“I always get confused when going across time zones,” said Stewart. “And can’t you have a modicum of decency, Susie? Why are you allowing Sergio to come to our wedding? You know that he has impropriety running in his veins.”
“I can’t uninvite him,” Susie shot back. “Try to get some sleep. We’re going in the morning.”
“Well, I know we’re going in the morning. But, where are we going?” said Stewart.
“You are well aware that we are going to your trial. Then we are going to get some drinks. A little bit of a post-celebration, right?” said Susie.
“I just don’t know where we are going. You know, like our final destination. Like, to where are we going?” said Stewart.
“I’m not even going to answer that Stew. I believe you know the answer,” she said.
“Well, you just did answer it,” he said.
“I know, Stew. Just try to get some sleep,” she said.
Stewart got up in the morning with a crick in his back. It was 5:30AM and Susie was not in the bed. The white linen of the hotel bed was strewn about.
“Susie, I slept so poorly,” said Stewart.
“Well, Stew, what do you want me to do about it?” she said.
“Just massage my back, how about? I have a crick in my back and it won’t go away,” he said.
“I won’t massage your back. You remember what happened last time, right? You complained,” she said.
“Susie, we’ve got to go to the trial. What if they convict me?” he said.
“Well, then, they’ll convict you,” she said.
“And if they do convict me they’ll put me in jail,” he said.
“Not necessarily. We’ve got to go,” she said.
Both of them climbed into the large Chevrolet sport utility vehicle.
“Susie, I believe they’re going to reach a verdict today. And you know, with certain things I did, they’ll eat me alive. You know that, right?” he said.
“Yeah, so?” she said.
“Well, I just wanted to tell you that in case they send me to jail. They may send me there,” he said.
“And?” she said.
“And I know I’m completely indifferent to the possibility, but the wedding is probably off if I go to jail. I just wanted to let you know,” he said.
“Okay,” she said with closed lips.
They climbed out of their large car, making sure to park within the lines. The tires were over the lines on one side so Susie got back in and straightened out the vehicle. There was no use. The car was too big. She then got out of the car, exasperated by Stewart’s lame directions. He was acting like the people who guide airplanes on the tarmac. But he wasn’t quite as precise as those people. He couldn’t direct Susie to save his soul.
Secretly, Stewart wished he had those lit up torch-handle things that the airplane tarmac director people had. He would tell Susie to let him out every time they went and parked somewhere in their car, and especially at night, he would use his pair of torch-lit guides to tell her where to park. She would back in, of course, because life is better that way. Backing in allows you to flee a scene earlier. And faster. Of course, it does allow for that possibility, if you ever pull that card.
So Susie would back into the parking space; Stewart on whatever precipice in whichever parking lot in which they were, if it was a parking garage, they probably wouldn’t fit, but not a problem, because Stewart would have the torch things. The lanterns would allow him to guide her. He just wished he could guide her more.
And instead, every time he had to suffer through her atrocious parking job and every time she would let him slam the door, exasperated, while she would straighten out the vehicle, usually to no avail because the silly car was of a proportion that was in line with a McDonald’s Triple Mac, if it still was available anywhere.
Stewart never really advised Susie on what to do except on her parking skills. And nothing pissed Susie off more.
Whatever, thought Stewart, as he walked into the courtroom. Just let the sentencing be over as soon as possible.
After his receipt for his summons was stapled to the receipt for the courtroom fees for the day, he realized that he had not talked to Susie once during the entire trial. Almost ecstatic, he turned to her and said, “At least they didn’t bring up the . . .” and as soon as Stewart uttered those words, Susie brought her pointer finger up to her lips and said, “Shhh!” in a hurry so that the courtroom clerk could not hear any of what had transpired. Well, it wasn’t like the courtroom clerk could bring new evidence into the trial. But this put Susie on edge.
Stewart left the courtroom in a funk. He thought to himself that the trial had gone somewhat well. He realized he never thanked his lawyer for putting forward intelligent arguments. He realized that there was a new charge on his credit card that showed up on his cell phone because he had notifications enabled. It must be the courtroom fees, he thought to himself. He thought also that thanking his lawyer was probably unnecessary. Probably something like thanking a therapist or a psychiatrist. It’s unnecessary. They don’t expect to be thanked too often. And he realized that he always thanked his therapist and psychiatrist.
Do they think poorly of me because I thank them so often? he also thought.
Probably, his internal monologue continued.
Well, at least I didn’t thank my lawyer. Because he would think it was downright bizarre behavior, thought Stewart.
As long as I pay, I’m golden, he also thought.
“Stewart, we’re back,” said Susie.
“Okay,” said Stewart.
And after a pause, he said, with some hesitation, “Thanks for driving me to the trial.”
Words 