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.
updates and friday ridic-ness
i’m a little jumbled this morning and in need of some serious caffeine after a crippling migraine yesterday, so i’ll keep this short and sweet… and scattered all over the damn place.
**********
have you scoped out mah new threads? purty sexay, eh? many, MANY thanks to the lovely jenn for redesigning this perfectly imperfect blahg of mine.
if you’re jonesin to shed your current blog design and put on somethin new, i highly suggest you check out jenn’s design blog as well as her portfolio full of incredible, custom work.
she is the knees of the bees, ya’ll. THE. KNEES.
**********
silly jackson photo of distraction!
**********
ummm, what else…
oh yes! i’ve been enjoying myself with a new gig over at band back together, the brainchild of the infamous aunt becky. why she asked me of all people to join her crew, i dunno… but imma have to hop in the peace wagon one of these days and road trip it to see her and give her some lovin.
thank you, AB, for adding me to the brains behind the band.
if you’re not already following the band on teh twitterz, please do so. that is where you’ll find me, flinging glitter in all sorts of directions.
to contribute to the band, simply create a righteous air guitar solo, add more cowbell, and click here for the deets!
**********
what’s that? you want more silly jackson photo distraction?!?!
sorry for the blurry. he was on the move.
**********
speaking of the band… next week, while jackson and i are slummin in the ATL with my folks, i get to meet jana!!! jana is one of the editors for the band.
i’m so looking forward to seeing her for TONS of reasons, but mostly because she is just splendid and has a very beautiful heart.
**********
ABOOYAH!!!!!!!! silly photo of jackson distraction!!!
**********
also… ALSO… my friend, melissa has embarked on an incredible new adventure over at pigtail pals. introducing curious crickets!!! curious crickets is a line of BOYS t-shirts, of which you will be seeing jackson sport in the very near future.
melissa is a long time friend of mine, a fellow activist and advocate for women and girls. i am so proud of her!
**********
ok, ok… stop pestering… last silly jackson photo distraction…
clearly this child is trying to tell me something along the line of “i want back in the womb.”
or… he’s running over his own foot with the stroller.
HAVE A GREAT WEEKEND EVERYONE!!!
this is how you bring sexy back
for the last two + weeks, paul and i have woken up each morning with a scratchy throat that has both of us talking in the tone of a 75 year old man with bronchitis.
it’s totally hot.
once we’re done turning each other on with our old man voices, we each cough up a lung in the form of phlegm and then proceed to assess how congested we are.
“ugh.”
“seriously. this can’t be another cold?”
“no, jackson’s got better like 10 days ago.”
“what is it?”
::COUGH::
“beats me, but this SUCKS.”
“it’s allergies. has to be allergies.”
::HACK::
“yeah, there was something on ‘the today show’ the other day… matt lauer was talking about 2011 being the worst allergy season ever in the history of all allergies that ever existed.”
::PHLEGM WAD::
“well there ya have it. it’s allergies. we are allergic to something in here.”
“probably all the mold.”
“from the roof? still!??!?! you really think so?”
“i dunno.”
“maybe the dog?”
“i dunno.”
“maybe the pillows?”
“no. they’re hypoallergenic. remember, we registered for those specifically with the hypoallergenic duvet we got from the guys for our wedding.”
“yeah…”
::COUGH::
“this sucks. i’m goina get some advil.”
“ok, grab me three?”
::HACK::
“wait! refill my water?”
::SNEEZE::
and then paul leaves for work and jackson climbs in bed with me and jumps all around until i want to vomit. but i can’t vomit because of the wall of shtuff that resides in the back of my throat.
we’re basically allergic to each other. that’s the only explanation i can come up with right now.
it’s like when people tell you that after a certain number of years of being with the same person, you begin to look like that person… but reversed.
we are killing each other softly.
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
Have a Sip
