As for the day’s big news, namely the Edict of Lunch, it was not only upsetting as a procedural matter (checking out the judge’s tonsils for no good reason was no good) but proved substantively confusing, as well. Based on her exact words, I couldn’t deduce the status of lunch: Would I ever be allowed to eat lunch again? Would the innocent people of the third circuit—including New Jersey, Delaware, Pennsylvania, and the Virgin Islands—have to abstain also? Depriving James and Kevin of lunch for a year was no way to thank them for being supportive friends. Especially Kevin, with whom I’d not yet established a long enough positive history to throw in the bad stuff.

I called Sanjay to get his take on the situation.

“Well, Sheila, um, I, can you hold on just one second . . . no, no I told you I needed those X-rays in room 602. No, I didn’t say 622. Six-oh-two. OK, I’ll be there in a second. Hey, um, Sheila, what were you saying? Actually, can I just call you later?” The phone went dead before I could respond.

James was still wearing his suit when I went down to his apartment. “Hey there,” he said, greeting me with neither a smile nor a frown. It was the kind of apathy that normally took a lifetime to generate. But I couldn’t blame him really. It was impossible to differentiate one evening from another.

“Hi. My life sucks,” I complained dispassionately, sinking (as usual) into his hand-me-down pastel couch. James had even uglier furniture than me.

“Sheila—your life sucks right now,” James qualified, squinting his eyes and tilting his head in an attempt to find something original to say. As if looking at me from a sharp angle might help. “And anyway, at least you don’t have to dress like this,” he said, pointing to his navy blue suit. “And if it makes you feel any better, I had a horrific day,” he said, loosening his tie. “His scooter died—allegedly—today. I had to wheel him into court so he could hear a motion. He told one of the lawyers that he couldn’t believe she’d passed the bar exam, because she was so incompetent, denied the motion, and motioned for me to retrieve him. All the while, my delicate flower coclerk just sat smiling at the judge. Anyway, I go up to the bench to get him when all of a sudden the little scooter fucking turns back on and goes fully out of control.”

In spite of a concerted effort to take the situation seriously, I laughed.