Exit Wounds

21 | girlhood (reprise)

T W E N T Y - O N E

NEW YORK CITY, NY

FOUR MONTHS LATER

          It's well into October that something happens.

          Court-wise, I've flown to Los Angeles twice and, though we all knew it would be a lengthy, non-linear process because, unfortunately, Adam has a little bit too much influence than any of us would've liked, I can sense the discomfort and the frustration surrounding me. Everyone is exhausted, highly aware his team is trying to stall for as long as possible, and it will never be as cut and dry of a case because of what they're referring to as 'nuance'.

          There's no nuance. This man assaulted me, threatened me, and is horrified about being faced with a world where he has to deal with the consequences of his (illegal) actions. He's entitled and has always gotten everything he's ever wanted, choosing to see me as a minor inconvenience in his life he could ignore or threaten out of existence so I wouldn't be his problem anymore, but I vowed I'd ruin him, and here we are.

          Like Madonna wisely once said, I'm a cockroach. You can't get rid of me that easily.

          The comforting thing in the middle of all of this is the realization that I'm not alone in this process. Legal team aside (not that I'm not immensely thankful for everything they've been doing for me, someone with no legal knowledge whatsoever), having my father's support has proved to be the foundation for my resilience. Even Michelle, who hasn't been as present as she wants to be since she's gone back to school in August, somehow finds a way of providing help and moral support, but part of me still feels like something is missing. At first, I couldn't figure out what the missing piece was, but then I turned to Sadie and realized exactly what it was.

          There are things I should be able to talk to my mother about. It's maternal support that I need, a maternal figure that stands tall next to me and envelops me in a protective cocoon, promising she won't let any further harm come to me. Years ago, when I wasn't speaking to her and sat alone in a room, wishing things hadn't turned out that way, I had never felt so unbearably alone without her there. It was the kind of thing she should've supported me through, and I know now she was well aware I was suffering, even if she didn't know the reason. Part of being a parent is showing up for your children even when they don't ask you to, and she couldn't even do that.

          Like with everything else, it's different now.

          I don't need my mother now the way I used to need her years ago and I don't try to fool myself into believing she cares about me and what happens to me, even if her love language happens to be tough love. This isn't her giving me space to heal and breathe—this is her distancing herself for her own sake, removing herself from the narrative before she's dragged into what she thinks is the mess I've created and I ruin her reputation like I'm doing to Adam. There's no way in hell she doesn't know about the ongoing trial, not when Adam has been under her wing for so many years, and news travels fast in our world.

          I try to not let it bother me, though. Even when we finally get a verdict in October and it's not what I was hoping for—I wanted a serious, heavy conviction, but I'm lucky we even got a felony to be considered in court—I pretend to not be bothered that my own mother doesn't care about it. Processes like this usually take a long time to sort out, with stalling from both sides to try and strengthen their arguments or find a deal, and she hasn't reached out once. It's like I don't even exist.

          There have been times in my life when I made the damning mistake of stopping to think about whether or not I was being unfair towards her, for expecting her to drop everything to get to me, for wanting her to be caring and to love me like mothers are expected to. I thought maybe we ask too much of our mothers in general, that some women simply don't know how to be mothers, and there's nothing intrinsically wrong with that (it's not a woman's 'second nature' to be a mother; women don't owe anyone children if they don't want to be mothers and, even if they do, it's their child).