by AnonYMous
The guy on trial had two brothers, and they sat on either sides of their mother every day, still as statues. Scraggly brown hair fell to their shoulders, and you couldn’t tell if their eyes were blue or brown. They were hard like the shiny rocks in the fountain in front of the courthouse.
Then I started noticing the girl who sat and typed the notes during the trial. Her fingers flew and she stared straight ahead, not even looking at the keys. She was making eyes at Michael too. How had I missed that the first couple of days? Once in a while, I could see her eyes shift to Michael, and her cherry-glossed lips would purse slightly. Well, a lot of women at the courthouse probably had a thing for Michael. Sometimes one of her stiletto heels bobbed while she typed, like she was listening to music in her head.
“I’m beat!” I said as I dropped into the deli on the eighth day. Sherrie was grilling red and green peppers for her famous pepper pie.
“Noah stopped in today.” Sherrie wiped a shiny strand of hair from her face.
“He did?” I grabbed a strip of red pepper and munched it slowly.
“See that beautiful bouquet?” Sherrie nodded over her shoulders. “He brought them for you.”
The deep pink zinnias and pale pink cosmos sat in a dark green vase. Noah knew pink was my favorite color. Every birthday, Noah gave me something pink, like the pink Barbie doll car for my eighth birthday.
“They’re nice,” I said. “Why don’t we just put them on the counter?”
“You’re not going to take them home?” Sherrie looked at me like I was one of her crossword puzzles and she was trying to figure out which words to use. “Noah’s such a sweet guy, and we would have called him a hunk in my day!”
I sliced open another pepper, scooped out the seeds, and put it on the grill. “He’s like my brother.”
I munched the pepper strips and stared off into space, thinking about the court stenographer. Her name was Roxanne. She’d worn a sexy little black linen dress with a low neckline that day, which was kind of revealing for a courtroom. When she sat down, she crossed her legs so that her skirt slid up just a little—a tattoo of a red pepper was visible on her upper thigh. Ugh.
The testimony had gotten pretty hot and heavy that day. Only Roxanne looked as cool as Sherrie’s cucumber dip. She just kept typing, her red nails flashing, while the prosecutor launched his questions. The only time her eyes moved was when they slid over to Michael.
But Michael didn’t seem to pay any attention to her.
“He’s got a thing for you,” Marissa insisted when we ate lunch outside one day. I’d brought some cranberry chicken salad from the deli and we were sitting in front of the courthouse on a bench under one of the huge maple trees.
I picked at the chicken salad. “Yeah, well he hasn’t asked for my number. I bet he’s got Roxanne’s number.”
Marissa frowned. “Girl, everybody’s got her number.”
“You think?”
Marissa shook her hair back. “The way she sits in that chair? You can see all the way to China some days.”
I laughed, but I had to agree. Roxanne sure let it all hang out. My laughter froze in my throat when I looked up and saw the two brothers having a smoke, leaning against one of the huge planters in front of the courthouse. They looked over at us with those hard eyes and I looked away quickly.
“Those boys are going to go down just like their big brother,” Marissa muttered under her breath.
“Getting some sun?” All of a sudden Michael was there, wearing dark shades that made him look mysterious. I shivered in the heat.
“A little.”
“Better watch it, Brooke.” Michael’s teeth flashed white. “You’ll burn that pretty pale skin. Then I won’t be able to tell when you blush.”
“I don’t blush!” As I smiled up at him, I could feel my cheeks burning up.
“Yeah right, and a chicken has lips. See you later.” I watched him walk away.
“Whoa! You don’t blush?” Marissa slapped her thighs. “Who you kidding, Brooke? All that man has to do is straighten one of his fancy silk ties and you start glowing like a light bulb.” She started fanning me with both hands.
I tossed the rest of my chicken salad in the trash.
Then I noticed Roxanne. She was standing outside having a cigarette. After watching Michael stride into the courthouse, she turned toward me and looked me right in the eye. Then she dropped her cigarette onto the concrete and mashed it out with one of her stiletto heels.
“It’s time to go back in.” I sprang to my feet. Roxanne was not going to spook me.
The trial was winding down, and the judge was about to send us off to figure it all out. I felt a little sad when I thought about not seeing Michael every morning.
When I walked toward my car that afternoon, Michael was leaning against my beat up Chevy Malibu. My steps slowed. “Hey, Michael. What are you doing here?”
He slowly moved away from the car, a little boy grin on his face. “I just wanted to talk to you without an audience. The courthouse has all kinds of stupid rules, like not dating jurors, witnesses, and other employees. I was just wondering if after the trial, well, if you might—”
“Sure.” Climb the highest mountain? Swim the deepest ocean? Make a complete fool of myself? Sure, I’d do anything for Michael.
His grin widened as he slowly angled me against the car. I drank in his cologne, and my body turned to warm taffy when he kissed me. My car keys fell with a clatter.
Michael pulled away, slid both hands down my arms, squeezed my wrists, and then bent to pick up the keys.
“I think you’re going to need these.” He opened my door and I slid inside. I could have stood in that parking garage kissing Michael for a long, long time. Instead, I gave him my phone number and pulled slowly out of the lot, keeping him in my rearview mirror.
On the way home, my arms tingled. Even though it was a cool day, I rolled down the windows and turned on the air conditioning. My lips tingled and I ran one finger slowly over them.
The phone rang that night and I picked it up quickly, hoping it would be Michael. It was Noah.
“Want to take in a movie this weekend?” he asked. “Spiderman is playing.”
“I’m sorry, I have plans.”
“Oh well, how about a picnic in the park on Sunday?”
“I don’t think so, Noah.”
It was so quiet I thought he’d hung up. “Noah? Are you there?”
“Did Sherrie give you the flowers?”
“Oh yeah, thanks! They’re really pretty.” I didn’t tell him that I’d left them on the counter at the deli. We hung up right after that and I rummaged through my closet trying to decide what to wear to court the next day.
The trial ended, and we found the man guilty. I couldn’t even look at his family. His mother burst into tears, and the brothers turned accusing eyes on us. I shivered. Still, I had to think of the boy who’d been killed. His parents left the courtroom quietly, the father’s arm around his wife’s shaking shoulders.
When we filed out of the jury box that last day, I felt the same as when we’d sold my parents’ house and closed the door behind us for the last time. Something very special had happened in that courtroom.
When Michael called that night, I was relieved.
“So now that you’ve been sprung from jail, maybe we can spend some time together and really get to know each other. Why don’t we start with dinner?” he purred.
We agreed to Friday night. The two days passed so slowly. When I opened the door that night, Michael’s eyes moved over me slowly, from my soft pink sweater to my pink mini skirt, bare legs, and clogs.
“Yum.”
Then he closed the door behind him, took me into his arms, and started kissing me. I didn’t care if my lip-gloss ended up all over my face or if my mascara slid onto my nose. I just dove into those hot, wet kisses like he was the pool and I was taking swimming lessons.
“Well, first things first,” Michael said as he finally
pulled away and ruffled my curls. “And you, doll, are definitely dessert.”
We wound up at a cute Italian restaurant Michael knew about in an out-of-the-way spot. The Chianti and soft glow of the red candle on our table made everything mellow. I hardly tasted my chicken Alfredo—we could have been eating shredded wheat for all I cared. I sipped the wine while I asked how long he’d worked at the courthouse. He made everything sound so exciting. I was kind of glad he didn’t ask me about myself. My story was kind of sad, and I didn’t like to talk about my parents.
By the time the waiter brought the tiramisu, Michael was holding my hand and our knees were touching. This was a place where couples cuddled. We leaned toward each other as if drawn by that flickering candle.
So this was what the rest of the world did in these terrific restaurants. Noah and I usually went out for pizza and pumped quarters into the vintage jukebox.
“What now?” Michael asked after he’d paid the bill. He reached out to tuck one of my curls behind my ear and trailed one finger across my cheek. “How about your place? We can relax. We’ve both had a hard week, right?”
“Sure, right.” I’d been thinking of a movie, but guys like Michael, older guys, didn’t just go to movies. I had so much to learn.
Sure I thought we’d say good night at the door, but that was before I asked him in for a few minutes, which turned into a major session on the sofa.
“We need more room.” Michael’s eyes slid back toward the back of the apartment. My body was burning, like after a long day on the beach when you forget to wear enough sun block. Struggling to my feet, I tried to stand up, but with one fluid movement, Michael scooped me up and carried me back to the bedroom.
“When Michael kisses a girl, you know you’ve been kissed, do you know what I mean?” I said to Marissa the next day. We’d had such a good time together during the trial that we vowed to stay friends. I called her first thing Saturday morning.
“Kisses? Yeah right!” Marissa hooted. “You sound like a girl who’s been more than kissed, Brooke.”
“What?” I didn’t want her to think I was a tramp or anything.
“Come on. Did you do the deed?”
My nervous giggle answered that question. “Oh Marissa, I couldn’t help myself. After all, we know each other so well after the trial and everything. He was just so, so—” How can you explain that a man is everything you’ve dreamed of?
“So, why are you calling me at ten in the morning? Where is the dude?” Marissa asked.
“He had stuff to do, and so do I.”
“Yeah, like running out and buying a whole new wardrobe, the tiny silk kind with lots of lace. Well, I guess you’re going to save your magic for the nighttime. You’re going to see him tonight, right? He’s coming back for more, right?” She laughed again.
“Well, I guess so. We really didn’t say anything about tonight. I guess he’ll call.” I swept away my doubts. Michael loved me. Wasn’t that what last night had been all about? He’d moaned, “Oh, doll” a million times as he pushed me onto the bed. His lips had started at my neck and then moved down. He’d done these crazy flutter kisses on my stomach that drove me wild.
“Hmm, well keep me tuned in,” Marissa said when we said goodbye. “I am going out with a man tonight too.”
“So you and Gavin are together?” Marissa had hooked up with one of the security guards that checked us through the screening. He was a handsome guy with eyes only for Marissa. Her screening always took ten minutes and I’d teased her about it.
I spent that day cleaning my apartment. Grabbing a big black plastic bag, I marched to my bedroom and eyed my collection of pink stuffed animals. My dad had won some of them for me at the State Fair when I was just a little girl, and Noah had given me a lot of them. Just about every stuffed dog and teddy bear held a memory. But I was a grown woman now, right? I’d felt so stupid when Michael teased me about them.
“Whoa,” he’d said when we’d finally turned the light on. “Is this the Pepto-Bismol room? That stuff makes me gag!” I felt like such a kid when he said that.
Taking a deep breath, I swept them all into the bag and then dragged it out to the front door.
I ran to the grocer and the cleaners that day, stopping at Good Will and dropping off the bag. When I got back, I ran into the kitchen to check my answering machine. Nothing. When it got to be five o’clock and he didn’t call, I went out, rented a movie and popped it in. I couldn’t even tell you what the movie was about because I fell asleep in the middle.
I don’t know how long I’d been asleep when the phone rang. My hand fumbled for the receiver.
“Hello?” When the phone rings at night, it’s never a good sign. That’s how we’d found out about my parents’ accident that rainy night.
“Hey, doll. What are you doing?”
I sat up in bed and squinted at the clock. “I’m sleeping.”
Michael chuckled. “Well, how about doing something a lot more fun than sleeping?”
My heart started beating twice as hard, and suddenly I wasn’t tired anymore.
“Okay.”
“I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
I ran into the bathroom, hopped into the shower, dried off, dusted some blush on my cheeks, and ran mascara over my lashes. By the time the doorbell rang, I was wide awake.
That night was a repeat of the night before. When Michael’s arms were tight around me, I felt as if I’d died and gone to heaven. This was a guy who knew what he was doing. The room was turning pearly gray with dawn when we finally fell asleep. When we woke up around ten, I fixed him a big breakfast and then he was off.
“My, you’re happy today,” Sherrie said when I got to work on Monday. I was humming “It must have been some weekend.”
I smiled and started cutting up nectarines and watermelons for the fresh fruit salad we always carried in our front case. “Yeah, well, I had a date on Friday and Saturday night.” Saturday counted in my mind.
When I arrived at my apartment that night, I was going a little crazy, like I’d been told Publisher’s Clearing House would show up at my door but I didn’t know when they’d arrive. I wanted to call Michael to hear his voice, but I’d have to think of some excuse.
When I turned into my hallway, I had to hang onto the wooden banister for support. Several obscenities were scrawled across my door in black marker.
What was this? I edged toward my door. What would my neighbors think? This was enough to send Mrs. Parsons, the widow with the blue parakeet named Fluffy, into cardiac arrest. Jamie Hunnicut would have a million questions if he came out to walk Barney, his thirteen year-old bloodhound. Barging through my door, I grabbed some spray cleaner and a rag and got to work. It must’ve been permanent magic marker, thirty minutes later the words were still glaring at me.
Then it hit me. I’d call Michael. Relief poured through me. Of course, he’d help and we’d figure it out together. Michael hadn’t given me his number, just forgot I guess, but I had it on my caller ID. He picked up on the fourth ring.
“Michael? It’s me, Brooke.”
“Yeah right. What’s up?” He sounded distant and I could hear some game on the TV in the background.
Quickly I told him what had happened. “And now I can’t get it off my door. Do you have any paint?” This was better than any of the excuses I’d thought of earlier.
“Paint?” He said the word as if I’d just asked him for tampons.
“Well, I suppose not, huh? After all, you live in an apartment too. Who paints, right?”
“Just go buy some paint. Splash it on.”
“Good idea.” Maybe I was expecting more, but he was helping me by telling me to get paint.
“Listen, I’ve got to go.” The background noise from the TV rose in a ferocious roar.
“Sure. Sorry. I’m just so upset. Who could have done this?”
Silence. Was he listening? Maybe he’d hung up.
“Later, doll,” he finally said, his voice as
remote as when he read the list of jurors to be called for the trial.
“When am I going to see you?” But he’d already hung up and the dial tone buzzed in my ears.
It took me a while to get paint and cover the graffiti, but I finally finished. My neck and back were killing me as I rinsed out my brush in the kitchen sink.
“I don’t like the sound of this one bit,” Marissa said when I mentioned my messed up door to her the next day. We were meeting for lunch at Roli-Poli’s. “Who do you think did this?”
I took a sip of my pop. “I have no idea.”
Marissa dipped a sweet potato fry in ketchup. “This is way out there, Brooke, but do you think it could be those dudes in the courtroom?” Her eyes narrowed,
“You mean the brothers? That guy’s two brothers?”
“Exactly. They were bad business.” We ate in silence for a couple of minutes and got up to leave shortly after that. I could feel paranoia creeping in on me, like a dense fog on an early fall day.
Michael called two nights later. “Hey, doll. What’s happening?”
“Well, I’m still freaked out about my front door,” I admitted.
“Is something wrong with your door?”
“Michael, remember I called you about it? Someone wrote stuff all over my front door.”
“Oh, right, right. Well, you took care of that, right?”
“Yeah, I ran out and got paint. Thank you for suggesting it.”
“So what are you doing on Friday night?”
“Friday?” Now Friday is not my favorite date night, because I like to unwind. By the time Saturday rolls around, I’m raring to go again.
“It sounds great.”
“Terrific, how about your place?”
“Oh, you want to come over here?” I tried to keep the disappointment from my voice.
“You bet.”
“Well, I suppose I could bring something home from the deli.” My mind spun ahead. This meant that I’d have to clean up my place tomorrow night.