Wrote this March 3, when I was fantacizing about an end to the stupid legal battle I have been trapped in for the last five years.
A girl has gotta have hope.



THE END OF THINGS

She stood in the short hallway, her back pressed against the front door. It was almost time; she thought they’d be here soon. She kept her back to the door so she wouldn’t have to see them arrive.

She’d dreaded this moment for years, lost sleep over it, played out every possible scenario, every possible conclusion. The trial had dragged on for so many years she’d become almost accustomed to the battle, almost deaf to the accusations.

Finally she’d barricaded herself in the house, barred the door to the reporters who never got the whole story, never got the damn facts straight. She had caller ID put on her phones and only picked up when her attorney called. She’d been done with TV, newspapers, and radio for awhile. Her attorney’s emails kept her updated.

The biggest thing she felt guilty about was how many trees had died to make the paper to print out the reams of documents that this thing had generated. Well, when it was over, and it soon would be over, she’d left instructions to re-cycle every page. That decision allowed her a smidgen of comfort, that something good might come out of this mess.

Almost time now, she could hear the car in the driveway. She wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction of turning around, no, let them work a little for their victory.

Someone pressed the door bell and her whole body jerked in time to the recording of Big Ben’s chimes, eight echoing notes she would never stop hearing.

She turned around; eyes tight closed, took the bar off the door and flipped the knob on the dead bolt. She yanked the door open, stuck out her clenched hands, wrists ready for the handcuffs. C’mon, c’mon, just do it.

And then the mailman said, “Registered letter ma’am, sign here,” and thrust a pen and a pad at her. She managed to unclench her fists, sign and take the envelope from him without collapsing. She slammed the door with her foot, not even bothering to lock it while she tore open the white envelope.

It was a whole page of typed legalese, but the only word she really saw was “Innocent.” Her knees buckled and she slid to the floor sobbing. She’d waited so long, fought so hard and finally it was the end. She sat there for a long time while a thought she never imagined she’d have to deal with crept into her brain. And that thought was: “What comes after the end of things? What comes next?”

She had no idea.