Konrad was already waiting for his coffee when Gus arrived at the tiny space-themed coffee shop they’d agreed on. He was an imposing figure in the cramped building, easily six foot tall, all mustache and gravitas. In spite of himself, Gus felt his stomach tighten with the same stupid nerves he’d felt going into the first course he’d taken with Konrad in law school. He forced himself to wave before stepping to the counter to place his order. Iced americano and a chocolate chip cookie.
When the two men had found a table outside, Gus pulled the folder out of his briefcase and slid it across the table. “Do you want the whole story?”
“I suppose it would be unethical for me to say no,” Konrad replied, taking a slow sip of his doppio. He opened the folder and skimmed the complaint that Gus had prepared. After a quiet moment, he signed the document, closed the folder, and slid it back to Gus. “On second thought, this looks like more story than I want. You certainly seem to have done your homework.”
Gus nodded. “Thank yo—”
“So, how have you been? I was quite surprised to hear from you this morning. I was under the impression you had stepped away from your practice.”
Gus felt his face redden, and he looked down at his own drink. “Yeah, uh, something like that, I guess. I… took some time off. Been going through it lately.” He glanced over at the crows hopping around the patio, looking for crumbs. “Jones has been real understanding. More than I deserve. But he’s got too much on his plate to take this one, and like you saw on the sheet, it’s a huge story and seems pretty open and shut, so I figure… I guess… I can’t tell him no on this one.”
He looked up, briefly, and met Konrad’s eyes. “Going through it in what way?”
Damn this man and his inability to let things go. “Just…” Gus sighed. “Feeling defeated. I don’t know, Konrad. It’s just been a while since things made sense.”
“And how is Theodore?”
“I think he’s good… He’s in college, studying something or other to be a Big Career Man just like his old pops, which… I don’t know. I was gone for so much of his childhood, and when I finally came to my senses… well, when Victoria left, I guess, and I had to cut back some hours on the weeks he was with me…” Gus rubbed his eyes and exhaled with his whole chest. “I always thought he’d want to do something life-giving and creative and fun, you know? But he’s dead-set on throwing his life away just like I did. I don’t know how to get through to him.” A squirrel ran past the table, and Gus followed it with his eyes, watching as it darted up a massive oak tree and disappeared among the leaves. “But he wants to come stay with me during some internship he’s got this semester, so maybe I can drag him out before he gets in too deep. I just hate the thought of him being in my shoes in thirty or forty years.”
“You wanted to be an artist, did you not? An illustrator, perhaps?” Konrad’s voice startled Gus out of his thoughts. “You didn’t want to be in my class, at least.”
Gus chuckled in spite of himself
Konrad continued, smiling. “Do you remember the sketches you used to do in the margins of your exams?”
Gus looked up at his former professor, head cocked to one side. “Of course, but I’m shocked you do, to be quite honest.”
“How could I forget them? At no other point in my career—in the classroom or in the courtroom—did I receive such beautiful submissions. It always brightened my day.” He smiled, looking off at something behind Gus’ head, lost in thought. “I remember thinking that anyone who saw the world like that would do great things wherever he found himself.”
Gus snorted, caught himself, and pretended to clear his throat. “Well, I’m sorry to disappoint, sir.”
“I’m sorry too.” Konrad downed the rest of his doppio, set the cup back on the table, and stood up. “Thank you for reaching out, Augustus. And good luck. I’ve mostly retired from presiding over cases, but I will follow this one with interest.”
Gus watched, speechless, as the older judge walked away.
“Well, shit,” he muttered to himself. “I guess that’s that, then.”
Gus finished his own drink, tossed both the cups into the trash can, and started walking back to the office. The conversation with Konrad was stuck on repeat in his head, every word and intonation and expression subject to never-ending scrutiny.
He stood waiting at an intersection and realized that Theo hadn’t actually told him anything about the internship, other than that it was a neurology program. He didn’t even know what Theo was actually studying, other than—presumably—medicine. A quick “where did you say you were interning this semester?” text was all he had time for before the walk sign turned on and his thoughts went racing off again at a million miles a minute.
The rest of his walk was uneventful, but he couldn’t shake the heaviness of Konrad’s disappointment. He wasn’t sure why it even mattered—Konrad had been his professor well over a decade ago, and had been full time in the courtroom for the last five years of his career. His opinion had absolutely no bearing on Gus’ life.
And yet, it mattered somehow.
But regardless, there was work to be done. Marty was on the phone, and Jones was in a meeting, so there was no one to chat with as he stepped back inside. He scanned the signed complaint form and saved it to a flash drive, made himself a cup of decaf, and walked slowly back to his desk. He opened a new email and attached the scan. The client’s email address was included on Marty’s intake form, and Gus typed out a quick message to let him know that the form had been signed and would be filed by the end of the day. He sent it and was surprised to see a “received, thanks” land in his inbox within minutes.
Gus took a long sip of his coffee and let his eyes unfocus.
The rest of the day passed uneventfully. Gus’ job was done for the time being, and his excitement was waning. He packed up a little early and treated himself to a sit-down dinner at the usual place, indulging in half an hour of people-watching while he ate slowly.
The sun dyed the sky a fiery orange as Gus stepped into his apartment later that night, twisting both ways to stretch his stiff and aching lower back. He closed the door behind him, set down his things, stared at the absolute shitshow that was his living room, and sighed.
“Alright, Augustus, you can’t live like this any longer. Theo deserves better than this.” He hung his jacket on the hook and slipped off his button-down shirt, which he tossed onto the couch. His undershirt was stained and smelled of sweat and deodorant. “Time to get to work.”
He meandered into the kitchen and pulled out a whole box of trash bags, which he had remembered to add to his most recently delivery order at the very last minute. “Thanks, past Gus,” he muttered as he shoved at least two weeks’ worth of takeout boxes in to the satisfying sound of ripping styrofoam. He tied up the bag and set it outside his front door. There were a handful of snack wrappers and empty beer bottles scattered around the room as well; these got their own bag, set beside the first. Used mugs with coffee stains in the bottom got soaked in the sink with a little dish soap for a deep clean. Dirty clothes in the washer—well, no, in the basket. Sniff test. Rerun the load of towels from two days ago. Set a timer to put the next load in before bedtime. Sweep. Locate pad-mop. Locate pads. Locate floor cleaner. Pad-mop floor. Flashlight under the couch—“There’s that pocketknife I’ve been looking for.” Empty last three clean items in dishwasher. Load dishwasher. Press go, collect two hundred dollars.
While Gus cleaned, the flames in the sky melted into cotton candy pinks and blues before sinking into navy and then a star-studded hazy gray. He finally sank into the couch, a cup of water in hand with a heavy, self-satisfied sigh and surveyed his work. Not too shabby.
He flicked on the TV and kicked his feet up on the coffee table, pulling his phone out of his back pocket without thinking. Theo’s name popped up on the lock screen. His heart stopped for a moment, and then he felt a small smile on his face. It was good to hear from him.
Gus opened the notification, forgetting for a moment what he had asked. Theo’s answer—that he’d be interning at a neurology clinic called the McNeill Institute—scratched an itch in Gus’ brain that he couldn’t quite place. He’d heard of the clinic somewhere before. After wracking his brain for the answer for a few minutes, he decided to go about the rest of his evening and let it come to him in its own time.
Taking one more self-congratulatory look around the living room of his apartment, Gus stood up and walked over to the fridge. He pulled the magnetic notepad off the front and peered inside, the long bulb flickering as he surveyed the food he had. His grocery list almost built itself, and a thorough search revealed several embarrassingly expired leftover containers that Gus threw out, pinching his nose as he took his overly-full kitchen trash bag outside to join the pile of rubbish he’d removed already.
“Why do you let yourself live like this, man?” he muttered to… well, ‘to no one in particular’ is what he told himself.
He didn’t answer the question.
Shopping list made and living room tidied up, Gus took a few minutes and the last dregs of his momentum to load and start the dishwasher. After that, feeling totally spent, he swished some mouthwash around and flicked off the bathroom lights.
Climbing into his bed for once—instead of crashing out on the couch with the TV blaring—was a surreal experience. The soft noise of the fan. The luxury of a pillow. The absolute darkness of the room when the lamp was off. Gus felt his body relax into the mattress, wrapped in his comforter like a babe in swaddling clothes.
But the peace only lasted for a moment—his mind raced off, running through every conversation he had all day, every regret, every misunderstanding and social faux pas, every funny joke he made or not-funny joke he laughed at to keep the peace. Konrad’s words settled on him like a millstone, dragging him deeper and deeper, chest tight, heart racing, jaw clenched.
“Bullshit,” he grumbled, tossing himself out of bed and stomping back to the bathroom. The lights blinded him as he rummaged through his medicine cabinet. There was only one small pink pill left in the blister pack he’d bought back when his sleep first went to crap. Everyone had told him that sleep was an off-label use for allergy medication, and he was going to cause himself harm in the long term, so he’d switched to the TV eventually. Cheaper, too, than buying a new pack every month.
He choked the pill down dry, turned the lights off again, and stumbled back to bed, waiting for the drowsiness to start. As his body finally began to feel heavy, he let his mind wander, slowly, randomly, until a puzzle piece finally snapped into place.
The McNeill Institute. Theo’s internship. His client. The case.
“Oh, shit,” he mumbled. “This is going to be a weird year.”
Moments later, he was asleep.
If you enjoyed this chapter, please consider dropping a couple quarters in my digital typewriter case!
You’re reading What I Have Failed To Do, a serialized first-draft from Sara Dietz at Blinking Blue Line. If you’re new ‘round these parts, welcome! If you’ve enjoyed what you’ve read, I’d love to have you stick around.
And if you’re in the mood for your next favorite story, check out my crime/medical thriller, Remembrance, or my fantasy-quest serialized novella, The Ravenswing Report.
Wouldn't he have to step away from the case if his nephew is involved??