THE RAT RACE

Lydia tried to open her eyes but she had such a headache. The light forced them shut again. Without resistance, she relaxed back into the dark behind her eyes, trying to remember where she was.

It’s a train, she thought. The weighty sway, the knock of wheels against tracks, were unmistakable. But why? She furrowed her brow in concentration but her thoughts were still hazy. With effort she forced her eyes open for a moment to take stock of her surroundings.

She was reclined across one of the long cushioned benches of a small, empty, private room in a train car, which had an accordion door to the hallway and a single window that looked out at the landscape. The room was all red and gold, and the landscape a blur of blue and green. Luggage splayed out in disarray across the overhead shelf. It seemed there was more luggage than her own, but her bleary peek was too brief to analyze her situation further.

She tried to go back to sleep but her headache was obstructive. The walls of her throat were dry and stuck together when she tried to swallow. Still, she rebelled against getting up.

The accordion door slid open and someone came in.

“Who is that?” She croaked, not bothering to open her eyes.

“’Who is that!’” Came a sarcastic retort. “Who do you think?”

“I can’t remember,” she mumbled as the door slid shut again. Her companion sighed.

“Lydia, why do you do these things right before a big event? Aren’t you even worried about winning tonight?”

She gathered her companion wouldn’t bother answering her question, so rolled her head to the side and forced her eyes open again, blinking until the blur cleared. “Oh. Hi Sam,” and she closed them again. She felt the bump of something cold and wet on her arm.

“I got you a can of coconut water. I figured you’d feel like crap when you woke up.”

Lydia fumbled for it and popped the tab, but couldn’t solve the riddle of how to drink it while lying down. Finally she sat up, still blind behind closed eyelids.

“Geez Lydia. It’s one o’clock. We’ve gotta debate in a few hours. What the hell did you do last night?”

“Pffft, don’t act like you don’t understand me. You were there, too.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t do whatever it is you did.” Lydia didn’t bother to respond as she sipped her coconut water. Sam persisted, “You can’t debate like this.”

“I’ll be fine, Sam. This ain’t my first rodeo.”

“Alright. It’s just… you seemed so set on winning”

“I am.”

“Good. Because I am, too. And I’m worried you’re going to drag the team down.”

Lydia downed the last of the coconut water. “We’re going to win the tournament.”

Lydia was better oriented now. They were on their way south to Atlanta for a huge national college debate tournament, having left a day earlier than the team to make time for a night of fun in New York City on their way through. Lydia liked to party, and so did Sam, but Sam often felt troubled by Lydia’s flippancy when it came to academics, and jealous of how easily success came to her.

Lydia and Sam were on the fast track to the best law schools in the country. They both had perfect GPAs, and their transcripts were heavily padded with electives, clubs, and sports. They had never stumbled over any obstacle. Least of all Lydia.

Interrupting her own silent recovery, “Ok, Sam, I have a plan.”

“Great. What’s your plan?”

“Some greasy snacks from the snack car, and more coconut water. Then, sleep until we arrive in Atlanta. Then we get checked into the tournament and win our debate tonight. Then we go to a concert, because what else do you do when you’re in Atlanta?... I got us tickets, after all…” she dangled.

“Tickets to see who?”

A grin spread across Lydia’s face, her eyes still closed, “It’s a surprise.” As generous as Dionysus, Lydia liked to indulge those around her as much as she liked to indulge herself. She continued, “Then… more debates and more concerts until the tournament is over and we’re declared the Mistresses of Argument!” Lydia fell back onto the couch.

“Well… I guess it’s just that simple,” Sam responded dryly, watching Lydia fall back to sleep. “I thought you wanted to get greasy snacks?”

“Actually we have to resort to Plan B; sleep first, greasy snacks later…”

* * *

The train whistle sounded and Lydia jolted awake again. Seeing it was now nighttime, she panicked, “Sam we missed our stop! Where the hell are we now?”

“Babe, what? Who’s Sam?” A reclining suit responded from the opposite cushioned bench.

“What?” Lydia replied, disoriented.

“Who’s Sam?” He repeated.

She clutched her head in her hands, struggling to organize her thoughts. “Oh… sorry, babe,” she struggled, “My roommate in college was Samantha. I was dreaming and forgot where I was.”

He laughed lightheartedly, “Alright babe, you had me worried. I was thinking it’s a little early to be having an affair.”

She turned her head to look at him. This man was quite the looker. Especially in that expensive suit. Feeling damp, she looked herself over. Her hands in white lace gloves rested on top of his coat, which was draped over her like a blanket. She remembered now the wet white dress beneath it.

They hadn’t known each other long, but when you know, you know. They were decisive people who didn’t waste time. Evan was ambitious and successful, already receiving job offers from many high profile firms, even though he had a semester left at law school. With a taste for adventure to match her own, he had scooped her up that night on a whim and they’d hopped on a midnight train to the boardwalk, and eloped on the beach under the moonlight. The ocean seemed to swallow all the light of the boardwalk carnival, emanating it back in a deep, seductive blue glow. After their “I dos” they had run into the water in their wedding attire.

More wakeful now, she noticed the sand caked at his pant hems, and his salt-crusted hair. She smiled remembering their celebratory evening. Behind the glaring reflections in the window she saw the horizon glowing like the ocean as dawn emerged.

“Can we turn off the lights in here?” She asked. She wanted to watch the sky. He got up and blackened the room, and she let the dawn mesmerize her as it spread higher.

“You feeling alright?” He asked concernedly, “I can go see if the snack car is open.”

“No, I’m fine. They’ll be closed,” she replied drowsily.

“So what? If my wife needs a refreshment, I will get her a refreshment,” he smiled lovingly. She was crazy about his casual confidence.

“Oh yeah, husband?”

“Of course,” he assured nonchalantly.

“And how do you plan on doing that?”

“Haven’t you learned, yet? I have my wily ways. I’ll be right back with delicious sustenance.”

“Ok. I’m going back to sleep. I’m pretty sure I’ve never been so exhausted.”

It wasn’t only their marriage on the beach that had made her tired; every night was adventure-filled when they were together. Evan seemed to never sleep, and she was both sky-high and running on empty. This man could reverse the spin of the Earth if he wanted to. She would graduate with honors from law school another year after him, and then they would make a fantastic power couple.

* * *

She woke to Evan shaking her arm. She wasn’t ready to open her eyes yet. “Did you get it, babe?” She smiled coyly.

“Get what?” He replied. Was that irritation in his voice?

“The snack. Did you get it with those wily ways of yours?” She retorted.

“Lydia, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I need you to take Ben, I have a call with a client in a moment and need to go to the other car for some quiet. He needs to eat anyway.”

Sitting up immediately, Lydia pulled the bundle he offered to her to her chest while expertly releasing one breast from her low-cut shirt. Only after the baby had latched did she rummage for the nursing cover from the diaper bag beneath her feet. Modestly draping the organic muslin fabric over her shoulders and Ben’s suckling face, she looked around the room.

Train travel had been their custom since their marriage night, and was especially convenient now that they had kids. Everyone had their own space and could move around freely. They were returning home from their monthly visit to Evan’s family. As she looked around she marveled at how much nicer their room had become. Now they traveled in a fully furnished sleeper car, with a bed and dining table in addition to the couches. They traveled by night so they could maximize time with family and still be at work the next morning.

Evan nodded towards Claire sleeping on the bed, “That little monster probably only fell asleep thirty minutes ago! Hopefully she’ll sleep through the night for once…” Then he sat down facing Lydia, looking at her in a manner that told her she was about to be upset by whatever he said next. “Lydia, I need to sleep in the other car tonight. You know this is my biggest case yet, and I need to be well-rested for tomorrow’s hearing. I don’t want to be disturbed by the kids.”

“Oh, babe! You know I have hearings tomorrow, too.”

“Yeah, I know that love. But my case could float us for a year. We have to prioritize.”

“So we’re prioritizing your sleep because your case is more important?”

“Babe, I’m not trying to be rude, but that’s objectively true. Mine is a much more high profile case, and much more lucrative than yours are. I’m just trying to be practical.”

“It’s true your case is bigger. But might that have something to do with the fact that you’re never up with the baby at night?”

“Huh?”

She clenched her teeth. Both of them had been pulling a lot of all-nighters these days. They always had together. But for Lydia, the content of those nights had changed, filled now with milk and diapers and monster-exterminations. She felt she could hold in the palm of her hand the number of times Evan had been up all night with their infant or toddler, and she could hold in the palm of her hand the number of times she had been up all night working for a client. It turns out, everyone needs sleep sometimes, even a power couple, but that particular resource was not being equitably distributed.

“I don’t understand. You’re asking if the economic impact of the McMillan v. Wolf&Lange case on our family has to do with night feeding Ben?”

“Yes. And pee-related sheet changes for Claire. Among other things.”

“Lydia…” he sighed, at a loss.

“I guess you’ve never heard of the Russian Sleep Experiment.” She muttered under her breath, and turned her focus back to the baby. She knew he wouldn’t get the reference, and that was purposeful. Sometimes she tried to remind him she was still smarter than him with a dig. She was being bitter, but couldn’t help it. An ambitious fighter, a caged lioness, was laying docile beneath the weight of these precious babies, yet still volatile and ready for battle. She was eager for him to take a turn in the cage.

Exasperated, “Babe we can talk about this later. My call is about to start.”

“Don’t patronize me.”

He rolled his eyes and walked out the door. He turned to close it and thought of something. Poking his head back in, “Babe, women do this all the time. How does your friend Sam accomplish being both mother and attorney?”

“She has a nanny,” spit Lydia.

“And I’ve told you, I’m happy to pay for one.”

“I don’t want someone else to raise our kids right now. Ben is an infant. He’s breastfeeding. He needs me. And Claire was just-” she choked on her words. Claire had been a healthy baby but in her fifth year had become sickly. An oncologist had diagnosed her with Leukemia only the month before. The doctor assured them that they had caught the cancer early, so while the treatments would not be pleasant, Claire would end up just fine.

Lydia took a breath and re-started, “They need their mother right now, not a nanny.”

“Ok, that’s fine, too. Just… stop acting like you’re some martyr. You are free to make your own choices. You are privileged. You are married to me, and I am happy to support you in being just a mom, a top-notch attorney, or anything in between. You have a world of options available to you. Just choose one and stop acting like circumstance has run away with your life.” He shut the door behind him, and she knew he would not return to her or the kids that night.

Once Ben had fallen asleep at her breast Lydia gingerly lifted her laptop to the dining table and opened it. With one arm around Ben, and the other controlling the trackpad and keyboard, she proceeded to single-handedly (literally) draft orders for her clients, and make notes for the next day’s hearings. After only an hour her eyes grew heavy. Her daughter was not sleeping through the night very often these days, due to illness. This on top of Ben’s night feedings... Lydia couldn’t remember the last time she had slept more than two consecutive hours. She became dizzy and laid her head against the soft, high back of the bench for just a moment to get the room to stop spinning.

* * *

In the morning Evan came in to check on her. She was already awake, ruminating as she watched the landscape. “What time is our stop in New Jersey?” She asked.

“We’re not.”

“What do you mean, ‘We’re not?’”

“We aren’t stopping in New Jersey. We got on the fast train. It doesn’t make that stop. And we already discussed this; you’re the only one who wants to go to that garden show.”

Lydia took another sip of her mimosa, and continued to gaze out the window. She had been remembering her father’s garden these days; remembering how she felt devouring raspberries in the thickets when she was small, or laying in the humid grass with her face to the sky. Sometimes she would close her eyes and transport herself there, where the droning cicadas drowned all her thoughts until she fell into a stupor; until there was only the heavy blanket of hot air and a rich hum of insects. She found herself longing to return to her father’s garden often these days, and for that time before her journey away from home began.

She replied haughtily, “Then we got on the wrong train. I can’t imagine why you wouldn’t want to go to a Van Gough exhibit on display at the conservatory of the largest garden in the United States.”

“Claire isn’t feeling well.”

“Evan, I know. I am with her all the time. The thing is, she may not ever feel well again. And I need something beautiful and exciting, just once in a while, to help me cope. And a family outing might be good for all of us.”

“You’re making this about you instead of about her. She can’t treck through acres of garden.”

“We can get a stroller or wheelchair for her. I’m not asking to walk miles, I just want to see the exhibit.”

“You’re being selfish. And this discussion is pointless because this train doesn’t make that stop anyway.”

“I’m being selfish?”

“Yes, you aren’t considering your sick daughter’s well-being.”

“You don’t feel I’ve made sacrifices for my sick daughter? And exactly what sacrifices have you made for her, Evan?”

“I work day after day without rest, on little sleep, and pay for her treatments. That’s how I sacrifice for my daughter.”

Lydia rolled her eyes, “Ugh, you would do that even if you didn’t have a daughter.”

“Yeah, yeah, and you lost your career for your daughter. Or… maybe you would have done that anyway, too, Lydia. Has it ever occurred to you that your failures are not really about your kids, but about you? You keep making excuses. But now in addition to paying for our daughter’s medical care and good schools, I’m also paying for a nanny to give you some relief, and where are you? Has it helped? Where’s your firm, Lydia? You’re doing small-time pro-bono work and teaching. That’s what you’ve done with the expensive nanny, who we hired to free up your time so you could become the big-time attorney you imagine you are. You’re wasting precious time, running out the clock on the career you fantasize about. You act like everyone around you is holding you down, you are bitter and angry with me all the time, but maybe you should turn that anger inwards. Or, better yet, accept that this is who you are and be grateful for the things you have, which are plenty.”

She clenched her jaw, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath to stay the tears. These words stung because she had begun to wonder if this was, in fact, the truth. Maybe she wasn’t who she thought she was. Maybe she was a failure, but… she had all these memories of being dominating and invincible. She had been on the fast track to success once. Hadn’t she?

Now she wondered whether, even though she had been good at school, she lacked some key to success in the real world. Perhaps it wasn’t Evan, or the kids, or the firms and their rigidly obscene expectations for workload and horrendous conditions for work-life balance. Perhaps it wasn't that an 80 hour work week doesn't jive with parenting a sick child. Perhaps she was simply not cut out for success.

He stood and looked at her for a while. “I see you need to be alone. I’m going back into the other car with Nancy and the kids.”

Shortly after their daughter had been diagnosed with leukemia, Lydia’s career had come undone. The sick days and hospitalizations had collected faster and faster at a dizzying pace, and Lydia had begun to severely neglect her clients. She had lost her job at her firm, which was enough of a blow that she had finally agreed to hire Nancy, the nanny.

Evan, on the other hand, hadn’t missed a beat at his firm since their daughter's diagnosis. This was because he was a machine that could decimate any obstacle thrown at him. Or… was it because he didn’t allow Claire’s ups and downs to affect his work? Evan paid for Claire’s treatments, true, but wasn’t concerned about the emotional care that followed. He was content to let Lydia take care of that part, if it was important to her, or to hire someone else to do it.

The nanny gave Lydia the luxury of full nights of sleep, and the time to go to work day to day, but Nancy had come with strings attached. Or, more accurately, she quickly attached strings to Evan. Lydia’s suspicions had been validated by the typical cell phone snoop, but she kept her knowledge of their affair secret. As painful as it was to watch it play out, she sometimes felt the secret gave her a small amount of control, which she had little of these days. She could laugh silently at his hypocrisy in all their marital disputes, and gloat over knowing things he didn’t.

And yet… here she sat, drinking alone in the morning while her kids and husband enjoyed Nancy in the next train car. Her anger swelled so much, she nearly screamed the accusation. But she didn’t. Evan wielded financial control, and as long as Lydia was his wife, she had the freedom to work less so she could be with Claire through every chemotherapy treatment and every medical emergency. So she didn’t make a fuss, and leveraged her mimosa and the isolation of the train car to preserve the safety of her marriage.

Reclining upon the couch she closed her eyes and fell asleep in her father’s garden, where the sunflowers looked just like oil paintings.

I wasn't paying attention. I should have gotten on a different train.

* * *

She woke to find Claire’s head sleeping in her lap. Lydia stroked her little girl’s smooth, bald head, and tried to enjoy this moment of closeness, though her heart felt strangled by grief. They were traveling to yet another specialist in New York City. It was probably their last trip like this, as the reality of Claire’s situation forced itself oppressively upon them. They were running out of time, and nothing Lydia had tried had halted their wild trajectory towards the end of the track. Claire would soon be gone, and Lydia had to start thinking about what would become of herself in the aftermath.

Was she supposed to start again?

Lydia had given up representing clients to focus all her energy on her daughter in what were likely the final months. She was now an adjunct professor at Boston University School of Law, a title which offered an abysmal salary, but a flexible schedule that allowed her time to take these trips with Claire. They made these journeys together now, just the two of them. And though the purpose of their trips was morbid, they made the most of them, visiting tourist attractions when they could, and enjoyed each other’s company.

Her son, Ben, was staying with Nancy while Evan traveled for work. This was Nancy and Evan’s standard marital arrangement, and it seemed to work well for both of them. Becoming a single mom had cost Lydia a lot in the way of lifestyle. But more importantly it had cost her son. Ben seemed unable to forgive her for her affair, which had precipitated the divorce. And how could she explain herself to him?

She had, in her defense, revealed her knowledge about Evan's affair to Evan. His righteous anger with her had then subsided, and he had grown silent for a long time. Then softly he had replied, “When we met, we thought we were on the same track. I guess we just aren’t.” And that was that.

Claire's gentle breath carried her smoothly from one moment to the next. Calmed by her mother's presence into a peaceful slumber, she was unburdened by pain for this small window of time.

Lydia tried to turn her thoughts to happier times. She remembered one afternoon when Claire, only four, had marched out the front door without telling anyone, and down to the corner store to try to buy the ice cream her parents told her she couldn’t have for snack. She was always doing things like that, never the least concerned that her body was smaller than her spunk. While Evan had wrung his hands over Claire’s disobedience and what a troublemaker she would be as a teen, Lydia had secretly exalted in it. She was proud of her little girl who the world would never cage.

Lydia looked at Claire’s small, frail body draped over her, and marveled that such a towering spirit could be caged by it... and would fade with it.

She wept.

* * *

“Mom?”

“Yes, Claire?”

“Mom, it’s me, Ben.”

“Oh. Hi baby. Where did your sister go?”

“She died, Mom.”

“Oh. I’m confused. We’re still on the train.”

“It’s a different train. Claire’s not on this one.”

“I see,” she gazed out the window. “I can’t remember things.”

“I know, Mom. That’s why I’m here.”

She glanced at him sideways. He was speaking to her distractedly while he worked on his laptop. He was on a journey separate from hers, and she felt lonely. “I miss my baby girl,” she said, as the tears fell. She kept learning of Claire’s death all over again.

“I miss her, too, Mom. But it’s been a long time.”

“How long?”

“Twenty years.”

“Where are we going?”

“I’m taking you to a place in New Jersey where you can live with more help.”

“A retirement home?”

“Sort of.”

“I’m not old enough to retire yet.”

“I know, Mom. But you have early onset,” he said as if he’d explained already too many times and was only maintaining his patience by putting the conversation on autopilot.

“I live ten minutes from you. Why can’t you help me?”

“I’m sorry, Mom. I have too much going on at work. I just can’t.”

“You’re sending me far away, it appears.”

“It’s the nicest place we could find, and still a reasonable distance by train. You will like it when you see their gardens.”

A band of silence stretched between them. Maybe she would like the gardens. She remembered her father’s garden. She used to play there when she was little, before anything had happened. She was tired of being on this train. It seemed to her that she’d been on it forever. She didn’t travel as well as she used to when she was young.

She noticed the room. It had changed. It wasn’t a sleeper car with beds and tables. Just two couches facing each other.

“I love you, Ben. I remember some things, still. I remember when you were an infant, and we used to travel in the fancy train cars. Your father would be working, and it would just be you, me, and Claire. We’d play all evening, and then cuddle all in one bed. You were both lovely travel companions, always excited for a journey.”

He didn’t look up from his typing as he responded, “You remember more than me, then. For as long as I can remember Nancy was there.”

Lydia’s breath caught in her throat. She turned her attention back to the landscape. She was sure Claire’s sleeping head had just been resting in her lap. It was as if she could still feel her smooth scalp beneath her fingers as she stroked the air. And yet, it was also true that time was being tortuously stretched out.

“When will we be there?” She demanded suddenly. “You said this was a reasonable commute, but it’s much too long. I’m so ready to get off this train I feel I could jump out the door.”

“Be patient, Mom.”

“No. This train’s taking too long, and it’s not even the right train.”

“This is the right train.”

“It isn’t! It’s not going where I was trying to go, and there are no stops and I can’t get off. It just keeps going and going and going.”

“I know you’re uncomfortable, but it won’t keep going. It will stop.”

“And then what? Where do you think it stops?”

“I actually know exactly where it stops,” he sighed, continuing his work.

“Yes, so do I. The wrong place. Everything happened so fast… it all got away from me and I couldn’t get back on track. I’m sorry, Ben, I can’t get us back on track” the tears flowed again.

Ben put down his laptop and spoke to her beguilingly, “We’re on the right track, Mom. You’re confused and getting excited. You need some rest. I should have gotten us a nicer car so you could lie down. Here, use my coat for a pillow and lay back your head, close your eyes. I promise we’ll be there soon.” He made sure she was comfortable and calm, and then went back to work.

CITATIONS:

Note: This theme isn’t restricted to attorneys alone. Disparate obstacles are faced by men and women related to work-life balance in all high-powered careers.

A Woman Who Left: https://www.abajournal.com/voice/article/I_am_a_woman_who_left_the_law

Why Are Women Really Leaving? https://montagelegal.com/survey-results-women-really-leaving-firms/

It’s Exhausting: https://www.reuters.com/business/legal/its-exhausting-why-women-want-out-legal-profession-2021-05-17/

The Quiet Resignation: https://scholarship.law.uci.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1442&context=ucilr

The Russian Sleep Experiment: https://vocal.media/horror/the-russian-sleep-experiment-9d2ksn0gvd