“And you didn’t pay?”
“No, your honor.”
“You owe Mr. Claryn eight hundred dollars in owed rent. What’s next?” The judge moves quickly and glances back at her paper. “Mr. Claryn, why are you asking for eight thousand?”
“Well, you see, when she left, she left the apartment in such a terrible state that I couldn’t rent it out again for months. I had to pay an insane amount to get a lot of things repaired.”
“Damage?” The judge glances up. “What damage?”
“There was a door hanging off its hinge, several broken windows, a smashed table and holes in the wall, your honor.”
My eyes narrow, attention splitting between the sudden paleness on Maeve’s face and the smug look in George’s eye. From where I’m sat, I can’t see his whole face, but something about his tone makes my gut twist.
“Do you have pictures?” The judge holds out her hand as George nods and passes the pictures to the officer of the court. He delivers them to the judge and she flicks through them. “What is this? What did you do to the apartment, Maeve?”
“That wasn’t me.” Maeve’s voice trembles as she speaks. “That was all him.”
“You’re claiming he did this?”
Maeve nods.
“Tell me what happened.”
“He was angry with me about the missed rent but he kept telling me it was alright. Then one night, he came around the apartment and he was so angry with me because he’d seen someone leave the apartment and claimed I was cheating on him.”
“Cheating?” The judge’s brow lifts. “Were you two in a relationship?”
“No.” Maeve shakes her head sharply. “But he acted like we were.”
“Is this true?” Her head snaps to George.
“No,” George replies. “She always had men coming and going. I never questioned it because it wasn’t my business.”
“That’s not true!” Maeve cuts in. “I had a… friend come by one night and two nights later, he turned up at my door yelling at me for cheating on him. He kicked down the door. That’s why it was broken. He attacked me. The holes in the wall are from his fists when I was trying to calm him down because my baby was in the next room. He hit me and threw me on the table. That’s why it broke. I don’t know how the windows broke, but it wasn’t me. It was him. That’s also why I ran from the apartment.”
Every word from Maeve cuts deeper and deeper into me. She pours out this pain into a cold courtroom to a judge who looks very unimpressed throughout the whole thing.
“Do you have any pictures?” the judge asks.
“Of what, your honor?”
“You claim he attacked you so I’m assuming there were injuries. Do you have any proof of those?”
“I–I…” Maeve stands there like a deer in headlights. “No, I never thought to?—”
“Because it’s not true,” George interrupts. “I never did any of those things. She had men coming and going at all hours and her apartment was like that when I found it. I figured she was a prostitute and a client got angry or something.”
“No!” Maeve raises her voice. “That’s a lie.”
“Miss Jackson.” The judge cuts in calmly. “Did you file a police report for the incident?”
“No. I didn’t call the police.”
“What about going to the hospital?”
“No.”
“Do you have anything to back up your claims?”
