Tomorrow Sounds Exhausting

The Man Who Knew

The courtroom was dead silent. Victor Diaz staring down on the jury from the podium. My voice was steady, my countless days on the case made my argument undeniable, but all my hard work all added up to this moment. I had them in the palm of my hands as usual. "Ladies and Gentlemen," Diaz calmly stated, "you know what you have to do." They did. I won. The courtroom exploded in joy. The man's family was relieved. Victor could hear the applause still, the tears of happiness from his client, the murmurs of admiration, the weight of the case lifted from his shoulders like gravity had been turned off. He blinked. The applause was gone. The courtroom was gone. The feeling of hard work and dedication had faded. Victor sat in his apartment, alone. His hands empty, no papers, no arguments, no victory, just an empty Jack Daniel's bottle and a reminder of how much quieter life had become since then. Victor didn't expect much today, nonetheless ever. Off a hangover, a lesser man could survive. I got my stuff together and started walking. I threw on my coat and some nice chucks to remind me of the good ol days. Victor, with his once sharp navy, now blueish grayish coat, started his walk to his favorite spot. The 117th Street Cafe.

The cafe wasn't far away, just a few blocks down. Diaz's passion wasn't in walking to the cafe though, it was reaching it. Victor's muscle memory carried him to his final destination. He has walked these streets for the last seventeen years, thirteen years straight. His name had meant something to this neighborhood, to this cafe, to his city. Now, for the last four years, it was a place to sit, drink coffee, and believe that the world outside wasn't moving without him. As he finally approached the esteemed cafe, the smell of espresso and the feeling of ambition filled Victor's senses. "One order of the classic dark please," I asked the young barista. He never acknowledged me, but handed me a receipt and told me, "To wait five minutes, it'll be out soon." As I sat down in the corner of the shop closest to the jukebox but furthest from the people as I've had all these years.

As I opened the news paper with my coffee on the desk and IPods connected, I let the nostalgic hum of an old playlist leak into my ears. The click wheel scrolled with ease, stopping on something that the times would understand but an old soul like myself wish would’ve came out earlier.

Frank Ocean - White Ferrari

“Bad luck to talk on these rides.” Victor took a slow sip, letting the music and the bitterness settle in his chest. The recently released song had created a new found echo appearing to be from a different life. A life where Victor Diaz’s name meant something. When he meant something. Diaz’s eyes drifted over the headlines, not really reading them. Rather spectating the world move around him, same as always. For minutes that felt like months it was just him, his coffee, his sanity, and his music that had been playing in his head long before pushing play.

“Uh excuse me sir,” responded a young yet matured voice disrupt Mr Diaz. “Excuse me sir are you the Victor Diaz?” Victor blinked, pulling his earbuds out as he looked up. There she was, standing boldly in-front of him a young woman in professional attire, with a vibe of determination and grit Victor at the time didn’t believe was possible still. “I’ll take that as a yes then,” her tone now sharper but still polite. Victor blinked again, rubbing his forehead. He didn’t recognize the young woman and he prayed that it was a long lost daughter of his. He assumed alone that she was either an eager law student or a witty news reporter ready to interrogate him over who knows what. He finally made contact with her asking, “Yeah, that’s me but who’s asking?” “I’m Claire Monroe” she repeated with a slight smile, a mix of admiration and curiosity in her voice. “I’m actually a huge fan of your work. You probably don’t remember, but I’ve followed your cases for years. You’re the reason I decided to go to law school.” I raised an eyebrow, slightly taken aback from this realization that there are people that actually CARE? “Fan, huh” I replied skeptically, but I couldn’t help but have my ego swell up completely. “Well I’m flattered, but I don’t exactly keep tabs on who admires me anymore the list has grown short.” Claire’s expression softened, not put off by Victor’s bluntness. She grabbed a chair and sat directly in front of him. “I know this isn’t 2003 or 2012 anymore, but I wanted to tell you thank you. What you did in court was astronomical to the point where a real person myself became desperately to become a lawyer by any means. Victor felt a long awaited pull in his chest. The words genuine, the feeling beautiful, the aftermath horrible. I drummed my fingers against the table and responded “I did what I had to do kid. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Claire leaned forward intensely, her gaze never breaking from Victor’s restless eyes. “But that’s just it,” she said, her voice steady. “You didn’t just do what you had to do you did what no one else could. You won cases that should’ve been impossible. You fought for people that the system had already thrown away. You never even lost a case.” Victor scoffed, leaning back in his chair. “And look where it got me.” He gestured vaguely around him the cafe, the crumpled newspaper, the nearly empty coffee cup. “The world keeps moving, kid. It just keeps moving, swallowing you whole without even noticing. Claire didn’t flinch. “Maybe. But I’m not here because of gossip. I’m here because I want to learn from you.” “Out of all people you want to learn from me?” Victor said sarcastically. She nodded. “I just graduated law school. Top of my class.” A small smirk tugged at the corner of her lips, as if daring him to challenge her credentials. “And I don’t just want to be a lawyer I want to be the best. You taught me that from a distance. Now, I want to learn from you up close.” I stared at her, trying to decipher the sincerity in her gaze. In that moment, I felt something stir a reluctant spark of pride, mingled with the bitter taste of regret. The thought that someone so young, so full of hope, could look up to me. It was both flattering and terrifying.

“Alright,” I finally muttered, the words heavy with resignation and something like longing. “I’ll talk. But I can’t promise it’ll be pretty. Life’s messy full of mistakes and moments that haunt you. Claire’s smile broadened, and she leaned back, giving me space to breathe. “I wouldn’t want it any other way,” she said softly. “Maybe together we can figure out what it all means.” As she stood up to leave, she reached into her bag and pulled out a folder, handing it to him. “This is my resume,” she said, her voice hopeful. “I know this isn’t a typical mentorship request, but I’m serious about learning from you. If you can find even a little time, I’d appreciate it.” Victor sat in the silence of the cafe, the weight of Claire’s words lingering in the air like the last note of a song he didn’t know he was still listening to. He glanced at the folder in his hands, the edges slightly worn from his fingers drumming against it. “Maybe I’ve been running on autopilot for too long,” he thought to himself, his voice echoing in his head, “so focused on keeping my head down and pretending the world didn’t care, that I forgot the one thing I used to believe in what I could do, if I still gave a damn.”

“Time doesn’t wait for anyone, but maybe I’ve still got a few moments left to take.”