“Whose idea was it to move out?”
“I guess . . . I don’t really remember. I guess it was mine.”
“So there was no awkwardness or tension about how the affair ended, ten years ago.”
“No.”
“And yet you felt there was awkwardness now?”
“Sure,” Sanders said. “Because we had one kind of relationship in the past, and now we were going to have another kind of relationship.”
“You mean, now Ms. Johnson was going to be your superior.”
“Yes.”
“Weren’t you angry about that? About her appointment?”
“A little. I guess.”
“Only a little? Or perhaps more than a little?”
Fernandez sat forward and started to protest. Murphy shot her a warning look. Fernandez put her fists under her chin and said nothing.
“I was a lot of things,” Sanders said. “I was angry and disappointed and confused and worried.”
“So in your mind, although you were feeling many different and confusing feelings, you’re certain that you did not, under any circumstances, contemplate having sex with Ms. Johnson that night.”
“No.”
“It never crossed your mind?”
“No.”
There was a pause. Heller shuffled his notes, then looked up. “You’re married, are you not, Mr. Sanders?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Did you call your wife to tell her you had a late meeting?”
“Yes.”
“Did you tell her with whom?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“My wife is sometimes jealous about my past relationships. I didn’t see any reason to cause her anxiety or make her upset.”
“You mean, if you told her you were having a late meeting with Ms. Johnson, your wife might think that you would renew your sexual acquaintance.”
“I don’t know what she would think,” Sanders said.
“But in any case, you didn’t tell her about Ms. Johnson.”
“No.”
“What did you tell her?” “I told her I had a meeting and I would be home late.”
“How late?” “I told her it might run to dinner or after.”
“I see. Had Ms. Johnson suggested dinner to you?”
“No.”
“So you presumed, when you called your wife, that your meeting with Ms. Johnson might be a long one?”
“No,” Sanders said. “I didn’t. But I didn’t know exactly how long it would be. And my wife doesn’t like me to call once and say I’ll be an hour late, and then call again to say it’ll be two hours. That annoys her. So it’s easier for her if I just tell her I may be home after dinner. That way, she doesn’t expect me and doesn’t wait for me; and if I get home early, it’s great.”
“So this is your usual policy with your wife.”
“Yes.”
“Nothing unusual.”
“No.”
“In other words, your usual procedure is to lie to your wife about events at the office because in your view she can’t take the truth.”
“Objection,” Fernandez said. “What’s the relevance?”
“That’s not it at all,” Sanders continued, angrily.
“How is it, Mr. Sanders?”
“Look. Every marriage has its own way to work things out. This is ours. It makes things smoother, that’s all. It’s about scheduling at home, not about lying.”
“But wouldn’t you say that you lied when you failed to tell your wife you were seeing Ms. Johnson that night?”
“Objection,” Fernandez said.
Murphy said, “I think this is quite enough, Mr. Heller.”
“Your Honor, I’m trying to show that Mr. Sanders intended to consummate an encounter with Ms. Johnson, and that all his behavior is consistent with that. And in addition, to show that he routinely treats women with contempt.”
“You haven’t shown that, you haven’t even laid a groundwork for that,” Murphy said. “Mr. Sanders has explained his reasons, and in the absence of contrary evidence I accept them. Do you have contrary evidence?”
“No, Your Honor.”
“Very well. Bear in mind that inflammatory and unsubstantiated characterizations do not assist our mutual efforts at resolution.”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“I want everyone here to be clear: these proceedings are potentially damaging to all parties-not only in their outcome, but in the conduct of the proceedings themselves. Depending on the outcome, Ms. Johnson and Mr. Sanders may find themselves working together in some capacity in the future. I will not permit these proceedings to unnecessarily poison such future relationships. Any further unwarranted accusations will cause me to halt these proceedings. Does anyone have any questions about what I’ve just said?”
No one did.
“All right. Mr. Heller?”
Heller sat back. “No further questions, Your Honor.”
“All right,” Judge Murphy said. “We’ll break for five minutes, and return to hear Ms. Johnson’s version.”
You’re doing fine,” Fernandez said. “You’re doing very well. Your ice was strong. You were clear and even. Murphy was impressed. You’re doing fine.” They were standing outside, by the fountains in the courtyard. Sanders felt like a boxer between rounds, being worked over by his trainer. “How do you feel?” she asked. “Tired?”
“A little. Not too bad.”
“You want coffee?”
“No, I’m okay.”
“Good. Because the hard part is coming up. You’re going to have to be very strong when she gives her version. You won’t like what she says. But it’s important that you stay calm.”
“Okay.”
She put her hand on his shoulder. “By the way, just between us: How did the relationship end?”
“To tell the truth, I can’t remember exactly.”
Fernandez looked skeptical. “But this was important, surely . . .”
“It was almost ten years ago,” Sanders said. “To me, it feels like another lifetime.”
She was still skeptical.
“Look,” Sanders said. “This is the third week in June. What was going on in your love life the third week of June, ten years ago? Can you tell me?”
Fernandez was silent, frowning.
“Were you married?” Sanders prompted.
No.
“Met your husband yet?”
“Uh, let’s see . . . no . . . not until . . . I must have met my husband . . . about a year later.”
“Okay. Do you remember who you were seeing before him?”
Fernandez was silent. Thinking.
“How about anything that happened between you and a lover in June, ten years ago?”
She was still silent.
“See what I mean?” Sanders said. “Ten years is a long time. I remember the affair with Meredith, but I’m not clear about the last few weeks of it. I don’t remember the details of how it ended.”
“What do you remember?”
He shrugged. “We had more fights, more yelling. We were still living together, but somehow, we began to arrange our schedules so that we never saw each other. You know how that happens. Because when we did run into each other, we fought.
“And finally one night, we had a big argument while we were getting dressed to go to a party. Some formal party for DigiCom. I remember I had to wear a tux. I threw my cuff links at her and then I couldn’t find them. I had to get down on the floor and look. But once we were driving to the party, we sort of calmed down, and we started talking about breaking up. In this very ordinary way. Very reasonable way. It just came out. Both of us. Nobody shouted. And in the end, we decided it was best if we broke it off.”
Fernandez was looking at him thoughtfully. “That’s it?”
“Yeah.” He shrugged. “Except we never got to the party.”
Something at the back of his mind.
A couple in a car, going to a party. Something about a cellular pbone. All dressed up, going to the party and they make a call, and
He couldn’t get it. It hung in his memory, just beyond recollection.
The woman made a call on the cellular pbone, and then . . . Something embarrassing afterward . . .
“Tom?” Fernandez said, shaking his shoulder. “Looks like our time is about up. Ready to go back?”
“I’m ready,” he said.