The hallway of the courthouse smelled of old wood and floor polish. Manjula walked slowly along the polished floor, the heels Leo had told her to wear clacking softly against the wood. Her sari was a plain cotton the color of dry leaves, with a navy border she had wrapped tight against her hip. She kept her bag close. She was searching for the door whose number matched the one on Richard's printout.
She turned the corner into another hallway, and to her surprise, Apu was there.
He was walking from the other direction, head down, looking at his own shoes.
Hearing Manjula's heels, he looked up, and upon seeing her, his whole body stopped.
The color had drained out of his face. He had not shaved in days. His shirt was the same one he had worn the morning the divorce papers were served, and it had not been washed since. His hair, normally combed flat, was crushed on one side as if he had slept on a desk. She could smell the faint hint of bourbon coming off him even from where she stood.
"Manjula."
"Apu. You look like something the dog brought home and then thought better of."
"Manjula, please. Please. Please. You cannot be doing this to me."
"And yet here I am, doing it. Step aside."
He did not step aside. He put his hands together in front of his chest, palms flat.
"Manjula, I am begging you. I am most sincerely begging you. Please. You will call the lawyer right now and you will be telling him to take it back. Mr. Hutz is saying they can be withdrawn at any time before the gavel is falling. I have been reading about it. Three or four times I have read it now."
"Hutz also files motions in crayon, Apu. I would not listen to much of what he says."
"Manjula —"
"Did you bathe before you came here? You smell and look disgusting."
"Manjula, the children. The children are asking for you every single night. Sanjay is not eating without you. Uma has stopped her sleeping. Please. Come home. I am asking you in front of God himself. Come home, Manjula. Come home."
"No."
"Manjula —"
"No, Apu. Listen to the word. It is a small word. I am going to walk through that door in three minutes and I am going to be done with you. The lawyer is going to do what I am paying him to do. Step aside."
"You cannot mean this."
"I can mean this. I am meaning it presently. I have been meaning it since the morning I watched a Squishee girl with her panties around one ankle on the floor of my husband's store, and I have continued to mean it on every day in between."
"I was being most lonely, Manjula—"
"Oh, you were lonely. Forgive me. Allow me to weep into my sari for the lonely man with the wife and eight children and the Squishee Lady."
"Manjula —"
"Step aside."
"Please!"
"Move."
He did not step aside. Emotions of every kind was rushing into him. All the sadness had been used up. He resorted to more ugly measures in despair. The polite version of his face crumpled and was replaced with something else. Something with more rage than sadness.
"You think," he said, "that any other man is going to want you?"
"I do not have to be thinking about it."
"Look at yourself, Manjula. You are a woman from Rajasthan in a country where men do not want a woman like you. Who is going to take you? Who?"
"Apu."
"I am the reason you were being brought to this country. I am the one, Manjula. The visa. My mother was arranging it because I was asking her to arrange it. You were eating because of me. You were having a roof because of me. And now you walk out of my home and into a divorce court and you are thinking — what — what — that some other man is going to be wanting you?"
"Apu."
"Manjula."
"I have already found one who will want me."
Apu's mouth opened.
"Oh yes. In fact… a handsome man. Taller than you. Stronger than you. He is not smelling of slushy syrup at the end of his day. He is listening when I speak. He is asking me what I am thinking about. He has not, even once, run to the back room of any establishment for any whores of any kind. He would never."
"M-Manjula —"
"And Apu."
"Yes."
"He is bigger than you."
Apu's face did a small terrible thing.
"…What?"
"Bigger, Apu. I am being delicate about it. I am being very delicate. I am sparing you the measurements. But his manhood… it is… perfect."
A small wet sound came out of him. His hand went to the wall behind him. The other hand went to his face.
"Eight children," she added quietly, "and not once did the earth move, Apu. Not once. I thought that was simply how it was for women. It is not how it is for women. I have learned."
His knees gave by an inch. He slid down the wall until he was crouched against the wood paneling, both hands over his face now, his shoulders moving in small jagged shakes. The sob that came out of him was not a polite sob. It came up from the bottom of his stomach and bent him forward over his own knees.
Manjula stepped around her husband with three feet of clearance and did not turn her head.
"You are nothing anymore."
The door to the courtroom was twenty steps away. Richard had told her to push, not pull. She pushed. She stepped inside.
…
The courtroom was small. Wood paneling, a low bench, a flag on a pole, six rows of pews half-full of strangers waiting on other matters. Judge Roy Snyder sat in a black robe behind a raised desk with a coffee mug at his elbow and a stack of folders in front of him. He looked tired.
Richard rose as Manjula slipped into the seat beside him.
"Mrs. Nahasapeemapetilon?"
"Yes, Mr. Deez."
"You all right?"
"I am fine."
"Then we are ready when the judge calls us."
…
The bailiff called the case three minutes later. Manjula stood. Apu shuffled to the petitioner's table on the other side of the aisle with his head down, holding the back of the chair to steady himself before sitting. Hutz arrived right behind him in a suit one size too tight, carrying a binder under one arm and a burger from a fast-food restaurant under the other.
"Apologies, Your Honor. Court traffic."
Judge Snyder looked at Hutz. He looked at the burger. He looked back at Hutz.
"Mr. Hutz."
"Your Honor."
"I have your motion."
"Thank you, Your Honor."
The judge lifted a sheet of paper from the top of the stack in front of him. The handwriting on it was very large and very purple.
"Mr. Hutz, this was written in crayon... again."
"Yes, Your Honor."
"With a crayon."
"Yes, Your Honor."
"Mr. Hutz, do you understand that the rules of this court require filings to be typed, or in the alternative, written in ink?"
"Errrr…. Yes, your honor?"
The judge stared at him for a long second.
"Motion denied. Sit down."
"But Your Honor —"
"Sit down, Mr. Hutz."
Hutz sat down.
Hutz unwrapped his burger. The smell of patties reached the bench. The judge closed his eyes for a moment and then opened them and turned his head a quarter inch toward the respondent's table.
"Mr. Nahasapeemapetilon."
Apu raised his head with effort.
"Yes, Your Honor."
"Mr. Nahasapeemapetilon, I am going to ask you a question."
"Have you been drinking very recently?"
"…No, Your Honor."
"Mr. Nahasapeemapetilon, I am at the front of this courtroom and I can smell what you had for dinner from here. I am going to ask once more. Have you been drinking?"
"…I had one, Your Honor."
"When?"
"…An hour ago."
"Not more recently?"
"… I am not sure."
The judge let the silence sit for a second.
"Mr. Nahasapeemapetilon. Where are your children at this moment?"
"…With a babysitter, Your Honor."
"All eight of them?"
"…Yes, Your Honor."
"Mr. Nahasapeemapetilon, how often does this babysitter watch your children."
"…Every day for the week I had them, Your Honor."
"Every day."
"She is a most lovely woman, Your Honor. She is most patient with them. She has only quit twice. I have been giving her a raise both times and she has been coming back, and —"
"Mr. Nahasapeemapetilon."
"Yes, Your Honor."
"Stop talking."
"Yes, Your Honor."
Judge Snyder leaned slightly back in his chair, away from the respondent's table. He turned the crayoned sheet face-down on the stack. He looked at Manjula then back at the petition. He picked up a black pen and signed something at the bottom of a form she could not see from where she stood.
"The petition is granted in full. Marital assets to be divided in favor of the petitioner. Full custody of the minor children to the petitioner pending standard wellness review. Visitation for the respondent will be supervised and will not exceed one weekend per month until further demonstration of sobriety and fitness. Other fiscal assets such as property worth and bank assets will also be divided in favor for the mother. Exact details will be put into the order. Counsel will receive the order in writing within three business days. Next case."
The gavel fell.
Manjula did not understand for a moment that it was finished.
Richard put a hand on her elbow and lifted her gently from her chair. She walked with him down the center aisle. The bailiff was already calling the next case and a different lawyer was already standing up at a different table. Apu did not turn his head as she passed. He was a complete mess.
The hallway outside was the same hallway she had walked in. Richard pushed open the heavy outer door for her and she stepped out into the moonlit street.
She stood at the top of the steps and breathed in.
It was finished.
She was free.
She let out a single small laugh into the air and put a hand to her mouth.
Richard's voice came from the side. "Car's at the curb. Let's go."
…
It was hours before Manjula would walk out of the courthouse a free woman, and Leo was at his dining room table teaching fractions to a Simpson who did not want to be there. Manjula had left alone to the courthouse since he was not allowed to be seen with her. And since it was Thursday, it meant it was a tutoring day.
"What is a denominator," Leo said.
"The bottom number," Lisa answered without looking up from her own page.
"Lisa, I was asking your brother."
"Sorry, Mr. Leo."
"What is a denominator, Bart."
Bart was looking out the window at the hedges. He had been looking at the hedges for five minutes already.
"Bottom number?"
"Yes. And numerator?"
"…Top number."
"Correct."
Bart looked mildly surprised at himself. Leo first thought this kid was quite the moron, but now… he realized he actually had potential. Bart Simpson was not stupid.
As long as he related the lessons to something Bart actually wanted to think about, then the kid could learn.
"Bart. The sword over the fireplace. The one you keep trying to pull down."
"What about it?"
"The blade is forty-two inches. You're forty-eight inches tall, give or take. What fraction of your own height is that sword."
Bart's eyes moved off the hedges. He thought about it. His mouth moved slightly.
"…Forty-two over forty-eight."
"Reduce it."
"Uhhh." He chewed his pencil. "Six goes into both. Seven over eight."
"Right. So the sword is seven-eighths of your height. Which means if you ever do manage to pull it down off the wall, what are you going to look like trying to swing it."
"…Super sick."
Leo rolled his eyes. "Right. Next problem. Your skateboard deck is thirty-one inches. You can ollie about six inches off the ground—"
"I can do twelve inches!"
"Okay, okay… twelve inches. What fraction is your ollie of the length of your deck."
Bart's pencil was already moving.
Lisa was working at her own end of the table with her own textbook open to a chapter Leo had assigned her, doing standard deviation exercises out of the appendix. She had finished variance last week and had asked him at the end of the session whether the next thing was going to feel like a real jump. He had been right about that, more or less. She had not asked him a question all afternoon.
As he waited for Bart to finish his math, Leo sat back in his chair and let himself rest. The house was quiet. Manjula would not be back for at least five hours. The kitchen was clean. The fridge had cold drinks.
"Hi, baby."
Leo turned his head.
'Oh, fuck… how and when did she get there?' Leo was caught off guard.
Cookie Kwan was standing in the kitchen doorway.
She was in the red blazer and the pencil skirt and the same red heels she always wore. Her lipstick was the new color she had switched to two months ago, a darker pink that made her mouth look like it had just been bitten. The pearl drop earrings were the ones she had worn the second time he had taken her to dinner. A small leather purse hung from her shoulder. She was holding a key up between two fingers. It reminded him how a magician holds up a rabbit after pulling one out of a hat.
"Hi, baby. I let myself in."
Bart's mouth opened.
Lisa's pencil stopped.
Leo stared at the key.
"…Cookie. How did you get in."
"With the key, baby. Look. I have key." She wiggled it. "I always have key."
"What key."
"This key. To the house. I sold you the house, I make copy when I sell. I always make copy."
"Why?"
"Because I'm Cookie Kwan, number one west side. I make copy every house I sell. In case the buyer is needing me to come in for emergency. Or other reasons." She smiled. The smile was for him alone. Then her eye drifted to the dining table and her face brightened. "Oh! It is the kids again. The little blonde and the boy. Hello again, kids. You are doing homework? Such good little students."
"Hi, Ms. Kwan," Lisa said carefully.
Bart did not say anything. Bart was staring.
Cookie waved at them with the hand not holding the key.
Leo forced a smile at Cookie.
"Cookie. The side room with the two lamps. You remember it. Wait for me in there. I'll be in to see you in ten minutes."
"Ten minutes, baby? But —"
"Ten minutes."
She gave a small pout and shrugged, the kind of shrug that involved most of her shoulders and a small accompanying motion of her hips.
The kitchen was quiet for half a second.
"Your girlfriend is Cookie Kwan?" Bart blurted.
"Bart."
"Your girlfriend is Cookie Kwan."
"She is not my girlfriend, Bart."
"She came in with a key —"
"Bart, look at me. Both of you, look at me. I want to address this in a calm and adult way before either of you takes a story home to your parents that isn't true. You both have met Cookie before it seems. You have a sense of her personality. She is a loud woman who does not always operate inside the lines of normal social behavior. There is nothing going on between Cookie Kwan and me. Are we clear."
Bart squinted.
"She called you 'baby.'"
"She calls everybody 'baby.' She would call a fire hydrant 'baby' if it held the door open for her."
Lisa raised her hand.
"Yes, Lisa."
"Mr. Leo, I already have met her before so I understand. But I still have a concern about the key. Even if everything you're saying is true, she let herself into your house without knocking. That's not okay. Realtors aren't supposed to keep keys after the sale. I'm pretty sure that's a rule, somewhere."
"You're right, Lisa. That's a fair concern. I'm going to take the key from her before she leaves today and I'll be confiscating any copies she has of any other house she has sold while I'm at it. The truth is she most likely came over to talk about some other real estate I've been looking to invest in. She's a realtor, that's her job, and I've been making noise about wanting to expand a daycare side of my business into Springfield. That said —"
He glanced toward the hallway.
"— she should have knocked like a normal person."
"That would be more appropriate, yes," Lisa agreed.
"Wait." Bart frowned. "Is she gonna live here?"
"No, Bart."
"You sure?"
"I am sure."
Leo turned back to the table. "Finish your last problem each. When you're done you can pack up and head home. We'll pick up Tuesday at four again. I want Bart to be ready to walk me through how he reduced that skateboard fraction, and Lisa, the next chapter of the appendix is the chi-squared distribution. Skim it."
"Okay, Mr. Leo," Lisa said.
"While you do that I am going to go handle this. If you finish before I come back out, let yourselves out the front and I'll see you Tuesday."
"Got it."
"Yeah whatever," Bart muttered, already pulling his pencil back toward the sheet, but Leo noticed he was actually working.
Leo stood up.
He walked the long way around the dining table so the children could not see him put a hand to his forehead. He let out a breath. It was not a good thing that she walked in while the kids were here. Leo then walked to the room where he had sent Cookie.
When he reached it, he turned the handle.
He pushed the door open.
Cookie had her back to him.
Every piece of clothing was already gone except for the red heels still strapped to her feet. The tiny Chinese woman stood in the soft lamplight like a living wet dream. She had a petite frame, narrow waist, and an ass that looked almost unfairly large and perfectly heart-shaped on her small body. The full, round cheeks were smooth and plump, jiggling slightly as she bent forward just enough to hook her fingers into the thin red thong that was halfway down her thighs.
As the tiny scrap of fabric slid lower, Leo got an unobstructed view of her bare pussy from behind. Her lips were glistening, the delicate pink inner folds peeking out as she shifted her weight.
She heard the door click. Still bent slightly at the waist, Cookie slowly straightened and glanced back over her shoulder. Her black hair swung as she turned. The side of a small perky breast came into view. Her dark eyes sparkled with wicked confidence, lips parted in that familiar hungry smile.
"Will this convince you?"
[Image in disc0rd. link is in books bio]