Because they are moving to a settlement this week, Sandra is having Claire and I read the depositions and provide her with our biggest takeaways. We don’t actually have to do this, in fact, I’m extremely grateful to Sandra for letting us get so much experience and exposure, but holy shit, Jackson’s behavior hitsa little too close to home for me.The whole experience is actually making me reconsider what kind of law I might want to do. Maybe I should look into contract law or medical malpractice. I’m not sure if I want to do family law at all anymore.
I take my time walking a lap around the floor, lingering around the water cooler, trying to see if I can spot any really good outfits. I spot a mildly interesting argyle sweater but, overall, today’s outfit walk is a dud.
I check my phone and I have seven more minutes until I have to get back to work. I really, really don’t want to.
I linger by the water cooler again and then when I have one minute left on my break, force my feet to move back to my intern cubicle.
“Ready?” Claire asks when I plop myself down.
“As I’ll ever be.”
I pop my headphones on and open my laptop back up to the deposition records. It doesn’t take me long to find where I left off.
“He used to force me to send him naked pictures. At first it was fun and taboo, ya know. He was my boss and this god to me. I liked sneaking off into the bathroom while on lunch to take pictures of my sexy and secret lingerie. But then he started to ask for them all the time. And then the next thing I knew, he would expect them at any given moment. It didn’t matter who I was with or what I was doing, he would demand I send him a picture. I could be at my grandma’s assisted living home and if he wanted a topless picture, I had to send it. He’d tell me that he’d break up with me if I didn’t send it. He’d tell me that if I didn’t send the picture in, I don’t know, ten minutes, then he would cheat on me and it would be my fault for his cheating. That because I didn’t send it in time, I forced him to cheat on me.”
I take my headphones off and close my eyes for a second, breathing in through my nose. It's just…a lot. In a strange way it feels almost relieving to know that my experiences are not that unique. A strange kinship with a woman I’ve never met and never will. But at the same time, the knot in my chest is wound up so tight, it hurts to breathe.
No one, and I mean no one, knows about how I sent my ex naked pictures whenever he requested them. I know Miranda wouldn’t judge me for it now, but back then, I think she would’ve. Miranda doesn’t send naked pictures of videos. She’s very vocal about it actually. So at the beginning, I didn’t tell her because I didn’t want her judgement and then by the time I knew it was crossing the line into toxic and controlling, I was too ashamed to tell her. Two of the naked pictures he posted of me were pictures I literally sent him. Pictures I stood in front of the mirror taking of myself and sent to him, on purpose.
“Are you okay?”
My eyes shoot open with a start, hand shooting up to my chest like a southern grandma clutching her pearls. “You scared me,” I say on an exhale. I smooth down my hair, “Yeah. I’m good. It’s just that these can be a little hard to read.”
“I know. Like I said, psychopathic narcissist.”
Claire turns her chair back toward her screen when I put my headphones back on. I know that I shouldn’t but I skip ahead three pages in the deposition. I just don’t need to read about something I’ve already lived through.
I finish reading the deposition and send Sandra an email with my takeaways and predictions for the settlement feeling accomplished and very ready to go out tonight.
“You want to come dancing at SixtyForty with me and Miranda tonight?” I ask Claire on the way to our cars.
She gives me a genuine smile and shakes her head. “I can’t tonight. I have plans. But we should plan a girl’s night with allthree of us soon. I really liked Miranda when we hung out at the pool a little while back. She’s cool.”
We exchange our goodbyes and I head home to my apartment. Miranda and I are going out dancing tonight. Dancing for real. Not the bullshit attempt at dancing I tried with Will. Real dancing with hot outfits and pre-gaming together with drinks and music. A real night of going out. I’m more excited about it than nervous.
I can hear the music in the hallway before I even enter my apartment. I unlock my door to find Miranda in my kitchen, wearing spandex shorts and a sport’s bra while pouring what looks to be vodka into two shot glasses. She spins, holding a shot in each hand. She saunters over to me, somehow able to perfectly align her walk to the beat of the song. “Welcome home, here’s a shot!”
I toe off my shoes and toss back the shot. Yup, definitely vodka. My face contorts and twists up, I’m horrible at taking straight liquor.
I strip out of my work clothes, tossing them into a pile on the floor right outside my bathroom and change into an oversized t-shirt and shorts. I’m pretty sure the shirt is not Will’s. And if I can’t remember if it is or isn’t, I’m assuming it isn’t.
Miranda turns our going out playlist up even louder and before I know it, I’m karaokeing into my flat iron.
I sit on my bathroom counter, straightening my hair while Miranda sits on the floor in my living room, doing her make-up in the full size mirror I have leaning against the wall.
I’ve missed this so much. Just being a girl with Miradna and going out and having fun and not feeling like everything is horrible and the world will end at any moment. I’m actually excited to go out for the first time in over a year.
After my hair, I move onto my make-up. I finish putting on my lipstick, a classic bold red, and hop off my bathroom counter, heading toward where Miranda is still on the floor.
“How do I look?” I ask, turning my face back and forth for her approval.
“You look so good!” Miranda’s excitement infecting me when I do a little hop. “What outfit are you thinking?”
“I have a few ideas, hang on.” I say, rushing to my closet and pulling out several articles of clothing and tossing them onto my bed.
After trying on multiple variations of the same thing, I finally settle on a black mini skirt and a white crop top. The top is long sleeve and high necked, but stops just under my bust, showing off more stomach than I have in months. My boobs look huge and perky, my legs look amazing. I give Miranda a little twirl, feeling fantastic. “You look hot!”
“What about me? How do I look?” Miranda says, spinning in a similar fashion. Miranda wears a slinky LBD with a slit up the thigh that goes obscenely high.
