The World is a Little More Beautiful Today

“Excuse me, is anyone sitting here?” 

Martha looked up at the woman smiling down at her. She was about the same age as her and was also dressed in her Sunday best, a floral dress with a straw hat. She was leaning on a cane with her left hand, while Martha leaned on hers with her right. They could have been sisters, a thought that sent a pang through Martha’s heart. “No. Please, be my guest,” she said as she pulled out the chair next to her.

“Thank you so much,” the woman said, easing into the seat. “I’m Agnes, but my friends call me Aggie.” 

“I’m Martha,” Martha said. “Do you come to these things often?” 

“Whenever I get a chance, but it’s not easy,” Aggie replied. “With my bad hip I can’t sit on the lawn, and these seats don’t have a senior discount. It’s outrageous, really. Why should we have to buy an overpriced meal to sit in a regular chair? We should at least be closer to the stage for what we’re paying!”

“I know how you feel,” Martha sighed. “It used to bother me too, but then I remember that the proceeds go to the families of the victims. So I suck it up, save my pennies, and enjoy the shows I’m lucky enough to attend.”

“That’s a wonderful way to look at it,” Aggie smiled. “You’re right, of course, this is all about justice.”

The waiter arrived at the table. “Good afternoon, ladies,” he said. “Have we decided on what we’re having for lunch?”

“I’ll have the chicken,” Martha said. 

“Chicken for me as well,” Aggie said. “I always order the chicken. It’s the only thing bland enough for my delicate stomach.” 

“Is your stomach too delicate for champagne?” Martha asked. “Because I was thinking of ordering a bottle.”

“Never!” Aggie laughed. “But I’m afraid I can’t afford it, even if I’m only paying for half.”

“Then please let it be my treat,” Martha said. “I’d hate to have to celebrate alone.” 

“In that case, who am I to say no?” Aggie laughed.  

The two settled into a comfortable silence as they sat back and enjoyed the warm summer day. They watched as people flowed steadily through the gates below and onto the Great Lawn, gradually covering it in a patchwork of colorful picnic blankets. Vendors in crisp white uniforms and red bow ties wove their way through narrow trails of grass selling snacks and souvenirs. The champagne arrived and the waiter poured two glasses before firmly shoving the bottle back into the bucket of ice it came in. The silence continued until the alcohol loosened Aggie’s tongue enough to voice the thought she’d been turning around in her head.

“So, what are we celebrating?” She asked.

“A better world,” Martha replied. She waved her glass over the Great Lawn. “Look down there. People from all races, all religions, all economic and cultural backgrounds, laughing and eating together like family. Children running around without a care in the world. It wasn’t anything like this when I was young.”

A young women appeared at their table. She was dressed in a white long-sleeved shirt with a red bow tie, and a black pencil skirt that fell several inches past her knees. Her hair was pulled back in a tight bun, and light makeup complimented her soft yet maturing face. Tasteful gold stubs decorated her earlobes. “Can I interest you in a pair of binoculars?” She asked. 

“You could interest me in two,” Martha said, winking at Aggie. 

“Oh, I couldn’t…” Aggie stammered. 

“Of course you can! Today is my treat!” Martha replied. She gave the money to the young woman, who in turn handed them each a pair of binoculars before heading to the next table. Martha watched her go. “Hard to believe there was a time a girl like her could show up to work with purple hair, a pierced tongue, a tattoo and her skirt up to her behind, and not get fired for it,” she commented.  

“Isn’t that the truth,” Aggie said. She swept her binoculars over the crowd on the Great Lawn. “All the young people down there are dressed appropriately as well. Not a bikini top or pair of ripped jeans in sight.” 

“You’d be hard pressed to find a retail store that sells them these days,” Martha said. “When my children were small they were everywhere, but I put my foot down and kept it down!” 

“Me too!” Aggie said. “It all starts with the clothes, doesn’t it? I didn’t want my children growing up to be thugs and sluts. Even helped organize a few marches back then. Did you ever march?”

“In Boston, Providence and St. Louis,” Martha said proudly. “If you want change you have to be the change.” 

“Hear, hear!” Aggie said, polishing off her glass. She stared into it thoughtfully. “When all that began, did you ever think it would lead us here?”

Suddenly the loudspeakers crackled to life. “Ladies and gentleman, we are experiencing a brief delay due to protesters. The police are clearing them out now, so we should be ready to begin in about fifteen minutes. Thank you for your patience.” 

Angry shouts rose up from the crowd like thunder. A few people jumped up and headed for the gates, only to be blocked by heavily armed security guards. After a heated exchange, they were all escorted back to their seats. “They should been allowed to go help the cops,” Martha said. 

“I know how you feel, but we need to let the police do their jobs,” Aggie said. “Taking the law into your own hands is exactly the kind of anarchy we fought so hard to eliminate.” 

Martha glared at Aggie with such intensity that she nearly fell out of her chair in shock. Her kind, cheerful face had suddenly transformed into a twisted scowl flushed with anger and alcohol. “You call helping the police anarchy? That mob outside would gladly burn down this stadium and kill us all to protect one criminal! Do you really want to go back to the way things were, Joanne? DO YOU??” 

“My name’s not Joanne!” Aggie cried, desperately looking around for assistance. Unfortunately everybody, including the staff, seemed very keen on minding their own business.

“I meant Ann! Abby! I don’t know I just…” Martha’s flustered attempts to remember Aggie’s name derailed her train of thought, and she dissolved into a sobbing heap. Aggie awkwardly waited for Martha to compose herself, which she did after a few minutes. “I’m sorry, Aggie,” she sniffled. “You must think I’m crazy.”

“No, I think you’re very sad,” Aggie gently replied. She pulled a handkerchief out of her bag and held it out to Martha, who gratefully accepted. “Who’s Joanne, if you don’t mind my asking?” 

“My sister,” Martha said weakly. “Today is her birthday. Or it would have been.” She swallowed hard and dabbed her eyes with the handkerchief.

Aggie refilled the glasses. “Then let’s have a toast to Joanne,” she said. “This is still a celebration, right?” Martha looked up and smiled weakly. 

“Ladies and Gentlemen, we are ready to begin!” The loudspeaker announced. “Please join us in remembering the life of Catherine Casey Sullivan.” The crowd hushed as the screen above the stage lit up to reveal the happy face of a sixteen-year-old girl. Then the slideshow began chronicling her short life, flashing through baby, Christmas and high school pictures as a narrator talked about what a wonderful person she was and how everybody loved her. 

“Joanne was only a few years older than that poor girl,” Martha sniffed. 

“Did they ever find her killer?” Aggie asked softly.

“Yes, but he never served a day in jail,” Martha said bitterly. “Too much red tape and bleeding hearts back then. Stuff that would never get in the way today.”

“I’m so sorry, Martha,” Aggie said. 

“We’ve come a long way since then,” Martha said. “Now we have a system that favors the victims instead of the criminals, and the world is a better place because of it.”

“Hers was a wonder life of promise that was cut short by a vicious criminal,” the narrator said. “Join us now as we deliver justice for Catherine Casey Sullivan.”

The crowd erupted in applause as the curtains parted to reveal the gallows. A thin, haggard man in an orange jumpsuit and shackles was led out by two guards. His name and age were unknown, since such details were never released by the state. He looked both very old and very young, as though he’d lived eighty years in a fraction of that time. Aggie and Martha watched through their binoculars as the black hood was placed over his head and the noose tightened around his neck. “Ladies and Gentlemen, Catherine’s family has opted to auction the First Right of Execution,” the loudspeaker announced. “The proceeds from the auction will be used to establish an art scholarship in Catherine’s name. Please welcome the winning bidder, Geoff Rushmore!” 

A middle-aged man jumped up from his picnic blanket on the Great Lawn and bounded up on stage to the cheers of the crowd. He took the microphone and used his allotted thirty seconds to give a shout out to his wife and kids, who were beaming at him from the crowd, and to declare how honored he was to be here before closing with “God bless America!” The crowd roared in approval. 

Finally, the moment arrived. As a drumroll sounded over the loudspeaker, Geoff kicked the stool out from under the condemned’s feet. His body jerked around like a marionette for several minutes. Gradually his movements began to slow until, eight minutes later, he was completely still. Moments later, the screen above the stage declared he was dead. The crowd erupted in cheers and applause, with friends and strangers alike exchanging hugs and high-fives. 

Aggie and Martha picked up their glasses. “To Joanne,” Aggie said.

“To us,” Martha smiled. 

Then the two old ladies in their Sunday best clinked their glasses, overjoyed in the knowledge that at that moment, the world had become just a little bit more beautiful.