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Authors: Emma Nichols
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me to accept I had somehow become a victim and it hurt.
After a couple of rings, a woman answered. “ Victim’s Assistance. How can I help you?”
Clearing my throat, I finally managed to speak. “I don’t know. I don’t know what you do.”
“Well, let me ask you a few questions so I know how to direct your call.”
Soon, I was relaying the story of Shane’s meltdown again. Already I was tired of talking about it. It felt so foreign, as if it had happened to someone else, like I was completely removed from the experience.
The receptionist spoke firmly. “Okay, you need to come in here as soon as possible. If you get in here in time, we should be able to file the paperwork and get you on this afternoon’s docket.”
Still I was confused. “And what will this do?”
“You can get an Order of Protection,” she explained gently.
“Oh.” I was disappointed and shocked. I wasn’t the kind of woman who needed a restraining order. For years, I had proven myself to be self-sufficient, strong. I could handle virtually anything. I didn’t need legal intervention before now. All I cared about was custody of Kylie, and not getting arrested for kidnapping and grand theft auto.
“The judge can give you temporary emergency custody, a vehicle, and the house.” She has spoken the magic words.
“I don’t want the house.” I choked the words out.
“Well, that’s up to you, but you should get here as soon as possible so you can get that taken care of.” Then our call ended.
After, I put a rush on getting ready. Since I had waited for Lily and Lyle to leave for work, I hadn’t showered yet. My wardrobe was limited. It had been a couple of years since I had worked outside of the home. As my own boss, every day was casual Friday. I had yoga pants, and jersey knit everything.
From my suitcase in the car, I picked my most responsible jersey knit dress. It was navy blue. Unfortunately, I only had flip-flops to match. Surely there would be women in court who looked worse. This wasn’t a beauty pageant. This was an incredibly painful experience where I wasn’t being graded on my looks.
I showered with Kylie in the bathroom after baby proofing it as best I could. The entire time, I played peek-a-boo with her to keep her out of mischief. It worked. Soon, we were dressed and packed up and rushing out the door.
This entire experience had Kylie clinging to me more than normal. I couldn’t be out of her sight for a moment. While she acted comfortable enough, I could feel her panic just below the surface. Time had only increased the choruses of ‘dada’ I was subjected to. Who could blame her? She loved her daddy and didn’t understand why he wasn’t with us. He was always home with us at night. She saw him every morning. Suddenly we were in a strange place with no daddy.
The drive to Victim’s Assistance took almost thirty minutes. I had to park in the government center parking garage, which meant spending more of my precious money. This had to be done. There was no way around it. I toyed with pulling out the stroller, but decided against it. I knew while it would help with all the walking, we could be in very close quarters trying to manage very heavy doors. Kylie only weighed 18 lbs. Surely, I could manage that.
So, hauling her, my purse, and her feeding pump bag out of the car, we set out for the building conveniently located next to the courthouse where the office was located. Kylie was silent, staring as we walked at my break neck pace. She was my little sponge, soaking it all in. I wished more than anything she could’ve missed out on this particular experience. Last night, while we lay cuddled together on the floor, I kept replaying the events in my mind, willing a different outcome, worrying over how I could have done things differently. Instead, it just seemed like everything was
After a couple of rings, a woman answered. “ Victim’s Assistance. How can I help you?”
Clearing my throat, I finally managed to speak. “I don’t know. I don’t know what you do.”
“Well, let me ask you a few questions so I know how to direct your call.”
Soon, I was relaying the story of Shane’s meltdown again. Already I was tired of talking about it. It felt so foreign, as if it had happened to someone else, like I was completely removed from the experience.
The receptionist spoke firmly. “Okay, you need to come in here as soon as possible. If you get in here in time, we should be able to file the paperwork and get you on this afternoon’s docket.”
Still I was confused. “And what will this do?”
“You can get an Order of Protection,” she explained gently.
“Oh.” I was disappointed and shocked. I wasn’t the kind of woman who needed a restraining order. For years, I had proven myself to be self-sufficient, strong. I could handle virtually anything. I didn’t need legal intervention before now. All I cared about was custody of Kylie, and not getting arrested for kidnapping and grand theft auto.
“The judge can give you temporary emergency custody, a vehicle, and the house.” She has spoken the magic words.
“I don’t want the house.” I choked the words out.
“Well, that’s up to you, but you should get here as soon as possible so you can get that taken care of.” Then our call ended.
After, I put a rush on getting ready. Since I had waited for Lily and Lyle to leave for work, I hadn’t showered yet. My wardrobe was limited. It had been a couple of years since I had worked outside of the home. As my own boss, every day was casual Friday. I had yoga pants, and jersey knit everything.
From my suitcase in the car, I picked my most responsible jersey knit dress. It was navy blue. Unfortunately, I only had flip-flops to match. Surely there would be women in court who looked worse. This wasn’t a beauty pageant. This was an incredibly painful experience where I wasn’t being graded on my looks.
I showered with Kylie in the bathroom after baby proofing it as best I could. The entire time, I played peek-a-boo with her to keep her out of mischief. It worked. Soon, we were dressed and packed up and rushing out the door.
This entire experience had Kylie clinging to me more than normal. I couldn’t be out of her sight for a moment. While she acted comfortable enough, I could feel her panic just below the surface. Time had only increased the choruses of ‘dada’ I was subjected to. Who could blame her? She loved her daddy and didn’t understand why he wasn’t with us. He was always home with us at night. She saw him every morning. Suddenly we were in a strange place with no daddy.
The drive to Victim’s Assistance took almost thirty minutes. I had to park in the government center parking garage, which meant spending more of my precious money. This had to be done. There was no way around it. I toyed with pulling out the stroller, but decided against it. I knew while it would help with all the walking, we could be in very close quarters trying to manage very heavy doors. Kylie only weighed 18 lbs. Surely, I could manage that.
So, hauling her, my purse, and her feeding pump bag out of the car, we set out for the building conveniently located next to the courthouse where the office was located. Kylie was silent, staring as we walked at my break neck pace. She was my little sponge, soaking it all in. I wished more than anything she could’ve missed out on this particular experience. Last night, while we lay cuddled together on the floor, I kept replaying the events in my mind, willing a different outcome, worrying over how I could have done things differently. Instead, it just seemed like everything was
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