HARMONY

Part 46 "He died."

Michelle shuffled and sorted the mounting knoll of documents Russ had piled for her on his kitchen table. Clusters of yellow sticky "sign here" notes marked endless documents. And she signed. She no longer tried to understand—her mind a collection of pulp. Any clarity of thought she could muster revolved around Drew.

Into the box marked "Business Papers" she dropped one pile, "House" another and "BK" still a third. Somehow, she had managed to close two deals last month and a measly paycheck would be coming—and going. Although Russ's generosity covered all attorney fees, she determined to repay him every penny.

Her husband's name leapt off the paper, but it read like a stranger's. Time toiled with her. She signed Michelle Kingsley, but it wasn't the same person. Still, she didn't want to revisit her maiden name. Just as she tackled the final stack, the phone rang and she looked at the caller ID. Oh God, it's Rosalia.

"Michelle, I'm afraid I have some potentially bad news."

Michelle leaned back in the chair and rubbed her neck. "Okay," she muttered. "Just... just tell me."

"Bruce died."

"Oh my God." Michelle placed her palm to her throat. "When? How? Oh my god. That poor family. I'm so sorry." She took a breath. "What does that mean for Drew? Is he a... murderer?"

"He is, but I--."

"He is? Isn't it self defense?" Michelle paced aimlessly around the room—her voice rising and plunging. "I mean there's no intent or premeditation or any of that stuff, right? Right? It's just self defense."

Rosalia patiently waited for Michelle. "The DA will be charging Drew with first degree murder, hoping for a guilty plea to involuntary manslaughter."

"So, what does that mean? Is there still a trial? Can Drew just plead to that and go on, I don't know, to probation or time served or community service or something?" Her shaking legs brought her to the sofa.

"Michelle, a conviction carries a minimum two-year sentence and the judge could sentence him for up to four years."

"That's just unacceptable. It's not right. He can't spend two years in prison for defending himself. How is that possible? You call that justice? That's not justice. It's not; it's wrong. He's innocent. He has to go free. He can't—"

"Take a few deep breaths," Rosalia said.

With a motion to throw the phone against the wall, Michelle screamed into the air. 

"No! I will not! I will not take a few deep breaths! My son is not, do you hear me, not spending one more fucking day in prison!" 

She hung up the phone. 

And she cried.