True Affair

Strictly Professional

"When you try to come for me, I keep on flourishing"
God Is A Woman By Arianna Grande

Isabelle Shae's Point Of View

"Nathan!" I call out as he, and 4 other men file out of the building's side - door.He stops in his place, with one arm propping the metal door open. The few men behind him halt- since Nathan is now blocking their exit. He moves to the side as he continues to hold the door. 

"One minute," Nathan says to the last man exiting. The man he speaks to is someone I see in the firm, regularly. The grey-haired senior is a long time driver for the firm. The man- who goes by Roman, often takes lawyers to their clients that are in holding at penitentiaries- awaiting their court date.

I walk close to Nathan as I exit the door. "You wouldn't mind if I join, would you?" I smile playfully. My smile fades, and my face contorts into a confused expression. Nathan continues to stand at the door frame, the door remains propped open by my husband's arm.

"You're supposed to be working on the Michael Jackson case, Isabelle," he says with sympathetic eyes. He looks up quickly and notices all the men are fastened into the car, looking at the two of us with judgment. "I really need to go, the guys are waiting," Nathan says as he lets go of the door and passes me. The audacity he has to start walking to the car.

I shake my head before twisting my neck- giving him a deadly side-eye. I begin to follow him. "Nathan, you and me both know a brief for a plagiarism case doesn't take longer than 5 minutes. This is not the case I deserve" I seethe.

With his right leg in the car and his left remaining on the ground, he lets out a loud sigh, one that everyone could hear. I feel a pang in my heart at his actions, he's not thinking about anyone but himself - he's acting as if I'm a nuisance.

"Make the best of the case you're assigned to, Belle," he smiles, in hopes of calming me down.He begins to shut the car door- I grab it before it closed. "Belle-" he drags on. I disregard he pleads.

"It's because I'm a woman, isn't it?" I spit. Nathan, along with a few men in the car, let out a chuckle, which angers me even more.

"I'll talk to you later, Isabelle" he states sternly, before slamming the car door shut. I take a few steps back and watch the car speed off.

I stomp my heels onto the ground- which feels surprisingly good. I hate heels, yet I wear them. It's somewhat of a requirement in my profession. Grinding them into the dirt not only allows me to let out my frustration- it stands as a big 'fuck you' to this law firm, at least in my mind it does.To think that countless hours of hard work in high school and the university would lead to this- makes me pity myself. I am grateful for the opportunities I've been given, but the fact that Nathan and I took the same course at the same university should mean that we are equally credible. Especially when I had received the highest marks out of both of us. I deserve to get the same amount of opportunities and praise. But, like always, I don't. My mother often expresses her opinion on how the world- especially white men don't want to see women succeed, let alone black women. As time goes by, I see her point as clear as day.In all honesty, this is not the best career for a woman of my demographic, but I refuse to let that stop me from achieving my goals. I refuse the characteristics of my body to stop me from helping others. I refuse for a man to boss me around and give me little to no respect. Most of all - I refuse to sit by and watch my husband, a man who had vowed to love me through better or for worse, to ignore me and disrespect my skills as a lawyer. These are things I will no longer accept.As I stomp my left heel into the gravel for the last time, I let out a subtle grunt. The dust from the car still remains in the air, and I glare at it for no particular reason, other than to let my anger out on it.