This Is Me...

by Sarah Ann Walker

  However, at this moment I'm back in Chicago. Subpoenaed to testify at my father’s trial, sadly.

  Exiting the bathroom of our hotel room, I'm dressed and as presentable as possible. My black slacks and blouse look lovely paired with a little jacket. My hair is left down, and my make-up is thick for coverage but natural looking. Covering up the reddish coloring on my scarred cheek is easier for me now. And though the texture remains, from a distance with enough make-up the scars are barely noticeable, even to me.

  Looking at Z, I pause and just take him in. I think the novelty of having such a wonderful loving man has finally wore off, but the intensity of my love for him hasn't faded in the slightest. I can still look at him and picture first; all we went through to get here. Then second; forgive that horrendous journey while embracing this life of ours now.

  Z and I are growing so comfortable with each other it's hard to believe we haven't been this way for years. We laugh and love, have crazy off the charts sex, and we talk about everything, always.

  Z doesn't put up with my neurotic, crazy, insecure, Suzanne-shit, and he doesn't let me close down. And experiencing our real and honest loving relationship makes me not want to ever close down again. I love him too much to ever close myself off from him and our relationship, and I’ve promised us both, no matter what happens, I won’t ever do it again.

  Exhaling, I take Z in and thank whoever was gracing me the day I met him. I thank all the things that conspired against me early on because eventually they brought me to this place in my life with Z.

  Sometimes when the darkness washes over me, Z still seems like too much light in my little world, but the moments we share of unfettered laughter and happiness make me hold onto him as best I can. And thankfully, he lets me hold onto him tightly.

  Holding onto Z has gotten me through my mother's conviction of 46 different counts ranging from the horrendous to the mundane in contrast to what I actually went through as a child. And Z's love even helped me put to rest Marcus and his contribution to the lying nightmare that was our marriage of nearly 7 years.

  With Z's help, I am not HER anymore.

  “Are you ready, love?” Z asks in the hallway.

  “Not at all, so let’s go before I change my mind again,” I pout.

  Taking my hand, Z kisses me softly which effectively stops me from fleeing him. Backing me against the wall and bending down low, he forces eye contact with him. Giving me The Look he learned from Mack is totally unfair, but he waits for me to speak anyway.

  “I'm okay. I'm just scared of seeing him. But I'm not scared he'll hurt me. I know he can't. Um, I'm just scared it’s going to screw me up and I don't want to be screwed up because I've been so great for a while now. And I don't want to be screwed up right now. Well, ever again actually, because I feel really happy now Z.” There. I spoke.

  “You've been amazing for a while now. And we'll all be there with you, and nothing and no one is going to hurt you today. Only you can hurt yourself today with the dark memories, Suzanne. Just remember, if you need a moment look for me or Mack or Glenn, and we'll get you your moment. But please let us know before any pain or panic sets in, okay?”

  “Okay...” I nod, as I pull away from him and walk toward the hotel door.

  *****

  This is going to suck today. My father's trial has been going on forever, but strangely it was his Defense team who called me to testify first, not the Prosecution. So today is the shitty day.

  After speaking with Mack about what will probably happen, he seems to think my father's team is going to get me to admit that my mother was the true monster throughout the abuse instead of my father. Their angle is going to be establishing that my father never really hurt me, which he didn't- physically.

  The problem his team is going to have is when I tell the Jurors and courtroom how badly he did actually hurt me by obeying my mother, and by preparing me for the abuses. And mostly, for never protecting me when I was young from all the abuse my mother and the men inflicted on me, as most fathers would or should have.

  I'm lucky my mother's trial was many months ago when I was still too screwed up to go to court, because it allowed me the opportunity for the closed testimony I gave. But this testimony will be in the open courtroom, in front of all the people, and Reporters, and my friends who are waiting for me to finish this. And though both Defense and Prosecuting teams are likely to go easy on me, I know some questions will still rip me apart. It's inevitable.

  Gratefully, the Prosecution team and D.A. Rose have promised to make the Defense toe the line, if you will. They said actual, horrific details aren't necessary from me because those have already been established, though not by them rather by my father and his Defense Attorneys.

  It's strange, but my father has admitted to everything- ALL of it. I know he only did it to set up the angle of the abuse and depravity as instigated by my mother. I know he's only trying to show how brutal SHE was so he doesn't look so bad or guilty to the Jurors. I know he wants to look rather like a victim of hers as well, instead of the perpetrator of the violence against me. I know that's his angle, but as the real true victim in my sadly horrific childhood it totally pisses me off.

  Regardless of what they claim, he was a monster too. He knows it, I know it. Every single person who has ever heard or reported my case knows it. I guess he's just hoping for a little sentencing leniency by playing the secondary abuser in my horrific childhood.

  When we arrive at the courthouse a few Reporters take pictures of me again. Flanked by Z and Mack I'm used to the picture taking now but I still hate it. Though I was a minor at the time of the abuse, and though the Prosecution team and D.A. Rose have never released my name publicly, early on my mother told everyone who I was- lying through her teeth about her poor, insane, whacked-out daughter who was a liar. By trying to protect herself, she outted me to the public.

  And so she got her final punishment toward me after all. Everyone knows who I am, and everyone knows what happened to me. I have no secrets anymore which is painfully embarrassing to me, but again, not something I can fight or control. This reality of mine just is, and so I continue to breathe my way through it.

  Inside, the Kaylas are waiting by the side conference room for me. Taking them in, I smile and breathe through all the crap in my head. Seeing my father is going to be hard, but with these two Kaylas in the courtroom I know I can do it. Actually, they'd probably kick my ass if I didn't do it, so I greet them with a smile as I hug them tight.

  “Thanks for-”

  “Don't start your shit, Suzanne. We're here because we love you and this is going to be a shit day, so we're here for you. The end. No tears. No drama. Marty, Dr. Cobb, and Dr. Robinson are here as well. There is no one else here today who counts in your life, but us. Okay?”

  “Okay,” I smile at her words. Chicago Kayla is still a right to the point, cut you off at the knees, sexy as hell, awesome woman. And though we're getting closer by the day, I find I still miss her constant in-my-faceness terribly.

  “You have a little group of seven to cheer you on, okay? Just look at us if it gets bad, and Kayla and I will kick some ass for you afterward.” Looking at Kayla I believe she and her New York tough will actually do it too. “Plus, we're all hooking up at Kayla's tonight and we're gonna get shit-faced.” Grinning, I nod again.

  When the door opens to one of the Prosecuting Aides, I'm told I'm to be called in the next 15 minutes. Suddenly sitting on a bench hard, Mack and Z instantly sit beside me, each taking a hand, though neither says the lame platitudes that would probably drive me mental right now.

  I'm scared and nauseous, and my head wants to fill with all the horrors of my past, but I'm fighting my way through it.

  When Mack abruptly rises from the bench, he tugs at my hand and mumbles to Z, “Just give us a minute.”

  When Mack and I walk to the back of the conference room, he stops me and kind of eases me against the wall as he stands in front of me.

  Loo
king at Mack my stomach is suddenly in knots. Mack doesn’t look good. Actually, he looks upset or maybe sad, I’m not sure which.

  “Mack, what’s wrong?” I whisper as I grab for his shirt. Not speaking, Mack hold my hands in his own against his chest.

  “Sorry I’m scaring you, I’m not trying to. Ah, I just wanted to talk to you for a second before you testify.”

  “What’s wrong, Mack?” I beg.

  “Nothing at all. I want you to know I absolutely adore you. I think everything about you is wonderful, and I love you very much.”

  “Okay… But?”

  “There’s no but. Today is going to be hard, and I want you to know how much I love you, and how proud I am of you. Your strength is undeniable this time. And though I’ve said it before, I think you need to hear how amazing you are to me, Suzanne. You and I have gone through so much together, and I wanted to remind you how special you are to me, in case things become very dark today and you forget later how much you mean to me, and how wonderful you really are. That’s all, Suzanne. There’s nothing bad, I promise.”

  When Mack pauses, I glance around him to Z and Kayla sitting on the bench together. Smiling at me, Kayla is holding Z’s hand, nodding at me. I think she can hear Mack and she must agree with him. Thank god. I really needed to hear that because I’m absolutely terrified of today.

  Exhaling, I wrap my arms around Mack as tight as I can.

  “Thank you Mack for saying that. Thank you again, for everything, always. I love you so, so much,” I say as I try to let go of all the bad in my head for a minute.

  Pulling away from me, Mack bends down low, kisses my forehead, and wipes the tears from my cheeks. Watching me closely as always, he hugs me again, tugs me to his side and walks us back to Z.

  But before I can sit back down, Mack whispers, “You’re such a doll, Suzanne,” into my ear, making me smile again.

  *****

  Show time.

  Walking down the aisle to the front bench, I just can't look at my father. I thought I wanted to see him, but now I know I can’t. I'm not ready to see if he's still the handsome, distinguished-looking man of my past. I'm not ready to see him as the dad I always begged to love me. I don't want to instantly become the young Suzanne who begged for his love, and cried for his affection.

  I am not HER anymore. And I don't need his love anymore. I have this life and this love now. This is who I turned out to be. This is me now; good, bad, ugly and beautiful.

  “Please state your name for the record,” comes a distant voice.

  Shaking my head and clearing my throat, I lean in way too close to the microphone like an idiot, as I look at Z. Grinning, he nods his head 'go for it'.

  “Um… I'm Suzanne Zinfandel.”

  And when I see the identical look of shock on the Kaylas faces as their heads whip toward Z, I start giggling like a Crazy.

  Ooops... Z and I are in deep shit tonight.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Sarah Walker lives in Canada with her American husband and their son.

  After attending McMaster University as an English major, Sarah began her career as an Office Administrator, polar-opposite to her studies, until the summer of 2011.

  Suddenly finding herself able, Sarah picked up her iPad and a dark, beautiful story was born.

  Sarah Ann Walker can be found on Facebook, Goodreads.com, and Twitter.