Meeting With the Lawyer
Pouring another two Tums into my hand, I will for my stomach to return back to normal. Since the moment I woke up, my stomach has felt sick and I have already sweat through two of my shirts. My head is in a huge fog of anxiety and stress. At one point, I was brushing my teeth without any toothpaste. Even worse, Damon had to tell me. On top of that, I put my blouse on backward and my shoes on the wrong feet.
I knew I was going to have to talk to the lawyer at some point for my testimony, but now that I am getting ready to leave, everything feels so real. Everything is so certain; it is no longer an idea.
Damon and Brandon have been helping me all day, mostly catching my mistakes and gently correcting them. I am grateful to have them today. Damon is giving his testimony before I give me which makes me feel a little better. I wish I could see how Damon was handling all of this. So far, he is as cool as a cucumber while I could barely get dressed.
They both keep telling me that it will be fine. The lawyer will let me say anything, pertinent to the case of course, but I can be as vague or detailed as I want. I mean, I want him to get what he deserves, but at what cost? Is it worth me sinking back in the hole I keep slowly climbing out of?
Damon's head pops into the bedroom where I am changing into another shirt. "Are you ready?"
I nod my head throwing the shirt on the floor with the others. I definitely need to do laundry today.
Brandon meets us at the door, a small smile on his face. "Remember that he is on your side. You are in control of what you tell him. There is nothing to stress about. Okay?"
"I know. Thank you."
And I really do know, but this is just so… so much. This is going to be life-changing. I just wish they were able to find the bad man before I had to give this testimony. I want them both behind bars where they can never hurt me or anyone I love ever again.
"Alright. Let's go."
The three of us walk out the door and down the stairwell. They both seem so cool and calm while my nerves are literally fried. I don't think I could worry anymore even if I wanted to.
Putting my hand over my stomach, I rub it gently trying to soothe away the rolling waves.
Please stop; be still.
The car ride is short. Too short. The tall building stands intimidating in front of us. I feel like an ant compared to its size. Walking inside, the walls have no decoration except for the firm's lawyers and news clipping of the cases that they have previously won. Seeing the number of victories instills a sense of confidence in me, but I am still fretting over my role in the case. Really, my testimony, as well as Damon's, can be the deciding factor on whether he goes to jail or walks away unscathed. That is so much pressure.
An unbelievable amount of pressure. My stomach groans in protest and I feel sick. My heels click loudly as I desperately run to the nearest bathroom. The stall door easily swings open, and trying my best to hold my hair back, everything from breakfast is violently expelled from my body. Blindly reaching for the toilet paper next to me, I rip off a couple of pieces to wipe the tears from my eyes and blow my nose. My throat burns and my body feels weak.
The bathroom door opens as I get to my feet.
"Rose, are you in here?"
"Yes," my voice is hoarse.
Damon comes into my view seconds later and pulls me into his chest.
"Are you alright?"
"I'm better now."
"If you don't want to do this, you do not have to go and speak to the lawyer. It would help, but you come first. If you are this nervous, don't speak to him. If you still want, you can try another day."
I know he is trying to be helpful, but it frustrates me that I cannot help myself. They are trying to put him in jail because of what he did to me, and Damon of course, but it is to help me feel safe. I need to do this. I just need to grow up and face reality. I went through a really terrible thing and I don't want to think about it, but the fact is that I will think about it for the rest of my life. But, at least with the boss behind bars, I won't have to constantly watch my back.
I just need three seconds of courage to walk through that door and let my thoughts take over.
"I can do this. I want to do this. I was nervous, but this is going to help me get better and that is more important." I take a second pause. When I speak again, my voice is surprised and slightly exasperated, "how are you so calm about all this?"
"Trust me, I am not calm. I am freaking out, my hands are shaking. I have been on auto-pilot all morning, I cannot even remember what happened this morning or how we made it here. I have rehearsed what I am going to say in the mirror and to the walls for the past couple of days and now that I am here, I remember none of it.
"Selfishly, I wish you would speak first so I have more time to think and prepare, but, at the same time, I just want to get it over with.
"We will both be fine and after this, we will go have a nice relaxing lunch and not think about this until the trial."
Confidence surges in my body again as I realize that Damon is just as nervous as I am. I really am never in this alone, no matter how much I think that. Every time I lose a little faith, Damon is here to remind me of how we are a team.
"I'm ready now. You were right, we can do this."
Walking out of the bathroom, hand in hand, I feel strong. I survived and I am living a life some only wish they could have.
The lawyer is standing out of his office in a crisp suit. He is tall, slightly shorter than Damon, and looks to be about fifty. He sticks out his hand for Damon and me to shake while introducing himself.
He invites us into his office for privacy and sits behind his desk. Damon and I sit in front of him, our hands lightly interlocked for support.
"Okay, so I'm assuming neither of you has done this before, correct?"
"That's correct," Damon speaks for both of us.
"Good for you both. I am sorry that you have to talk to me now. However, we do have standard procedures to ensure both of your time will not be wasted. The process is fairly simple when speaking logistics. I will interview you both separately so your stories cannot be influenced by each other and thrown out in court. You will take an oath that says you are telling the truth, and you will state your name before answering any questions that I have or any experiences that you want to tell. This will all be recorded without video which is another reason why you need to state your name. The interviews should not take longer than an hour since we have a lot of evidence already, particularly the photos of the basement and witnesses who have also stepped up to testify. Do either of you have any questions?"
"No, I think that clears up anything we had to ask. Thank you." Damon, thankfully, speaks up again.
"Great. Let's get started then. Rose, would you mind stepping out of the room? I will call you in here when I am ready to hear your statement."
Stepping out of the room, Brandon is sitting in the chair across from the door. I take a seat next to him, calmer than I have been all morning. The lawyer seems nice enough and we can say whatever we want as long as it is the truth which is very reassuring.
An hour later, Damon walks out of his office. He looks normal, his hands are slightly shaking, and his face is pale, but he doesn't look traumatized.
"Rose, are you ready?"
"Yes." Standing up, I squeeze Brandon's hand, which I had been holding for moral support, one last time. He smiles a reassuring smile at me and I nod my head.
I can do this.
Stepping into the office, our lawyer waves his hand for me to take a seat. I gratefully take it as my stomach is beginning to act up again and my body is starting to shake.
I can do this.
"Do you need me to go over anything again?"
"No, thank you."
"Okay, let me know when you are ready to get started. You can take a pause whenever you need and if this becomes too much you are welcome to step out of the room, but you cannot talk to Damon or the other gentleman you came in with."
Nodding my head, I take a deep breath and try to calm my nerves.
I can do this.
"I'm ready."
"Great, let's get started."