Coming down the stairs, I met my dad walking through the front door with a green teddy bear and a bouquet of chrysanthemums. “Wow, thanks, Dad!” I said. I thought he was being nice.
“They’re not from me,” he said. “Someone bought them to the front door and asked me to give them to you.” But that was just the beginning. A few hours later, our house looked like a floral shop. Once again, I had to wonder, All of this for me?
Sometime in the early morning, my grandparents burst into the house. They were frantic with happiness and exhaustion. They had driven all night from Palm Springs to come to see me. I don’t know for certain, but it seems they may have broken a speed limit or two to get there so fast.
Hearing all of the commotion from my grandparents’ entry, the other kids woke up and came downstairs. We all stood in the middle of the room and hugged each other. To my great relief, my baby brother, William, joined in the hug!
I felt so loved. So safe. I had not felt that way in a very long time.
I am home. I am home. Everything is going to be okay.
The only thing I wanted to do was to have another bath. Then, while the other members of my family were waiting in the living room, my mom pulled me aside at the top of the stairs.
“Before it gets too crazy, I need to tell you something,” she said.
I turned to look at her. She was so beautiful to me.
“This is important,” she started. I could see from the look on her face that it was. I listened as intently as I could. And I’m very glad I did, for what she was about to say turned out to be the best advice that anyone has ever given me. In fact, I would say it changed my life.
“Elizabeth, what this man has done is terrible. There aren’t any words that are strong enough to describe how wicked and evil he is! He has taken nine months of your life that you will never get back again. But the best punishment you could ever give him is to be happy. To move forward with your life. To do exactly what you want. Because, yes, this will probably go to trial and some kind of sentencing will be given to him and that wicked woman. But even if that’s true, you may never feel like justice has been served or that true restitution has been made.
“But you don’t need to worry about that. At the end of the day, God is our ultimate judge. He will make up to you every pain and loss that you have suffered. And if it turns out that these wicked people are not punished here on Earth, it doesn’t matter. His punishments are just. You don’t ever have to worry. You don’t ever have to even think about them again.”
She paused, as if the next words were the most important. “You be happy, Elizabeth. Just be happy. If you go and feel sorry for yourself, or if you dwell on what has happened, if you hold on to your pain, that is allowing him to steal more of your life away. So don’t you do that! Don’t you let him! There is no way that he deserves that. Not one more second of your life. You keep every second for yourself. You keep them and be happy. God will take care of the rest.”
It’s been ten years since my mother said those words.
The years have proven she was right.
38.
Comfort in My Bed
That first night I lay in my bed. I found it hard to sleep. My legs were agitated and I felt restless.
The night was dark, and the yellow light from the streetlights filtered into my room. If I held still, I could hear the occasional sound of cars driving on the road behind my house. Tomahawk Drive. The road where Mitchell had forced me to hide behind the bushes while the police car had driven by. I lay underneath my soft comforter, my head atop my fluffy pillow. It almost felt uncomfortable, sleeping in a real bed.
For the first time in months, I was going to sleep without suffering from hunger. I was clean. I hadn’t just been raped. I hadn’t just been forced to do things that I couldn’t even speak about. I was surrounded by my family. I wasn’t thirsty or exhausted. I hadn’t been forced to drink a cup of dirty rainwater to keep my thirst down. I hadn’t been forced to drink so much alcohol that I was sick. I hadn’t just had a pornographic magazine shoved in my face. I wasn’t cold. I wasn’t hot. I wasn’t lonely. I didn’t have to lie in bed and wonder, What are my mom and dad doing? Are they okay? Were they happy? Did they think about me anymore? I didn’t have to wonder, What will my future look like? How long was Mitchell going to live? Would I ever be free again? Would I ever go to school? Would there ever be anyone else in my life except for Barzee and Mitchell?
I had my life back. I had a future. Everything that had been stolen had been given back to me.