“Amen,” Tanya said.
“Amen.”
They settled into their seats and before long the bailiff called the court to attention.
“All rise.”
She stood, sending up another prayer. The judge sat down and read off the docket number. It wasn’t the same judge at the pretrial hearing. No, instead they had gotten judge Barker, who was known to be stern. Michelle grudgingly admired the D.A.’s tactics. She could only pray that the judge’s heart would lean towards leniency and compassion.
The district attorney stood up and made his opening argument. He told the judge of the victim’s injuries. Explained how the force of impact had contributed to the victim’s death.
Michelle had read the medical examiner’s report and knew the validity of his words. However, the victim had stepped onto the street from a blind spot, nowhere near a crosswalk. It hadn’t helped that the street was devoid of lights at the location of the accident.
Time passed swiftly with only one break for recess. Contrary to belief, some trials only lasted a few hours versus the days shown on TV. Michelle stood to make her ending argument.
“My client is not excusing her behavior. She admits to driving while intoxicated, fully recognizing the consequences that comes with that. However, my client is not guilty of vehicular manslaughter, Your Honor. She passed two patrol officers that night, which was confirmed and verified by their patrol sergeant. No one pulled her over because she did not show any erratic behavior. Yes, when police arrived on scene they performed a field sobriety test.”
She took a deep breath then continued. “As I showed in my case, my client would have been accused of drunk driving by the test considering her past balance issues and history. Yes, she blew over the legal limit and we are not arguing that. However, the victim ran out into the street at midnight, wearing dark clothing. Any other driver could have yielded the same results, as tragic as they are. Please do not sentence my client for a crime she did not commit.”
She sank down in her chair, thankful it was over. Never had she been so stressed in all her life. It was easy to prosecute a person and tear down their character. It was quite the opposite to show growth and virtue to people who were ready to slander every bit of hope she had tried to plant.
“This court will recess while I deliberate.”
GUY PUT THE LAST CUP in the dishwasher then started it up, thankful this was the last chore he needed to handle before sleep. Normally, he would watch ESPN to unwind, but he had been praying God would bless him with oblivion. He didn’t want to dream, didn’t want to think. He just wanted to sleep.
“Guy, what is wrong with you?”
He closed his eyes at the sound of his mother’s voice. How had he forgotten to pray that he’d avoid her until morning? She had been eyeing him ever since Michelle had left the day they painted the girls’ room. That horrible, mind-blowing day.
He turned and faced his mother. She stood with her hands folded across her chest. The look on her face was one he had seen often growing up. That look said she would not take no for an answer. He groaned.
“Michelle and I had an argument.”
“What could be so bad that it has you moping around like a sad puppy dog, huh?”
He stared at her trying to push the anger down.
“Don’t give me that look.”
“Look just leave it alone. I’m not ready to talk about it.”
His mother shook her head and walked up to him. “I’m not going to leave you alone. You’re my son and I can see you’re hurting. Talk to me.”
“She had an abortion.”
His mother’s brows wrinkled in confusion. “I thought you committed yourself to God. You can’t be doing that stuff around the girls.”
He shook his head. “No, Manman, thirteen years ago.”
“Is that why she was looking for you?” She gasped.
“So she says.” The words were bitter, like drinking cod liver oil from the bottle.
His mother sunk down onto a barstool. “I...I...” she started sniffing. “Podyab li.”
His heart turned cold as his mother uttered the words. How could she think Michelle was a ‘poor baby’? He was the one hurting. He was the one who was in shock. It was like she threw a grenade in the room and then retreated before it exploded, leaving him to pick up the pieces.
“How can you feel sorry for her?”
“Guy, you two were so young. Just because she was of legal age does not make her any less a child. If I had been nicer, maybe she would have confided in me. Maybe I could have saved my grandchild’s life.” His mother covered her mouth as tears spilled over her eyes.
Grandchild.
He could have three kids right now. Guy shook his head. Or not. Most likely his life wouldn’t have turned out the same if he had known. He ran a hand down his face, weary from all of it. He looked at his mother, shaking his head. How could she feel sorry for Michelle? Did no one understand his pain?
He walked out of the kitchen. Lord, please let oblivion claim me. I need the peace of nothingness. His body felt like lead as he climbed the stairs. He stopped in the doorway of the girls’ room. His mother had finished the job once Michelle had left. The curtains hung, matching the Princess Tiana stickers along the wall. The girls loved their room.
Along the wall sat a tea party table. When Michelle had first brought it over, the girls had been ecstatic. They’d held a tea party every day since. However, their joy had quickly turned
