By the time I got back to my desk, Margot had already returned to her computer and was typing away.
"Are you okay?" I asked, attempting to forget the unpleasantness of our last interaction. Margot ignored me and continued tapping her fingers loudly on her fancy keyboard.Typical.
The rest of the day went by without any surprises, thankfully, and I felt oddly content as I boarded the subway to my new apartment. It had cost me almost all of my savings and a little help from my parents, but at least I had a place to call home. The fact that it was pretty close to work was an added bonus. Finally arriving at my new address, I looked up in apprehension at my new apartment building.
It was homely to say the least. A dark brown hue, vines lined the walls of the exterior and curled around the fire escape. Walking down the bus steps and onto the sidewalk below, I wouldn't describe the smell of the area as being particularly pleasant. But I could take it.
A friendly older woman greeted me on the first floor. "You must be Sadie," she stated energetically. "Welcome to Edge Lofts. Here is your key. Your apartment number is 368." I took the keys gratefully. "Also, our elevator is going through maintenance," she added. "The stairs are located to your right."
As I walked up the stairs I brainstormed all the things I needed to get done today. Lists were the one thing I was good at, being a bit of an organization freak. First, I had to get to my apartment and start researching this Earl Wilson man. In all honesty, he seemed like a complete douche-bag and I wasn't entirely looking forward to representing him.
Suddenly, I made contact with someone in front of me. Who stands in the middle of a stairwell?
"The hell?" came a strangely familiar voice. I looked up to be face-to-face with Margot Lopez. "Watch where you're going you klutz!" she exclaimed with irritation. Her dark eyes narrowed as recognition swept over her face. "You! What the hell are you doing here, Sydney?"
"It's actually..." I restrained myself, figuring it was no use correcting her. "This is my apartment building."
"No shit," Margot stated in disbelief. "You've got to be kidding me. Room number?"
"368."
"That's it, the universe hates me," she lamented, staring up at the ceiling.
"Look, I get it. You don't want me to be here," I said, anger spilling into my voice. "But I had no control over this unfortunate coincidence, so why don't we just be mature and handle this like adults."
Margot's eyes bore into mine, but I refused to look away. After seemingly forever, she sighed. "Fine. But just stay the fuck away from me."
"Not a problem," I answered, sarcasm seeping into my voice.
To my surprise, Margot's angry expression relaxed slightly. "So about this new case, I don't know if I could ever defend a man like that. What a monster."
I nodded in agreement, startled by her sudden mood change. "I know, but this is our job."
"Yeah, it sucks though." We stood there silently for a few long seconds before she turned to me quickly. "You're applying for a spot on the case, aren't you?"
"Actually, Cynthia offered me a spot already," I answered. I instantly regretted telling the truth as Margot's expression turned furious once again.
"How could you agree to defend a scumbag like that?" she responded accusingly, her voice strangely hurt. "What is wrong with you?"
"It's not like I can refuse. It's my first day!" I shot back.
"So some job is more important to you than your morals," Margot replied, glowering at me in disgust.
"Don't you dare tell me what my priorities are!" I shouted. All the nerves and stress from the day came flooding back to me, and I admit not all my anger was directed towards the woman in front of me.
I pushed past her, and walked briskly up the stairs. I had to get away from this conversation. It was true, Earl Wilson probably had it coming for him. As a lawyer, however, my job was to remain completely impartial, especially towards cases like this one. And what right did Margot have, criticizing me for my desire to succeed at my job? After all, she was the biggest suck-up of them all.
I unlocked and cautiously opened the door to my apartment. To describe it in the pleasantest way possible: It was rustic. Dust covered every visible surface, and my mattress lacked any sort of sheet or covering. A small bathroom was situated on the right, showcasing a tiny shower with no curtains. At least it had a kitchen and stove. During college, I'd cultivated an aptitude for baking and cooking. But tonight, I was way too exhausted to do any of that.
As I ordered a small pizza from Dominoes, the faint sound of footsteps from the apartment next door filled my ears. These walls were far thinner than I preferred, but I figured I could get past that with time. I heard a faint voice coming from the same direction and I suddenly understood why Margot had been so upset. We were literally neighbors.
"Are you coming tonight?" she asked through the walls that separated us. Her voice seemed strangely vulnerable as she spoke on the phone, catching me off guard. I decided not to eavesdrop any longer.
While I waited for my pizza to arrive, I settled on my hard mattress and began to unpack the duffel bag I'd carried upstairs. The rest of my stuff would be arriving tomorrow, courtesy of my mother who lived about 30 minutes away from the city. Taking out my laptop, I figured I should start researching as much as I could on Earl Wilson before tomorrow.
Margot was right, Earl Wilson was a complete and utter scumbag. His long history of domestic abuse spanned over 15 years and 6 different girlfriends. The primary suspect, his former girlfriend Megan, had called 911 stating that she believed she was in grave danger. But by the time authorities had arrived, Megan was discovered standing over Wilson's bloodied body, a gun on the ground beside her.
It seemed pretty cut and dry, a classic case of self-defense. But as a prosecutor, my job was to ensure Megan spent substantial time behind bars for the murder. It was icky business, but I had to remain professional for the duration of the case and leave my own beliefs out of it.
The doorbell rang, signalling that my pizza had arrived and causing me to nearly exclaim in delight. I was very hungry. After paying the delivery guy, I made my way to the door that led to the tiny balcony of my apartment. I sighed aloud, realizing my balcony was even smaller than I'd originally thought, only extending a few feet from the door.
I sat on the cold cement, my back pressed against the door, enjoying the remnants of my pizza. Despite the traffic and the slightly dingey atmosphere, Chicago was a city unlike any other. I had to give it that. Although my view was sub-par, I could make out dozens of skyscrapers, each distinct in their own way.
Growing up in a more suburban area on the outskirts of the big city, I was still adjusting to the constant bustling and noise. But this would all be worth it in the long run, I was almost certain of that. Especially now, with the prospect of working on such a high profile case, things seemed to be looking up.
The noise of a door sliding open interrupted my moment of contemplation. I looked over in search of the source of the sound, only to turn back quickly. Margot had also decided this was the perfect opportunity for quality balcony time. Incredible.
While trying to be as quiet as possible, I slid further away. I'd had my fair share of Margot for today, and I definitely didn't want any more. Lucky for me, Margot didn't seem to notice my presence as she stared straight ahead. The sky was darkening around us, making her a silhouette illuminated by the lights of the city.
Unlike me, Margot had clearly dressed out of her work clothes and was wearing a leather jacket with gray sweatpants. Her dark hair rippled in the gentle breeze as she leaned against the metal railing. She held something in her fingers, and as the acrid smell of smoke hit my nose I realized it was a cigarette.
She probably thought she was so cool, standing there like a character out of a coming-of-age film. In my opinion she was anything but, smoking that cancer-stick and being a conceited jerk to all those around her. I couldn't stay here any longer, taking in those toxic fumes exhaled by a coworker and neighbor who clearly didn't want me.
As I made my way back inside the muggy atmosphere of my apartment, though anything was better than cigarette smoke, I mentally prepared myself for the challenging day ahead. It was one thing to be starting at a new job. It was a whole different set of obstacles to have your deskmate absolutely despise you. But I could do this, just one step at a time. One minute at a time, one conversation at a time, one day at a time. I would come out of this stronger than I had started. It would take a whole lot more than some moody colleague to break me.