[2013] Consequential Damages Page 6

  They walked at a leisurely pace toward campus. Beyond the immediate vicinity of the party, all was quiet, since it was well past midnight. The sky was clear; there was no breeze; it was neither warm nor cool; just another perfect night in Palo Alto.

  They walked for some time, and eventually found themselves back on campus, looking up at Hoover Tower, Stanford’s most famous landmark. The moon shone brightly and illuminated the pale walls of the three-hundred-foot-tall structure. The normally bustling locale seemed eerily quiet and deserted as they sat on the edge of the circular fountain in the plaza beneath the tower. They sat there talking deep into the night, oblivious to the passing of time. They talked about their families, places they had been, and places they wanted to go. They spoke of their childhood and college experiences, their professional aspirations and countless other subjects, light and deep. Jake had never found it so easy to converse with anyone, and he had never found it so pleasurable just to be with someone. He was enthralled just listening to her, and looking at her. More than once during the evening, as he stole a glance at her striking face, he thought to himself, I could spend the rest of my life with this woman. He didn’t know whether it was a premonition or wishful thinking, but it felt good just contemplating that notion.

  It was still dark when they heard birds beginning to chirp, and before long the sky to the east began to brighten. “I can’t remember the last time I stayed out all night,” said Amanda.

  “I’ve done far more all-nighters than I care to admit,” said Jake. “With the books,” he added quickly, so that she wouldn’t get the wrong impression. They walked back in the general direction of the party, but veered off toward Amanda’s apartment before they got there. Jake walked Amanda to her door. “I’ve had a great evening, Amanda. Can I see you again?” he asked.

  “I’d like that,” Amanda replied.

  “I finish finals on Wednesday. There’s a new play at the Student Center Wednesday evening. How would you like to meet for pizza at Milano’s around six, and then see the show at eight?”

  “That sounds great, but can we make it a bit later? I’m working until six o’clock on Wednesday, but I could meet you at the restaurant by six thirty.”

  “Perfect. See you then.”

  Amanda pulled a small leather bound notebook out of her pocket and made a note of it: “Wednesday 6:30—Jake at Milano’s.” Jake extended his hand, feeling rather awkward, but not wanting to seem too forward or presumptuous. She laughed and gave him a warm hug. “Goodnight, Jake. See you on Wednesday. And good luck with finals!”

  Jake leisurely walked back to the dorm. It was nearly six o’clock by the time he reached his room. He knew he should try to get some sleep, so that he would be sufficiently rested and alert to study for finals, but he was wide awake. He laid down anyway, and dozed lightly. The previous night’s events replayed themselves in his mind, over and over, preventing him from achieving any sort of deep sleep. After a few hours, he gave up trying.

  He had missed breakfast at the dorm, so he decided to grab an omelet at a nearby café. He sang softly to himself as he walked, basking in the feeling that life was very good at this moment. He noticed the spring flowers all around him, and the fragrance of jasmine in the fresh morning air. California had never seemed so enticing. He congratulated himself on the wisdom of his decision to move there. He thought about law school, how much he truly enjoyed it, and complimented himself for choosing a profession that suited him so perfectly. He thought about all of the close friends he’d made over the past year, and how Stanford had really become his new home. Mostly, however, he thought about Amanda.

  He tried to recall as much as he could about his time with her at the party and afterwards. He thought about things she had said, the way she looked, the way she smiled and laughed. He remembered how good it felt to talk with her. He had never had a conversation like that with anyone. They had talked all night long, and it was effortless. The image of her face kept flashing through his mind, and he did his best to keep it there. Wednesday could not come soon enough.

  His musings were interrupted when he saw Rick standing in line at the café, ordering a large cup of black coffee. “Late night?” Ricked asked. “I left at four o’clock and you weren’t back yet.”

  “Sorry, Rick, I hope you weren’t waiting for me. It did turn into a late night. It was almost six o’clock by the time I got home.”

  “I saw you leaving with that Chinese girl. What do you think you’re doing, horning in on my action like that?” Rick said, with a forced smile and an edge in his voice that was not lost on Jake.

  “She asked me if I wanted to take a walk. How could I say no?”

  “Yeah, right. That must have been a pretty long goddamn walk,” Rick muttered as he walked out the door.

  Amanda slept soundly for several hours and awoke feeling cheerful and energetic. She had planned on devoting the day to her latest research project, but just now she was not in the mood. She wanted to spend some time with people rather than books. She couldn’t wait to tell someone about last night.

  She put on a running outfit, and jogged back to the scene of the party, arriving just before noon. The inhabitants were moving slowly. Cheryl and Mary Ann were dressed in shabby sweat clothes, seated at the kitchen table drinking Cokes, and munching on leftover hors d’oeuvres. They were sharing observations about the previous evening’s events and had made no movement toward beginning the massive cleanup effort that would be necessary to undo the night’s damage.

  “Good morning, ladies,” Amanda called out as she walked in. “Just thought I’d drop by to help you put your house back together.”

  “Why are you so chipper this morning? Weren’t you up all night like the rest of us?” asked Cheryl in a hoarse voice.

  “Look at you! You look like you’re ready to run a marathon. This isn’t fair,” said Mary Ann, noticing Amanda’s jogging attire, as well as her clear eyes and obvious perkiness.

  Kelly staggered out of a bedroom, still wearing last night’s outfit, which she had obviously worn to bed. “Rise and shine, sleepyhead! It’s past noon already,” Amanda sang out as she busily picked up bottles and cans that littered every surface in the house.

  “Where’s the aspirin,” Kelly moaned, rubbing her temples. “And why are you so annoyingly happy?”

  Cheryl, Mary Ann and Kelly looked at each other, then looked at Amanda as she scurried about the kitchen, tossing empties into a large trash bag and singing to herself as she did so.

  “You got lucky last night, didn’t you?” shouted Mary Ann, suddenly becoming animated. “That’s what it is!”

  “Holy Shit! Who was it?” Cheryl asked.

  Amanda stopped her cleaning and faced them, beaming.

  “You and Jake? Are you serious?” asked Kelly.

  “Let’s just say I had a wonderful evening,” said Amanda.

  “You and Jake?” Kelly asked again, her astonishment quickly transformed into excitement. “Amanda, that is so great! Two of my favorite people. He’s such a great guy. What a perfect match. I can’t believe it!” She let out a shriek and gave Amanda an exuberant hug. “Details, I want details!”

  “Yeah, lay it on us,” Cheryl demanded. “We want the complete play-by-play, the whole night.”

  “Well, we left here a little after midnight, and stayed out until dawn, just walking and talking.”

  “And what else? Did you invite him back to your place?” asked Mary Ann.

  “Nothing else. We just walked and talked, all night long. He walked me home and we said goodnight around six o’clock this morning.”

  “And that’s all? He didn’t even make a pass at you?” Cheryl asked.

  “He was way too much of a gentleman. I had such a great evening. I can’t remember the last time I was able to talk with a guy like that. In fact, I never have. It just felt so right. And no, that’s not all. We have a date Wednesday night.”

  Amanda’s three friends looked at her, speechless for a momen
t. Then all three simultaneously shrieked in delight and wrapped her in a group embrace.

  As Amanda walked toward the Medical Center early Monday morning, she saw Dr. Marsh getting out of her car, and waved from across the parking lot. “Good morning, Dr. Marsh,” she called out as Dr. Marsh approached her. “How was your weekend?”

  “Hello, Amanda. My weekend was just fine. How was yours?”

  “It was super!”

  Dr. Marsh looked at her with curiosity. The tone of Amanda’s voice was a giveaway. This was no ordinary weekend. “Really? Did you do anything special?”

  “I met someone.”

  Dr. Marsh stopped in her tracks and peered at Amanda over the rims of her glasses. “Someone with potential?”

  “I think so,” said Amanda, feeling like a schoolgirl revealing a new crush. “I really think so.”

  Amanda made her rounds cheerfully that morning. Her patients and colleagues noticed nothing unusual, since she was always a bundle of positive energy. But inside, she felt different. Wednesday evening was never far from her mind.

  Just as she was about to break for a quick lunch, she heard her name being paged over the public address system. She picked up the nearest phone, and the operator connected her to an outside caller.

  “Amanda?” She recognized her father’s voice, and immediately became alarmed. He had never called her at work before.

  “Hi, Daddy. Is everything okay?”

  “I’m afraid there’s been an accident. Grandma fell on some stairs this morning. She’s just been admitted to San Francisco General. It looks like she broke her hip.”

  “Oh no,” Amanda gasped, knowing instantly how devastating this would be to such an active woman who thrived on her independence. “How bad is it?”

  “We don’t know. They haven’t taken x-rays yet, but the ambulance driver and the emergency room staff seemed certain that it’s broken. She’s in a lot of pain and is really upset, as you might imagine.”

  “I’m on my way, Daddy. I’ll be there as fast I can,” she said, tears welling up in her eyes.

  “Are you able to get away from work?”

  “It’s Grandma. I have to be there,” she stammered, her voice breaking. “They’ll just have to do without me for awhile.”

  Two hours later, she was in her car, heading north toward San Francisco.

  CHAPTER 7

  Jake tried hard to focus on his exams, but found studying difficult. By Tuesday afternoon, he had finished his Civil Procedure exam and was doing his best to get in one more solid study session that afternoon for his Property final, which was the following morning.

  He was engrossed in his Property outline in the dorm’s study lounge when Rick approached him in his gym attire, in high spirits, since he had already completed his last final. “McShane! How about some hoops? Give that massive brain of yours a little break.”

  “Sorry, Rick, can’t do it,” Jake replied, barely looking up. “I need a few more hours of study time.”

  Rick teased and cajoled for a few minutes, and then realized he was not going to change Jake's mind. “Mind if I borrow your basketball?”

  “Help yourself,” said Jake, tossing Rick his room key. “It's in my closet.”

  Rick ran up the stairs to the third floor. He heard a telephone ringing as he put the key in the lock. He ignored the ringing phone and found the basketball in the closet. As he closed the closet door, an answering machine clicked on, and Rick listened as the caller left her message. “Hi Jake. It's Amanda. It’s Tuesday afternoon. I've been really looking forward to tomorrow night, but something just came up. My grandmother broke her hip and I've had to run up to San Francisco to be with her. I'm really sorry, and I hope we can reschedule soon. If you'd like to call, you can reach me at my parents' house in Berkeley. Good luck with finals. Again, I'm really sorry and hope to hear from you soon.” She left her parents’ phone number as well as her cell phone number.

  Rick walked over to the answering machine, searched for the erase button, and pressed it. “Take that, you son of a bitch,” he whispered to himself. Then he casually walked out of the room dribbling the basketball.

  Jake was seated at a table in Milano's Pizzeria by six o’clock on Wednesday evening. He was feeling jubilant to be finished with finals, but even more excited at the prospect of another evening with Amanda. He had arrived early, hoping that she might do the same, giving them more time together.

  Jake was surprised when she had not arrived by 6:30. Amanda struck him as someone who would be punctual. By 6:45, she still had not arrived, and Jake's excitement was turning to concern. “Dammit!” he muttered to himself. Why hadn't he gotten her phone number? Seven o'clock came and went. Still no Amanda. It just didn't make sense. Did he have the date wrong? Did she? No, that couldn't be it. He clearly remembered her saying, “Wednesday—6:30,” as she wrote it down in her notebook.

  By 7:15, despair started setting in. Jake left the restaurant and hurried to the theater, hoping that perhaps she had forgotten about dinner and was waiting for him there. A small crowd was milling about in front of the box office. Amanda was not there. Maybe there was an emergency at the hospital, he thought. That would be a logical explanation. He had just terminated his cell phone service prior to leaving town, so he found a pay phone and called the Medical Center. After being passed around to several different stations, he was finally connected to the right one, but was dismayed to hear that she was not there. He sat glumly on a bench outside the theater until 8:00, at which time he gave up and went home, utterly dejected.

  The next morning, Jake called the hospital again. He reached Amanda’s station and spoke with a pleasant sounding receptionist. “Is this a medical emergency?” she asked.

  “No emergency. It's a personal call. I'm just a friend.” The receptionist took his name and number and promised to pass the message along.

  Where was she, Jake wondered? Why hadn't she shown up? Why hadn't she even called? A feeling of panic set in. He was scheduled to head back to Chicago the next day to begin his summer internship. He had to speak with Amanda before then.

  On Friday morning, Jake picked up the phone in his dorm room and tried calling Amanda at the hospital again before leaving for the airport. To his dismay, the phone service in the dorm had already been disconnected. He called from the airport, but was told that Amanda was not available. He left another message. He felt helpless, and depressed. A grim realization was setting in: For whatever reason, Amanda Chang had decided she was not interested in seeing him.

  Amanda felt a deep and pervasive sadness. Her grandmother had indeed fractured her hip, rather severely as it turned out. Amanda knew the statistics. A large percentage of patients over seventy-five who fracture their hips would die within six months. On top of that depressing realization, she had broken her date with Jake, and he had not returned her call. That didn’t seem to fit. He seemed so kind and understanding, how could he be angry over this? Why wouldn’t he give her the courtesy of a return phone call? Friday afternoon, she decided to call him again, not caring if she came across as too forward. She found his phone number at the dorm and dialed it. A recording advised her that the number she had dialed was no longer in service.

  A short time later, Mary Ann called Amanda to check on her grandmother. After providing a status report concerning her grandmother’s condition, Amanda told Mary Ann about her broken date with Jake, and her inability to reach him by phone. Mary Ann mentioned that she was planning to see Rick that evening, and promised to see what she could find out.

  That evening, as she and Rick drove toward one of the local music clubs, Mary Ann asked, “Where’s your friend, Jake? Amanda has been trying to reach him and found out that his phone has been disconnected. She’s worried. Do you know where he is?”

  “Nothing to worry about,” Rick replied casually. “He just went back to Chicago for the summer. He has a fiancée there, I think.”

  The following Monday, the new receptionist, Mrs. Norris, rec
eived a briefing on her responsibilities. The floor administrator explained the phone system, message-taking protocol, and who was who, among other things. Mrs. Norris noticed two messages taken last week for Dr. Chang, and asked about them.

  “Dr. Chang has taken a leave of absence,” explained the administrator. “We don’t know when she’ll be back. Let me see whether these are urgent and need to be passed along to someone else.” She examined the messages and noted that they were both from a Mr. Jake McShane. The messages each bore the notation, “Personal call—a friend. Not urgent.”

  “No need to worry about these. They’re just personal calls, and I’m sure her friends have figured out by now that Dr. Chang is on leave.” She tossed the messages in the trash bin.

  CHAPTER 8

  Just a few days before, Jake had expected to be returning home feeling like a conquering hero. Instead, a dark mood enveloped him. On the Monday following his return home, he began his employment as one of the twenty summer associates with Taylor, Martin and Moretti, one of the top-tier law firms in Chicago. This was considered a plum position, particularly for a first-year law student, and his fellow summer clerks seemed eager and excited to be there. Jake did his best to appear upbeat and positive, although it required considerable acting talent. Day and night, regardless of his surroundings or activities, thoughts of Amanda haunted him.

  On Thursday afternoon of his first week, he received a call from Rick, who had just arrived home to begin working at his father’s law firm for the summer. “I’ll bet you’re tired of that grind already. How about we head over to the City College tonight and watch the summer league play,” Rick suggested.

  Jake’s first impulse was to make some excuse. Being around Rick might be a painful reminder of recent experiences in Palo Alto. On the other hand, he knew from past experience that basketball was a great way for him to clear his head and forget about anything else. “What the hell, why not?” he responded, warming to the idea.