THIRTEEN
Defense
RYAN WAS RIGHT. Bismarck wanted a plan, and his wasn’t up to snuff. In fact, his plan was so far from what his professor wanted the man didn’t try to hide his disappointment. “So you wait.”
When he nodded, the professor crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes. Ryan had fallen into a trap.
“No.” Bismarck stated the word like it was obvious. “You start reapplying. You're going to be a damn good lawyer, Ryan, if you’d stop sitting on your hands.” He leaned against the edge of his lectern, staring him down with more intensity than he’d ever shown teaching. “Where did you apply earlier; I’m sure you tried others schools?”
“I'm not leaving Vermont.”
“If I could smack you upside the head and not lose my tenure, I would. What do you mean, you aren't leaving Vermont? This is law school, and this state has only one.”
His decision was made. Being a lawyer wasn’t worth leaving Nora and his friends.
When he didn’t answer, Bismarck grew annoyed. “Ryan, participate in this conversation for crying out loud. This is your life. You can't sit back and observe this.”
“I'm not leaving Vermont, Professor. It's personal, and it's nonnegotiable. If I can't get into CCSL, I'll figure something else out. Maybe I'll do something online, or build up my resume in the meantime.”
Pushing away from the podium, he rounded on Ryan. “It's a formula, son. LSATs. Grades. Recommendations.”
“I disagree,” Ryan interrupted. “CCSL has a morals clause. They consider more than the big three. I need to prove to them I’m the student they want.”
“How can you prove that, Ryan?”
Overheated, he pushed up his sleeves. “I made some mistakes. I took responsibility for them and I've worked hard to make something of myself, but I'm not done. I never thought I was done. It's why I want to be a lawyer.”
“It's why I wanted you to be my student intern.” Bismarck slapped the desk. “Start arguing, Ryan. Jesus. For a guy who wants to be a lawyer, you never open your mouth.”
Look what happened when he opened his mouth without thinking. Pacing, he shoved a hand through his hair. “I’ll talk to the student council.”
“Do that.”
It was a plan, but God, the thought of a sea of judgmental faces made him sick. What would he do? Launch into a confession? Did he relive every moment, every conversation with Beau and how, time after time after time, he refused to believe in his innocence? It wouldn’t get him any votes.
“One thing I don’t understand,” he wondered aloud, “is how this even came up. I mean, my name is not publicly associated with the conviction. I was underage when I testified.”
The professor stopped shoving his papers into his bag and looked at him curiously. “Really? Someone alerted them to your past.”
“Must be. It wasn’t in my essay. Not because I was trying to hide it, per se,” he whispered under his breath.
After latching his bag, Bismarck scowled at him from under his eyebrows. “Why was that? It’s interesting how, of all the students in my class, you have the most experience with the judicial system, but I only learned of it when we met Miss Leslie.”
The door to the classroom opened to a line of students filtering in for the next class. Bismarck gestured toward the door, and Ryan followed him out. As soon as they were past the crush of bodies, Bismarck began to speak again. “Were you trying to hide it?”
Since meeting his best friends, he’d done his best to make up for the wrong he’d committed. They knew his past, and they knew he needed to disappear for a while sometimes, either by burying his head in a book or to some cause he thought might indirectly benefit guys like Beau. Guys who’d been fucked over by a system meant to protect them. What he’d done to Beau was always in his head, influencing every choice he made. If someone asked him directly, he’d never deny what he did, but he didn’t volunteer his story either.
The truth was, he hadn’t been up front with CCSL either, and he should have been.
“No,” he finally answered. “I wasn’t trying to hide it. But I didn’t disclose it either.”
“What the fuck actually happened, Valore?” His professor grabbed his arm to stop him.
Students filed by, chatting with each other, smiling at both Ryan and the professor. “Let’s go to your office and I’ll give you the whole story.”
Nodding, Bismarck led the way to his office and unlocked it. He waited for Ryan to pass by him and then sat in one of the two leather chairs in front of his desk. Ryan dropped his bag next to the chair, staring out the window behind Bismarck’s desk. He could see the lake far off in the distance.
The man waited patiently for him to begin. Keeping his eyes fixed on the lake, Ryan recited his story, holding nothing back. Starting from the field party, he told Bismarck everything up to speaking to a very angry Beau earlier that same day.
“I own it,” he finished. “I’ve taken every opportunity I’ve found to somehow make amends for what I’ve done. I never stop searching for a way to make it all better.”
Finally, he met Bismarck’s eyes, ready to see disappointment written all over him. What he saw, though, was understanding and sympathy.
“Jesus, Ryan.” He rubbed his hand across his eyes. “What a mess for a boy to land in.”
Embarrassed, his face flushed. Ryan had landed himself in a mess, but he was shocked when, a moment later, Bismarck reached for his arm and squeezed. “I’m sorry you carry this around with you.”
For a moment, he was too surprised to form words. Answering honestly, he said, “I deserve it, Professor.”
“No.” His face got sadder. “You made a mistake, and you are seeing your mistake through a boy’s eyes. But it was a mistake.”
“I was a cocky asshole who refused to listen to reason.”
“You were a seventeen-year-old who believed he saw something resulting in a death. You believed you were doing the right thing.”
Standing, Ryan walked agitatedly to the window. “I’m not telling this right…” He turned to face Bismarck. “I’m not the victim here.” He pointed to himself, stabbing his finger at his chest. “I’m the bad guy.”
“So all of these”—Bismarck paused significantly—“extracurricular activities you’ve done? They’re your way to make up for this ‘unforgivable’ thing?”
“There’s no making it better.” How could he make his professor understand? “I can never undo what I did to Beau. He’ll never forgive me, nor should he. I ruined his life.”
“How do you know?” he challenged. “What do you know about his life?”
It took the wind out of Ryan’s self-righteous sails. “I…I don’t know what it’s like. I assume—”
Bismarck cut him off. “Don’t assume, Valore. It makes an ass of u and me.”
Understanding what the professor meant and agreeing with him were two separate things. How could Beau’s life be anything but shit after what he’d lived through.
Is Nora’s life shit? A voice in Ryan’s head asked. She lived through something horrible. He imagined the look she’d give him if he described their life in anything but positive terms, and he smiled without realizing it.
Professor Bismarck saw the change in his expression, though, and waggled his finger knowingly. “Ah… I see you’re coming to understand what I mean. Look, Valore,” he began, businesslike. “No one will deny you made a huge mistake.”
Enthusiastically, Ryan nodded.
“But,” he continued pointedly. “No one will deny, in a short amount of time, you’ve also done a lot of good. Unless you draw the parallels between what you did and what you continue to do to add some good into this world, no one else will see it. And they should.”
Dismissing him, Bismarck reached for Ryan’s bag and handed it to him. “Start preparing your defense, Valore. That’s your homework. I want to see your argument on my desk by midweek. We’ll go over it together. I’m going to call the dean at CCSL and make a case for you presenting it at the next meeting of the student committee.”
This was his chance. Bismarck was willing to pull strings for him if he was willing to stand up for himself. His professor believed in him, believed him worthy of such an action. It left him feeling at loose ends; he hadn’t seen himself in a positive light in a long time.
But Nora does. She looked at him like he was a hero.
It took a crotchety old lawyer to finally identify what it was he saw each time she stared at him. The happiness he felt around Nora wasn’t only because he loved her, it was because he puffed up with pride each time he caught her glance. With her, he had no past. She saw right through his walls to his heart, and she liked what she saw.
No.
She loved what she saw when she looked at him.
If he stood up for himself, it wouldn’t be because Bismarck believed in him, it would be because he finally saw himself the way Nora had all long.