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“It’s your big day, Marilee!” Dede leans in toward me and whispers in my ear, her hand cupped halfway over her mouth. Smiling nervously, I hold my left hand between our stadium seats and cross my fingers, my childish gesture visible only to my sister. We are seated with my colleagues, the Alabama Southern University School of Law faculty, in the spacious ASU moot courtroom. Attendance is high and the noise level higher as everyone discusses the primary purpose of today’s gathering: naming the recipient of the coveted Sam Bailey Jr. Chair in Clinical Law. Faculty members glance my way and smile or nod at me, Marilee Carson Cooper, the odds-on-favorite for the fourth endowed Chair in the history of the relatively young law school. I stare straight ahead, trying to look cool and calm. “You look like you might throw up,” Dede whispers. So much for cool and calm. “Hush.” I elbow her lightly. Dede leans away from me, her ivory skin and pale grey-green eyes framed by chin length dyed black hair. Her near perfect beauty reminds me of Catherine Zeta Jones, except Dede is taller and thinner. She gives me an appraising look. “Other than that, you look nice, especially if you’re trying to attract male pumpkins.” She laughs out loud. “Quiet!” I shake my head. For this momentous occasion, I dragged myself out of bed early, washed my shoulder length auburn hair, and tried on all my maternity dresses – all six of them – to make the most photogenic choice. Three clung too tightly to my near nine-months bulging midriff and two were dotted with intractable juice or food stains. I chose the burnt orange dress because it contrasts nicely with my green eyes, but Dede’s right: I look as though I’ve morphed into Charlie Brown’s great pumpkin.
“Don’t you need to go out for a smoke or go back to New York or something?” I fake a smile. “Just trying to get you to relax, sweetie.” Dede reaches over with her right hand and gently holds down my jiggling knee.
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