Kent Haruf - Eventide

No. Now wait a minute, she said. You’re not signing just anything. You have to understand exactly what you’re signing.

I understand that. Give me your pen.

You’re sure.

You want me to sign this thing, don’t you.

That’s entirely up to you.

You going to let me use that pen or not? I don’t have one of my own. They’re afraid I’m going to stab somebody.

She handed him the pen and he looked at her and then ducked his head over the paper and printed and signed his name on the two lines and wrote the date beside them. There you go, he said. He pushed the paper across the table.

She took up both sheets of paper and put them in his folder.

What am I suppose to do now?

You wait with the sheriff’s deputy in the courtroom until you’re called.

She rose from the table and took her stack of case files under her arm and went out the door. He watched her leave, looking at her skirt and legs. The deputy waiting outside in the hallway came in, accompanied by the second inmate, and put the cuffs on Hoyt’s wrists again and walked the two of them down the wide corridor to the courtroom to wait for their cases to come up. The second inmate wore shackles on his ankles in addition to his handcuffs, and shuffled along slowly.

There were several people in the courtroom already, sitting and talking. The deputy led Hoyt and the other inmate to a bench near the back, and they sat and watched as more people entered and filed into the rows of benches.

After a while Hoyt leaned toward the sheriff’s deputy. I got to take a piss, he said.

How come you never thought of that earlier?

I never had any reason to think of it earlier.

Get up then, the deputy said. Let’s go. You too, he said to the other inmate. Before they get this thing started.

How come I got to go?

Because I said so. I ain’t about to leave you here.

They went out into the corridor past the lawyers talking to clients and past other people standing in groups below the tall narrow windows. They went down the wooden stairway to the main floor, the other inmate turning sideways taking one step at a time, then the deputy led them into the public rest room behind the staircase. Try not to piss yourself, he said to Hoyt.

Ain’t you going to unzip me? Hoyt said. I know you been wanting to.

I wouldn’t touch you with a goddamn cow prod, you sorry son of a bitch.

You’re missing your chance here.

I’m going to tell you something, Raines. Not everybody in Holt County thinks you’re real cute.

There’s some that do. Some of these women I could name.

Nobody I know of.

You don’t know the right ones.

That must be it. Now hurry the fuck up there.

The other man used the urinal too and they went back upstairs to the courtroom and sat down and waited. The D.A. came in and the young red-haired public defender took her place opposite him at the table in front of the benches where some of the other lawyers were already seated. The bailiff came in and checked the thermostat, tapping the little cage with his finger and peering at it before he sat down. Finally the clerk entered from a side door and called: All rise, and the judge came in, a short heavy dark-haired man in a black robe, and everybody stood until he was seated behind his high desk, then the clerk said: Be seated, and the judge called the first case.

Hoyt’s case came about an hour later. He sat beside the sheriff’s deputy, barely able to stay awake, while various Holt County defendants rose as their names were called and stood at the lectern between the lawyers’ tables and listened to the judge. A boy came forward and the judge motioned for him to take his cap off. The boy removed his cap. The judge asked him if he had acquired auto insurance since the last time he’d appeared in court. The boy said he had and held up a paper. All right, you can go, the judge said. A woman in jeans and a pink shirt was next and her lawyer rose beside her and told the court that one of the causes of her current stress was in custody in Greeley now and that she herself was ready to go to jail today at five o’clock. The judge sentenced the woman to seven days in the county jail and ordered that she abstain from alcohol for two years and informed her that she was to serve one year of supervised probation and do forty-eight hours of public service. When he finished speaking the woman turned and went out into the hall with two girlfriends. Her face had turned red and she had already begun to cry. Her friends put their arms around her waist and whispered softly to her whatever encouragement they could think of.

Then the sheriff’s deputy led the inmate next to Hoyt up to the lawyers’ lectern. The man’s name was Bistrum and he moved forward in his little shuffling steps. He was charged with possession of marijuana and the bouncing of checks, but due to a complication in his case the judge ordered him to return to court on the eighteenth of January. The man swung around to look at a tall girl sitting in the third row and mouthed words to her, and she whispered back to him, then he shook his head and shrugged his shoulders and the deputy led him shuffling back to their bench.

When the judge announced People of the State of Colorado vs. Hoyt Raines, the deputy nodded at him and said: You’re up, asshole. Hoyt gave him a grin and stepped forward. The young public defender stood up beside him and addressed the court.

Your Honor, we wish to advise the court that Mr. Raines has decided to enter a plea of guilty to the charge of misdemeanor child abuse. He is fully aware of the charges and he has been advised of his rights. We submit to the court this copy of the Advisement signed by the defendant.

She stepped to the bench and handed the judge the form. He reached down and took it, then she returned to her place beside Hoyt.

The judge looked at the form. Mr. Raines, do you understand your rights in this courtroom?

I understand them, Hoyt said.

And you understand the charges against you?

Yeah. But that don’t mean I like them.

You don’t have to like them. But you do have to understand them. And you’re telling the court that you do want to plead guilty to the charge of child abuse?

I guess so.

What do you mean you guess so.

I mean yeah, I do.

The judge looked at him for some time. He glanced at the papers in front of him, then addressed the district attorney: You agree that there is a factual basis for this case?

Yes, Your Honor.

What is your recommendation regarding Mr. Raines here?

Your Honor, we believe that since Mr. Raines has already served a month in jail, no further jail time is required. We recommend that there be a period of not less than a year of probation and that Mr. Raines accept without dispute whatever the probation officer reasonably recommends for treatment. We further recommend that the defendant refrain from any contact with the children in question and that he not be permitted to live in the Wallace household any longer.

The judge turned to the young lawyer. Do you concur with all we’ve just heard?

Yes, Your Honor.

Mr. Raines, have you yourself got anything to say?

Hoyt shook his head.

Am I to take that as a no?

No. I haven’t got anything more to say. What good would it do me anyhow.

That might depend upon what you said.

There ain’t nothing to say.

Then you will be remanded over to the sheriff and he will release you from custody today. You will contact the probation officer within twenty-four hours. The court orders you to serve one year of supervised probation. Further, you are ordered to pay full court costs, plus a fine of two hundred dollars, and to do ninety-six hours of public service. You will refrain from any contact with the Wallace children and you will no longer reside in the Wallace household. Any question?