Still can’t really talk about the court case. I got home yesterday and although I had been crying, it was purely a stream-valve response. This lawsuit has been going on now for a year and a half, and almost three years from the accident. So much is wrong with this, I was advised not to leave the country once, and then when they said it was okay to go on vacation to NZ – I was encouraged not to be gone long, then told I really should just be here. Having it hanging over my head has been exhausting, frustrating and stifling so to see a light at the end of the tunnel – put me in tears and that kind of cathartic screaming on the freeway did wonders to setting things right again.
When I got home and told Awesome and Adorabella about the day, they were encouraging and funny and I felt like, “You know what? It’s all going to be okay. Whatever happens, it’s gonna be okay.”
We then ran off to Target for a little retail therapy where I bought two very unnecessary pairs of “therapy shoes” and a dress. I somehow always forget how fun it is to wear a new pair of cheap shoes and get blisters in familiar but forgotten places. Yay for breaking in new favorites. We went to first Thursday and I had a shitty grin all night, even when I finally gave up and went barefoot on the way home.
It’s gonna be okay. All is well.
While I can’t give details about the case, I can tell you all that is was surreal. Like a dream or movie or watercolor painting of the most absurd. The only thing missing, really, was a hippo in a tutu and perhaps a talking cockroach, wait, actually there was one of those.
There were these moments in this very small room, where I was sitting across the table from the Plaintiff and her lawyer, my lawyer was to my right and the Judge was at the head of the table – serious tension and chaotic energy total swirl of colors and heat – and then we’d break for a coffee or a stretch and everyone started chatting amicably about their kids, school, travel and such – then the break would end, and everyone slid back into these masks of victim, attacker, rage, defender, fury, injustice, and whatever else they were previously wearing just under the surface. I watched it all with writer eyes, amazed and surprised and safe behind a fourth wall of emotional separation.
At one point as they were trying to get a witness on the speakerphone for the fourth time we’d been put on hold for several minutes when the judge said, “I think we’ve been disconnected. There isn’t any music.”
To which I said, “I can provide you some proper holding elevator music…”
And I began to sing in front of the hostile conglomeration of legal proceedings, “Girl- from- imp-anem-a goes – walking….”
Everyone burst out laughing and for a minute, amidst the absolute ridiculousness of the situation, I forgot about what the worst possible outcome of this day could mean.
For the rest of the day, as I was hanging with friends, if a moment of despair or fear or panic struck, I found myself bobbing my head and humming… “girl from Impanema goes walking…”
All is well. All will be well.
Recent Comments