The spring rain caught upon everything in sight. The strange, absent sun of the overcast day diffused in a certain way to paint a blinding light upon the clouds. Rows upon rows of plastic tables had already found their place next to plastic chairs in the gym. It was completely empty; The school year was ending, and odd setups like these had sprung up all through campus for AP testing. The white masses of folding furniture dotted the space and a piece of tarp had been spread over the wooden flooring. There were single chairs to single tables. I dragged a chair from the nearest table and sat down right across from her. The chair made a crackling sound against the tarp when I dragged it. We sat face to face, only a cheap folding table between us.
It had rained the entire day; It was a quiet rain that crept up on you. There was no thunderous splashing against the foliage you would hear during a storm. It was a slow rain that covered the distant horizon in a misty wedding veil. Some might think that rain without a storm is no rain at all, but before you even know it—your hair is completely wet, your clothes look darker, and your shoes start to squeak: the world has already been drenched in water.
The days preceding this trial were days I spent driving my dignity into the ground. First I asked her if she wanted to grab brunch from a restaurant called Blue Elephant just around the corner. It used to be a bank, but they renovated it into an Asian fusion restaurant. The kitchen was behind a thick metal bank vault which was kept open. Service would bring steaming plates of Crab Risotto and Shrimp Udon onto sleek tables and blue velvet chairs. Carrie and I used to eat brunch there all the time. Behind all the shiny awards and magazine features, it was somewhere where we could relish the little time we had for each other in two profoundly different lives. I remember shouting at her as she paid for the check every single time. She would not have it any other way. We never went to Blue Elephant that Sunday, it wasn’t her fault.
Missed calls and delivered texts hurled into the vastness of space. At first, I didn’t care for it as much. But day after day, every time I brought myself to type those words into my phone again, I felt my dignity being dragged across mud, taking my own foot to it, dirting, brutalizing, mangling it in the cold and wet darkness. It felt like I was throwing my words into a black hole that was just sending them into some trash planet in some far-off corner of the universe. I had listened to her voicemail enough times to remember it by heart. She probably recorded it when she got a phone for the first time, the voice that I always heard sprang out at me. “Hi this is Carrie Downie, I can’t get the phone right now, please leave me a message!” She sounded seven in the recording, filled with energy and intensity that I could not imagine her ever having again.
I spent my time shortly before the trial waiting for her in the rain. She had finally agreed to have a talk with me. Three p.m. outside Rolfe Dormitory, or around then. But it turned to three-fifteen after a Spanish project with Grace C. and three-forty after getting a food delivery with Anna L.
She kept apologizing, she had done nothing but apologize to me for weeks. We walked to the gym together. On the way to the gym, I wondered to myself why she even bothered.
Waves of people began flowing into the gym. The plastic chairs were slowly filled with people. Men and women in formal dress before us; it was a jury. The lack of any clear, discernible emotion was the only thing that I could make out from those people. It was a good jury, they looked like people who could set aside their judgment. Men and women who had managed to kill that thing which made them so pathetically human. There was a mass of largely adolescent witnesses that came together and formed a witness stand in a cluster of tables to the left of Carrie and me. The bailiff was a middle-aged white man who had already begun dozing off somewhere near the basketball hoops.
I did not recognize many of the people whose eyes had then moved to stare intently at our table. But there were some who I did recognize, schoolmates and dear friends. Katelyn R. from my English class. Tommy D. a dorm mate I ran a terrible relay race with, James G, one of my best friends, and many more. It was a strange trial, a trial without a defense, a plaintiff, or a judge in sight. I’ll never know if Carrie saw those same people that rainy afternoon. Though they were unquestionably present, they seemed to be invisible in the sense that they lost the part of them that made real people so intrusive. They were people who had so faint of an existence that even in their presence, the sincerity between Carrie and me still existed. Among these strange people, the gym remained a place which still held the dignity for an open heart, one in which we could talk freely without the weight of the world. In a courtroom full of people, we were still alone.
“I’m sorry, I’ve been nothing but rude to you.” She said,
A waft breathed through her dirty blonde hair. My thoughts wandered back to the uncountable instances where I screamed her name across some pitch at some random blonde girl whom I mistook for her.
A ghastly voice rang out from nowhere in particular, It was overbearing and a little too loud than necessary.
“Will the prosecuting attorney state the charges.” it said
Another voice from the void. it sounded slightly whiny and annoyed me quite a bit. I remember being taken aback at how the two voices sounded strangely alike.
“Carrie Downie wished to be loved.” It spoke.
“First witness,” said the judge, in his voice an air of hesitation,
“The defense calls for James Gong to the stand!”
James was a typical Asian boy you’d find around the corner in the local Kumon. With black hair and a five-dollar haircut done and dusted in a matter of twenty minutes in some basement in Chinatown. He wore an ugly red North Face fleece.
James turned to face me.
“Who is Carrie Downie?” The judge rang out,
“Carrie Downie is a 16-year-old girl that goes to the Hill school, she currently resides there, but she grew up in New Jersey, I don't know which town. Carrie is just a person, a girl who is somewhat interested in my life and a person I talk to. When some people talk, there’s something in their words that makes me feel like there's something underneath. Even if it’s something so mind-numbingly simple, like saying “how are you” when she sees me at breakfast in the morning. When someone is hiding their heart, depending how perceptive you are, parts of it that can reveal themselves to you. Red and pulsing with blood, you catch onto the scent of something that really matters. I think I’m a somewhat perceptive person, and whenever I talk to her, I always feel a hidden something…I can’t put a finger on what it is, I don’t know if it’s bad or if it’s good. I don’t know her well enough to understand. She seems like a nice person. She doesn’t care about everybody, she’s someone who tries her best to care about the people she cares about.”
“Objection Your Honor! This is irrelevant!” prosecution snapped.
“Overruled, keep speaking, James.”
James continued, “A few months back I was talking to her about courses for next year, and she said something really interesting to me: It’s so hard to get any work done at this school. I was taken aback. Like seriously, I had no idea that this was something that she cared about. Certain types of people say certain types of things, and this just wasn’t something that I thought she would say. I never really saw that part of her ever again.
“Every time I talk to Carrie, I get puzzle pieces, pieces that might not even be part of the same puzzle. If you talk to her enough, maybe someday you’ll find all the pieces.”
“It's kind of like a Russian nesting doll, once you know that there are layers inside, and you close it up again, you can never look at the Russian doll, and think that there is nothing inside, you’ll always look at the Russian nesting doll and know the layers beneath the surface.”
“I think there’s something beneath it all.”
I believe that the crutch of the trial comes down to this, people fail to understand Ms. Downie. She withholds the parts of herself that truly matter, in a desperate hope that something she has on her surface will finally allow her to be loved. Your Honor, I implore you to look further, as deep as the rabbit hole goes. No further questions.
“Five-minute recess, Adjourned!” The judge boomed.
A pale light struck out from the windows behind her. There was no breeze, and the sky felt heavy through whitewashed light coming from the windows. It felt like the kind of light that would pour into a church during a funeral, a clean, angelic light. She wore a large white sweater with an enormous black Gucci logo in the center. Her sunshowered face now held a faint resemblance to pale moonlight. There was this sentimental look in her eyes that touched over the world with a soft sadness. The edge of her mouth marked a whisper of a smile filled with wistful longing. It seemed at that moment that she was completely alone, I felt my own presence diminish into no more than that of those apparitions as we sat there in silence.
I could only remember these memories in the rain. It was fall, and my empty stomach felt like a planet-swallowing void that day when I thought about the Italian restaurant. It was a place called Ceron’s. There’s been rumors going around that the owner of the restaurant is called Mario Ceron, so the food must be pretty damn good. I had invited Kara and Carrie because getting food alone always made me sad. I had no idea at the time that they had not spoken with one another in a long, long time. It was raining that day, and raindrops started collecting over my phone screen while I stared blankly at Google Maps. Ceron’s was fucking closed, and the buffalo wings and celery sticks remained a stupid pipe dream. No matter, We charged to our snack bar, the grille to get chicken quesadillas. The student center was empty, for once in its lively existence. The deafening whirring of the air conditioning was only matched by my curses at Mario Ceron for closing the pizza store on a Tuesday. I remember pulling at my hair and staring at the roll-up doors in denial. The grille was closed as well. No yeah, it was fine, I didn’t want any chicken quesadillas anyway.
We didn’t talk about anything in particular. I remember spending a lot of time mulling over how strange this group was. I complained about food because I was hungry, and we talked about the past. The brief, ordinary time we spent together that could only be viewed from afar. It was a cozy little moment that we all left behind, filled and sealed shut with sorrow at the thought that it could never happen again. Frozen wings and drumsticks along with deep dark secrets and sighs of quiet resignation at how much we’d changed.
“Next Witness.” The judge’s voice quavered.
“Defense calls for Mrs. Mulholland to the stand!”
Mulholland was a woman with a short blonde bob and a smile so wide you could never tell how she really felt. She was Carrie’s middle school English teacher. Mrs. Muholland was the quintessential sarcastic teacher who taught in one of those rich white neighborhoods. There was a brief pause, a few seconds where Mrs. Mulholland’s absentminded eyes seemed to stare right through the jury.
The defense started, “Mrs. Mulholland, I only have one question for you. It’s the decisive question that I’m sure all of you in this court have heard again and again.” I hope you do not grow tired of this question, I hope nobody in the world ever grows tired of a question like this. Mrs. Mulholland, Who is Carrie Downie.”
Muholland turned to our table and looked into Carrie’s eyes
“I always felt you were special, Carrie. You had such a great sense of independence at such a young age. When we had our group discussions, you seemed so isolated even though you’re surrounded by those who you call friends—”
“Mrs. Muholland, please speak to the jury and not the defendant, I will not warn you again.”
“I’m gonna say whatever the fuck I wanna say, this is kangaroo court.. ya hear me!” Muholland barked. The entire courtroom gasped, Carrie’s eyes lit up at that moment.
She continued, her words wrapped in the same softness that she spoke with earlier, “Carrie, I saw something in you that made you different, that was why I stopped you that summer. I figured I’d never get a chance to talk to you after you left—”
She paused for a moment, the courtroom was silent. “You’re not the same as everyone else, you’ll never be the same; and with every attempt you make to try to fit in, the more you’ll lose yourself—the Carrie who is so much more than what you could ever pretend to be. You’re beset in a torrent of waves and darkness, you have to fight against the currents of the world, don’t do it for anyone but yourself. You’re so mature for your age. I’m sorry I couldn’t keep it to myself. Seeing you walking through the hallway on your own that last day, I saw a young girl, arms holding to her breast what small sense of self she still held in this world. I know my classes drove you mad, I’m sorry I couldn’t do more for you. Nobody can do it but you, not a single person in this world can help you find who you are but you.”
“Prosecution calls for Carrie Downie to the stand.”
“What the fuck you can’t call her to give a testimony against herself!” I heard the defense scream.
The judge stayed silent.
Carrie spoke,
“I’m terrified.”
“I have no idea what I’m doing. The day I came to this school, I swore to myself that everybody here was gonna know me… and somewhat like me. If the price of a dream like this means I have to throw my heart away, then find me the nearest trash can.
“Are you happy?” Prosecution asked,
“I’m happier now than I was in the past. I dragged myself through my discarded friendships and broken ties, and I’ve finally found a place where people like me. If you told me that this was the price of being loved and accepted, then I’d gladly do it all over again. “I suck up to people like Anna L. every day because I want to become like them. I try so, so hard for them to love me. “When becoming friends with the squirrels, I acted like a squirrel. When becoming friends with the turtles, I acted like a turtle and so on. The apex predators were the hardest to become friends with. I tried to become one with the lions—it’s tearing me to shreds, but I’m happy this way. There is no other way. To be honest, I feel like I’ve morphed into too many animals that I’ve lost my way as a human; so maybe I never deserved to be a human in the first place. Every single day, my body decides to wave and smile at people who have told others that I’m not exactly their favorite person, and to my surprise, they wave back.”
“I’m terrified that those tightly knotted ropes will tear as the years go by, that those around me grow tired of me and leave.”
“I don’t want to be alone.”
The courtroom faded away, and the invisible people of Carrie’s past vanished. One by one, they walked out of the gym without saying a word. The white chairs and white tables were empty once again. None of it really mattered in the first place, Carrie was not guilty of a crime. For God’s sake, I was the prosecutor, the defendant, and the judge this whole time. What a fucking joke, Mulholland was right, this was kangaroo court.
I spoke to Carrie.
“Carrie, you’re you. Find that girl inside that closed-off heart, no matter how small or pathetic she looks. Even if you think she isn’t there, reach out to her. Hold onto her tight and never let her go. You’ve always dreamed of being loved by the world. But has it ever occurred to you that you might be more, that you might be greater than the world? I think you’re a really cool person. The world keeps shoveling dirt onto you like you’re some ugly casket that deserves to be forgotten. They repeat it again and again until you believe that you’re some cheap garbage that should never see the light of day again. Why the fuck should you go to the dance with some short Asian kid that looks twelve? Just because your friend asked you to?
Another pause, I looked down at the white plastic table because I couldn’t look her in the eyes.
“I really wanted to go to your birthday party—why did you have to listen to your friend and keep me from it just because my best friend was her ex-boyfriend. I’m my own person you know! I know you didn’t have a choice…You’re a pure person burdened with the weight of the world. Mrs. Muholland could see it, I can see it too. It hurts to see who you are because I know who you could have become. I would have really liked you in a different world. In an impossible future, a different dimension, an alternate time; I’m sure that you are free for all your life, in some place where you don’t change with the currents of the world but with the currents of your heart.
“I’ll go away.”
There was this brilliant sunset, the jade green of Carrie’s hazel eyes still marked the edges of her irises, but the dark green that once defined her eyes had turned to a golden orange from the sun. I looked at the markings on the surface, her speckled face. She faded in and out, her image shimmered while her silhouette became indistinct from the shadows that grew from the sunset. God, It felt so real, so palpable that it began to drip into reality through a broken faucet of fantasy.
Her freckles were drawn in. Was this a place where she could finally let go, somewhere she could stop pretending, and finally just be? Or was everything I’ve heard an act, by some great pretender who I didn’t know a thing about? It scares me to think that way. Carrie was happy. She enjoyed the company of the people she spent her time with. So what was the problem? Who was I to tell her what to do? I had been awfully presumptuous, reckless, and bitter all this time. I’m so sorry Carrie, I have no idea what I’m doing.
That gym was a place where Carrie could exist unafraid of the world. Where her words ceased to be suffocated by the weight of judgment, but carried by a wind so fearless that the thought of catching such a wind in a thing as a glass jar was unthinkable. She was free, for so brief a time, even though she knew that she must return to the rainy world soon. One filled with such piercing burdens, yet also one which she had already dulled her heart to.
Once the conversation came to a natural stop, Carrie left quietly to have dinner with her friends.