Twenty Nine

In the end, the trial was oddly anticlimactic. There was no dramatic closing argument, no tearful plea for justice. As planned, Trent was not called. Jackie was, and described the accident emotionally, but with no answers that provided anything particularly damning to Trent’s defense. Sarah was called and provided the same information that Emily had. The driver of the bus testified that they had all been tired and anxious to get to the hotel, but no one asked, and he did not offer, if Trent had encouraged him to drive recklessly. After two days of witnesses, Emily dared to hope that the judge had heard the story of a tragic accident, which happened to involve a popular rock band. It all seemed fairly cut and dried. Emily, who was the first to admit she was not the least bit impartial, had to consider it a waste of time and emotional energy. Even Jackie, she thought, looked anxious and depressed. When the defense rested its case, the judge leaned back in his chair and regarded the gallery.

“All right, folks. Thank you. I’ll have my decision ready tomorrow morning at nine.” The judge banged his gavel and walked briskly from the courtroom.

Silence hung over the room for a moment, and then shuffling papers and murmuring voices took over. Emily looked toward Trent, who was being hurried from the room by his lawyer, towards the crowds of excitable young fans, most of whom looked too much like Jackie. The cacophonous babble of their high-pitched voices swelled as the door to the corridor opened. She saw Trent look in her direction, but she failed to catch his eye as the door closed behind him, the murmur if the courtroom a comparative silence.

“Well,” Sarah said, breaking into Emily’s reverie. “I guess it’s back to work.”

“I guess so,” Emily agreed. They followed Fred out the same door through which Trent and his lawyer had disappeared, and ran the gauntlet of press and teenaged girls to the elevator. The second the elevator doors closed in front of them, sealing them off from the noise and chaos, Emily’s cell phone rang. Embarassed as the shrill squawk of the electronic ring cut the awkward silence, she grabbed it from her purse. Glancing at the screen, her heart leapt to her throat as she saw Trent’s number glowing there. Red-faced and feeling like a teenager sneaking around behind her parents’ back, she pressed the “ignore” button and sent the call to voice mail. She’d listen when she had a little more privacy.


There was no reason not to speak with Trent now, she’d done as much damage as she was going to do. Still, once she got home, Emily sat, staring at her phone, debating the merits of even listening to the message he had left. Would he be furious? Would he be friendly but aloof? Emily could imagine no positive outcome. Still, she was compelled. She was about to begin dialing the voice mail access number when the phone shrieked again. She jumped, and nearly dropped it. “Private Number”. It was how the hospital displayed; she answered it without thinking.

“Emily,” his familiar voice drawled.

Emily’s insides turned to liquid. It had not occurred to her that he might persist in his desire to talk to her, and with that one word, she was reminded of how much she missed his company.

“Hi,” she said after a moment.

“How are you?” he asked.

“I’m okay, I guess. How are you?”

“I’ll be better when this is all over,” he replied.

“Yeah, I guess so,” she agreed. “You must be pretty anxious.”

There was silence for a second, as she tried desperately to catch a tone in his voice, an inflection, anything to give her an idea of exactly how furious he was with her.

“Yeah, but it’s not like there’s anything I can do at this point,” he said. “It’s all in the judge’s hands now.”

Emily concurred and they made pleasant enough small talk for a few minutes. The trial, Emily’s testimony, hovered silently between them, studiously ignored by both. Emily thought she might scream, or burst into tears, or both. This is too hard! she thought. I just can’t do this!
Finally, they both spoke at once.

“So,” Emily said.

“Listen,” Trent said, at exactly the same moment.

They laughed uneasily, and Emily was reminded of an earlier time, when conversation was effortless.

“You go first,” Trent said, and Emily knew it was now or never.

“I’m so sorry about all this, Trent,” she said sincerely.

“Hey!” he said quietly, and with such kindness that Emily did start to cry. “There’s nothing to be sorry about!” She could tell by his voice that he was also speaking without equivocation.

“No, I am,” she continued. “I can’t tell you how much.”

He paused for a moment, and Emily was afraid he would hang up on her. “Listen, honey. You did what you had to do. You couldn’t very well refuse to testify, could you?”

At that moment, she realized that it was not just the testimony that she was sorry about. It was everything. It was letting herself get involved with someone that she obviously wasn’t ready to fall for, and would doubtlessly hurt because of that. Of that she was sure; if she could go months without telling him about her family, if she could go weeks without speaking to him at all, that must mean she was still too raw, to vulnerable, to fall in love. She knew, instinctively, that she would not be able to survive another loss like she had lived through when Thomas died. The taste she’d had of it when she told Trent, in the weeks before the trial, that she could no longer see him, proved it beyond any doubt she might have harboured. She could not withstand another broken heart. And she certainly would not put her children through it.

“I’m sorry, Trent. I’m sorry for how it’s ended between us. I really enjoyed our time together, but I just can’t do it anymore.” She heard the words come out of her mouth and silently, her tears started anew.

He was quiet, and when he spoke, Emily could hear restrained anger in his voice. “Can’t do what, Em? We never did anything. We never had time.”

She rested her forehead in her hand, warding off the headache that was tapping at her temples.

“I know, and I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying that!” he cried suddenly, startling her with vehemence that reminded her of the first night they'd met. He stopped for a heartbeat, and when he spoke again, his voice had calmed.

“You have nothing to apologize for. I knew the first time we talked that you had a past that you were not ready to share with me. I told you then that I could wait. Nothing, not this trial, not going without seeing you for the last three weeks, has convinced me that I was wrong about that. Nothing you could tell me would make a difference.”

Don’t say, it, she prayed silently. Do not say you are in love with me. To her relief, he stopped speaking and waited expectantly for her response.

“I can’t make you wait for me, Trent. I don’t know if I will ever be ready, and you have too much living to do to wait.” She spoke with regret and finality.

Her decisive tone must finally have registered. When Trent spoke again, it was also with resignation.

“Maybe you’re right, Em. Maybe this isn’t such a good idea right now.”

As she heard the words, her head agreed, but her heart broke all over again.

She tried to keep her voice steady. “I think so,” was all she could manage.

“Can I call you some time?” he asked.

No! her heart shouted. “Sure,” she said, knowing it sounded as hollow to him as it did to her.

“Okay. Bye, then,” he said.

“Bye,” she replied, and clicked her phone shut. Thankful that her children did not happen to need her attention at that moment, Emily curled up on her bed and cried herself to sleep, again.