Page 308 - A Little Life: A Novel

you’re at trial or we’d never get anywhere. If only opposing counsel knew
what a pushover they were actually dealing with.”
“So does this mean the firm isn’t going to send poor Emma Gersh any

flowers?”
“Oh, we already sent them,” said Lucien, getting up and wandering out of
his office. “ ‘Emma: Get better, get back here soon. Or else. Love from your
family at Rosen Pritchard.’ ”
He loved going to trial, he loved arguing and speaking in a courtroom—
you never got to do it enough—but his goal with Malgrave and Baskett was
to get the lawsuit tossed by a judge before it entered the grinding, tedious

drone years of investigation and discovery. He wrote the motion to dismiss,
and in early September, the district court judge threw out the suit.
“I’m proud of you,” Lucien says that night. “Malpractice and Bastard
don’t know how fucking lucky they are; that suit was as solid as they
come.”
“Well, there’s a lot that Malpractice and Bastard don’t seem to know,” he

says.
“True. But I guess you can be complete cretins as long as you have
enough sense to hire the right lawyer.” He stands. “Are you going anywhere
this weekend?”
“No.”
“Well, do something relaxing. Go outside. Have a meal. You don’t look
too good.”

“Good night, Lucien!”
“Okay, okay. Good night. And congratulations—really. This is a big
one.”
He stays at the office for another two hours, tidying and sorting papers,
attempting to batten down the constant detritus. He feels no sense of relief,
or victory, after these outcomes: just a tiredness, but a simple, well-earned

tiredness, as if he has completed a day’s worth of physical labor. Eleven
months: interviews, research, more interviews, fact-checking, writing,
rewriting—and then, in an instant, it is over, and another case will take its
place.
Finally he goes home, where he is suddenly so exhausted that he stops on
the way to his bedroom to sit on the sofa, and wakes an hour later,
disoriented and parched. He hasn’t seen or talked to most of his friends in

the past few months—even his conversations with Willem have been briefer