independence
this post is for the writing prompt “independence” that’s up over at studio 30+ this week.
she stared at the white, flaked chip on the mug until her coffee was cold. finally she took a sip. then another. and with the third sip, she drained the coffee and left the dregs at the bottom.
the air conditioning kicked on with a slow hum as she pushed herself away from the kitchen table. a small spider made its way up the edge of the white door frame.
for a split second, she entertained the idea of moving back in the house. it was certainly lovely and comfortable. but she had broken free of this house, this space, this life.
the eldest of 5, she was the executor of the will. how she had acquired such responsibility, she had no idea. but it was there. the weight of it all. resting in perfectly cylindrical knots atop her shoulders.
she reached behind her head and squeezed the decades of stress and obligation.
“get rid of it,” she told henry, who scribbled in his notebook and then shrugged at her sibblings.
everything would be auctioned off to the highest bidder. it would be in the papers. dollar signs and last names.
when her brother protested, she closed her eyes.
“just think about it first, j. we don’t have to decide right this minute.”
opening her eyes, she reached for the drained coffee mug. she regarded the chip, touching it with her index finger. applying pressure until the crimson droplet found its way to the surface and then bled onto the rim.
“get rid of it,” she said again, and threw the mug against the pantry door.
cries were heard in the background as she exited the house. her sister called after her, but knew she wouldn’t return. it was never her intention to be there in the first place.
she got in her car and found a band-aid underneath some napkins in her glove compartment. after tossing a used napkin out the window, she lit a cigarette and pulled out of the driveway.
intake
i share my birthday with a very special person.
the day i met her, almost five years ago, she had come in to my place of work with her mom. the two of them sat out in the lobby, while i was in my office at my desk. my coworker and fellow rape recovery team victim advocate poked her head into my office.
“are you in the middle of something important?”
“nah, not really. what’s up?”
“there’s a victim out in the lobby with her mom. the rest of us are in the middle of SAAM planning with donors. she wants to talk to an advocate, learn about her options, but she wants to do it without her mom present. can you do her intake?”
“yeah, no problem. i’ll get the paperwork.”
“great, thanks. debrief with me about it this afternoon.”
i closed the documents that were open on my computer, locked the screen, and grabbed the intake paperwork from the drawer of my desk.
before my coworker got too far down the hallway and back into her meeting, i called after her and quickly jogged towards her.
“where’s the paperwork from the night of the call? i didn’t have the pager the night of her rape.”
“ah shit, sorry. it’s in d’s top drawer of her file cabinet. key is under her mousepad.”
i got the victim’s name and then went to d’s office to get her file.
all of us had locked file cabinets, paperwork that had been filled out in confidence, that was respected. always.
flipping through the pages of her file, i learned a bit about the victim… the girl… young… too young… i learned about her assault, who responded to the scene, and what protocol had been followed in order to provide the victim with support, information, and resources, should she choose to use the services that we, as victim advocates, provide.
i took her file, along with my intake paperwork, to the front of the building and introduced myself to both the girl and her mother. the mother began speaking very quickly and with total disregard of the fact that we were in the lobby where others were clearly within hearing distance. her daughter stared at the floor and flicked her fingers at the buttons that were on her yellow raincoat.
once i was able to escort the victim back to one of our counseling rooms, i clicked on the sound machine that was kept at the bottom of each door of those rooms. this was to assure whomever we were meeting with, would be respected and met with total confidentiality.
amongst the paperwork and questions about her rape, from both my end and hers, there were times of basic human interaction. i remember her telling me that she liked my shoes.
she then asked me how old i was… and then she corrected herself.
“i’m sorry. i probably shouldn’t be asking you that.”
“no. it’s fine. i will be 25 in a few weeks.”
“i’ll be 17 in a few weeks. you seem really young to be doing this kind of work.”
“i am.”
we both laughed.
after the intake process was complete, i explained the options she had in terms of services that she would be receiving. (this can fall along the spectrum of legal information, to obtaining safe shelter, to establishing free counseling sessions that were provided at my place of work.)
she took a deep breath and asked if she had to share all of the information i gave her with her mother. i told her that what she chose to share with whomever was entirely her decision to make, but i encouraged her to speak with someone, even if it is not her mother.
she then told me why she felt she couldn’t talk to her mother.
her assailant was her stepfather.
the amount of time i spent with her for this intake ended up being more time than i spent during any other intake i had done as a rape victim advocate. there was something about this victim, this girl, that i couldn’t quite put my finger on. but i knew that i wasn’t ready for our time together to end, and i got that feeling from her as well.
for a while, we just sat there and talked. about normal things. because survivors are capable of doing so… talking about normal things.
when i looked at the clock that hung above the door to the counseling room, i grimaced and told her that we should probably wrap things up. i asked her if she had any other questions, if there was anything i had discussed with her that she needed clarification on.
“yeah, i have one question and then i’ll go…”
“absolutely. shoot.”
“how do you know? like… you have sat here and nodded with me for over an hour… you like ‘get it.’ how do you know?”
“i was raped too. a long time ago.”
she hugged me, thanked me for my time. she took the folder of information that i had for her. i compiled her intake forms. we opened the door and i bent down to turn off the sound machine.
when we walked up towards the lobby, where her mother was waiting, i told her that i wished her well and to remember that she was not alone.
her mom saw us and got up from her seat to approach her daughter.
i wished the girl a happy early birthday, and when she did the same, she asked me what day mine was on.
“may 3rd.”
“mine too.”
she smiled and clutched the folder i had given her tightly to her chest.
not a single birthday has passed for me, since that time, when i haven’t thought about her as i blow out the candles on my cake.
**********
april is sexual assault awareness month. if you or someone you know is in need of support, resources or help, please visit RAINN. the national sexual assault hotline phone number is 1.800.656.HOPE
on shifting and budding and growth
mother nature is a menopausal bitch right now. granted, i don’t want to piss her off anymore than she already is (hopefully she is not reading this post). i’m fairly certain that everyone is well aware of her wrath and overall disgust at the way we have treated our world and our planet… each other…
no, i’m not stepping on that soapbox…
in fact, i’m doing the opposite, i’m just taking it all in… i watch the news (somedays, and other days i have to turn it off because i get scared and look to paul for comfort and he shrugs his shoulders because just like everyone else, we don’t have all of the answers). i watch my son grow like a goddamn weed whose roots are so embedded into the ground that no matter how much you trim that sucker in an attempt to control it, it’s just going to grow and grow until you just submit. i watch people around me, some interacting with others and some watching on the sidelines. people in the grocery stores going up and down each aisle picking and choosing, people in parking lots trying to find a spot where they belong.
and then i watch our weather change… seriously, by the hour change… it’s wild and frightening at the same time. one moment i look at the temperature and find myself giddy at the opportunity to take jackson outside without having to wear a heavy coat. to enjoy some sunshine. (after all, he is an earth day birthday, a total tree hugger.) but in the blink of an eye or a rumble of thunder, what i saw outside as potential for spring changes entirely. lightening cracks and jackson looks panicked for a moment. temperatures drop and gusts of wind nearly blow the winter hats off our heads.
his cheeks are red, not from growing warm running around the park, but from the cold.
**********
distractions occur. the television channel changes. phones ring. emails grab your attention. you stumble upon a blog post that resonates so deeply within you. and then you lose yourself for a moment, entrenching yourself in something else entirely.
at some point, you rub your eyes, take a look at the clock and acknowledge how much time has passed. sometimes this can be a gift as you realize that you’ve possibly accomplished a great about of stuff in a small amount of time thereby leaving you with that much more time to accomplish that much more stuff. other times this can really piss you off because it dawns on you that you spent what seems to be an obscene amount of time starting at a black computer screen that is still blank because you don’t know what on earth you want to say.
so you breathe. because, ya know, you can’t not breathe (i mean you could, but that’s another post entirely…). inhale. exhale. reassess. possibly step away and return later. possibly plug on. trying to remember that you really truly want to be present.
**********
i looked out my bedroom window just now and see the slightest glimmer of sunshine. hope.
excitement exuded from my voice as i drove jackson to school this morning and we talked about running around outside on the playground. swinging and sliding and jumping. he thrilled me with stories about yelling outside “but not inside mom,” and i smiled.
shit, he is growing fast.
he is going to turn 3 very soon.
shortly after, i will turn 30.
i cannot wait to begin a new decade. strange as it may sound, there is nothing about aging that scares me at this moment in time. i’m sure that will change, as all things do… mature, learn by experience, and grow. it’s important to me to continue absorbing, allowing myself to be taught by other people and by the world.
as i approach this new decade, softly tuck away my 20′s, i welcome thoughts of what’s to come… good and bad…
…the wanting, trying, working, failing, learning, achieving, resting, and everything in between.
**********
a special thank you to jen o. from my tornado alley for writing this post that inspired mine. if you haven’t already read it, you must. you simply must.
red
this post is for the writing prompt at studio 30 + where i am currently navigating the waters and dabbling back into fiction, which i haven’t done for a while… and it feels kinda nice.
this week’s prompt was RED.
leaving her mother’s, she gained this intense combination of feeling both alive and petrified at the same moment. she pulled back the sliding glass door, stepped on the snow that covered the back deck, and quietly closed the door behind her.
regardless of the number of times she has snuck out of her mother’s house, the same thrill of leaving along with the fear of getting caught resonated in deeply within her body, and it was as though she had woken up from an exquisite night’s sleep.
the bitter cold may have had something to do with her awakening as well.
pulling her winter coat around her tiny frame, she adjusted her satchel and began her walk. only a half mile until she reached her destination, but it was freezing out. even still, she couldn’t risk taking her own car. the noise of simply starting it would wake her mother.
it was only half after 3 in the afternoon and already her mother had been passed out for almost an hour. as per usual, she checked that her mom was still breathing and wasn’t holding a lit cigarette before she snuck out the sliding glass door.
while she walked, she thought of the cigarettes… how many were lit… how many had burnt holes in the carpet, the couch, clothing. she thought of the empty bottles of smirnoff and those fucking red labels that just screamed “ATTENTION ATTENTION, I AM A CHEAP THRILL.”
her speed quickened as she felt herself grow more and more angry. resentful. disgusted.
beyond the 4-way stop, she saw the gas station and the brake lights on the truck.
her destination. for the next 2 hours she would be free.
she smiled.
the passenger side door was unlocked. she tossed her satchel in the back seat, hopped in the front, and put on her seat belt.
the driver, a 42 year old man, nodded his head at her and gave her a soft smile. there was shame in his eyes. embarrassment.
looking at him, her heart softened and she reached into the back seat to retrieve her satchel.
she pulled out the workbook, red letters on the cover, spelling out “3rd grade mathematics.”
with the workbook in her lap, she reached over and gently placed her hand on top of his.
“let’s get to work,” she said assuredly.
he put the truck in drive and turned left out of the gas station, towards the public library.
Have a Sip
