The bailiff shifted nervously and wiped sweat from his forehead, looking like he hadn’t digested a single word of my game plan. Yes, the concrete parking lot was hot and the sun beating down but why does he appear so panicked? Thought these guys got a kick out of serving n’er-do-wells with legal documents that would change their lives….because I certainly couldn’t wait to finally get this moron off my back. You see…. Dave had refused for years to even entertain the thought of divorce but then not only did he openly share the seriousness of his new girlfriend, and introduced her to our daughter, but the dumbass actually brought the young lassie to my house for us to meet!! Well…. instead of being offended, they wouldn’t get out the door fast enough so I could call up my lawyer and declare “Girl, we ready!!”
Side note: the lawyer and I went to the same high school but she was 7 years younger than me. Yea, let that sink in. I was mortified at our first meeting and she recognized me as one of the “old girls.” UGH!! I’m also a full 12 inches taller than her in the heels I was wearing to impress the judge. I bet we were a sad looking couple in that court room.
Anyway….
Back to Mr. bungling bailiff
“So…you got it, right?” I asked
“Yes…miss” he mumbled
“Ready?”
“Ready, miss”
His audible gulp didn’t help appease my concerns. I’ve been dying for this moment so he better not mess up. We climbed the stairs of the medical building in silence, until I pushed open the door and approached Dave’s receptionist. Thankfully she recognized me from the wedding pictures that nostalgic sap still had up in his office.
I have no clue what her name is….but I’m all dimples and pearly whites. Who can resist?
“Hi, I have a friend of Dave’s visiting from overseas. So when he’s free, before you send in the next patient, could you let us just zip inside and surprise him for one minute?
Receptionist’s eyes widen with glee “Oh, sure. No problem. How fun”
She smiles at the bailiff who looks the opposite of fun. I fear he just shat a brick and will need medical attention. At least we’re in the right place but homeboy needs to deliver first and address his A-hole later.
We take a seat and try to look natural among the patients, several of whom are typically pissed like everyone ever waiting for a doctor. And here we come, squeezing into their time slots to commit our dastardly deed. I stifle a snicker.
From the end of the hallway we hear a door close and a man walks out. The receptionist signals to us so we rise and I nod sweetly in appreciation while passing her by. She gonna get a rude awakening and proper cuss out from Dave in about five… four… three. Bailiff is trailing behind me like he wants to change his mind. Is this his first uptown/bougie gig? First time at a doctor’s office? Where did my lawyer find this spineless moron?
Focus girl…focus!!
I knock on the door and open it when Dave says “come in”
He looks up from his desk, sees us both and almost immediately realizes what’s going on. How does he do that? (My mother always said he was clairvoyant. I’m being kind…but why start now? What she actually said was “him is the devil”).
Dave is now on his feet.
“Brenda, can we talk about this?”
I turn to look at the Bailiff, who is just standing there, the envelope still in his hand, literally scared stiff.
“Brenda?”
I’m not making eye contact with Dave because I’m glaring at the bailiff waiting for him to react… but he seems to feel for Dave, hoping for a reconciliation so he can go home and not have to repent.
Curbing my instinctual desire to bitch-slap him, I gently nudge the Bailiff’s arm and he finally notes the angry glint in my eye that said “No, I don’t want to talk to this idiot. Go ahead, hand over the papers. Do it, do it now!!!”
Bailiff literally throws the envelope on Dave’s desk and we both spin on our heels and hightail it past Ms. Receptionist, who I again nod sweetly at, before running down the stairs into the parking lot.
Bailiff is breathless and too traumatized to even bid me a proper farewell. The man takes off. If not for the concrete he would left me behind in a hail of dust.
That’s fine because I have no time for small talk since I’m not done.
I sit in my car, take out my cell phone and dial a number….and in the most sweet, syrup-y voice I hammer the proverbial nail in the coffin:
“Hi, Simone. It’s Brenda. He just got served. Hope you two have a nice life.”
Click.
Boy. Bye