In the Light

By Ayesha Haqqiqa

Jack smiled sadly as he walked from the office. Another week gone. Some wins, some losses, but justice had been served. He walked to his Yamaha and unlocked the compartment. He put his briefcase inside, and then adjusted the helmet on his head.

He let out on the gas as he headed down west 35^th, towards his home in a converted brownstone. His haven, his place of rest, his prison. There was nothing there for him, not anymore. His marriage had ended, though memories of better times were still there, lingering among the dust motes that hung from the top shelves of the bookcases.

He parked his bike in the garage and walked the block to the brownstone, where he mounted the stoop and checked his mailbox. Same old same old. Credit card offers, which he ignored. Bills, which he wished he could ignore. And the occasional letter that read, "You may already be a winner."

Winner. Right. Jack tossed the junk mail in the trash, and put the cable bill on the desk. He'd pay it later. He opened his briefcase and took out some papers. He could choose to hide behind legalize for the weekend, as he had done so many times before. But the distractions of pleas and precedents had worn thin. He glanced at the papers, then flung them on the table.

He could go out boozing for the night, and envelop his free days in an alcoholic fog. But lately he’d found that wasn’t working. No matter how much he drank, the pain was still there, and wouldn’t go away.

The walls were closing in on him. In desperation, he turned on the television, but found nothing to dispel the feeling of isolation. He switched off the set and sat in his darkened apartment, staring into the gloom, trying to get away from his thoughts.

The phone rang. Jack hurried to get it, glad of any distraction.

“Hi, is this Jack?”

“Sally, is that you?” Sally Bell, still fresh from law school, had started working that week as his assistant. Her enthusiasm and wonder at the workings of Hogan Place had made Jack smile.

“Yeah, it’s me.” She giggled, and Jack knew she was blushing. “I’m sort of in a fix, and I wondered if you could help me.”

Jack sat up on the couch. “Sure, what do you need?”

“Well, I did something sort of stupid,” she confessed. “I went out to celebrate my first week of work, and lost my wallet. I don’t have any money for carfare home, and I don’t want to walk twenty blocks at night!”

Jack chuckled, in spite of himself. “Ok, Sally, tell me where you are, and I’ll pick you up.”

“Thank you,” she sighed with relief.

He drove up to Bloomingdale’s, where she was standing by the doors, bundled up against the cold. She looked at Jack, then at the Yamaha, then down at her skirt. Jack handed her his extra helmet, saying, “Don’t worry, your coat will drape over your legs. Tuck up your skirt and get on!”

Sally meekly obeyed, and gave Jack her address. She placed her arms loosely around him until he took off; then her grip tightened to the point that Jack could barely breathe.

“Loosen up a little, please,” he hollered over his shoulder. She must have heard, for her grip relaxed momentarily. But as soon as Jack made a turn, she was holding him as tight as before. He was glad when the ride was over. He got off the bike, and then held Sally’s hand as she awkwardly dismounted.

She took off the helmet and handed it to him. “You were a lifesaver, Jack,” she said, slightly breathless.

“You nearly took mine,” Jack complained good-naturedly. “I’m not a bad driver. You didn’t need to hold on so tight.”

“Oh, I’m sorry!” she said, blushing. “It’s just that I’d never ridden on a motorcycle before!” She looked at Jack, and then said, hesitantly, “Would you like to come up for some coffee?”

“Sure,” Jack said. “Let me lock up the bike.”

Sally’s apartment was bright and cheery. She had the usual compliment of law books, but they were on sparkling white shelves. Plants added greenery, and the Monet print added color. Sally took off her coat and laid it on a chair. “Make yourself at home,” she said over her shoulder as she bustled to the kitchen.

Jack took off his coat and laid it on top of Sally’s. Then he walked around the room. This place was still full of hope. The spines on the law books were new, as was the law degree hanging in its frame on a wall all by itself. Jack sat down on the old overstuffed couch and leaned back. He remembered when he was young and full of ideals. How he started at Hogan Place, sharing a cubicle with Shelley Kates. Those were good times.

His reverie was broken as Sally entered the room again, bringing steaming mugs of coffee. “I’ve got sugar and cream if you need it,” she said.

“No, this will be fine,” Jack smiled. He took the mug from her hand. She pulled up a chair and sat opposite him. She watched as he drank coffee; then, realizing he was aware of it, she averted her eyes and blushed. Jack grinned to himself. Out loud, he said, “How did you lose your wallet? Was it a pickpocket?”

“My wallet?” Sally looked at him dumbly. “Oh yes! Yes, well, that must be what happened. I’d gone to Bloomingdale’s to buy some more shoes—there was a sale, you see. It was an awful crush. I think every nine-to-fiver was there, looking for bargains after work. Anyway, when I went to pay for the shoes, I couldn’t find my wallet. There was a line behind me, and they just sort of moved me out of their way. It was only after I was upstairs again that it hit me. I didn’t have money to get home. Luckily, I always keep a quarter in my coat pocket. I used that to call you.”

“I’m surprised you found my number,” Jack said, sipping coffee. “There must be at least ten John McCoys in the phone book.”

“Yeah, but none of them live on West 35^th except you,” she said, then stopped short when she saw Jack’s expression of surprise. “Well, I’d sort of noticed you address in the employee directory,” she said lamely.

“I’m glad you got the right McCoy,” Jack said, wondering if she knew that there was no employee directory. “You can’t be too sure about things in the City.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” she said, picking up her mug and drinking.

“Do you need to call in about your credit cards?” he asked.

“Oh, no, they’re right in my purse,” she said.

“Well, I thought you said that you lost your wallet,” Jack said.

“Uh—yeah, I did,” Sally took a gulp of coffee. “But I keep my credit cards separate from my cash. That way I don’t lose both.”

“Good idea,” Jack said. He’d bet even money that the wallet was in her purse, too. He sat down his empty mug.

“Would you like some more?” Sally asked quickly.

Jack considered. “I probably should be going,” he said. “I’m sure you have a lot of things to do.”

“No, not really,” she replied. She looked at Jack. “I get lonely sometimes, and would enjoy the company.”

“What, a sweet young thing like you, lonely? I don’t believe it,” Jack said.

“Well, it’s true,” Sally said. “You know what law school is like. There’s no time for a social life. And I just started work. I haven’t exactly had time to get to know anyone but you.”

“I guess I’ll take that as a compliment,” Jack said. He looked into her eyes. “And what exactly do you know about me?”

“That you are one of the best ADAs in the office. That everyone says you are a rising star. I know you’re single, and that I’d like you to teach me things—about the law, of course.” Sally had not let her gaze leave his face.

“Oh, I could teach you things,” Jack said, leaning closer to her. “Lots of things, if you’re ready.” He took her hand in his. Their lips met, and they kissed.

Something in Jack’s head said, “No. This is not the right thing to do. It will only end in disaster and heartache, like your marriage.” But Jack didn’t listen. He felt Sally tremble as he took her in his arms and brought her to the couch. Here was someone who wanted him, someone who cared. Did it matter that he really knew little about her? Did it matter that it might not last? As he kissed her again, all thoughts vanished from his head. He was here, in the light, with her, and at least for the moment painful memories were held at bay. That was all that mattered.

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