Sitting at her table witha steaming cup of coffee next to her laptop, Valerie logged into the VPN and then into her workstation at Dixon Contracting. As soon as she had a calendar pulled up, she started logging the week’s meetings into her organizer. She had her phone synced with the online system, but she could think better when she looked at it on the screen.
Knowing what meetings the week held for her gave her a better handle on what projects needed her attention in what order. Systematically working through the list, she organized her week, praying that nothing blew up and interfered with her schedule.
When she finished, she contemplated starting work, but her eyes kept going to the stack of journals sitting on the other end of the table. She glanced at the clock on her laptop. It was only four. She could read for a little while then get some work done.
Taking her coffee and the first journal in the stack, she went into her living room and curled onto the couch, resting her back against the arm. She took a sip of coffee, savoring the flavor, then set it on the end table next to her and opened the journal.
A folded piece of paper fell out of the first one. She opened it, finding a flier from the church about which Rosaline had told her. “RECOVERY FROM DOMESTIC ABUSE.” She skimmed the flier and read about the support group meeting Thursday nights, a safe place to share and connect with other survivors.
She had sat in on a support group her therapist in Savannah had recommended but didn’t enjoy listening to the stories the women told. She had only attended a few times.
Setting the flier aside, she turned the page in the journal and translated the date on the first page. Her mother had written this when she was 17 and still in high school.
My counselor suggested I try prayer journaling. I feel silly doing it, because it’s not like God isn’t going to remember my prayers. But, maybe it’s not for God. Maybe there’s another reason.
Valerie smiled. That sounded like something she’d write. She skimmed a couple pages and found an entry covered in waterdrop stains. Tears? Maybe.
I’m so tired of being scared all the time. No matter how much I pray, the fear remains. How do I do this? How do I walk into that school and have everyone laugh at me, knowing what happened, knowing what he did to me? Even though the attack happened at school, I’m scared in my own house. Why? Dr. Turner assured me it was normal, but I don’t feel normal. I feel used. Like something someone would throw away. Garbage. No longer with purpose.
What? Valerie went back through the pages she’d read, but she couldn’t find another reference. Her heart rate picked up speed and a little sweat beaded at her temples.
It took another two weeks of just random high school girl life before she read anything else significant.
Cecil Flynn got suspended today while defending me. Some of the football players said something to me when I walked past them, and Cecil completely lost it! Jordan Kietch had blood pouring down his face from where Cecil slammed his head into the locker.
His dad was mad when he came to pick him up. I heard him telling him it better not mess up his college applications.
Valerie found herself smiling.Go, Dad, she thought, as she turned the page. A couple weeks later, she found the entry she subconsciously sought.
Cecil asked me to prom! He knows what happened to me, but he doesn’t care. He told me that anyone who blamed me for the attack wasn’t worth listening to. He even told me he’d go with me to court when it came time for me to testify. I don’t know if I want him there, though. The DA said they’re going to ask for details, and I don’t want him to hear them.
Prom! Pulling myself out of the mud last fall, walking home missing my shoe, I remember thinking how nothing would ever be good again, or normal again. And here I am, off to look for a dress with mama. I know which one I want—the off-the-shoulder shiny green one with ruffles. I can already see Cecil in the tux with a matching bow tie! Sigh!
She reached the end of the first book and realized her coffee had gone cold. With a grin covering her face, she walked into the kitchen and dumped the cold coffee into the sink. As she refilled the cup, she thought about the fact her mother showed signs of the same kind of fear that overwhelmed her on a regular basis. Somehow, she felt less alone now.
New journal in hand, she settled back into her space and eagerly turned the page.
Cecil took me to his church today. Afterward we went to lunch with his family to celebrate his brother Buddy’s birthday. At the party, I met Rosaline. I knew her from when I was a sophomore and she was a senior. She’s married to Buddy’s best friend, Phillip. Cecil really just bloomed around his family. At school, he’s so quiet. With me, he’s so attentive and caring. But there, he relaxed, had fun, joked with Buddy and Phillip. It was like he was finally able to be himself. Am I holding him back from something? Maybe he needs to be with someone other than me. Maybe I don’t let him be himself. Oh, God, how am I supposed to know what’s right and what’s good?
She read through graduation, a brief breakup that actually caused her to cry even though she knew they got back together, and the beginning of her mom’s freshman year at college.
I don’t know how I thought I could do this. I’m so afraid to come home at night. My roommate is never there. There are so many sounds in the dorms that I cannot relax and go to sleep. I swear as soon as I fall asleep, I hear someone trying to open the door. What made me think I could do this?
Cecil is across the campus. He walks me home every day, but then he has to go home in the dark. It’s the worst place ever. I hate it here. The classes are stupid and don’t have anything to do with nursing. Why am I here? God, I know I’m in Your will, but it sure would be nice to be able to sleep. Just putting that out there.
At the end of the journal, she read the last entry.
Cecil wants to get married tomorrow. We’ll just go do it and explain to everyone later that we didn’t want to wait anymore. He’s tired of me being miserable. We can live together, and I can feel safe again. We will go to school together, and I’ll get a job as soon as I graduate so he can finish medical school. We’ve done nothing this week but talk about the details. I’m so excited. Mama is going to be mad, but she’ll be happy, too, because she loves him. So do I.
As she read through two journals that chronicled their time in college and her father’s time in medical school, the death of Cecil’s father, the death of Alison’s mother, she had to stop and turn on the lamp next to her. Somehow, the sun had gone down. She grabbed another journal.
We got the due date today. Baby Flynn will come two weeks after graduation. Oh, Lord, please let it wait and not be early! Cecil needs to focus as he approaches finals, and I really want to be at his graduation. We’ve worked so hard. Doctor Hart said I can work up until the moment I give birth if I want to. I need to, that’s for sure.
I know this was a year earlier than planned, but God, thank you for this incredible blessing. I already love this baby so much and I don’t even know what it is!
Rosaline has it confirmed. The doctor first told her twins, but she’s actually having triplets! She’s been so sick, and I’ve been too overwhelmed with everything to be a good friend. God, please help me release some of my stress and worry so I can help her. She’s so scared, and I’m so excited and I feel a little guilty.
It took Valerie a moment to realize that her mother had written about her! These words were written thirty years ago. Emotion clutched her chest and she felt a slight tremble in her hands as she finished that journal and picked up the last one.
