Sylvia Almost Gone

Part Two: The Prosecution

Sylvia was not looking forward to the prosecution's witnesses. She had been able to swallow the words of Vivian's chosen people because she knew they all shared a common goal; that and she already knew most of their qualms about her. She knew her past employers didn't think fondly of her and she knew Namoi had wanted her dead since that night with Simon. But she hadn't a clue who Anne was planning on bringing to the stand, and that unease didn't lift after Anne called her first witness. If anything, it swelled.

"The prosecution calls Harry Mazur to the stand."

Sylvia buried her head in her hands. Harry Mazur was Anne and Sylvia's father. Sylvia wanted to vomit. She wanted nothing less than to sit ideally by while her father testified all of the reasons he didn't want his daughter dead. But because she had little sway in the direction of the case, in walked Harry through the doors at the back of the room.

He had apparently dressed up for the occasion, clad in the grey two-piece suit Sylvia only saw him wear to special meetings and the occasional religious ceremony; baptisms and such. He looked exactly as he had when Sylvia said goodbye to him just a few hours prior to the trial. Not goodbye, goodbye, of course. He and their mother were leaving for Maine for the weekend to celebrate their anniversary. Sylvia hadn't explicitly timed her suicide for their wedding anniversary, but the days worked out well. They would be gone from the house for three days so Sylvia would have time to go completely before anyone found her. She never meant to spoil their weekend — although, then again, maybe she did. She was still trying to get this 'terrible person all around' narrative to stick in her head.

Harry took the stand uneasily and Sylvia noticed him shaking a bit while he took his oath. She felt bad for him. She wished Anne would have found someone else to testify on her behalf.

"Will you please state your name and occupation for the court?" Anne asked, as if the man sitting before her was not her own father.

Harry answered with the same repression of familiarity. "My name is Harrison Mazur and I am an attorney."

It suddenly dawned upon Sylvia that her father was likely going to pick up on more than a few inconsistencies of the courtroom. She wondered if he'd care, or if he was going to be too focused on Sylvia and Anne to nitpick like he did whenever Sylvia watched movies with courtroom scenes with him.

"How are you related to Sylvia Mazur?" Anne asked.

"I am her father," Harry said without a beat. Sylvia stared at her father but he declined to meet her gaze, instead keeping himself fixed on Anne. Big shock there, Sylvia thought.

"And what did you think when you were called here to testify today?" Anne asked.

Harry fidgeted with the microphone in front of him, clearly displeased. Had he cut his vacation short to be here? Sylvia wondered.

"I was annoyed, of course," he said bitterly. "My wife and I were having a great time up in Maine when we got the call that our daughter was on trial for suicide. Maybe we should have expected it, but it was a shock nonetheless."

Sylvia was surprised by his cavalier attitude. It wasn't that she was hoping for sobs and moping, but a little compassion would have been nice.

"Do you want your daughter to die, Mr. Mazur?" Anne asked the question so brazenly it made Sylvia squirm.

Harry shook his head vigorously. "Of course not! She's my daughter, goddammit!" Harry had always been a man with a short temper, so it didn't surprise Sylvia that he got so worked up about this. She half-expected him to pull out a flask and take a swig and then mutter, "It's because of those damn liberals..."