyer as well prior to the days of Stoner. He had campaigned much for change until he became disillusioned. 

We would lunch quite often at the Rubik Cube and gossip started heating up upon us. Joseph treated me better albeit with an eye of suspicion. I guessed every time he looked at me, he saw how I could influence the judge in his favour. However that opportunity did not arise so far as our current important case was with Justice Bodem. 

The fraud case proceeded well. Our client was acquitted of forgery charges. I had the opportunity to question our witness in court. I was uncomfortable about it at first for I likened her to my competitor. Strange these human emotions I had. Basically they were straightforward questions about our client’s whereabouts on that particular night the forgery was alleged to have taken place. She answered and confirmed that they were in a particular hotel having an illicit affair; he being a married man at that point of time. After that, I never saw her again. 

“You were, at that time also having another affair with another man?” Queried counsel for the plaintiff.

She had smiled, but shook her head.

I clenched my fists. I turned green with jealousy. But I remembered I had a job to do. 

“Objection, Your Honour. This question as to the character of the witness is irrelevant. The purpose of the witness being here is to establish that the defendant was with her at the material time of the alleged forgery.” I said. 

Justice Bodem looked at me, and in ruling, said “Sustained.”

I felt a relief. She had an affair with Greg Rhodes the same time she slept with the defendant. No one must know about it to tarnish his good name. 

After the trial, I talked to her to say goodbye and to compliment her on a witness stand gone as planned. 

“Thank you.” She said. 

“It’s my duty.” I said. 

“It’s as though you knew I was going to answer in the affirmative”. She said. 

“How did you manage them?” I asked. 

It was totally non-related to the case now but I could not help it. I wanted to know. 

She lit a cigarette, put it into her mouth and puffed out a big puff of air. I waited for her answer. 

“One kept me grounded to reality; the other had me live a fairy tale. Life is not static. You see, after a while, I left routine for the excitement of not knowing.” She said. 

“And now?” I asked.

“I have none.” She said. 

“How was routine like?” I asked, barely breathing. 

“Routine was strong and stable. Not of words, but of action.” She answered. 

“Take good care of him, will you?” She said. 

I was flabbergasted. How could she have known?

“What are you talking about?” I asked. 

“My dear, to reach my stage, I have accumulated quite a bit of worldly experience. I think you have someone in mind and that both of you are not quite there yet.” She had said. 

“Well, you’re speculating.” I said. 

“No harm done. What I realise though is that after something ends, I always regret it, longing for the past.” She said. 

“Why not go back to routine then?” I asked. 

“Routine won’t take me in, and for routine to do so, there must be very strong reasons because routine doesn’t lose love quickly.” She said. 

“What do you mean?” I asked; blood draining from my cheeks.

“You’re a lawyer. You figure it out.” She had answered.

I could only stare at her as she left. I was not sure whether she suspected that I knew about her and Greg or whether she was just talking in general to let go of her angst. I could see that she was quite lonely despite having had it all at one point in time. 

I was in Greg’s chamber later than usual. It was past his lunch time. I was not sure if he would be there anymore. I barged into the chamber. I saw him, just sitting down, doing nothing. No document nor file lay on his table. 

Today seemed a little different. Normally he was all bent over papers but today he was just sitting down there. 

“Did you wait for me, Greg?” I asked. 

“Yes.” He answered, with eyes focused on me. 

I was a little touched that he waited for me because we never made official appointments or promised that we would see each other. It was always I, barging in and out as I pleased. And the best part of all was that he was always there to greet me.

“How was the case?” He asked. 

“Ah, you waited because you wanted to know.” I said, as a matter of fact.

There was always a reason for everything in this profession. 

I was crestfallen, but I handled it well. I do not believe that someone could like me for who I really was. I would not say that I was horrible inside or anything like that, but it was just that I lacked that faith that someone would. I grew up this way amongst people with ulterior motives and the latest was the handsome Stoner himself. 

“She did well. I believe that at the next sitting, Bodem will acquit our defendant.” I said. 

“That’s good.” He had replied. 

“She is single now.” I said.

“I see.” He said, beckoning me to sit down. 

“Isn’t it your lunch time? You have a case in half an hour. You should get something to eat.” I said. 

I was half an hour later than he expected me today because of the conversation and time spent with the witness whom I would not name. She gives me the jitters till this day.

“I will in a few minutes.” He said. 

“But first, how was she?” He asked. 

“Beautiful. She says she wants you back but you didn’t want her back.” I said. 

I might as well be the matchmaker to make him happy. Maybe he was too egoistic at that dreadful time of betrayal. All men are, aren’t they not? But deep down, he loved a thing of beauty, and that is not me. 

He appeared perplexed.

“She didn’t mention you specifically but she mentioned vaguely about her former lover whom she regretted leaving.” I said. 

“Ah.” Was all he said upon hearing the words.

I did not know whether he wanted to talk about his personal matters so I kept silent. 

He shoved his chair aside and beckoned me to go with him for a quick lunch.

“Here is her new mobile number…if you’re interested.” I said.

I handed him her name card. 

He shook his head. 

“No, you keep it. I don’t need it anymore, not when I have…” He said. 

He stopped short of his sentence. Our hands grazed the other as he pushed the card back into my hands. 

With lips slightly parted, I gazed upwards. 

“So many things on my mind!” He said, raising his hands in such an exasperated manner that we both laughed.

Back home, I did not throw away her name card. I kept it. I cannot explain why I did it. I put it in my drawer. 

…

I was having the time of my life. In the meantime, Stoner, Hillary and I were the poster icons for the freedom movement. I finally made use of the image that I had portrayed to campaign for freedom of speech and expression. Now I had not called for the abolition of the Terrorism Act of 2000, but I had formed pressure groups for the circumstances where the said freedoms should be unfettered. Occasionally I was invited to give speeches, sometimes with or without Stoner on my views of freedom. 

I was still not a people person and was uncomfortable around crowds, but I did it all for the cause. Stoner was right about one thing. I could not have my cake and eat it too. 

My writing had also taken me to a whole new level. I wrote articles on piecemeal reforms; never asking for too much at one go. Stoner felt that this was showing weakness but I preserved anyhow. I was going to do it my way now. I had gained confidence somewhat from him, Greg and Joseph in the legal field. I believed that the only way to seek reform was to do it in a steady fashion and not the radical way Stoner had in mind. I had started to compile all my articles and was in the process of publishing my book on human rights development in the country. 

I did note though that the law ideally should not interfere with politics; and nor politics with law; but when politics is legally reprehensible, law had a moral duty to correct the wrongs of political actions. A check and balance is required. 

Stoner and I met one day to discuss the possibility of having a closed-door discussion with the government authorities to release the remaining protestors in the Walk of Peace. After we had discussed the details, I was glad that he finally saw eye to eye with me on taking baby steps instead of a huge outcry. 

“The government doesn’t like to look bad. I believe they are smart enough to do damage control from the freedom movement. For public approval, they need to work with the Bar Association. It’s two way communication. Picture it as I slap your back, and you slap mine.” I said. 

“You’re right, Bea. I hope this discussion will work out.” Stoner said. 

“Dinner?” He asked me, quite apprehensive. 

I agreed, and over dinner he spoke to me about my relationship with Greg. 

“The judge and you…I’ve only heard; I don’t know if it’s true? And wait, before you rebuke me, let me tell you, if it’s true, then it’s plain bad public relations for our freedom fight. He got you out of the Lake Side by pressuring the Supreme Court judge. Everyone knows that now. Point is he only got you out. Ten others are still languishing there after six months. After you’re out, you seem to covert with him as if paying him back for the favour done. I apologize for my earlier accusations towards you. Notwithstanding your innocent friendship with him is the point that it affects the poster image in our infamous threesome photograph that we are portraying – solidarity in the time of bleakness. You got special treatment. It’s not fair. You were not more equal nor more special than the others. Do you get that?” Stoner said. 

He had never spoken to me so much at a time that I took in a few moments to digest everything he said. 

“I didn’t see it from your point of view before…” I said. 

“So you’re saying if I stop seeing the judge, our movement will appear more credible?” I asked. 

“You can think for yourself, you know how it works.” Stoner said. 

I thought of Greg. I was not sure if I could separate him from my life just like that. Perhaps if I did it gradually, it would not hurt me. I did not know of Greg’s regard towards me. Probably he would be relieved that I did not go to his chambers anymore. He did not want me dangling by his side, giving him no rest. 

I was easily yielded by Stoner. It was not because I trusted him. Rather it was my own insecurities about myself and how I related to Greg. This man had never sought me voluntarily. I was always gaining on him and seeking him out in court. He never came to me. I must have been a fool. 

Yet if Stoner had not brought this up, I would be unaware of my fallacies, and still living in my own world without a care. Now there was more at stake, all the more reason why I should leave Greg alone. 

Thus, in a wink of that conversation, I broke free from my inclinations towards Greg. I stopped going to his chambers. Joseph noticed and asked me about it one day. 

“You and His Honour are no longer on good terms, I presume?” He asked me when I was back early from court one day.

I did not feel like watching Justice Bodem in action, so I had called it a day in court. Since I did not want to see Greg, his friend was the closest I got to. The cases in the lower courts were not interesting enough to capture my attention. 

“We are on good terms. I don’t see him now because he had taught me everything there is to know about advocacy.” I said. 

Well, what an answer! It just arose in my mind, and I blurted it out. I felt untrue to myself. I was not in alignment with my soul. 

I had avoided him because I felt myself silly to be attracted to a man who was not at all interested in me. He probably knew and he tolerated me as much as he could. I could not bear it when one does not reciprocate. 

Stoner had thought that I was taking his advice for the sake of the freedom movement. Joseph had thought that I had learnt everything from him. 

I had thought myself deceptive. That night, I felt my conscience stifled. It was not the lies I told to them, but rather the ingenuity of being me. I was becoming a good liar. 

Are all lawyers like this? I was becoming conflicted. I never was before…until that fateful day, for better or for worse when I was commanded by Joseph to stall the judge. 

I was now the confident, self-assured lawyer I wanted myself to be. I was proud to be me – Beauty. I was proud of my name finally. It was my defining moment. One night, it just struck me about how comfortable I was with my life. I was the woman I wanted to be. I had determined my own life and I am taking charge of myself. Still I had to work on the white lies which I sought desperately to conceal my feelings with.

I have inspired others and they have looked up to me as a role model in the freedom movement. I was relatively known in the Bar Association and I was glad to have made an impact in the country. I was a very satisfied person in regards to my achievements thus far in the profession. It defined me. 

Greg called me on my mobile on a Friday; which is after four days of not entering his chambers. 

“How are you doing, Beauty?” He asked. 

“I’m good, thanks, and you?” I answered. 

This was my standard reply to everybody whom I meet and anybody who phones me. 

“You have not many cases in court this week?” He asked. 

I shook my head. Then I chided myself, I’ve got to talk, not nod. 

“Not so many. I’m a bit tired this week. I have the flu bug from office.” I said. 

This again, is not a lie, but in all honest reality, a flu bug would not have stopped me from barging into this man’s chambers. As I already have nothing to impress him for, I could very well have gone in with a dripping nose and puffy eyes, and still felt very much at ease.

“You were not waiting for me, weren’t you?” I asked. 

It was not like we made appointments or anything like that. Only on that day where he waited for me because he wanted to hear about the case outcome. 

“Not really.” He answered.

“But you came daily, so I was wondering if you were alright.” He continued. 

“I’m good.” I said.

And I asked him, “How are you?” 

“I’m good too.” He said. 

Throughout our ten minutes conversation, there were jarring moments of silence on the line. When I did not initiate a conversation, it seemed that he did not either. He really doesn’t have anything to say to me. 

“Will you be in court next week?” He asked. 

“Yes.” I said.

“Will you pass by my chambers?” He asked. 

“I don’t think so. I think it is only proper that I do not do it, for your own good and my own good. I know I have always been disturbing your writing time and I don’t want to do that anymore. I had always sought you out.” I said. 

There was his deep breathing on the line.

“There is nothing wrong with that.” He said. 

In silence, I wanted to say that he did not reciprocate. He did not seek me out after working hours. He never did ask me out. I was a distraction who lightened his day; made him talk a little, laugh a little, taught me when he could. I was like a puppy with an owner who was busy. We were having a one-sided friendship. 

I could not answer. I shook at the other end of the line. It was better that I did not answer. I would be at losing end, always had in love. 

Whilst I was confident in all aspects of my life, love was one thing which I shied away from now. No Stoner, no Greg, no nobody at all. 

I was stronger alone and since I was mostly alone to start off with, this was simple to follow. 

The conversation ended just as abruptly as it started. 

…

Greg did not call me for two months. One fateful day, he did; an unexpected surprise which was duly welcomed, saying that he wanted me to meet me after work. We met at the nearest Starbucks Coffee from my house. I cancelled my cooking appointment with my mother, anything to get away from cooking, I told myself.

He was already on a one-seater lounge, and rose when he saw me.

“I must thank you for cancelling my cooking appointment.” I said, smiling.

“You don’t like cooking, do you?” He asked.

“If I could avoid it, I would.” I said.

I was not embarrassed to say that since he had seen me in far worst scenarios and he knew me in the worst of times.

“How are you, Beauty?” He asked.

“Very well, thank you. And you?” I asked, now comfortably seated at the lounge opposite him.

“I recalled that I said I would buy you a cup of ice-blended coffee six months ago. I want to keep to my word.” He said.