Love Rewards The Brave (20 page)

122.

They’re standing in the empty hallway

when I walk in.

Toby let me off at the curb.

He told me to
keep my chin

up,

to
stay strong.

He said
the fight isn’t worth it

if the battle isn’t long.

He is the first

kind

man

I’ve ever known.

Margot. Ms. Francine. Terry. The social worker guy.

Talking about the girl of the hour

the one they urged to show

up

and wouldn’t you know

I’m here.

“Well, you all win,” I say.

There is a collective sigh from the group.

I know they

don’t think my sarcasm is helpful.

But what am I supposed to do

but stay removed

from all this shit?

“No one’s winning,” Terry says, firmly. She continues, “The situation has turned. I’m sorry to be the one to tell you, but the termination trial has been cancelled for this afternoon.”

“Why would they cancel it?”

“Your mother still having a hearing, but she’s being tried for….” Terry hesitates, tears gathered in her eyes. “She’s being tried for child abuse, Louisa.”

My mind has gone blank, numb.

I remember seeing my dad in his

orange jumpsuit, cuffed,

black shoes.

I didn’t want to see him.

But for some reason I went there

once.

That bitch Jodie Lynn Cratchett

made me go.

It was before, before the trial and the verdict

I still remember when I heard it

twenty-five years no parole.

Jodie Lynn said I should go

and see my dad for one last time.

What a fucked-up thing to do to me

couldn’t anyone see there was a
reason

we were taken away

in the first place?

“Louisa, did you hear Terry?”

Ms. Francine has her arm

stretched out

towards me.

“We don’t have to watch, it might be…too much for you.”

“No, I’m going in.”

I say it loud and clear

and as intense as the day feels.

People go to jail for the black and white

no one goes to jail for the gray.

That’s why she got away the first time

the time when Dad got put away.

But if things have changed

they have for a reason.

And I need to understand.

“Louisa, why don’t we pause and think about this,” Terry says.

“Why are you trying to protect me? I’m going in. I want to hear with my ears why she’s being convicted.”

I swing open the big wooden doors

people stop for a moment, heads turn.

I see her sitting in a chair, handcuffed.

She is:

Jumpsuit.

Stringy Hair.

Hollow Eyes.

Empty Stare.

She looks past me

or beyond me

not able to recognize me

as her firstborn

daughter

as her champion and fighter.

Last time we went through this

courtroom scenario

I was the first to defend her

and the first to condemn him.

And in some

sickdisgustingconvoluted

way I still believe in

her innocence.

I want to believe.

If I don’t believe that

then I’ll be forced to accept

the very thing

that will crush me to my core

even more.

Is that possible?

My tribe follows me in.

We take up a row

in the near empty fluorescent-lit room.

The powerful people begin to speak.

I listen

to the words they have to say

as they talk and explain

use details to put pieces in place

about what my mother did to

My Benji.

How she hurt him in the same ways my dad hurt me.

How I never protected him like I thought I had.

How we are all more messed up than I thought we could

be.

How my family is the most fucked up thing this courtroom has ever seen.

And I crumble.

I no longer feel like

I am breaking.

Suddenly

I.

Am.

Broke.

123.

When it finally ends

they look at me and see a

huddledcryingmess.

No one speaks.

What do you say after you’ve listened to

all
that
?

That sad girl is gone.

The mad,

fierce girl is gone.

When someone is broke they are blank.

That’s me.

The judge uses his gavel to drive the point home:

I AM A BLANK BROKE JOKE
WTHOUT
A HOME
HOPE.

I AM HOMELESS AND HELPLESS.

PARENTLESS AND

POINTLESS.

Margot and Ms. F take my arms

pull me up to stand

and I just wonder

where

am I supposed to land?

124.

My life is on

125
.

autopilot

126
.

automatic

127
.

re-run everyday

128.

same plot

129.

same routine

130.

school

131.

sleep

132.

work

133.

avoid

avoid

avoid.

134.

All contact at all costs

135.

unless absolutely necessary.

136.

I’ve found most everything is

not.

Not necessary.

137.

I’ve spent the last month

doing my best to avoid Jess.

If I see her at school I purposefully

walk

the other way.

In P.E., the one class we share

I always stand along the wall

alone

always find a way to get there early

or leave late.

Always make sure I am looking

straight

ahead when she’s around.

But today she’s waiting for me when I leave

the locker room.

She’s wearing my favorite T-shirt.

It reads: Find Your True North.

The one we bought together.

God, I miss her.

“Louisa. Wait up.”

She follows me

doesn’t want to avoid me

she tries to stop me.

“What?” I say, tired.

“I just wanted to talk to you about something.”

I don’t answer so she goes ahead.

“I read in the newspaper about a woman with your last name. Your mom. I had no idea, Louisa. I knew it was bad –– but I never knew that you and Benji went through all
that
. I’m so sorry.”

I don’t have anything to say.

To her

or anyone.

So I just find the wall

(the one I suddenly need to help me stand)

with my hand

and use it to guide myself

away

from everyone and everything

that is causing the

blindness, the numbness.

The throbbing pain

inside of me that will not go away.

Fuck.

Now the only friend I ever had

figured out

the piece of shit

place I come from.

I look back

over my shoulder

knowing that whatever may have been left

in me

is gone with one article in the paper.

138.

Ms. Francine is the first to try with me

in the kitchen before school.

“Louisa, how about you and I go shopping after school today?”

I look past her and see

the list she made for the New Year

mocking me.

139.

The next attempt comes from Terry, at our weekly date.

“Louisa, I’ve noticed you withdrawing, more and more, since you learned about your mother.”

No shit, Sherlock.

I wasn’t going to talk before but this

sure as hell is the wrong

approach

to try and

broach

the subject.

I don’t soften.

I don’t try and see her side,

as she tries

to ease me out of the hole

I dug myself in

the moment I learned

the truth of my mom.

Even the night sky

goes dark sometimes

and those stars never shine for me.

I’ve always wanted to live in

the black and the white

where trust and doubt and truth

and lies

have no place to hide.

Where everything is clear one way

or the other.

Good or bad

right or wrong

there is no in-between.

It’s either a lullaby or a good-bye.

A place where there’s no space

for lukewarm

love songs.

But maybe girls like me

were made for the gray.

Maybe girls like me

don’t belong anywhere

anyway.