Mary's Bad Day
This is a story about the worst day of Mary's life. Mary was not a natural-born Newfoundlander; she was born and raised in an affluent area of Toronto. She was well-schooled, naturally friendly, and very pretty. She was the only child of Jim and Maureen Sumpner.
It was in college that she met the love of her life, and soon after graduation they married and settled in Twillingate, Newfoundland—Barry's hometown—where Mary found employment as a legal assistant in an office tower downtown. And so the newlywed Tudders were set to live happily ever after.
That Thursday was a particularly beautiful day in Twillingate, so Ms. Mary Sumpner-Tudder and a couple of other girls from the office decided to go to their favourite little sidewalk café for lunch. They arrived shortly after twelve o'clock and ordered lunch with drinks. Mary didn't really care for the food that day and didn't do much more than a little pecking. The wine, on the other hand, was going down quite well, and before she knew it, she was feeling the effects. Nearing the end of the lunch hour, she excused herself from the table and went to the lady's room, leaving her phone on the table.
While she was away, the phone rang, and Brenda decided to pick up. "Hello", she said. "Oh yes, Mr. Tudder, this is the right number. Mary is in the washroom at the moment. I'll let her know you called. No trouble, good-bye.".
When Mary returned from the washroom, Brenda gave her the message, and she and Carla began sorting out the bills and getting ready to return to the office. Meanwhile, Mary sat down to call her husband. Her companions could tell immediately that the conversation was not going to go well, so they signalled to Mary that they would go ahead without her.
It was a short conversation that left Mary sitting and sobbing by herself. She ordered another glass of wine, picked up her phone, and logged on to her Facebook. She posted about how her husband was cheating on her and that he was leaving her. She ordered more wine. A friend commented, then another, then more wine, more comments, and more crying.
At around half past three, she was interrupted by the phone. It was her boss. He was very angry, and it was another short call and yet another reason to cry and order more wine. In one afternoon, just since walking into this restaurant, she had lost her husband and her job. Things couldn't get much worse.
By six o'clock, she was ready to go home to her empty house. She rose from her seat and walked to the bar to pay her bill. While engaging in some small talk with the bartender, she fumbled through her purse to find her wallet. Suddenly realizing that her wallet was not there, she began to freak out and, once again, started to break down. The bartender, recognizing her as a regular, tried to calm her down and reassure her that her tab could be settled another time. He even gave her some money for a cab.
She stood there at the curb, waiting for a cab to come by, but none came. She knew she should not drive, but there were no taxis, buses, or any other way to get home. Finally, she reached into her purse and grabbed her keys. "Where did I leave my car?"
Finally realizing that her car was in the lot at her former employer's office, she set off in that direction. A few minutes later, after some fresh air and a brisk walk, she was feeling better and more confident about driving. "I'm fine. Sure I am; I can do this.". She unlocked the door, sat in the driver's seat, and started the car.
She pulled out onto the street with a left turn and headed west towards home. As she drove, she kept muttering to herself about everything that had happened that day. She couldn't believe she was alone and unemployed. "This can't be happening; it can't all be true. Barry will realize that he's making a mistake. He'll come home. I will go into the office tomorrow and plead to get my job back. People like me there; I know they do."
And then the lights came on. Blue and red, and right behind her. "Oh fuck! This cannot be happening." She began to cry.
The officer approached the car and rapped on the window. Rolling down the window, with tears streaming down her pretty cheeks, she started, "I'm so sorry, officer. I don't know what I'm doing, but my husband left me and, and..."
"Ma'am, have you been drinking?"
"Yes. Yes, I had a little wine."
"Okay, ma'am, calm down now. I'm going to have to see your driver's licence."
"I don't have it. My wallet was stolen. You can ask the bartender."
"The bartender? Okay, can you tell me your name?"
"Okay, Mary, do you have a last name?"
"Uh yeah, it's, it's..."
"It's... It's... Sump'n 'er Tudder"