Good.
I needed the reminder of how I'd fucked up.
A glance in the rearview showed a thick red mark in the arched shape of my steering wheel marring my forehead. Normally I'd laugh at something like this. Maybe make some self-deprecating joke to lighten the mood.
At that moment, all I could do was stare at the stranger looking back at me, hollow-eyed and defeated.
I'd lost.
I'd lost a case for a good man. For innocent children.
The devastation was worse than any other time, cutting deeper, leaving me raw. Was it because this one was so drawn out? Or did I get too invested, let myself care too much? Could this merely be exhaustion or hunger? I couldn't remember the last time I ate or slept at length. Days blurred together when you lived at the office.
My stomach made another obnoxious noise, as if to say, “Hey, dumbass. Feed me now!"
Shaking my head, I slipped on my seatbelt and pulled out of the spot I'd taken when I arrived—I glanced at the clock—ten hours earlier. Jesus. It's a wonder no one tapped on the window to check on me. I'd been slumped over for longer than anyone should be. Folded in on myself like something broken.
Part of me wanted to go straight home and climb into bed. Then I could block the world out. In the comfort of my blankets, I could dissociate until sleep finally claimed me. I could pretend for a few hours that I wasn't a failure, that I hadn't let those kids down.
Except I knew my body wouldn't allow me to go to bed hungry. There was no ignoring the small army of needy gremlins inside me, demanding sustenance with increasing urgency.
That meant finding food.
Preferably as quickly as possible.
As I drove through town, I contemplated where to eat. Though it was late, there were still a couple of places I could grab a bite, including the usual suspects with their harsh lighting and plastic menus.
Not one of them sounded appealing.
Not one of them felt like what I needed.
What I needed was comfort. The familiar. Some friendly faces that wouldn't ask too many questions or expect me to hold myself together.
The ones that popped to mind were those of the men at the Coleman Ranch. Over the last few years, I'd grown close to all of them, making sure to swing by often, even if just to catch up or to check out their Market Days. The once-a-month event was one of the largest attractions in the area now, having grown from something small into this spectacular, family-friendly affair. A place where laughter echoed and people smiled and the world felt a little less sharp.
Before I could second-guess the decision, I turned onto the road that would lead me to the ranch, my hands moving on instinct. If nothing else, I'd get a good meal from the ranch cook, Harlan—something warm and filling and made with actual care.
A big reason people flooded to the market each month was a chance to get some of his cooking. They always sold out, and unless you worked the ranch or were a friend, it was the only way to secure a plate of the deliciousness.
My mind went back to the case as I drove, unable to help itself. I contemplated through each minute to see if I could pinpoint where it went wrong. When had I lost control? Whendid the judge decide my client was the one in the wrong rather than his ex? What had I missed? What had I done?
I should have done more. More research. More interviews and character statements.
I should have pushed further in my cross-examination.
I should have…
All the shoulds in the world weren't going to change the outcome. It couldn't turn back the clock to give me a second chance. It would only increase the crashing helplessness roiling through my system, the tightness in my chest that made it hard to breathe.
To distract myself, I turned on the radio. Christmas songs drifted through my speakers, bringing with them a type of holiday cheer I couldn’t resist. Bright bells and warm harmonies wrapped around me like a blanket I desperately needed. My mood softened ever so slightly.
It's not enough to fix everything.
It's just enough to make me a little less moody.
A little less likely to drive off the road.
The music also helped me focus. The further I got from the main parts of town, the less kept the roads were, snow packed down and treacherous. It wouldn't be a problem if I were driving a truck, which so happens to be the standard vehicle in these parts, but I'm not.
