Lauren Takes Leave Gerstenblatt, Julie (classic literature list txt) 📖

She looksup through her bifocals, probably having felt my death stare. I turn away justin time.

Today she’s going down.

Because I have to get put on this case.

I have to get a leave of absence from my life.

“Please raise your hand if you have children.” Up goes myhand.

“Please raise a hand if you have ever spent time away fromyour child or children. Perhaps you have traveled overnight on a business trip,or taken a vacation without them. Perhaps, like the defense in this case, youare a working parent who has put his or her child in daycare or preschool.” Notall of the people with children raise their hands, but several do. Includingme.

This is kinda fun.

“Please raise your hand if you work full-time, outside ofyour home.” Two women do not raise their hands, but the rest of us do. Stay-at-homemoms, I think.

Just for the fun of it, I wiggle my fingers around in theair, like the A-plus students in my classes do, so that I can really be seenand remembered.

But, instead of noticing me, the lawyers start askingthose women questions. Things like: “Do you work from home?” “Do you workpart-time?” and “What is your primary occupation?” As I expected, both arestay-at-home moms. They are so off the case. I picture them walking out of thecourtroom together a few minutes into the future, honking good-bye to eachother from identical minivans.

Sayonara, I think.

“Please raise your hand if you work with children,”Parnell asks, and suddenly, it’s show time. I will make this work to myadvantage. I push my hair from my face, raise my hand, and meet his eyes.

“Ms.…” Parnell scans his clipboard for my name.

“Worthing,” we say simultaneously.

“Yes, Ms. Worthing. Could you tell me what exactly it isyou do?”

“I try to teach eleven-year-olds where to put theircommas,” I say. Good-natured laughs are sprinkled around the room. Parnelljoins in, sport that he is.

“Yes, well. And for how long have you been…teachingEnglish, I presume?”

“Fifteen years,” I say, shaking my head at theridiculousness of it, at the way time has passed, at the fact that my studentshave moved on, growing and changing, while I am still in that same classroomyear after year, the same Harry Potter posters clinging to the walls,without anything but a Teacher of the Year plaque from the last century and atrophy of a golden apple to show for it.

“Ms. Worthing, are you all right?”

“Oh, great!” I shout, too loudly for the cramped roompacked with hostile potential jurors. Keep it together, Lauren, Ichastise myself. Keep your eyes on the prize.

“I was just wondering…how are those commas coming thesedays?”

“Great! Love ’em!” I say.

“Really?” he asks.

I sigh and think about the last pathetic quiz I gave. Iknow that I should be upbeat and firm about my commitment to education if Iwant to get a coveted spot in the jury box, but I just can’t muster the energyto lie like that. Martin and Martha already took all the lying I could dish out.

But I really need this case.

Don’t I?

I look around the room and into the eyes of these twolawyers in their cheap suits, and I just feel tired. All these people get upeach day and do their work and come home and fight with their kids and makelove to their spouses and fall asleep only to do it all again the next day.

Life is boring, predictable. And no amount of jury duty isreally going to change that. Not in the long run, anyway.

I open my mouth. What comes out is the truth, the wholetruth, and nothing but.

“No one knows where to put the commas. Ever. Did you knowthat there’s something like eleven uses for them in the English language, andthat sixth graders can’t think of more than three? And the great irony is thatjust when you’ve actually taught the children all the uses of commas, it’s Juneand they leave you, only to be replaced by children who do not know where toput their commas! My life is like a broken record, playing the same verseover and over again. I’m Sisyphus!”

I notice the hush that has fallen over the room.

Parnell gives Sylvan a look. The he approaches me. “So, Ms.Worthing, would you say that overworked teachers—good, decent people likeyourself—might not always be recognized and appreciated for all they do? Might,in fact, require mental-health breaks from time to time?”

Voir dire. To speak the truth.

I sigh. “In fact, that’s why I’m hoping to stay here, toget put on a jury. For a little break. From grammar. And…my husband, mykids…other stuff. I’d kind of like to volunteer for service.” I’m so fucked.

“Jury duty as a break from life…” Parnell looks up at thecrowd. “Now, that’s a new one!”

Suddenly, the guy’s a comedian. This is the jolliest voirdire on record at the Alden County Courthouse. Everyone’s slapping their kneesand wiping their eyes, it’s all so funny.

To everyone but me. Hey, people, I want to callout, this is my life. I have to use jury duty as an excuse to get a littleme time! You should all be sobbing at my feet, it’s so pathetic.

After asking a few more questions, the lawyers take afive-minute conference break, absenting themselves from the room. I stand andlook around, preparing to move back to my seat by the window, and possibly tothe parking lot, since I’m sure to be dismissed. But then the bailiff is askingus to sit again and Parnell and Silvan are back.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we’d like to do just one more thinghere with the twelve of you before moving on.”

The lawyers call out some of our names and have us rearrangeourselves accordingly. “Yes, Mrs. Worthing, please take the fourth seat rightthere. And Mr. Grady, seat five, and Mrs. Anglisse, yes, right there…” He scansthe seats in front of him before finishing his thought. “And that makes ten ofyou, correct?”

Parnell looks at the two rows of us, and we look back athim. The two stay-at-home moms have been ousted and are fidgeting awkwardly inthe corner, like the last ones picked for kickball.

“That’s it. Eight jurors and two alternates. Ladies andgentlemen, thank you very much for