Ask Again Later Read Online Free PDF

measure as any.
    â€œYou know what I was thinking when I was sitting in that meeting?” I say.
    â€œLet me guess. ‘Jenny, where the hell’s my coffee?’” Sam says.
    â€œWell, that, too. But I was wondering when I decided it was okay for this job to consume my life,” I say. “How did work become my central focus? Not my central focus. It’s my only focus. I have nothing else.”
    â€œThat’s what happens when you’re good at something. You want to spend all of your time doing it,” Sam says. “But you’ve been here for sixty-three days in a row; maybe you just need a break.”
    He’s right. I am good at my job, and being good at something is meaningful. But the more time I spend perfecting what I’m already good at, the less time I spend on things that I’m not good at. You see where this is headed, don’t you? A lopsided life. I do need a break.
    â€œWe both know if I take that break —I’m the girl who needed a break . It’s one more reason for me not to makepartner. Partners don’t need breaks. I’m living under the constant threat of not making partner. It used to seem kind of exciting and elusive. Like hunting. Now it just makes me feel bad,” I say. “I’m thirty years old. My mother just told me she has cancer. Why am I spending all of my time here?”
    â€œCancer? Oh, Emily. I’m sorry,” Sam says. “How is she coping?”
    â€œIt’s hard to describe,” I say. I’ve never been able to describe her accurately and now is no different.
    â€œI really am sorry. Please let me know if there’s any way I can help,” Sam says.
    â€œThanks,” I say.
    â€œAbout you and me, Em,” Sam says. “This morning, I pretty much laid it all out there—on the phone. The woman who has never been tardy or sick in four years chooses today as the day not to show up. Doesn’t even call. If you were me, what would you make of that?” Sam asks.
    â€œEverything is different today,” I say. I want to claim some newfound ability to see things more clearly. But it’s not true. I just see things differently.
    He drops my hand. Not sure why he held it, just to let it go. A subliminal reinforcement of what I’m doing to him? Mano a mano. Very cagey, amigo. His directness is startling and frightening and exciting. It’s also completely foreign to me.
    I stare at him.
    â€œThe thing that’s always concerned me about you is that you live your life with one foot out the door. It’s unsettling,” Sam says. “Worse than that, it’s familiar. It reminds me of Susanna.”
    Okay, that is officially the most hurtful thing he’s ever said to me. I think I might cry because it also happens to be true. I do live with one foot out the door. But if I cry, he wins, right? I’m not sure what he wins exactly. The satisfaction of articulating my dysfunction better than I can? All I know is I can’t lose this one. Maybe I really am a lawyer at heart. Why is winning even part of this exchange?
    â€œThat’s really unnecessary and really unfair,” I say. “I’ve made solid decisions in my life so I don’t have an ex-spouse to compare you to.”
    â€œYou’re right. No ex-spouse for you,” Sam says, smiling.
    â€œWhy are you smiling?” I say.
    â€œA spouse, or even an ex-spouse, would have required you to have made a commitment to someone,” Sam says. “That’s not an area of strength for you, is it?”
    He takes a deep breath and walks away from me, toward the window.
    â€œI’m sorry. I really am. I didn’t mean for this conversation to head in this direction. Emily, I’ve thought for a long time that we were going to end up together, so I didn’t really care so much about the when of it. Now, though, the long road is starting to seem like the infinite