A courtroom.
You know how it is: People on opposing sides go at each other and play dirty or perhaps, instead, they tell their tales in a civil manner to just be done with it. But, no matter what, the part of engagement that is certain in this context is that they are never, really, to work together.
Today I was driving and started laughing thinking about one of the more comical moments in a court case I was involved in. The moment revolved around a particular, accidentally conspiratorial silence that happened while the case was being heard.
There we were, going back and forth and this way and that and then, as the timeline was being reconstructed, there it was: The silence. The weird glances back and forth among all of us- from both sides. Glances that were imperceptible to anyone who hadn't actually been there that night. An event that all of us- the plaintiff, the defendant, and any of those who took the stand that day decided not to speak of.
Not because we were doing anyone any favors.
Simply: It would have made us all look bad.
It's one of the few truly funny memories I have of that whole, awful experience. No one on their side could have mentioned it because it would have thrown off parts of their fictitious story. No one on our side mentioned it because the one that held the story knew that it was the part of the story that was the most brutal and aggressive.
I remember sitting there watching to see if anyone would call it out.
I knew that they wouldn't.
They couldn't.
They didn't.
It was a seamless silence we all shared that day.
A strange, forced bond that united us all.
And
solely in a recollective way
still does.
be well; be loved,
k.
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