Me: :）
Me: I’m going to take a nap now while all my life blood is sucked out of me. I look like I’m part of the Matrix, plugged into a machine.
Tucker: Did u take the red pill or the blue one?
Me: Which one makes Jamie go to sleep? That’s the one I’ll take.
Tucker: I’ll go buy an rx of Ambien.
Me: Too bad I’m not allowed to take that.
Tucker: My mom said her mom used to rub brandy on her gums to get her to go to sleep.
Me: Hopefully DHS isn’t spying on these messages. Did it work?
Tucker: I dunno. I’ll leave a bottle of brandy next to the Ambien.
Me: See. Best dad ever.
Tucker: LOL. Go to sleep, darlin.
*
Hope and Carin bought me a book called “Go the Fuck to Sleep.” I’ve read it to Jamie a hundred times. It doesn’t work. That thing is trash. Over the weekend Jamie decides she’s allergic to sleep. The only time she even closes her eyes is when I’m moving.
While I can read and walk at the same time, simultaneous sleeping and walking is beyond my abilities, which is why I start my third week of law school eight hundred pages behind. I drag myself into class, having not read even one word for my contracts class. I made it through criminal law, but that was it.
Hopefully Professor Clive will call on anyone but me today.
“Last week, we went over the first two elements forming a contract. Mr. Bagliano, please share with the class those two elements and the holding of the 1898 Carlill case.”
Mr. Bagliano, who looks as Italian as his last name sounds, obediently recites the two principles we learned earlier. “Offer and acceptance. The 1898 Carlill case discussed whether an advertisement could be construed as an offer. The case was decided by the English Court of Appeals, who held that yes, it was a binding unilateral offer that could be accepted by anyone responding to the advert.”
“Excellent, Mr. Bagliano.” Professor Clive consults his sheet of paper that I presume has all of our names.
I close my eyes and pray that my name magically disappears.
“Ms. James, tell us the third element of a contract and the holding of the Borden case.”
As my heart plummets to my stomach, I desperately scan the room as if somehow I can read the answer in the eyes of one of my classmates. No light bulb appears over anyone’s head, least of all mine.
Beside me, a guy whose name I haven’t made the effort to learn mutters something out of the side of his mouth. It sounds like confederation. That doesn’t seem right. He coughs “confederation” again into his hand. Nervous laughter spreads across the room while my cheeks light up like twin flames.
Down in the front of the lecture bowl, Professor Clive’s lips thin. “Mr. Gavriel is saying consideration, Ms. James.” He shifts his gaze to the poor guy next to me. “Mr. Gavriel, since you know the answer, perhaps you can share the holding of the case?”
Mr. Gavriel shoots me a sympathetic look before whipping out his perfectly constructed notes and proceeding to discuss mutuality and illusory promises and other shit that I don’t have the first clue about.
I casually draw a notebook over my own chicken scratching where the ink is smeared and bleeding through the page from where I drooled on it when I fell asleep, along with a healthy dose of breast milk and baby spit.
It’s hard to hear the last of the lecture with embarrassment roaring in my eardrums, but I take copious notes in the hopes that when I review this crap later, it will all make sense.
After class is over, Professor Clive gestures for me to join him in the front of the room.
He steeples his fingers below his chin. “Ms. James, Professor Fromm shared with me your home circumstance, and while I can appreciate how difficult that must be, the standards in class are not modified due to motherhood.”
Stiffly, I reply, “I didn’t think that they would be. I apologize about today and promise that there won’t be any lapses in the future.”
“I certainly hope not, but then again, we grade on a curve and someone has to be on the bottom.”
I raise my hand to scratch my neck, not because I itch, but because of the overwhelming urge to flick him off.
“It won’t be me,” I assure him.
He peers at me for a long, uncomfortable moment before dismissing me with a slight nod. “We’ll see.”
35
Tucker
Sabrina shows up at my apartment on Friday afternoon carting enough stuff to fill an entire baby store. Ever since Jamie was born, I’ve learned I can no longer leave the house with only my wallet, phone and keys.