Not With Haste

The hearing was scheduled for eight in the morning. It was to be the first in a long list of divorce cases that the honorable Judge Nguyen was to settle on that Monday. Not that it was a particularly complex case that truly warranted a formal trial before the Judge. In fact, it was quite the opposite. There were no children involved, no alimony being sought, no large sums of money and stock being fought over or multiple properties that needed to be divided among the couple. There was only one property, a home in the affluent neighborhood of Los Feliz in Los Angeles, and as far as Verena was concerned, Oscar could have it. She didn’t want the house. She didn’t want any money from the sale of the house. The only thing she wanted was to be divorced. That was it. And had the circumstances been different, that would’ve been enough for the divorce to be settled at the mandatory settlement conference that she and Oscar had been assigned to. They would’ve simply gone before the Judge Pro Tempore where she would’ve clearly stated that she relinquished all rights to the house, and then everything would’ve been made over to Oscar. He would’ve become the sole owner of their home, he would’ve kept the money that had been in their joint account, and that would’ve been fine, but Oscar was a pain in the ass that refused to agree to the divorce.

Despite having been given everything on a silver platter, Oscar refused to the terms. He made it perfectly clear to the Judge Pro Tempore that no agreement would be made at the conference. And more than that, he demanded that their case be moved to trial so that he could demonstrate before a higher ranking Judge, that his marriage was still salvageable. The presiding Judge thought Oscar had lost his mind. It was obvious to them that Verena had absolutely no intention of halting the divorce process. The manner in which she spoke and the manner in which her legal representation acted, made it clear that she was determined to bring a legal end to the marriage, but since Oscar refused to cooperate and demanded that the case be moved to trial, the presiding Judge had no choice but to allow to be heard and decided by a higher ranking Judge.

And now the once happily married couple was standing outside the courtroom, waiting for their trial to commence. They stood at opposite ends of the waiting area, each in counsel with their legal representation. Oscar was being advised as to how to comport himself before the Judge. He had to present himself in a manner that would evoke sympathy. He was, after all, playing the distraught husband card, and if he hoped to get the divorce thrown out, he had to convince the Judge that he genuinely regretted the affair. That was why he’d styled his hair to seem somewhat disheveled, that was why there were dark bags beneath his eyes. He had to sell it to the Judge that he really wanted to work on his marriage. He had to sell it well enough to convince the Judge to go against Verena’s wishes, because if Oscar didn’t, then he had no chance at ever winning his wife back.

For her part, Verena was engrossed in conversation with her attorney, a young man by the name of Walter. He was an old friend of hers, having attended Yale at the same time. And while his usual clientele were the multimillionaires of Southern California, he had made an exception for his friend. This was his way of repaying her for having let him live with her for several months after their graduation from law school. He had moved out west from his native Ohio and taken up an internship at a famed Los Angeles law firm. The internship, though eventually leading to a high paying position, had been poorly compensated, hardly enough for him to cover his student loans, but thankfully for him, Paulina had leant a helping hand. She’d given him free room and board. She’d opened her home to him, and now, he was repaying the longstanding debt.

“There’s nothing to worry about,” spoke Walter, doing his best to calm the nerves of his old friend. “I know you might think that I’m only saying this as a friend, but the truth is that there’s no Judge in California that’ll deny you the divorce after the emotional hardship that was placed on you. No Judge at all.”

“I know that,” said Verena, her voice soft. “But I just don’t like the fact that this has been drawn out as long as it has. I never thought this was going to get any further than mediation, but here we are. He’s managed to get the case this far and I can’t help but worry that he’ll somehow find a way to convince the Judge to rule in his favor.”

“That won’t happen.” Walter stated. “He’s being handed everything on a silver platter.”

“He doesn’t want it though.”

“Well that’s too bad for him, because that’s all he’s getting.”

“Is it really?” she sighed. “I mean, I’m not taking him back, but just look at him. He’s making a spectacle out of himself to get pity. He’s purposely made himself look distraught! And the worst fucking thing is that he’s actually selling it. If he were my client, I’d be over the moon by his performance. He’s made sure that his attire is spotless, look at that suit, that’s a nice fucking suit, but he’s left clues as to his emotional distress. His tie is slightly off, his hair has a somewhat unruly appearance to it, and he’s got bags under his eyes that look like they could fit a kilo of coke in each one. For fuck’s sake, he’s embodied his lie. And I can’t help but think that the Judge just might end up sympathizing with him. That maybe, they’ll think we can go to counseling and work it out, but I don’t want to fucking go to counseling. I want this shit done with. It’s my thirtieth fucking birthday today, and all I want as a present is to have this damn divorce finalized.”

“And I’m going to get you that.” Walter assured. “I’ll stick a bow on the fucking divorce papers, because I swear to you that by the time this trial is over, you’ll be Verena Alejandra Louise Faustino again.”

“I hope you’re right about that, because I can’t take another day being Mrs. Alvarado.” She was serious about that. She might not have been living with him anymore, but seeing his last name on her driver’s license and on her credit cards, made her ill. “I never realized how much of an impact a last name could have, but having his shoved in my face on a day to day basis is exhausting.”

“Well you won’t have to deal with it much longer. Once the Judge approves your petition for change of name, you can just file the information with the DMV and then with the credit cards and everyone else, you’ll be set in a month’s time. It’ll be like it never happened.” He paused, waiting for a response, but when none came, he veered the conversation in direction of a topic that he thought of great importance. “So what are your thoughts on the property?”

“What do you mean?” she replied. “You know well enough what my thoughts are.”

“I know what they were, but I’m hoping they changed.”

“Why would they change?”

“Because when I stated that you would relinquish your claim to the house, you were trying to keep the case from going to trial, but now we’re here, and I think it best that we take every single penny we can take from that son of a bitch. I want to force him to sell the property so you can get half, I want him to have to reimburse you for the money you spent on the wedding, and I want to get your share out of the joint account. That’s what I want, because you’ve been far too accommodating.”

“Accommodating?” she snapped. “I didn’t come up with those terms to make his life easier. Fuck that. I did it so that I wouldn’t have to deal with him for as long as I have, but the son of a bitch is a lot smarter than I thought he was, and he’s dragged this out longer than I ever thought he would.”

“Then let’s make him pay for it.” Walter advised. He was used to imposing financial hardships on the people he sued, and he felt that he owed it to his skills to ensure that Oscar was ruined. “I mean if it weren’t for him, you wouldn’t be spending your birthday in a courtroom. You’d be off somewhere, enjoying yourself. He’s put you in this situation, so let’s have at it.”

“It’s too late for that.” The idea was tempting her, but it wasn’t feasible. “We haven’t drawn up a plan of attack, not to mention, we don’t have a printed listing the change in my conditions to hand over to the –” she grew quiet when she noticed the little smirk on his face. “You son of a bitch, you already have that ready, don’t you?”

“Of course I do.” He grinned. “Did you honestly think that I was going to be content to hand everything over to him? I’m not that kind of lawyer. I take everything I can get, that’s why men seek me out before their wives do so they don’t lose a fortune during the proceedings. And if you’ll let me, I’ll present this to the Judge.” He took out a manila envelope from his briefcase. “It states that you want your half of the property, as well as what corresponds to you in the joint account and that you wish for him to repay every last dime that you spent on the wedding. And . . .”

“And what?” she inquired, hesitantly. He had that look that made it clear he had something up his sleeve. “What else are you up to?”

“I have another envelope and inside it is a document that states everything that I’ve already stated, but in addition to it, I state that we’re seeking for the court to award you $17,000 for the emotional distress injuries sustained as a result of the public humiliation he subjected you to.”

Had she loved Oscar less, she would’ve gone along with the plan Walter proposed. She would’ve secured herself a small fortune that would make for a good down payment on a new home of her own, but the problem was that she couldn’t go through with it. She could take half the money from the sale of the house and what corresponded to her from their joint account and be reimbursed for what she spent on the wedding, but to add onto that another seventeen grand didn’t sound right to her. He didn’t make enough money to pay such a sum. There’d once been a time when he did, but that was before the recession. Now his paychecks were the small ones and hers had gotten larger, courtesy of working as an attorney for an oil company.

“Let’s not go after the seventeen grand.” Verena spoke, trying her best to not seem overemotional. She hated the fact that there was still a part of her that harbored feelings for him, but it was only natural that a part of her would still love him while the rest of her detested him. He had been the only man in her life, and it would surely be a considerable time before she moved passed him. “I don’t need his money. I only want what’s mine. So let’s go after the house and the joint account, and if for some reason the Judge wants to be a dick about it, then let Oscar keep it all. It’s not like I need it.”

“If that’s what you want, then we’ll stick to this one.” He handed it to her. “But if you change your mind at any point, all you have to do is –”

“I’m not changing my mind.” She said, pointedly.

“Alright then,” he knew there was no changing her mind. “Since I’ve finished going over things with you, I think it best that I remind your relatives of what they can expect on the witness stand. I know none of them have ever been before a Judge so I want to ensure that they’re comfortable with the procedure. Will you be okay on your own?”

“I’ll be fine.” She assured him, forcing a halfhearted smile. “I need to fix my makeup so I’ll do that right now.”

“Don’t fix it too much. I don’t want you looking too put together. You’re going through emotional hardship, remember?”

“I remember.” It wasn’t like she could forget that she’d wasted nearly twelve years of her life. “And don’t worry about me appearing in distress. I’ve got that figured out.”

“That’s right, the crying.” He couldn’t believe he’d forgotten about the crying, especially since he’d had her rehearsing it at his office. “Well, just remember not to go overboard. Subdued is always best, and don’t take too long in the restroom.”

The restroom was a short walk away, situated towards the rear of the building. And despite being awkwardly place in an easily forgettable location, Verena had no trouble getting there. The ease with which she reached the restrooms was due to her having been at that particular courthouse several times throughout the last few months, but on those occasions she hadn’t been there to discuss her divorce. She’d been there to represent the interest of Baxter and Ayres Petroleum, an American multinational energy corporation that was based in Southern California. It was there that she was a high ranking member of the legal team, having secured the position with the assistance of certain connections from Yale. And as a result of her employment there, it was her duty to run to the courthouse whenever someone was lifting a case against the corporation, and she almost walked away victorious, regardless of whether Baxter and Ayres was in the right.

With such a connection to the building, she easily made her way to the restroom and once inside, proceeded to touch up her makeup. Not that there was make makeup to speak of, she’d opted for a natural look, determined to portray herself as a wholesome wife that had been wronged by her cheating husband. She knew that first impressions were important in court. The way she presented herself, the way she spoke would have a substantial impact on the Judge’s decision and she was going to do everything in her power to ensure that she was granted her divorce. That was why she powdered her nose, but didn’t bother applying any concealer to the bags under her eyes. She had to look tired, but not to tired, to portray the physical exhaustion she was feeling, yet still keep an air of strength about her. She had to be both strong and vulnerable; she had to make the Judge feel her pain.

And she was ready to put on a spectacle. She was ready to destroy Oscar in court, because he’d forced her hand. She’d only ever intended to get a private, civil divorce that wouldn’t air their dirty laundry anymore than it absolutely had to, but he’d disapproved of that. He’d forced them to go to trial, and now public court records were going to forever show that he had fucked her cousin several times on the same night, court records were going to show that she’d been humiliated by him and her cousin on the day of her wedding. And she knew that no sensible woman would ever want to get serious with him again. They were living in a modern age where people ran online background checks on people they were getting serious with, and this trial was forever going to pain him as an asshole. And it could’ve all been avoided if only he’d gone along with what she wanted.

She wanted to avoid ruining him publicly, because despite everything, she was still very much in love with him. She hated herself for that, of course. She’d sworn to herself that she’d only ever feel disgust and contempt for him, but that was easier said than done. He was, quite literally, her first everything. And coping with everything that had happened had truly devastated her. He’d been her life and now it’d been taken from her and the only things she was sure of was that she still loved him and that she wanted him out of her life. It was fucking confusing for her, but there could be no forgiving him. There would be no forgiveness. Perhaps a better person could, but she couldn’t.

That was why she’d gone into hiding for a week, because she couldn’t trust herself to be around people. She’d had horrible thoughts, thought unspeakable things, the likes of which would’ve landed in jail if she’d ever actually acted on them, but despite her rage, she was sensible enough to keep to herself and then to return to Los Angeles to get the divorce on its way. She needed it to be over. She needed to start again, because being Mrs. Alvarado emotionally exhausted. It reminded her of everything she’d lost, of everything that could’ve been, and what was worse was the fact that after everything had been ruined, she’d found herself wishing that she’d had children with him, that they’d married sooner. It was all so fucking annoying to her.

Life just hadn’t turned out the way she’d planned.

At thirty, she was supposed to be happily married and although displeased with her chosen career path, she was meant to be content with the large income it afforded her. She was supposed to be spending her thirtieth birthday up north in Monterrey, at a rented cottage near the seaside where she and Oscar would’ve spent their time making love, but instead she was standing in a poorly lit ladies room in a Los Angeles courthouse, staring into the mirror at the stranger she’d become.

Life had certainly not turned out the way she planned, and she wondered what her eighteen year old self would think of her. Would she hate her? Berate her for having sold out? Would she blame her for Oscar’s indiscretion? She would. Her younger self would be furious, incapable of believing that the architecture student, who was so in love with her, would cheat. After all, all he ever fucking did was dote on her. He’d take her lunch while she worked at a local café during her time at university. He’d pick her up on his bike whenever she stayed late at the library. He had loved her so passionately, so tenderly, that she at that age thought that he was the single greatest man to ever walk the earth. Well, the single greatest man after her father, of course. Oscar had been so perfect then that even now, now that their marriage had ended in a humiliatingly public manner, she couldn’t believe that it was actually over.

Sure they’d had their fare share of fights and she wasn’t sure that she was ready to take it to the next level by having a Catholic ceremony, but the thought of divorcing him had never actually crossed her mind. She’d never looked at his face and thought to herself, I'm going to divorce you. The only reason she hadn’t wanted the religious ceremony was because she wanted the option, as a lawyer, she needed a loophole in case things ever got horrible, but he’d never been a dreadful man. He didn’t tell her he loved her, every single day, but the things he did, the fact that he had her coffee waiting for her in the mornings and the fact that he drew her bath whenever she stayed late at the office, showed her how he felt.

But if he loved her as much as she thought, as much as he’d told her, why did he cheat? Why would he do that to her? And with her cousin of all people! He’d tried explaining it a few times, but whenever he started, she’d take off running. She’d become a very good runner in the last six months, mastering the art of sprinting in order to get away from him. She’d run. She’d run. She’d run. But now, there could be no running, now she had to look herself in the mirror and tell that bit of her eighteen year old self that remained, that she was going to destroy the man they loved, and that there was nothing anyone could do to stop it.

“This is how it has to be,” she told herself, staring directly into the mirror. “There’s no going back.”

Hardly a second later, the woman on the verge of tears morphed into the poised corporate attorney that was capable of anything to get what she wanted. She couldn’t let her emotions get the best of her, she couldn’t let her heart run off on her, there was too much at stake. She had to remain in control so that life could start anew.

After having composed herself, she began the walk back to the waiting area where her relatives awaited her return. They hadn’t just shown up for moral support, they were there because they were going to be her witnesses and she hoped the ordeal wasn’t too strenuous on them. None of them had ever been in court before, let alone called to testify, but there they were. And she hurried along to get back to them as quickly as possible to go over the possible questions with them, but she didn’t get back to them right away.

She was walking along, minding her own business when a door open, and I was from there that a distraught Oscar pulled her in. It’d be nice to say that she was strong enough to overpower him, that she delivered a devastating blow to his stomach and ran off without so much as a look back, but to say such a thing would be a scandalous falsehood. Verena wasn’t strong enough to overpower her husband. He was a man that belonged to the local UFC gym and who weight trained every single day. He was a strong man, with broad shoulders and enviable muscles, and he had no trouble in pulling his estranged wife into the deserted meeting room.

“Don’t worry,” he told her, breathlessly. “Don’t worry, it’s just me.”

“It’d rather it have been a murderer.” She spat, tearing her arm away from him.

“Don’t be like that.” Oscar spoke in his deep voice, his dark brown eyes conveying his hurt. “You don’t mean it.”

“Unlike you, I say what I mean and mean what I say.” She was lying, of course. She preferred him to a murderer any day of the week. And her profession hardly ever allowed her to truly mean what she said. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I must be on my way.”

“Don’t go.” He reached out for her hand, the simple action causing his heart to ache at the feel of her smaller hand in his. “Please let me explain myself.”

“Does it look like I want an explanation?” she snapped, snatching her hand away. “I want a divorce. That’s what I want. I want to change my last name back to Faustino so I can pretend this marriage never happened.”

Her words wounded him worse than any bullet ever could.

“Vera, please just listen, just . . . look, I get that what I did was fucking horrible. I’m fucking ashamed of everything that’s come from it, but you’ve got to know that it was just the one time. And I mean, it’s not like I went out of my way to fuck her. I didn’t even leave the house!” In his mind, he thought that was a good point to make. It wasn’t. “I was in the living room, pissed off and drinking because you’d gone off to New York and –”

“Don’t you dare try to blame this on me,” she cut him off.

“I’m not blaming you!” he cried in desperation. “I’m just saying that I wasn’t doing well. I was fucking drunk off my ass and then she showed up and things ended up spiraling out of control.”

“Am I supposed to feel sorry for you?” she inquired in an icy tone. “Do you want me to forgive you because you were drunk? Because I don’t, and I’m not,” she declared. “You’re not the only one that was drinking that night. You’re not the only one that was pissed off. I was fuming when I boarded that plane, I was furious while I sat through those meetings, and I was beyond pissed off when I went out for drinks afterwards. And you know what? I got hammered. I drank like we used to drink in college, back when we’d fuck like there was no tomorrow, and there was even this attorney that wanted to fuck me.”

“Why are you telling me this?” he asked, his words dripping with jealousy. “Did you fuck him? Is that what you’re trying to get at?” he bellowed, grabbing onto her shoulders. He grabbed her with such strength that she almost cried out in pain, but she refused to let that scream pass through her lips. “You’ve given me hell for fucking Letty, and yet you –”

“He was a gorgeous Ghanaian man,” she went, completely ignoring his outburst and forcing from her mind the pain that emanated from where he held her. “You can imagine what he looked like. Oh, he was a dream. Tall, broad shouldered, and he had just a hint of an accent.” She paused, letting her words drive Oscar mad. “In fact, you know who I’m talking about? You remember Richard? The guy that was trying to get my number at the company party a few years ago?” she asked. “He was the one that I talked about London with. He’d lived there for quite some time.”

“Why are you telling me this?” he shook her. And in that moment she was afraid, but she didn’t let her eyes betray her. “Why are you telling me that you fucked him?”

“I didn’t fuck him,” she spoke, calmly.

“But y-you just said that he wanted to fuck you and then you said that he was –”

“I said that he wanted to fuck me, which he did. I said he was handsome and utterly charming, which he is. But I never said I fucked him.” She waited, and sure enough, his grip began to loosen.

“Then why tell me this?” he asked softly, hurt apparent in his voice.

“Because I want you to know that I could’ve fucked someone else. That I had temptation shoved in my face just like you did, but unlike you, my temptation came in the form of a handsome, cultured man, not some whore that fucks anyone that smiles at her.” It was then that he removed his hands from her, but she didn’t move, she remained in front of him, staring directly into his eyes. “I had a handsome and incredibly charming man try to get me into bed. Any woman would be so lucky to have a man like that, but even though I was drunk, even though I was angry at you, I remembered the promise that I made all those years ago. I remembered my vows, and I didn’t let it get any further than him politely asking me up for a nightcap. But you?” she flicked his chest. “You slept with my cousin. Honestly, if you were going to cheat on me, you should’ve chosen a better fuck, but no, you went after the recovering drug addict, mother of three. You ruined my home.”

“I didn’t –”

“Yes, you fucking did,” she snapped, her icy façade breaking. “You ruined our home. And I hate you. I hate you so much that I wish I’d never met you.”

“Don’t say that. You don’t mean it!”

“I’ve never meant anything more in my life!”

He reached out to place his hands on her shoulders, to calm her down, but she panicked, she thought he was going to hurt her again, and so the moment his hands began to reach towards her, she took a step back and slapped him hard across the face. The back of her hand collided violently against the right side of his face, causing him to momentarily lose his footing.

“You ruined everything,” she whispered. “We could’ve been so happy, but you just had to go and ruin it.”

“I can make it better.” He promised. “Let me make it better, please.”

She shook her head. “I don’t want you to.” A deep breath was taken. “I don’t want to make this work.”

“But you’re my wife.”

“Not for much longer.” There was a bittersweet smile on her face. “It won’t be long before Mrs. Verena Alvarado is dead.”

“I won’t let that happen.” He told her. “I’m going to fight it. I’ll prolong the divorce process until you forgive me, because I’m not done with you.”

“Whether or not you’re done doesn’t matter to me. Go ahead and obsess over what was. It’s not gonna change how I feel and if you start stalking me, then you best rest assured that you will have a restraining order put against you.”

“If you do that, I’ll take you to court over Dexter.”

“Go ahead.” She was bluffing, of course. She didn’t want him to sue her for custody over Dexter, their two and a half year old English bulldog. “Take me to court, see what happened. But just remember that all my friends are in law, remember that Walter is representing me, and he’s been holding back because I’ve asked him to be nice up until now, bust most importantly do remember that I cheat people and the government out of money for a living. I secure huge tax breaks for a highly profitable corporation that would still turn massive profits even without the tax breaks. So do you really think that you’ll be able to take my fatty cakes Dexter from me?” She knew that most people would think she was being crazy, overdramatic even, but Dexter was her special boy, he was the one that slept beside her and cuddled with her while she cried herself to sleep. “If you so much as file a custody suit over Dex, I will ruin you. I will leave you in financial ruin, and by the time I’m done, no one will want anything at all to do with you. So think about it. Think it over real good.”

He said nothing, but the flustered look on his face spoke volumes. “You’ve never been like this.”

“Not with you,” she told him. “This is the reason why I’ve gone as far as I have in my legal career. So I advise you to reconsider your idiotic decision, and I advise that when the trial begins, you inform the judge of your decision to comply with the proposal placed by attorney so that we might be granted our divorce. Now go on, tell your lawyer that you’re not contesting the divorce any further.”

“I won’t give you the divorce. I still love you.”

“That’s on you.” She turned her back on him and made her way to the door.

She was confident that things were going to go the way she wanted, but Oscar was a stubborn man he refused to believe that that was how things were going to end for them. He refused to see their marriage in ruins, not when it had brought him such joy over the years, not when her smile had been engraved into his heart. He’d fucked up. He knew it, but they could work things out, she just needed to be reminded of that, so taking a deep breath, he grabbed her by the hand and forced her to spin around, and then, when her face was mere inches from his own, he pressed his lips upon hers, kissing her deeply, passionately, praying that a kiss would be enough to remind her of their love. And though it worked, its success was brief, for as soon as Verena realized what was going on, she tried to shove him away, but he used his size to his advantage, their lips may not have been pressed against one another, but their bodies were still close, he could feel the warmth he’d been aching for.

“You love me.” It was a statement not a question. He felt her love in the kiss, even if it’d been fleeting. “You love me,” he repeated, begging her with his eyes to say it back.

“I do,” she found herself saying, “But I love myself more.”

And with that, she stomped down on his foot with everything she had, and the intensity of her stomp made him drop his hold on her, giving Verena enough time to run. She fled from the deserted meeting room and down the long corridors, weaving her way through the hallways, until she got back to the bathroom. It was in there that she quickly checked if there were any other women, and when she ascertained that she was alone, she let out a stream of profanity unlike any ever heard before. That man was her ruin. And she couldn’t stand to be around him any longer. She needed the divorce. She needed to be free of him and everything that reminded her of him. She needed to get away before she lost her mind and gave into him.
She remained hidden away in the bathroom until Walter went to fetch her. He knocked on the door a few times, when there was no response, he went in, knowing very well that she had to be somewhere inside.

“Vera!” he called to her. “Vera, come on, I know you’re in there!”

“Walter?” she called out to him. “In here!” she croaked out. “I’m in here.”

He hurried in direction of her voice, stopping only when he threw open the last stall.

“Vera . . .” he whispered when he saw her.

He didn’t recognize the woman in front of him. She was in shambles, worse than when she’d shown up at his house to ask for help. It was at that moment that he realized just how bad things were really were. He thought that she was all cried out, that her heart was no longer his, but it was obvious to him that despite everything her heart still belonged to the architect that had stolen it all those years ago.

“Are you –” he was going to ask if she was alright. A stupid question, really. She was far from fine, but thankfully he didn’t get the chance to make an idiot of himself by asking such an idiotic question.

“I no longer give you permission to accept a divorce agreement in which I relinquish my claim to everything. I want half of the house. I want what’s owed to me in the joint account and what I spent on the wedding.”

“Yes, of course.”

“And I . . .” she hesitated. Could she do it? Could she actually ask him to do what she’d only a little while earlier, deemed unfathomable? “. . . I want seventeen thousand dollars for the emotional distress injuries sustained by my person.”