Page 201 - A Little Life: A Novel

his voice that he’s smiling. It’s the second time that morning he’s unable to
speak.
The court will be the third time. They take two cars, and in his (driven by

Harold, with Malcolm in the front seat), Willem explains that his departure
date actually had been changed; but when it was changed back again, he
didn’t tell him, only the others, so that his appearance would be a surprise.
“Yeah, thanks for that, Willem,” says Malcolm, “I had to monitor JB like
the CIA to make sure he didn’t say anything.”
They go not to the family courts but to the appeals court on Pemberton
Square. Inside Laurence’s courtroom—Laurence unfamiliar in his robes: it

is a day of everyone in costume—he and Harold and Julia make their
promises to each other, Laurence smiling the entire time, and then there is a
flurry of picture-taking, with everyone taking photos of everyone else in
various arrangements and configurations. He is the only one who doesn’t
take any at all, as he’s in every one.
He’s standing with Harold and Julia, waiting for Malcolm to figure out

his enormous, complicated camera, when JB calls his name, and all three of
them look over, and JB takes the shot. “Got it,” says JB. “Thanks.”
“JB, this’d better not be for—” he begins, but then Malcolm announces
he’s ready, and the three of them swivel obediently toward him.
They’re back at the house by noon, and soon people start arriving—
Gillian and Laurence and James and Carey, and Julia’s colleagues and
Harold’s, some of whom he hasn’t seen since he had classes with them in

law school. His old voice teacher comes, as does Dr. Li, his math professor,
and Dr. Kashen, his master’s adviser, and Allison, his former boss at Batter,
and a friend of all of theirs from Hood Hall, Lionel, who teaches physics at
Wellesley. People come and go all afternoon, going to and from classes,
meetings, trials. He had initially been reluctant to have such a gathering,
with so many people—wouldn’t his acquisition of Harold and Julia as

parents provoke, even encourage, questions about why he was parentless at
all?—but as the hours pass, and no one asks any questions, no one demands
to know why he needs a new set anyway, he finds himself forgetting his
fears. He knows his telling other people about the adoption is a form of
bragging, and that bragging has its own consequences, but he cannot help
himself. Just this once, he implores whoever in the world is responsible for
punishing him for his bad behavior. Let me celebrate this thing that has

happened to me just this once.