“Orla retreated to Rathlin, the island where she had grown up. She rented a cottage, expecting to stay a week or two, figure things out, and plot her next move. In the days that followed, however, she found herself increasingly drawn to the pace of island life, the quiet existence she’d known as a child. She realized that the things she valued the most seemed flimsy. She went to the island to help herself work through the stress and anxiety of losing her job, only to find that the layoff wasn’t as devastating as she’d imagined. What really threw her for a loop, it turned out, was the end of her marriage.
“Her husband was a man she had loved passionately in college. They married at a young age, then slowly drifted apart. When he asked her for a divorce, she was relieved—it was just one more complex set of problems she wouldn’t have to think about. When she was brutally honest with herself, she realized she’d seen the marriage as a nuisance—something that made her feel guilty every time she had to work late.
“She had gotten into criminal prosecution out of an idealism and a desire to help victims. In the months following the divorce, however, she took a hard look at her career. She lived on adrenaline, moving quickly from one case to another, no time to examine things from a larger perspective. Over time, she became part of a changing political landscape for which she had no deep respect. The inertia of day-to-day events swept her along.
“When all of this became clear to her, she began analyzing the arc of her marriage. She made an effort to rekindle their relationship, but he had already moved on.”
Vivian was talking faster now, enthralled with a story that she had probably told dozens of times.
“A year later, Orla was on her daily walk around the island when she met someone. Richard was an American tourist, traveling the islands of Northern Ireland alone, trying to connect with the distant roots of his family. Richard canceled his return flight, quit his job in the States, extended his room reservation at the only inn on the island, and eventually proposed marriage to Orla.”
I could see that something was bothering Alice. “In this story,” she said, “everyone gives up their jobs. Is that a requirement or something? Because Jake and I love our jobs.”
“I assure you that The Pact has many members, like your sponsor, who are exceedingly successful in business,” Vivian replied. “The Pact wants you to be you, only better.”
I was pretty sure I’d heard that slogan in summer camp.
“Orla was hesitant about Richard’s proposal,” Vivian told us. “She had come to understand all of the things she’d done that had led to the dissolution of her marriage. She didn’t want to repeat her mistakes. Orla believes that we are creatures of habit. Once in a groove, it’s hard to change.”
“But change is possible,” I insisted. “My practice—my entire field—is predicated on that notion.”
“Of course it is,” Vivian said. “And Orla would agree with you. She decided that, if her second marriage was to succeed, she needed a clear strategy to make that happen. For days, she wandered the coastline, contemplating marriage: the things that make it fail and the things that help it thrive. In her cottage, she typed out her ideas on the same typewriter her mother, an aspiring novelist, had used decades before. Over a period of seventeen days, the typed pages stacked up beside the typewriter, the manual grew, and the system for a solid marriage was created. Make no mistake: It is a system—a highly effective, scientifically based system, the merits of which have been proven time and again. Because Orla believes that marriage should not be left up to chance. In the end, the ideas that Orla had during those walks make up the very foundation of The Pact.”
“Did Orla and Richard ever get married?” I asked.
“Yes.”
Alice leaned forward. “And are they still married?”
Vivian nodded vigorously. “Of course they are. We all are. The Pact works. It works for Orla, it works for me, and it will work for you. Simply put, The Pact is two things. It is an agreement you make with your spouse. And it is membership within a group”—she clicked to a new slide and gestured toward the projection of happy people on a green lawn—“a fellowship of like-minded individuals, to support and enforce that agreement. Is that more clear?”
“Not entirely,” Alice said, smiling. “But I am intrigued.”
Vivian clicked forward a few slides. Most of them featured photos of well-heeled people having a good time together on stately lawns and in well-appointed rooms. She paused on a photo of Orla standing on a balcony, addressing a rapt crowd, with the bright sun and a vast desert at her back.
“Orla was originally drawn to legal work,” Vivian said. “She liked that the rules of law were hard and fast and, where they weren’t, legal precedence lit the way. It was comforting to know that the answers were all there for her to find. Orla realized that marriage, like society, needed a set of laws.
“She believed that British society had run pretty smoothly for hundreds of years because of these laws. Everyone knew what was expected. While people might have wanted to cheat or steal or even, God forbid, commit murder, the vast majority of citizens did not break the laws, because they knew the consequences. After Orla’s first marriage failed, it occurred to her that not only were the expectations for marriage unclear, so were the consequences.”
“So,” I said. “The Pact is an effort to bring the principles of British law to the institution of marriage?”
“It’s more than an effort. It’s really happening.” Vivian turned off the projector. “I can’t overstate the real value: The Pact brings community support, encouragement, and structure to the institution of marriage.”
“You mentioned consequences,” Alice said. “I’m not sure I understand.”
“Look,” Vivian said. “I was married once before. I was twenty-two, he was twenty-three. We met in high school and dated for an eternity. At first it was exciting, the two of us, together against the world, but then—I’m not sure when things changed—I started to feel so alone. We had problems, and there was no one I could turn to. He was cheating on me. I didn’t know why; I worried that it was my fault, but I didn’t know how to react. Divorce came so quickly, like it was the only door, and I just needed to get out.”
Vivian had a single tear at the corner of her eye. She sat up straighter and flicked the tear away with her fingertip. “When I met Jeremy, I was gun-shy. Just like Orla had been. Jeremy proposed, and I said yes, but I kept putting things off. I was terrified of making the same mistakes. Marriage conjured up such negative thoughts.”