+1+
“Timelines are everything”, Martina says twirling her dry erase marker.
Martina turns up the A/C in her small windowless office. Martina Haskell’s small tax law practice was neatly nestled in a row of office condos that looked like little charming houses stacked next to each other. The offices were just across the street from the massive Eastern North Carolina Justice complex, an intimidating maze of squat brown office buildings with a massive parking lot and shuttles. The maze of buildings made up the county offices, courts and the state’s attorney office. From the window I could see the building where the trial would play out. It looked so small. So ordinary.
“We need to be able to lock down the day he abused you with concrete events”, Martina continues, “Unfortunately we have the burden of proof. As far as the system is concerned…Allen Fenton is innocent.”
Martina is so confident I almost forgot she isn’t a prosecutor. Every time she makes a statement she looks to the woman sitting next to me for confirmation. Prosecutor Blair Cartwell doesn’t stop Martina so Martina keeps going. When I first arrived at Martina’s office I hadn’t know who the sharp dressed blonde was ---I’d been talking so much with Martina over the phone these past few months that I’d forgotten Martina was only there to prep for the civil case against the hospital.
Prosecutor Blair Cartwell was an intensely serious woman and took notes every time Martina spoke. Cartwell had explained early in the meeting that it was unusual for a prosecutor to work so closely with an outside attorney, but Martina had talked her into using her as a consultant.
“Timelines?” I repeated just to make it sound like I was listening but I couldn’t stop looking at the building.
Cartwell clears her throat and starts scribbling madly on her legal pad. I’d slept like shit last night. After Katie’s admission that the Fentons lived in the fucking neighborhood, I’d gone back inside the trailer and tried to keep busy by unpacking.
I spent most of the day quieting Elijah and going over the documents relating to the case over and over again, until Judson brought back a dinner from Taco Bell for their traditional Taco Tuesday dinner. Tammi-Lynn and Evianna were thrilled when they saw the food, they didn’t even notice it was lukewarm because the only Taco Bell was across the bridge. I warmed up my quesadilla but having to pull the chicken out made me feel like shit for some reason.
All the excitement of being around other children had gotten to Elijah who stayed up all night crying. I took him outside and we sat in the car with the A/C on high until he tired himself to sleep around 4am. I’d left early in the morning after helping Tomas us the small inaccessible shower. Elijah was still not used to a car seat and cried the whole way to Petal Brooke.
“We talked about establishing timelines”, Martina continues sitting on her desk, “Like the power went out the first time Allen kissed you, right? Well we’ve got a report verifying the power went out on August 5th that summer. See. Timeline.”
“Hmm”, Cartwell says, she crosses her legs and is careful not to tap Elijah’s car seat sitting under the window A/C.
“We can also focus on the mitigating circumstances that prove he had opportunity”, Martina sets out some news articles, “Look, There was a hospital staffing shortage in 2005. To get more support staff Petal Brooke Regional Hospital created CCA—Care Connect Academy, an expedited program to hire and certify CNA’s, caretakers and orderlies in 15 weeks.
The program was unaccredited last year by the state and has been under intense scrutiny. They were certifying people through this half-ass programs at unbelievable rates and most graduates haven’t been able to find work outside the system. There was no hands on training or background checks done. If the hospital had properly screened employees they would have noticed Fenton’s low IQ and lack of social skills would have made him unfit as a CNA and they certainly wouldn’t have left him alone in a ward with patients needing critical care. No to mention if the hospital was properly staffed Nurse Golden wouldn’t have had to farm out her duties to a CNA so she could manager higher priority patients.”
“This isn’t her fault.” I had to speak up for Nurse Golden.
“Doesn’t matter”, Cartwell said, “Nurse Golden gave Allen Fenton unsupervised access to patients. We aren’t charging her but we don’t owe her any favors. Not to mention she withheld information from the authorities for four years?”
“She was good to me.”, I explain, “She inspired me to become a nurse, I don’t want to throw her under the bus. I don’t blame her…can I say that on the stand?”
Cartwell laughs a little, “God, no.”
“It’s not really prevalent to the case”, Martina tries to soften Cartwell’s words, “ I’m not saying Monica Golden is guilty. . . but she never reported her suspicions because she didn’t want to get in trouble for letting a CNA work with a female patient unsupervised. She empowered him. And the only reason we have a real case is because Nurse Cici submitted a report about the tampons”
I shifted uncomfortably. This wasn’t like on the phones where we talked about process. This was getting into the truth of the matter, and if the pamphlet I read on criminal court cases meant anything it means the other side was gathering all the same information
“What tampons?” I asked. I hadn’t seen that in any of the paperwork.
Martina shuffles the papers on the desk , “Sofia, you said that it was fall of 2005 when Allen first raped you?”
“Yes.”, I realized that was something I was going to have to get used to saying, “It was October, there were pumpkins decorating my room. What does this have to do with tampons?”
Cartwell jumps in and reads from her notebook.
“According to records--- on October 9th 2005 Nurse Cici noticed you were spotting. They were tracking your period and it looked like it was 12 days early. She was going to report it as suspicious to upper management when Fenton told her about how he had to cover for Nurse Golden because of the shortage. He told Nurse Cici that he misunderstood your period chart and tried to insert a tampon. He said he thought he knew what he was doing, panicked and had accidentally ruptured your hymen.”
I involuntarily bought my hands to my face, feeling a cool rush of shame. I had known that Allen claimed to be not guilty, but I hadn’t heard his defense.
“What if that’s true?” I ask.
“Is it?” Cartwell looks at me accusingly.
“No”, I say but try to really think about it... It just couldn’t have been, “His hands were on …I just--
“That’s good”, Cartwell says, “Remember on the stand to say where his hands were---anyway, the hospital had money problems and Nurse Golden says that the nurse on the floor were donating sanitary napkins because they were easier to use and there was less risk of TSS. We even have a news article about the donations to prove it. I can get two other nurses who will testify that they never used tampons on critical care patients. Also that day someone used a loophole medical code to have you tested for toxins and STIs. Why do that for a patient in a coma? “
“I wasn’t in a coma. My injury caused paralysis--”
“The hospital didn’t know that at the time, which bodes well for your case against the hospital.”
“Nurse Golden knew I was in there”, I tell them--remembering how she never treated me like furniture, “What about everything else he did. How do we prove that? “
There is a distinct silence and Martina and Cartwell trade glances.
“Sofia, I’ve looked at the evidence and discovery”, Cartwell cut in before Martina can, “The rape that took place the evening of October 8th is the only instant of sexual abuse we can prove without a doubt. I can prosecute on that. I’m actually only going to prosecute him on that one rape.”
“What?” I sat up in my chair.
“I don’t have the resources to fully investigate and charge him for all 19 rapes or the countless assault charges”, Cartwell goes on, “It’s too much to ask from a jury, so we need to focus on the one assault we can prove.”
“But”, Martina jumps in, “If he’s not convicted…he can be tried again for the other crimes later.”
“Good luck in a he-says-she-says case”, Cartwell offers unhelpfully, “We are just charging him for one count of felony rape in the first degree unless he pleas out.”
“So, what? It doesn’t matter.” I ask her, “The months he tortured me inside that fucking hospital because they cut corners and hired him ... None of that matters? ”
“Save that for your civil case against the hospital”, Cartwell says, “And look I’ve been to enough sensitivity trainings to know not to say this but . . . do you really want to put all of that out there--- knowing we can’t prove it.”
She gestures to the statement I’d given to the police. They’d come to New York to interview me and I’d prepped for days by writing down everything I remembered. It was little things like the way he spent too much time washing and stroking my face. Or the way he sat with me during power outages monitoring the generator while molesting me. How I’d gotten used to his weight baring down on me and the soreness that would follow. For months I only had the ability to move my eyes and I had to will my body to move so I could protect myself. I always had to protect myself.
“We will get him on this charge”, Martina says coming from around her desk, and “We’ll get the hospital in the civil. Trust me no one is coming out of this unscathed but you.”
“Did you know his family still lives in the neighborhood?” I asked Martina, “What if they make bail? He could be living a few blocks from me.”
Cartwell and Martina looked at one another, clearly this was news to them.
“People on that side of town are pretty transient, but we can file a restraining order”, Cartwell says, “But then they’ll know where you are living. Just avoid the Fentons, they are never going to be able to scrape together enough money for bail. If anyone talks to you call the police, then call me. I’ve dealt with the Fenton family in court before. Petty shit mostly”
“Should I be worried?” I ask.
“They aren’t dangerous”, Cartwell said, “Just stupid and poor like everyone on that side of town.”
“You really shouldn’t talk about them that way just because they live in Riverside.”
“Everyone in Riverside is like that”, she says gathering her notebooks, “I should know. I’m from there. Martina will work with you on your testimony. We’ll met next week to go over cross-examination.”
Cartwell can’t seem to get out of there fast enough. She packs up quickly and doesn’t even say goodbye. I felt bad pissing off someone who was supposed to be on my side.
“Hey, Sofia”, Martina said, “Let’s work on your testimony, okay?”
“I’m not good at talking about this.”
Martina chews the end of her pencil, “You know…the defense might ask why you kept quiet.”
“I was so ashamed. It was so embarrassing and felt private. I told a therapist”
“Who you were seeing for your bi-polar disorder? We don’t want to open the door for you to be interrogated on that. Look, I want you to go home and think about what you want to say. This has been a lot and don’t let Cartwell get to you. She has a good record of always making her cases.”
“Okay.”
“We can do this. We’ve got six weeks until the trial.”
+2+
Tomas
I don’t usually judge the skin or bodies underneath my needle when I’m working, but there is something different about the way people in Riverside wear their skin. It’s rougher from battling the weather, drugs and working on the mountain. A dark sense of humor, empty pockets, bruises and track marks usually tell me right away who someone is. Where they are from
Riverside Tattoo looked exactly like how I’d left it two years ago, it wasn’t accessible so Judson helped me up to the curb. Riverside Tattoo was at the end of a shopping center in-between a check cashing operation and sketchy mini mart where you could get good deals on razors and diapers. It was one of the dozens of failed strip mall set up in the 90’s to revitalize this area, but crappy retail jobs with crappy minimum wage meant no one could afford anything.
The shop was smaller than I remembered. It still had dingy orange tile floors with chairs set up behind a dirty glass desk, the owner’s office was in the back. A picture of the original owner, Virgo, was by the door with a countdown until his release date—34 years left. There were still only three chairs plus the back booth Judson rented to piercers. Now there was a “Help Wanted” sign draped over it. I’d been working on piercing with Brightly back in New York, and while I had a piercing gun in my bag, I didn’t have a North Carolina license.
Judson turned on a point of sale system with the QuickPizza logo still visible underneath the bumper stickers covering it, he stood on the reception desk and powered up his sound system. The walls are covered in photos of tattoos from magazines and Judson’s portfolio pages are taped over his station. Venus would have called it cluttered and no art was allowed anywhere in her shop without a frame. The other walls were covered in graffiti, some of it was actually pretty cool and one wall was dedicated to UNC.
“You can have your old chair.” Judson said, “Bobby’s got the other one.”
I nod and inspect the station, it was a fucking mess. The chair was covered in ink stains and what I’m hoping isn’t blood. I spent the morning patching the holes with duct tape and throwing out the dirty metal tray with old tools on it. The inks in my drawer are muted and there is a bucket of needles sitting in. . .vodka?
“Come on man”, I said throwing the needles away.
“Hey”, he said, “There is a recession going on. I got to be savvy.”
“Fuck that shit, someone could die in here.”
Or get HIV, I think to myself
The other artist, Bobby, came in around noon and complained about the smell of my disinfectant. Judson said we’d have to battle it out with each other and I couldn’t fight when I was a teenager let alone in a wheel chair.
Judson has more visitors than clients, which never bothered me when I worked here before because I didn’t care about making money -- just midday naps in my chair and daydreaming about having sex with Sofia.
I was a fucking joke back then.
Emma from high school stopped in on her way to work managing the fancy new Starbucks on the Riverfront Pier. Mrs. Bailey from the house on the corner came in just to get out of the heat. A few people stop in to get their bandages taken off which Judson doesn’t charge for, only a few of the tattoos have distorted from swelling but there are a ton of memorandum tattoos. Like a lot. I’d noticed Judson had one on his leg for Katie’s ex, Tony.
“The fuck is going on?” I ask when Judson finishes removing another bandage from another memorandum tattoo, this one is angel wings and is for Laurie who used to work with my Mom.
“Sometimes there is bad shit, you know.” Judson says. I didn’t entirely know what he meant by that but I didn’t ask. I just needed to lay low, make some money and get the fuck back to New York.
Some junkies came in to buy some needles and syringes which Judson sold for $10 each. I didn’t say anything as Judson pocketed the cash instead of putting it in the register. I also kept quiet when he fished the needles I’d thrown out and sold them for a quick profit.
When it was really quite he and Bobby crowded around his table and I could see them cooking something up with the mixers Judson kept right out in the open by his station.
“Oh, fuck it”, Bobby says the minute that syringe is down, “Damn that’s so fuckin’ quick, man”
I’d never felt like an outsider in this shop… but suddenly I wanted to disappear. What was I going to do? Give them the say no to drugs talk when I knew that facing the reality of this fucking shitty town sober was nearly impossible.
“Come on, Tomas”, Judson said offering me a syringe, “It’s ain’t fucking meth or anything made in a basement or some shit. The construction guys are practically giving it away when they get off disability.”
There was still a pill left in the bag, Judson used the butt of his tattoo gun to ground it but I recognized the fentanyl. It was the same pills Dr. Lane had given me to manage the pain while I was gone. That shit couldn’t be that good? I’d taken one a day and it just barely took the edge off.
The bell chimed, Judson jumped and began stuffing the pills in his drawer. A young Marine was browsing up front and uneasily made his way toward us. Out of respect I let Judson give an offer first but I could tell the guy liked my portfolio better, Judson did some amazing trace work but I always drew from scratch because I could charge more.
The Marine and I scheduled some time and I asked him to bring his military ID, like Venus did to avoid any stolen valor situations. It felt good to have something to work on, it sure as hell took my mind off the pain in my legs.
“It’s still 40/60”, Judson said not at all hiding his jealousy.
“40/60.” I repeat.
Judson orders a pizza for lunch, taking a few bucks out of the till. Bobby gets fed up with the how slow it is and just wanders out for—high as fucking kite--for the day to make some “real money.”
At five Judson closes up for the day. He brings his bright orange jeep around and I pull myself in the car while he unceremoniously chucks my wheelchair in the back. We don’t talk but listen to his favorite classic rock station and drive around town. We stop to cash his disability check from the state park and Katie’s Medicaid check. We stop off every now and then when we see people we recognize on the street. Everyone is asking about my Mom and most think I’m back for good—which I am so fucking not.
When we get back to the trailer one of my old roommates Tex is out front with his teenage stepdaughter. His stepdaughter was stuffed in jean shorts and the kind of white tank top Sofia usually wore under a shirt.
“Look at you kid”, he said in his Texas drawl that had earned him the name Tex. I couldn’t count how many times I had to camp out in the living room when he and my mom where fucking behind his wife’s back.
“Don’t tell me I owe you money.” I said.
“I mean ya Mama did, but shit… forget that for now.”
His stepdaughter kept smiling at me and I kept hoping he’d re-introduce us because I couldn’t remember her name. There wasn’t much between Tex and I other than we used to share a bathroom and joint every now and then for 2 years.
“People are saying it ain’t right, you know”, Tex says as Katie comes out of the trailer and brings Tex a beer and some waters for me and Tex’s stepdaughter.”
“What? My mom’s death?”
“No. Just you know…with the Fenton boy.”
I felt my body seize up at the name. I hadn’t really told anyone except Judson why I was back in town but people were bound to put two and two together. I was a nobody in the Riverside community but there was always trouble when someone from Petal Brooke went after someone from Riverside.
“Boy? He’s what in his late thirties?”
“I mean”, Tex said, “I ain’t saying the he’s not weird or whatever. His Uncle said he’s one of them simple minded fools or whatever . . . but he’s got a family now. He’s been taking care of his daddy since he was a little boy and helping out his Mama. He was homeschooled …ain’t never really left the house until a few years back. His Mama just set him up with a nice girl at the church. Rumor is he just lost his virginity to her.” He laughs at the last part.
“Really, Tex?” I said shooting a look at his stepdaughter while also wishing I could storm off.
“I’m just saying he ain’t never intentionally done anything to anybody. He ain’t holding up to well in jail, he’s been in and out of the infirmary. Prison will be worse and his Mama is barley holding it together. Look I don’t know what happened…no one does? I mean why is she starting trouble now? What changed? His fiancé has kids who are now in a group home cause of this shit—and you know how those place are. She’s tearing up a fucking family over this shit--
“Tex”, I said now getting it. He was here to guilt me, “I have nothing to do with Sofia’s case. All that happened before I knew her.”
Which was true, but deep down inside this was about the suing the hospital. This was about money because everything was.
“Yeah, people around here know that. No one’s blaming you. I know how those Petal Brooke girls are. You slap there ass in bed and they want to give you the death sentence. I’m saying this shit ain’t worth breaking up a family. We don’t handle our shit like that.” He lights a cigarette and my mouth starts watering at just the thought of smoking one.
“I know. But she’s not from here. Does the whole town know why we’re here?”
“Nah, mostly just the people who go to church with the Fentons.”
“You go to church now?’
“You can find the best ass I church.” He said, “Come on now.”
He said the last part to his stepdaughter, who popped up and waived at me as she sauntered towards Tex’s pick up. He blew his horn and Judson waived from out the window.
+3+
Katie’s friends from school come over a little after Tex leaves. The three of them all pile out of Janie Colbie’s 2000 Ford Explorer, the thick smell of make-up and hairspray that surrounded them just drew attention the faint bruises and acne scares they were trying to hide. They make two huge Crockpots full of pasta for dinner, and are all in deep conversation about planning a baby shower and talking about Dance team. Garrnett, who is only five months older than Elijah, is running around the trailer while Evianna and Tammi-Lynn are still camped out in the living room dancing along to a Disney Channel show. I sort of missed this kind out loud chaos, it was a lot less pretentious than the crowd back in New York.
This is temporary
I remind myself
Sofia pulls up a few minutes later. Elijah is in meltdown mode and she rushes to the backroom to change him. Tammi-Lynn and Evianna get excited when she brings Elijah back out because they liked playing with a baby who wasn’t their brother, but all their attention just upsets Eli and he starts screaming until he’s red in the face, they quickly hand him back to Sofia.
Katie takes a break from baby shower planning to fix Sofia a plate, Sofia tries to refuse another free meal but Katie just puts her hand on Sofia’s shoulder before going back to her friends. Sofia picks up Elijah and goes to eat outside. I pull a wine cooler out of the fridge and follow her. She lays her thin sweatshirt on the grass and sets Elijah down so he can continue his tantrum.
Judson and I’d found a board in a pile of junk by an abandoned parking lot and it made a pretty sturdy ramp that I move down slowly.
“How was the shop?” she asks.
“I think I lost $4.00”, I say half-joking but I did have to tip the pizza guy. “I booked a military client but I doubt he’s going to come back.”
“Tomas”, she says shaking her head, “We only have 650 dollars left. We can’t keep taking food from Katie and Judson. We should be good to cover the rent for the room this month but it takes a lot of gas to go back and forth between Riverside and Petal Brooke.”
“There is a bus that goes to the Justice Complex”, I tell her because of course the only cross-bridge bus went to the courthouse. “What about you. How was it with the lawyers?”
“It was awful”, she admitted and the flood gates opened, “And this was just the first day. This whole things doesn’t feel like justice it feels invasive. All they want to focus on was that first time. Which wasn’t even the worse moment because I didn’t realize what had happened until it was over. It’s like …maybe if I would have talked to a doctor or wrote a diary or something, but why would anyone believe me? I’m starting to have second thoughts—“
My phone alarm inconveniently blares and I silence it.
“Do you need some water?” Sofia asks.
“…I forgot to stop by the pharmacy for my refill.”
“Tomas”, she twist open the cap to the wine cooler, “Are we really going to have this conversation again. You have to take your HARRT.”
“The pharmacies here don’t carry it, I’d have to go across the bridge to pick it up and I couldn’t exactly ask Judson to use all his gas so I can my get my AIDS medication. Things are tight for everyone.”
"Stop saying that", she says
"What ? That everyone is poor ?"
"No, AIDS"
"Sorry, advanced HIV that took my fucking legs. My immune system is shit I think I get to say AIDs. Either way Judson wouldn't be up for it."
“He seemed just fine using his gas to drive aimlessly around town after work.” Sofia says.
“What are you keeping tabs on me now?”, I say partially as a joke.
“I heard him talking in the kitchen.” she starts picking around the meat in her pasta, “I’m supposed to go over my medical records with Martina tomorrow, I can stop by the pharmacy and bring them by the shop.”
“You shouldn’t bring Elijah around the shop it’s gotten worse since I left if you can believe it. I’m going to have to work my ass off to make some money--”
“…did you know the Fentons live up the street?”
“No.”, I said. Little white lie.
“Tomas...”
“No. I mean I knew his Mom and Dad lived on Juniper Court but I didn’t know they were still here. If you want to find someplace else to stay we can look around. But $380 a month is hard to beat.”
“Did you know him…growing up.”
“No.”, I said scratching my head, “I mean the neighborhood kids would stay away from the house because we thought the entire family was a bunch of weird shut-ins. We threw rocks at their house like once when I was a kid, but I never saw them. We can find another place to stay.”
“Where? Where else are we going to go? We can’t afford a hotel in Petal Brooke. I’m over this No amount of money in the world is worth this and now I’m wondering if I just…misinterpreted what happened? Maybe he really wasn’t properly trained? Maybe I just saw him differently because he was a male? What if I’m wrong? I’d suffered a brain injury…what if it was in my head?”
She put her head down in her arms and started breathing heavily in and out. She was missing Elijah quietly trying to pull himself along, it kind of worried me that he still didn’t smile as much as other babies did. I guess he didn’t’ have good role models. Well…why change that now?
“Sofia, listen. My mom and I lived on Lilac Hills when I was fifteen. This place and its dumb-fucking homey street names. Anyway, my mom and some of the women she worked at club with rented a house together, they wanted to have all their kids in a safe place. I mean with four women in one house there were a lot of fights but we had fun living together. I imagined that was what it was like to have a big family, there were always a lot of parties with drinking and sometimes her friends would tease me because I looked just like my Dad.
I wasn’t like the other kids in the house. I’d only been I the states for six years, I could never get into video games or sports, and I just wanted to sit alone in my Mom and I’s room drawing. Mallory was like the bartender at the club and close with my mom. Mallory had real little kids that I liked playing with and she would like come on to me and shit sometimes…ask me about porn and make masturbation jokes. This is like happening over months you know, some days it was nothing and some nights she was all in my shit.
I just played it off like I thought everything she did was a joke. Then one night she said she was coming in to borrow some shoes from my mom but she tried to kiss me, I shoved her away really hard. I just freaked out for some reason. My mom’s boyfriends sometimes did some really inappropriate shit when they were high, so I was always on guard about people in my Mom and I’s space.
‘Tomas’, Mallory said, ‘The only thing harder than being poor on this side of town is being a fag.’
‘I’m not’, I told her even though I didn’t really know what that meant, but like I knew if people thought that I was gay it would be bad.
“That’s not what everyone is gonna think’, she said and she sounded really concerned, ‘I’m just saying you need to learn this or the men out there will beat you if they think you are sweet on them. I don’t want you to get hurt.’
She started touching my erection because I was fifteen and always had an erection. It felt really weird and I thought to myself--this should be like the best thing to happen to me, but it wasn’t. I thought maybe I was gay…like the crappy porn I saw had straight couples and I suddenly wasn’t sure what I had been reacting to ? It was stupid but I was fifteen and I thought if I didn’t want to get attacked then I had to learn to like this. She was sort of on top of me and I always thought sex—unprotected sex-- would be this amazing natural reaction and it’d be like the best feeling in the world, but it just felt weird and kind of gross and like … I don’t know like really strange?
It was so fucking stupid. I was crying because I was confused but also disappointed. I asked her to stop but she told me she was helping me and I just… just pushed her away, the shoved her really hard into the wall. I pulled up my pants ran and out of the house. I just ran. Then I realized I had nowhere to go and just slept out by the bus station. Mallory called the cops she had like bruises and shit from when I freaked out. When the cops found me I was high and I didn’t say shit in my defense. I spent eighteen months in juvie and my mom got kicked out the house. She was so mad she didn’t visit me once. I was so mad that sex was this giant lie. It wasn’t this great thing and I never wanted to do it again, but I knew if I didn’t… people would talk.
This is real morbid, but I was diagnosed with Leukemia while I was locked up, which meant no one expected me to date or have a girlfriend. I dropped out of school to work so I could afford my treatments. Four years later I was in full remission and I’d met you. I was using and still had that awful memory—and I really wasn’t ready to have sex—but after getting to know you, after you told me about Allen I thought… this was someone who understood. I thought we’d figure it out together. And I don’t know maybe we still will.
Anyway, I’ve never told anyone. I just kept it in. Just pushed it down for almost ten years and piled drugs and alcohol on top of it and all the other shit in my life. I’ve never even in bought it up in therapy or anything but watching you put up with all this shit---I mean you are so brave. Because no one around here would do that. We don’t handle our shit like that. And I can’t judge people here, you know.
People here will judge you but I think it needs to happen. I believe you Sofia. I can’t make everyone else believe you but I do.”
Sofia wipes my cheeks with the back of her hands and I hated that I was always fucking crying in front of her.
“Let’s go for a ride”, She takes her plate back inside and comes back with her keys, and we get into the ugly green minivan. Sofia straps Eli in the back and we drive in silence across the bridge to the Petal Booke Towne Center’s two story Walgreens that is right next to a massive big box store and restaurants with lines out the door. This is such a fucking waste of gas but I can’t bring myself to say it.
Sofia goes inside the Walgreens to get my medication while I sit in the car with Eli who had fallen into a fitful sleep.
“We should check out the Riverfront Pier”, Sofia says when she returns-- handing me a pill and a bottle of water, “Katie said it’s changed a lot.”
I don’t really feel like talking anymore but she starts the engine and drives down Mount Bristol Boulevard towards the Riverfront Pier. It takes Sofia a while to find a space big enough to fit the van.
“We should get a handicap placard”, she says to herself and sets up Elijah’s stroller.
I’d only been to the Riverfront a few times and usually it was with a group of kids from the neighborhood to shoplift. The area is on steroids now and the river itself is mostly obscured by the large brightly lit restaurants and huge patios overlooking the water. A lot of the retail store are closing for the night but the theatre, bowling alley, skating rink and movieplex are just getting started. I want to get a drink so fucking badly, there was also even tattoo shop on the strip that caught my attention. How long had it been since I’d gotten a tattoo. My skin suddenly ached for something new, something to cover up. God, I had to make some fucking money.
I try to keep pace with Sofia, it seemed pointless to look at things we couldn’t buy and joy that seemed so outside of anything we could ever have.
There was a huge fairytale themed playground near one of the arcades, Sofia set Elijah up on a giant mushroom and was encouraging him to have fun, but he just cried and kicked at her. I had my digital camera from work in my bag and tried to find a good angle. The kid just didn’t have one yet.
+4+
We got back to the trailer around midnight, the TV was blasting the Hannah Montana theme song which I couldn’t get out of my head now. Tammi-Lynn and Evianna wanted Elijah to watch with them, so Sofia put him in the playpen with a sleeping Garnett.
I locked myself in the bathroom and sort of slid out of my wheelchair and dragged myself to the shower. I had to stretch to turn the water on but couldn’t reach the soap or shampoo. I sat under the spray of water until I felt clean the water agitated my chronic pain but I just bared it for a few minutes. I pulled myself naked on to the cold bathroom floor. I just wanted to lay there and never get up I was so exhausted. I was so fucking done. I opened the cabinet and unlocked the box with the fentanyl. I shook out three pills and locked the box. Then I changed the code.
Sofia softly knocked on the door. I hide the pills in my wheelchair pocket and I didn’t say anything when she opened it and helped me back into my chair.
“You haven’t said anything all night”, she said putting a towel over my lap, “Are you ever going to talk to me again?”
I nodded. I didn’t know why I couldn’t make any more words come out. She wheels me into the bedroom and I’m in so much pain from straining in the shower that I can’t even bend my knees for shit. I let Sofia dress me and I have to stuff a towel in my mouth so I don’t scream. She gets on her knees so we are eye level. It’s not like I regret telling her…I think it’s the how or maybe the when. She kissed the top of my forehead and heads to take a shower.
When she’s gone I slip my fingers into the pocket of my wheelchair and pulled out the three fentanyl I’d stored there. Dr. Lane had prescribed me enough for the summer but one a day was clearly not fucking it.
My movements feel choppy and fast. I grab my sketch book and used my pencil and fist to crush the pill. When it’s not enough I look around the small room, pass the luggage and stacked books serving as a night stand and grab my laptop. I use the edge to crush the pills, I make a nice neat pile then I find a good angle and let the powder flow up my nose.
It burned like hell going down, there must have been plastic pieces in it to prevent this kind of fuckery, but holy fuck the burn cleared pretty quick and I felt …warm. I felt giddy.
“Shit”, I breathe. Feeling the rush, feeling the pain melt away like it had all been a bad nightmare. I was waking up, “Oh, shit.”
Author's Note
My picspiration for Blair Cartwell is Emily Blunt. I have no idea she just is.