Making It (On Hold Indefinitely)

3.2

3.2

The longer I sat there, unmoving, waiting, the harder it was to calm my nerves. The harder it was to breathe and keep myself cool in the stuffy hallway.

The woman acting as my attorney notices me fidgeting in my seat and wringing my hands, so as an attempt to calm me down she rests her hand on my shoulder and gives it a soft squeeze.

"You're going to be fine, Charlotte," she mutters in a soft reassuring voice. "As long as you stick to the truth and remember our practice questions, it should all just fly by." A smile spreads across her face before she stands up from the bench where we sat to poke her head inside the courtroom.

Though she's told me this before, the fear of me speaking is not why I was suddenly picking my skirt off of my nylons to keep it from sticking to the back of my thighs. No speaking in front of a courtroom is not my problem, I've done it before. It was the thought of having to see Calvin again that was making my insides a mess.

Just on the other side of a pair of wainscoted double doors he sits in a seat waiting to figure out if he was going to jail or being put on the sex offenders registry. I was praying that I would never have to see his face again. Today I was praying that he'd confess to the error of his ways, plead guilty and we could be done with it. However, if anything goes like the last time— aka the last time I was sitting in a courtroom testifying against someone who sexually assaulted me —he would not confess. He'd say he wasn't guilty and we'll be here for hours and maybe even a few days.

It upset my stomach. It felt like a hole was burning itself into my lining and suddenly I felt the need to head into the bathroom.

I stand up and turn towards my attorney but before I could get a word out she turns to me and waves me forward.

"We're next, come on." She holds out her hand to me and I stand there with my mouth flapping open and closed for a bit. The blood whooshes through my ears and for a second I contemplate running.

Sadly, my attorney closes the distance between us and gently takes me by the arm before ushering me into the courtroom. A rush of crisp air brushes my cheeks as we enter from the doors but the further we walk inside the warmer the room and I regret wearing my blazer over an already long sleeved shirt.

I look over to the two bodies already sitting beyond the barrier and before the judges podium and catch just a glimpse of the back of Calvins head. His blonde hair exactly how I remember it. Quaffed back and blending seamlessly with the hair on the back of his head. It gave the illusion of being perfect, which he wasn't.

My attorney turns me away before I could spit something vile at him and nudges me towards our table. We file behind and I scoot out my chair before sitting down. Not even a second later a police officer walks into the room, eyes and face bored, and he instructs us to stand before the judge.

I quickly stand from my seat and try not to focus on the other three people doing the same. My heart sinks the second the judge walks out of the back room, flipping his robe over so he wouldn't trip. His face equally as tired and uninterested as he makes his way up to his seat. When he sits down he sighs and runs his fingers over the tops of his stand.

"You may be seated," the officer says, leaving the judges side and walking towards the side of the room instead.

We all sit down and I feel like my luck has just run out.

• — • — • — •

Of course he was pleading not guilty. It was such a Calvin thing to do, which meant I have to testify. Which meant that in the two hour recess period that we had I had to scarf down a terrible sub sandwich and get my story straight. All while our attorneys were compiling all the evidence they had for and against this case.