Dudes, I had an unusually awesome Thursday.
Even just the nap was good, as I knew I had commitments at noon I flattened out
at ten: G slept holding my butt, the road construction under my window didn’t
sound like four Transformers fucking, the dog didn’t continuously try to drown
itself in the water bowl (it’s hot outside.)…
So, my dad asked me to come to the court, to
keep him company (and morals up with my random stories and debates about
anthropology or mass graves from the second world war, our usual topics..), it
was the first proper hearing. Two years after the fact he was still suing the
guy who broke his face over a parking spot, and the guy was suing him. But,
because - even earlier, with the mediator - the other guy expressed an interest
in dropping the whole thing, and because I could see for all of dad’s journalistic
courtroom experience he was too old to still find all of this funny, it wasn’t
as fun as it could be. We have a cool lawyer, he’s a decent guy, and if you ask
me we had a decent case. My sis watches enough CSI to take good forensic photos
and we had good photos of dad being properly fucked up. He’s an old guy, had
his strokes, had his heart-attacks. Beating him up was not a nice thing to do. But
I’ve met him, he can be an asshole, so from time to time someone does.
Going in, both lawyers and their
posh purple court gowns, the black-gowned young female judge and her clerk, and
the grim grey-cloaked DA. On one side of a wooden bench sits dad on the other
of same bench the other guy; they didn’t even look at one another. Outside the
window a grotesque barbed wire mess enveloping the prison building, fox maximum
effect. (Always helps if you can see prison from the courtroom: they haven’t
renovated that thing since the Nazis used it.) The judge asked who I was, who
sat alone in the back and it was noted I was a daughter. I was the only
cheerful person around. Oh, did you know that you can now wear short sleeves
and open-toe shoes in the house? I didn’t know that. You didn’t used to be
allowed in, so dad and I were awfully over-dressed.
As
soon as it all began the judge: I ask one more time if the two of you are
willing to reconcile, at which point costs of the court are still covered by
the state and the two of you only owe your lawyers respectively …
Nobody
did or said anything, except me, who was nodding profusely. The judge said: I
see your daughter is happy about that prospect.
Everyone
looks at me and I continue to nod happily, like a retard. In fact I was ready
to say: Stop acting like two hissy toddlers – five grownups are wasting their
time listening to you bicker over nothing! You are two minutes away from the judge
to find you both guilty and have you pay for all the costs equally! (At which
point the judge would probably say: do you mind if I now do the judging? It is,
after all, my room…)
But
I didn’t say anything. I just nodded happily. Truly, nothing is worse than two
old men fucking around, claiming broken nose and broken pride, costing waaaaay
to much taxpayers’ money, not to mention their own. We have a lot of things,
but money isn’t one of them.
I
wasn’t sure if the lawyer will get terribly angry at me, but he did ask for a
minute of consultation and the three of us stepped outside. Dad said he’ll beat
the shit out of me and I told him to stick to the victim narrative before
someone hears him. I added that expert witnesses cost a boatload and both of
them have equally stupid arguments. It’s time to call it enough. The lawyer was
civil enough to keep both options open. Dad asked to call mum (my hands were
shaking so badly – I was raised to deeply revere authority and courthouses are
almost sacred to me) and ask what she thinks. She said the other guy should at
least pay for the broken nose and tooth. I snapped the phone shut and said: mum
agrees you should quit!
Dad
said the guy should publicly apologize. I said dad, quit fucking around and
poking. The lawyer said he’ll ask for the reconciliation and add it would be
polite to shake hands. Like I said, civil guy.
And
so, ye. The two old farts dropped the case, shook hands. Dad couldn’t help
himself and began: you were luckily I got up again, after two strokes, bla bla--…
And the judge said: you can continue this in the hallway, practically throwing them
out. Dad said he can now stop walking around with a gun and I yelled at all the
people who stopped and turned: Joke!! That was a joke!!! He’s joking!!!
The
other man said to me: I am sorry I hit your father, but he said to me ‘I’ve
been parking here since before your mother shat you out’, and I just lost it..
I
sometimes wonder how my father is still alive.
We
offed to have a coffee and dad was angry with me, saying how will he now ever show
his face in the home street again, where everyone will know he gave up a fight.
I said nobody gives a shit and what if he got so stressed he had another
heart-attack, hm? Is that old fart worth it?
We
had coffee for about an hour, being joined by another retired old journalist colleague,
lamenting some friends who have died and celebrating some who are still alive.
Dad and I went on one or two other errands and then I left to go home. The kid
has since returned, having successfully finished the third year of school, one
to go, and we talked about the option of becoming a military or maritime officer.
Then G and I offed to buy a magnificent gift (ye, ye, you know me, it’s obviously
a book) and we met MyMaja outside the ice-cream parlour. I totally had the
mango and lemon again and a touch of peach, which was sublime. Not having been
bought a book of my own this month, as I often am for doing something right, G
instead renewed my dormant Warcraft subscription, so I can again do some random
quests when I take breaks from writing… (Compared to IRL, my made-up stories
are rather anaemic.) And courtroom drama! :D I could so totally be a lawyer, don’t
you think, if I had an IQ and the focus to remember to tie both my shoes :D
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