Rough Justice

'Heaved.' Nick slipped in the red cushion in the chair across from the judge's big desk. The seat was too wide and slippery for his heinie. He had to hold on to the armrests just to stay up. Nick kept looking around but not so it was obvious. It was just him against the judge and the clerk and the lady with the machine. Nick had never been in such an important place as a judge's chambers, with the papers and books and paintings. Thank God he was wearing his good suit. It paid for a man to be well dressed.

'Mr. Tullio? Your medical problem is that you… vomited?'

'It's my ulcer.'

'You have an ulcer?' asked Judge Rudolph, correcting the man, who'd pronounced it 'elcer.'

'Yes, an elcer,' Nick said anyway. 'In my stomach. I want to go home.'

Judge Rudolph would be damned if he'd lose a juror now. He'd sent the alternates home already, and it would take hours to get one back in the snow. The judge skimmed his voir dire notes, then the juror's questionnaire in front of him. 'You didn't mention an ulcer in voir dire, Mr. Tullio. You didn't say anything about an ulcer.'

Nick slipped sideways in his chair. 'I wasn't sure I had one then. I mean, my doc said I don't have one, but I know I do. It's acting up from my nerves. It's burning.'

'Your doctor examined you and he said you don't have an ulcer, is that right?'

'Well, yeah. But my stomach has a hole in it, I can tell. And I heaved, which is like, proof. Your Honor. Sir.'

'Do you need to see a doctor now?' the judge asked, as his stenographer tapped away. He was asking only for the record. A doctor wouldn't work on a night like this, doctors made too much money. Only judges had to work on a night like this. Trial judges.

'No, I don't need no doctor. I ate six Turns. Tropical flavor.'

'Fine. You don't need a doctor.'

'But my stomach hurts. From my nerves.'

'You have an upset stomach, is that what your problem is?'

'Yeah.'

Judge Rudolph leaned back in his chair and snapped off his glasses. He examined their tiny hinges while he thought about his record. He had handled this issue. Kept it from the press and anyone outside his chambers. Blocked the lawyers out of the action with the promise of a next-day transcript. Downgraded an ulcer to an upset tummy. Time to get the tailor back to the jury room. 'Perhaps if you had something to drink, you'd feel better.'

Nick's throat caught with hope. 'You got anisette?'

'For an upset stomach?' Judge Rudolph pursed his lips. All my trials, Lord. No pun intended.

'It relaxes me. My stomach.'

'Forget it,' the judge said flatly. 'You're in deliberations. You can have any nonalcoholic beverage you want. Soda or hot tea, a beverage like that.'

'Maybe a nice glass of milk?'

Judge Rudolph waved at his law clerk. 'Joey, go get Mr. Tullio some milk.'

'Milk?' repeated the clerk. 'We don't have any milk.' He was a short kid who didn't look Italian to Nick, even though his name was Joey.

The judge frowned. 'What do you mean, we don't have any milk?'

'There's no milk in chambers, Your Honor.'

'Not even in the fridge?'

'No, Your Honor.'

'You put milk in my tea, don't you?'

'No. I put cream.'

'Christ, Joey. Get the cream then.'

Nick raised his hand weakly. 'Uh, I can't drink cream. It's too heavy.'

'This is light cream,' the clerk countered.

'It has to be milk,' Nick said, but the judge and the clerk stared at him together. Nick wondered if they could sue him. Maybe he shouldn't have said anything. So what if he heaved? He wouldn't die. Nick felt himself slipping deeper into the big chair. He felt like he was drowning, like the only thing keeping him above water was the armrests. 'Listen, I don't need no milk. You can forget I said anything about milk, Your Honor. Joey, forget it.'

'Not at all, Mr. Tullio,' said Judge Rudolph. He was protecting a record, not a stomach lining. 'If you need milk, we'll get you milk.'

'That's okay. That's all right.' Nick shook his head nervously. 'I don't even like milk. I hate milk. Never liked it from when I was a little kid. I only drink it 'cause Antoinetta says to. If I never saw no more milk, I'd die happy. You can't die from heaving, can you? It was like, dry heaving.'

Judge Rudolph slapped his glasses back on. 'Mr. Tullio, if we had milk, would you drink it?'

Nick blinked. He wasn't sure if you could lie to a judge and if you did, would you go to jail. Maybe it was like being under oath when you came into a judge's room. Maybe it was like you swore on a Bible. Nick was sorry he said anything about his stomach. He shoulda just voted innocent like the other white people. He wished Antoinetta was here.