Page 85 of The Havenport Collection

Astrid

T hings had been great with Declan. We were in a pattern of cooking dinner, watching Game of Thrones , and then making love all night.

I was tired and sore and had recently discovered the joy of an afternoon nap.

Sometimes Ginger joined me, snuggling up with me on the tiny cottage couch watching the fire.

I was content and happy and not as bored as I thought I’d be.

Winter was stretching on endlessly, but we were making our own fun.

One night Declan brought home a two-thousand-piece puzzle and a bottle of whiskey.

How did he know I loved puzzles? We stayed up most of the night, drank the entire bottle, and ended up making love on the living room floor in front of the fire.

My height came in handy. Declan was endlessly creative in bed.

He was always coming up with hotter and dirtier ways to get me off.

We realized that we could use my height to our advantage, making stand up sex, against the wall sex, and even shower sex much more fun.

Days passed in a blur of sex, delicious meals, Krav Maga classes, and hanging out with my new girlfriends.

I read books, took walks with Ginger, and drank endless cups of coffee.

Of course all good things come to an end.

I was tidying up the cottage in preparation for Declan to come over when my phone rang with an unknown New York number.

“Hello.”

“Yes, hi. I am looking for Astrid Wentworth?” The voice on the other end was pleasant but sounded nervous.

“This is she.”

“Hello, Astrid. This is Monica Sweeting Walsh calling.” My heart dropped into my stomach. I had given up hope weeks ago that she would reach out. I knew what was coming, and it was the last thing I wanted to deal with right now.

“Thank you so much for reaching out, Monica.”

“No, thank you. I’m sorry it took me so long to respond. Revisiting this chapter of my life is…difficult.”

“I appreciate it,” I replied, not sure where to begin. I can’t come right out and ask, but I needed to know if she had the same experience I did. I didn’t want to push this poor woman—I barely knew her—but my desire for justice outweighed these concerns.

“I suppose you want to know what happened when I left Burns & Glenn?”

“Yes.”

“Five years ago I was assigned to work with Max Shapiro on a very tricky transaction. I was just a fourth year associate, and I was honored to be trusted with such important work. Max Shapiro was a really big deal in the New York office. So we worked together. He was tough but fair and a really good legal mentor. Then he made a move. I resisted a few times at first. But then he got more aggressive. Told me he would give me a bad review if I didn’t.

We ended up having an affair for a year.

It was horrible. We had to keep everything a secret, and I felt so dirty.

He told me he and his wife had separated and she had custody of his kids.

That was a lie. They were very much married, and he would leave my apartment on Saturday mornings to go to his kids’ soccer games. ”

“I’m so sorry.”

“It was terrible. I was afraid to break things off with him, and I felt pressured to keep sleeping with him. I was only twenty-nine and didn’t know how to navigate the power dynamics.

I got really depressed and ended up developing a drinking problem.

I was in a really low place. He systematically destroyed my self-esteem and lied to me constantly.

I didn’t trust myself anymore, and I was convinced that I would have no career if I stood up for myself. ”

My heart broke. I knew what that felt like. I knew what it was like to be impressionable and awestruck by the brilliant legal mind and drawn in to his web of bullshit lies.

“By the time I worked up the courage to break up with him, I was pretty much destroyed. He gave me a bad review, and suddenly no one wanted to work with me. The firm sat me down and told me I didn’t have a future there, so I chose to quietly resign.”

“Did you tell anyone about what he did to you?”

“Yes. I went to HR and then to my supervising partner. They said it was my word against his and since we had a consensual relationship there was nothing they could do. I was too depressed. I believed it was my fault. I was lucky to escape with some semblance of a career.”

She took a deep breath. “But things have changed. I got help, got sober, and met my husband. We had a baby girl last year and I’m really doing well. I am at a small firm doing what I love. I have moved past Max Shapiro and his narcissistic bullshit.”

“Good for you!” I said and I meant it. I was impressed. She had clearly rebuilt her life and it gave me some hope.

“So let me guess, something similar happened to you?”

Monica and I talked for over an hour. We traded law firm horror stories, and she told me all about her daughter and the work she was currently doing at her new firm. She was cool and easy to talk to.

I shared some things with her I hadn’t told anyone.

About how Max made me feel, about how much I hated myself after he touched me or said sexual things to me.

She understood on a level that no one else in my life did.

I told her about my refusal to sign the liability waiver and the threatening texts I’d received.

“They want you to just go quietly like I did,” she said. “They want to just sweep this under the rug. But fuck them. And fuck him.”

She was so right. It made me even angrier. The thought that the firm knew what he was up to and did nothing but shame and cast aside promising female attorneys? I wanted to punch something.

“I can’t believe the firm is still enabling his bullshit all these years later. And it wasn’t just me. Back then there were lots of rumors, including a paralegal that he groped at the Christmas party. She ended up quitting and was hushed up. Even though there were witnesses.”

I had spent the entirety of the conversation wanting to ask something and talking myself out of it. I finally broke. “Why didn’t you do anything?” I asked and instantly regretted it.

She sighed, and I immediately felt bad. I wasn’t trying to shame this woman.

I was just trying to make sense of what happened to me.

“I should have. But at the time, I just wanted to get away from the situation. It had become toxic for me, and I wanted to put it behind me. And honestly, I worried that if I made a fuss, I could be blackballed. At least this way I left with my dignity intact and a good recommendation for my next job. My career recovered and I am happy with the choices I’ve made. ”

“I’m sorry I asked. You don’t owe me an explanation.”

“But I am kicking myself because if I had been braver, if I had been stronger, then you may have been spared this pain. And I am truly sorry, Astrid.”

I started to cry. “Please don’t apologize. It’s not your fault. I should have spoken up. Kept records. But I was too scared.” It was the truth and I hated myself for it. I didn’t want to be scared and timid. I didn't want my future to be in the control of an aggressive sexual harasser.

“Don’t beat yourself up. He didn’t technically force me to do anything.

But time and a lot of therapy have shown me that there is a big difference between forcing and free will, and what he did was coercive.

He took advantage of the fact that he was my superior.

That I wanted to impress him as a partner.

He mentored me, took me under his wing, made sure I worked exclusively for him so I was isolated from other associates and partners.

I didn’t pursue him, but when he made a move, I felt like I couldn’t say no.

So I didn’t.” She was crying now too, and I wished we were in the same room so I could give her a hug.

The air left my lungs. The sexual advances, the touching, the thinly veiled threats. This was a pattern. This was abuse. And it was illegal. I had the power to stop this, and I knew what I had to do.

“I am so sorry if my asking questions has been upsetting for you. I am just trying to make sense of everything,” I said, ungracefully wiping my tears and snot on my sleeve.

“Don’t apologize. It’s been years and like I said, I’ve gotten a lot of help. My husband knows all about it, and although he wants to kick Max’s ass, he has been really supportive.”

“It means a lot to me that you shared your story.”

“Happy to help. So what are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. I just want to move on with my life. Things have changed for me and I’m, I don’t know, just better. Like life is easier and brighter and more fun outside of Burns & Glenn.”

“Ha! Sister, I hear that!”

“But moving on and forgetting about everything will just let him get away with it. So as much as I don’t want to, I am going to file a formal complaint with HR.

Explain that he retaliated against me after I rejected several aggressive sexual advances and falsely accused me to get me fired.

” As an attorney, I knew that retaliation was against the law. “I’m not playing nice anymore.”

“Do not let him get away with this!” Her enthusiasm made me feel stronger.

“And then I am going to go to the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission and file a lawsuit against him and the firm.” I shuddered just thinking about it.

Years of potential litigation and attorney’s fees with no guarantee of success.

But exercising the nuclear option seemed to be the only way to make sure no other woman went through this.

“He can’t go around destroying people’s careers and their self-esteem.

I don’t want him to take advantage of another eager, impressionable woman who just wants to be a good lawyer. ”

“You are my hero, Astrid.”

I blushed.

“And I have a daughter now. I hate to think her mom wasn’t strong enough to stand up for herself. I think I want to file a complaint too.”

“Don’t beat yourself up, Monica. Things have changed so much in the past few years. And you are strong. Just talking to me proves it.”

“They probably won’t care because it was four years ago, but fuck it. I’m going to lay it all out. Maybe all the evidence will catch up to him.”

Together, we put a plan in place. We coordinated who we would reach out to in HR and brainstormed possible evidence we could present that would be persuasive.

We also made a plan to reach out to some of the other women who had been rumored to have had run-ins with Max.

Monica had a friend who was an employment lawyer, so she was going to contact her about filing a potential lawsuit.

Monica laughed. “This is going to ruffle a lot of feathers.”

“I know.” I felt excited, empowered, and ready to fight.

“Listen, Astrid, I am out of there. I have a career now that is solid and totally separate from Burns & Glenn. You have more to lose than I do. Are you sure you want to do this? Exercise the nuclear option?” I loved that she was worried about me.

But if not me, then who would fight this fight?

I didn't have kids or a mortgage. Hell, I had a trust fund from my dad. I could survive while the dust settled. If I couldn’t practice law, I'd find something else to do.

“I have to do it. I have to fight,” I replied.

For so long I’d had no fight in me. I thought I wasn’t good enough, smart enough, hardworking enough.

I toiled away, late nights, weekends, I missed out on the entirety of my twenties, and my sacrifices were never acknowledged.

Instead I was just told it wasn’t enough and I should try harder.

But now I was older, smarter, and ready to battle. I wasn’t going to let Max Shapiro hurt other women while he collected his millions from the firm. It was illegal and unethical, and he needed to be taken down. And I knew that I was just the woman for the job.