Crazy Little Thing

by Layce Gardner

  “I don’t think we’ll be sworn in,” Ollie said. “So, it can’t be perjury.”

  Claire said, “Perhaps I should’ve thought my presentation through better. Scarlet was just so excited to get us down here, but I’m not really prepared.” Claire’s brow furrowed. “Maybe I should’ve waited a few days.”

  “Parties Hiland and Drummond, the judge will see you now.” Ollie turned and saw a seven-foot-tall, Nordic-looking female bailiff. Was this place was where all the pro-wrestlers go after retirement? Ollie thought.

  “I wonder if we can reschedule,” Ollie muttered.

  “Too late now. We’ll have to wing it,” Claire said.

  “Ollie…” Claire said, grabbing her elbow.

  Ollie stopped and gazed into Claire’s eyes. She had a brief moment of hope. Was Claire backing out? Did she want to renew their vows instead? Maybe Claire had realized that theirs was a romance that would –

  Claire interrupted Ollie’s fantasy, “Please don’t say or do anything stupid to ruin this.”

  “Who, me?” Ollie joked. She turned and walked away, adding, “Far be it from me to ruin your happy divorce.”

  Claire had to run to catch up with her. “I’m serious, Ollie.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll follow your lead.”

  Claire looked dubious.

  “I promise, okay?” Ollie said.

  “Okay,” Claire said.

  Ollie followed Claire into the courtroom.

  The bailiff put out a hand to stop G-Ray. “Sorry, sir, you can’t come in.”

  “I’m with them,” G-Ray said.

  “He needs to be present, Sir. I mean, Ma’am. I mean, Ms. Bailiff. He’s making a documentary on lesbian divorce,” Ollie explained.

  “What so you can watch it later?” the bailiff said. “And emotionally torture yourself?”

  “Something like that,” Ollie replied.

  “Go ahead,” the bailiff said, signaling to G-Ray. “But stand in the back of the courtroom and don’t get in the way.

  “I thank you. My tocks thank you. My future film career thanks you,” G-Ray said.

  The bailiff rolled her eyes. She shut the door and stood in front of it, legs spread shoulder-width apart and arms crossed over her massive chest.

  Ollie and Claire stood nervously at the front of the courtroom. Ollie felt like she was awaiting sentencing as she shifted from foot to foot. Claire was all nervous smiles.

  A door in the back of the small courtroom opened and the Judge strode in. He was a tall, bald, black man who looked regal and imposing in his black robe. Ollie, being nervous, giggled. Claire poked her elbow into Ollie’s ribs, uttering, “Ssshhhh, you promised no funny business.”

  Judge O’Connor glared at Ollie from underneath his somber, bushy eyebrows. “Is there something funny? Do I have toilet paper on my shoe? Toothpaste on my chin?”

  “Yes, sir,” Ollie blathered nervously. “I mean, no, sir, no toothpaste or toilet paper, but yes, sir, there is something funny. I was just thinking about Flip Wilson. I watched him as a kid. Remember his ‘Here Come Da Judge’ routine? And then I saw you and you were all like ‘here come da judge’ for real and it made think of how far we’ve come. I mean there was a time not so long ago when a black man couldn’t be a judge, you know, and you married two women and that couldn’t have happened either.”

  There was a weighty pause while the judge glowered at her and Claire glowered at her and even the bailiff did some glowering. “So, I giggled. It just kind of popped out all on its own. You know how when you shake a bottle of soda pop and then open it and the foam spurts out? That’s me and giggles. I’m the pop and giggles are the foam.”

  Claire whispered harshly under her breath, “Stop talking, for Pete’s sake! Please, stop talking.”

  “And I do apologize. I’m sorry,” Ollie finished.

  “What did you expect?” the judge asked. “Did you think I would be holding a spear and have a bone in my nose?”

  “No!” Ollie protested. “Good God, no, I never thought that.”

  The judge opened a manila folder, saying, “That was “Laugh-In.””

  “Huh?” Ollie said.

  The judge looked at Ollie and said, “Not Flip Wilson. The judge routine of which you speak was from the show “Laugh-In” and was originated by the comedian Pigmeat Markham.”

  “Oh. I beg your pigmeat. I mean, I beg your pardon. Pardon, not pigmeat,” Ollie said. “Pigmeat, pigmeat, sorry.”

  Claire elbowed her again and whispered through clenched teeth, “Stop saying pigmeat.”

  Ollie giggled. She felt like she was caught in some kind of play in the theater of the absurd. The harder she tried to be serious the more absurd stuff became.

  “It was a very funny comedic routine and very popular,” the judge said with a super serious face. “Pigmeat was to later become known as the father of rap music because of that routine.”

  “Father Pigmeat,” Ollie said. “Pigmeat. Rap. Pigmeat.

  “Yes, Pigmeat,” the judge repeated.

  “Pigmeat,” Ollie echoed.

  Claire was turning red. She ducked her head and whispered so only Ollie could hear. “Stop the pigmeat stuff. You promised no funny business.”

  Ollie nodded and zipped her lips. She didn’t trust herself enough to open her mouth. Each time she did pigmeat flew out.

  “Shall we proceed?” the judge asked.

  Ollie nodded with a forced smile. The Judge remained frowny-faced. Ollie wondered if he was incapable of smiling. Maybe there was a law against smiling in Iowa courtrooms. Maybe there was some unwritten code of honor against smiling. Like how those British Guards with the funny hats weren’t allowed to smile.

  “Remove your sunglasses please,” the judge said to Claire.

  Claire gulped. “I’d rather not.”

  “I would rather you did,” the judge said.

  Claire slowly lowered her glasses, revealing her black eye.

  “How did you get that black eye, young lady?” the judge asked.

  “I ran into a door.”

  “You ran into a door,” the Judge said in a tone that said he didn’t believe it.

  “Yes, sir.”

  The judge looked at Ollie. “Are you responsible for this?”

  Ollie shook her head. “No! I mean, yes. But no.”

  “Which is it, yes or no?” the judge asked.

  “It’s both. I didn’t hit her but the door I was opening did hit her.”

  “You hit her with a door?” the judge asked.

  “Not on purpose,” Ollie said. “I had no idea she was on the other side.”

  The judge harrumphed, but continued. “Is it the two of you who are getting married?”

  “Um… your honor? This is a meeting for a divorce. Not a wedding,” Claire said.

  He looked down at the paperwork in his hands. “I see. So it is.” He looked at Ollie. “Haven’t I seen you in here before?”

  “Yes, sir, you married us,” Ollie said.

  “And how long ago was that?”

  “One year, fourteen days and,” Ollie looked at her watch, “three hours, fifty-three minutes and thirty-six seconds. Sir.”

  Claire studied her, incredulous. “You’re keeping track?”

  “It was an important life event. Outside of my own birth, the most important event in my life. Lots of people keep track of important life events.”

  “You have filed the petition for divorce?” the judge asked.

  “Yes, sir,” Claire answered.

  “And you have made arrangements to fulfill the residency requirement?”

  “Yes, your Honor,” Claire said.

  “It appears you are both residing at the same residence,” he said. He looked up from the papers. “And that is because?”

  “Well… we’re making this film, see, about lesbian divorce and… it saves money to live together and...” Claire faltered.

  “So it is possible for you two to live under the same roof so
to speak,” the judge said.

  “Well, temporarily,” Claire hedged.

  “I see.” He stared at the petition. “You’ve put here irreconcilable differences. And those would be?”

  Claire glanced over at Ollie. There was a prolonged silence. The judge stared at them, waiting.

  “We have a difference of opinion on life, you know like how to live it and what’s important and stuff like that,” Ollie blathered.

  “Stuff like that,” the judge repeated. “Stuff like that. A difference of opinion. Do you think all married couples agree on everything?”

  “Well, no sir,” Ollie said.

  “But you think that a difference of opinion on stuff is grounds for divorce?” He eyed Ollie hard.

  “Well, no sir, I don’t,” Ollie said. Claire nudged her. “I mean, I do,” Ollie corrected.

  “I see.” The judge stared at Claire. “And what do you have to say?”

  “She’s really irresponsible,” Claire said. “It became increasingly difficult to maintain a marriage under those conditions.”

  “Has she changed from when you first met her?” he asked.

  “Well, of course, we all do,” Claire said. “I mean, she wasn’t horribly irresponsible. She always had a job. It’s just we have different outlooks on stuff.”

  “There’s that ‘stuff’ word again,” he said.

  “I mean there’s a lot of things,” Claire said. She was floundering. She began to scratch at her butt. Ollie figured that was her clue to jump in and help.

  “Your Honor, she wants a divorce because she wants to move on with her life,” Ollie said.

  “Stuff, things, and moving on,” the judge said. “What I am going to recommend before I grant this divorce, if I grant this divorce, is counseling with a qualified marriage therapist. We will revisit the divorce decree after you have completed said counseling. Is that understood?”

  Ollie was elated. Claire looked crestfallen.

  “Yes, your Honor,” Ollie said.

  “Ms. Drummond?”

  “Yes, sir,” Claire said.

  “All right. Case dismissed.”

  The bailiff opened the door for them. G-Ray and Claire filed through the door.

  “One moment. Ms. Hiland, a word please,” the judge said.

  Ollie stutter-stepped her way back to the front of the courtroom, fully expecting to be scolded about her conduct.

  The Judge sat down on the edge of a table. He smoothed his black robe over his long legs. “You understand I am giving you an opportunity here.”

  “Opportunity, sir?” Ollie was befuddled.

  “An opportunity to make good on the solemn promise that you swore before God and this court to love, honor, and cherish through sickness and in health… and stuff.”

  “It’s not me who wants a divorce,” Ollie said.

  “That, Ms. Hiland, is my point. I think that if you got that woman to believe in you enough to marry you, then you can make her believe in you enough to stay married. Capeesh?”

  Ollie nodded. “Yes, your honor sir.”

  “Use this time wisely,” he said. “That is all. You’re dismissed.”

  “Yes, sir.” Ollie walked down the aisle. When she reached the door, she turned back to face the judge. “Sir, if you don’t mind me asking… why did you pick me to talk to?”

  “You were the one keeping track.” He tapped his watch. “This marriage means something to you. Now you just have to convince Ms. Drummond of that fact.”

  “Capeesh, your Honor.” Ollie saluted him and left the courtroom with a renewed sense of hope.

  Clap On, Clap Off

  Ollie thumped upstairs. She stopped outside Claire’s room with her fist raised to knock on the door. She paused. She planned to ask Claire if she wanted some chamomile tea. Claire had always loved having chamomile tea – it had a calming effect on her nerves. Ollie didn’t much care for it herself, but she thought she would make Claire some tea and learn to like it. That would show Claire that she was willing to change, that she wanted to meet her halfway.

  Before Ollie could knock, she heard Claire’s voice from inside the bedroom. She hadn’t intended to eavesdrop, but, hey, could she help it if she happened to be standing there and Claire’s voice just happened to carry through the door and Ollie just happened to overhear her conversation?

  “Scarlet, stop screaming,” Claire said. “It’s not helping the situation. The counseling is not going to change anything. Ollie is still Ollie. Certainly a counselor will see that.”

  There was silence.

  Claire continued, “I know I never should have married her. It just seemed the thing to do at the time. Everyone was getting married because it was so new. I got caught up in the hoopla. I did love her once. You forget that, Scarlet. She wasn’t some random person I married off the street. We had a relationship.”

  More silence.

  “Scarlet, I’m going to let you go. We’ve all had a long day. I need some food. Everything will look better in the morning.”

  More silence.

  “I know I say that a lot, but things really do look better in the morning.”

  More silence.

  “Goodnight, Scarlet.”

  More silence.

  “I know. I know. I know. Good bye.”

  Ollie jumped away from the door and dove for the stairs. She ran all the way to the kitchen. She put the teakettle on to boil.

  By the time the teakettle whistled, Ollie had made up her mind. If Scarlet was going to be the storm, she was going to be the port.

  *

  “I can’t believe this is happening.” Claire was sitting on the couch with her head in her hands and rocking back and forth. She felt like such a failure. First she failed at her marriage and now she was failing at her divorce. It didn’t get much worse than that.

  G-Ray’s camera sat on the fireplace mantle with its red light flashing. Claire felt that even the camera was mocking her failure. Her failure was being filmed so it could be shown to the whole world.

  “Don’t you think maybe you’re overreacting? It’s not the end of the world,” Ollie said. “It’s just going to be a bit more involved than you were thinking.” She handed Claire a mug of chamomile tea.

  “Scarlet is ready to kill me,” Claire said, sipping at the tea. “She thinks I’m doing this on purpose—that the marriage counselor is my idea.”

  Ollie sat on the opposite end of the sofa. “This wasn’t your fault. Did you know that Judge O’Connor has the lowest divorce rate of any judge in the country? He just wants us to be sure. You know how some religions make couples go to marriage classes before they can get married? We have to go through divorce classes.” She blew on her cup of tea. “He doesn’t want us to get divorced and regret our decision. After all, we did promise him and God that we’d stay together for life.”

  Claire stood and paced. The clackity-clack of her heels on the hard wood floor made her feel better. She had a sneaking suspicion Ollie was making up all that stuff about the judge. That would be just like her. Ollie always rearranged the facts to support her own line of reasoning. That was one of the things about Ollie that got on her nerves. How could you argue with somebody who made up the facts to suit their own needs? “What the hell does the judge know about marriage? And how it feels to live with someone you can’t stand,” she spat.

  Whoopsy. Claire couldn’t believe she really said that out loud. It sounded harsh. In fact, it sounded like something Scarlet would say.

  Claire stole a glance at Ollie. She looked like she had been shot through the heart with a poisoned arrow. “I didn’t mean that to come out like it sounded,” she said.

  “You can’t stand me,” Ollie muttered. Her earlier hopes were dashed. Her heart deflated. “I guess the truth comes out.”

  “I didn’t mean you in particular. I meant people in general,” Claire said, flinging both her hands out in a gesture that was supposed to include everybody.

  Ollie looked at Claire. �
��Oh, so you’re just making a broad observation,” she said. “It wasn’t me you couldn’t stand living with, it was the world?”

  Claire brought both her hands together in a loud clap. “You see, that’s exactly…”

  The lights went off, thrusting them into total darkness.

  After a few seconds, Ollie said, “The power must’ve gone out.”

  “I can see that,” Claire said. “What did you do?”

  “I didn’t do anything.” Ollie sounded offended. “Why do you always blame me when something goes wrong?”

  “Because it’s usually your fault.”

  The sound of Claire’s heels tapped across the floor. Ollie reprimanded her, “You shouldn’t be pacing in the dark. You’ll trip over something and get another black eye.”

  “Oh, so suddenly you’re the voice of reason?”

  There was a long pause. Claire tapped back and forth in her heels. Ollie steamed in her own silence. Finally, Ollie said, “The lights went out after you clapped your hands.”

  “So?”

  “Maybe the two events are connected.”

  “Like one of those Clap on – Clap off contraptions from the infomercials?”

  “That’s exactly what I mean.” Ollie clapped her hands sharply. The lights popped back on. Ollie and Claire stared at each other. Claire clapped. The lights went out. Ollie clapped. The lights came on.

  “If only everything were this simple,” Ollie said. “Don’t like your marriage? Just clap it off.” She clapped to illustrate her point. The lights went off.

  Claire stood still for what seemed ages. Ollie had a point. Maybe she was viewing their union in too simplistic terms. And she had hurt Ollie’s feelings when she hadn’t meant to.

  She clapped and the lights came on. “Ollie, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound so… mean. But even you have to admit that we didn’t fit well together.”

  Ollie clapped the lights off. “Those were your feelings, not mine. I thought we fit fine.”

  Claire clapped on. “You have to admit you were annoying. And I mean that in the nicest way possible.”

  Ollie clapped off. “You were a money-grubber. And I mean that in the nicest possible way.”