Sentence

I didn’t care to set my alarm because I simply didn’t care. The laissez-faire that I generally practiced reflected my own self-appointed disinterest over matters that didn’t concern me. A true narcissist knows if there is nothing to be gained or got, the effort and energy spent is wasted… unless of course there’s something unexpected in the cards. Those kinds of surprises are worth getting up for.

Shuffling my feet, head down, I made my way thru the maze that was the parking garage. The attendant looked my way, forcing a smile out of me – hey, she was somebody’s Mama. The early white light of the morning blinded me and as I navigated thru the crowd of people inhabiting the sidewalk, my instincts told me to follow the squishy woman with bottled water and a romance novel at the ready. She was a picture perfect juror. As we walked in step, I glanced at her puffy face and asked her if she had been at it long.

“Oh, be prepared to sit. You’re going to be here all day”. The news made me cringe. Sacrifice one day of my life on earth for what? When they finally got to my number and asked me their questions, I would tell them what a harsh critic I am, family & friends comprised of cops & lawyers, that I have an adversity towards stupid people – I had it all mapped out. They may have got me down here today, but they weren’t about to own me.

She continued to whisper little secrets in my ear, the ins and outs of jury duty. It was obvious she hadn’t been out of the house in some time, and she openly expressed her delight in being a part of the legal system because of how much she just loves all those cop shows.

Once inside, she instructed me to move swiftly when it came time to exit the elevator, because the group of blonde skirts who had just pushed passed us would steal all the magazines in the holding room. And since I hadn’t brought anything to read, I felt a fondness for this soft woman. It almost made me feel as if I could do this, too. That I, too, could do my part to help give back to the city I live in, this country I have always been proud to call home, minus one president. And just as I was about to crack a smile and a sigh, the elevator flew passed my floor. Apparently, my destination differed from where these sheep were going and I jumped out as quickly as possible at the next available stop. After asking the around, I discovered not only was I on the wrong floor, but in the entirely wrong building. My building was blocks away, and the heat outside was already approaching unbearable.

*

“You’re too late,” the woman behind the glass said, looking down her nose at me. As she went back to her typing, she called over her shoulder, “Come back Monday, 7:30”. My head shook no. If 7:30 was too early for me this morning, it sure as hell would be too early for me any other morning. I don’t wake up early for anything except international flights out of here.

“I’ll be out of town,” I responded reflexively. She gave me an extension with the cluck of her tongue to match her disapproving eyes. Another sentence to loom over my head like a cough you keep hoping will go away on it’s own but know at some point you’ll have to get it checked out. This was worse because, unlike smoking a carton of cigarettes to trigger the pending emphysema, I had always minded my own business and did nothing to deserve this.

I nearly sprinted away from judicial purgatory, fought the urge to run thru the halls like a free man. My stride was long and hard, as I passed court room doors housing plaintiffs and defendants pleading their cases, arms in slings and weary court appointed representatives with bad suits and piles of papers tucked precariously under both arms. There was only one guy waiting for the elevator, so no pushing and shoving this time and I was full of relief.

Then I saw him. I really looked at him, the one guy waiting for the elevator alongside me. We were alone in this hallway and he was jumping up and down. He was running in circles. He was high-fiving the wall. I side-stepped to get a better look at his face and he turned into me. The boy was aglow from within. “They dropped my life sentence!”

“What?”

“They just dropped my life sentence. Double murder and I didn’t do it. I’ve been inside for 20 months. You’d be surprised how many people they have in there who didn’t do it.”

My mouth dropped. “You have angels, my friend.”

“My girlfriend.”

“You better go give her some love.”

“She died last year. I’m going to the cemetery right now,” he pulls out a photo in his wallet of himself next to a gorgeous, radiant woman. She’s standing behind him, hands folded on his left shoulder. Her look of gentle confidence gives me a start. I instruct myself not to cry. I return this boy’s bright smile with one of my own. The elevator dings and we join the masses inside…