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had to make sure that he saw the twins or she would look like a bad mom, but what about two weeks ago when Jonathan went five days without calling or checking in? Just disappeared! And, oh, you should see his apartment. She swears she is not making this up—there was broken glass on the floor from a wine bottle. Broken glass, just lying there!
    By the end of our call, I not only feel comfortable with the arguments that I will make; I also believe in my heart that the Wades twins will have a much safer Thanksgiving without being chauffeured by Jonathan.
    When two thirty rolls around, my rehearsed arguments are strong enough to cause Judge Brown to strongly advise that Jonathan stay in New York if he wants to see the twins on Thanksgiving. I hang up the phone, triumphant.
    I strut down the hall to thank Henry. He’s on the phone and won’t catch my eye as I loiter in his doorway, so I head to Rachel’s office to report on my triumph. I am recounting Lucy Fowler’s impotent arguments when Everett interrupts us.
    “Molly, a word.”
    I follow him into an empty secretary carrel across the hall. “Listen, Molly. We need you to work this weekend.”
    I helped Everett last weekend. Meaning that I waited two hours for Everett to show up and then held his hand as he tried to properly organize documents for Lillian. This entailed my changing the letter tabs to number tabs in three copies of five-hundred-page binders and then, on Everett’s whim, changing them back again.
    “Everett, I’m already working this weekend on several of Lillian’s cases.”
    “Well, fine, but I’m prepping Lillian for trial next week and I need you to get me organized.”
    “I’m sorry. I can’t.”
    Silence.
    Give me enough silence after an appeal for help, and I will agree to almost anything, just to end the awkwardness. It’s how I wound up as a moot court judge in law school. And Public Interest Foundation bake sale coordinator.
    But not this time. I bite my inner lip.
    Everett’s face starts to get red. “You are the junior associate. Your job, your only job, is to help the partners, whenever, wherever. If you want to work nine to five, go get a job at a freaking Burger King, but here, being available on the weekends is your responsibility. I can’t believe I have to tell you this.”
    “Everett, I work on the weekends all the time. Just last weekend I—”
    He moves his face an inch from mine. I can see the acne scars on his cheeks and a mole on his cheekbone that’s sprouting a hair. “No, Molly. You don’t get to pick and choose when you’re available. This is Bacon Payne. Where the fuck do you think you work? You won’t last another month here with this attitude.” He stalks away.
    “Are you okay?” Henry stands in the doorway of his office, his tone almost kind.
    My shock at Everett’s ire is compounded by Henry’s having started a conversation with me. “I guess so. I just don’t see why I should still have to help him. I mean, I have my own cases now. I’m sort of drowning in real work.”
    “Trust me, he’s not even worth getting this defensive for. And he’ll give you some space after that conversation.”
    “Okay.”
    “So, were you coming to see me?”
    “What?”
    “Before? You looked in when I was on the phone.”
    “Oh, right, yes. Your advice was super helpful with Brown. We had to argue it and their request for Thanksgiving was denied, so thanks.”
    “Don’t take it too personally. It could just as easily have gone the other way.”
    “Of course.” I try to sound like I’m not insulted, shrugging nonchalantly before turning to head back to my office.
    I’ve come remarkably close to a moment of professional confidence, but thanks to Henry and Everett, I’m back to feeling like a hapless idiot associate. All is right with the world.

5
    ____
in which i get it
    A week later, I am back in my office when Duck calls. “Guess who called me?”
    “Prince Albert in a can.”
    “Dork, did you