Photos of Robin from thehospital are entered into evidence.They're pretty damning.Photosof Sam also taken that night show some bruising and swelling, butthere's no comparison.It doesn't prove anything, but it doesn'tsupport the story of a fair fight either.
The questioning continues,now asking details about Sam's and my relationship.He's truthfulbut evasive at the same time.I haven't looked at Robin since Iwalked into the courtroom, trying to pretend he isn't even here,but I glance at him now.He holds his face carefully withoutexpression, but his hands are curled into fists, so tight hisknuckles begin to turn white.My pulse races, beads of sweatbreaking out on my nose and forehead.I swallow anxiously.Hisanger elicits terror in me, and I can't help my fear, even ifrationally I know I'm not currently in danger.
The defense attorney takesthings too far, asking incredibly personal questions, and thoughour side objects, the judge allows the defense a "short leash".Apparently nuances of our relationship speak to whether or not Samwould beat someone up for me, if he would lie for me.
"Mr.Caplan, is yourrelationship with Miss Pine sexual?"the defense attorney, WalterSerpo, asks for the third time and this time the judge directs Samto give a clear answer.
Sam allows a smallhalf-smirk to play on his lips."Sometimes," he replies.He'splaying the room, being his charming self, but I hate that he hasto answer such a personal question in front of an audience.Infront ofthisaudience.
There is a small spatteringof chuckles from the strangers in the room, but I see Robin's fiststighten even more.For the first time, he turns my way, and thoughhe keeps his glare inscrutable, I can feel his rage, his contempt.He wants to kill me.He wants to kill Sam.He very wellmay.
The attorney seated nextto him elbows him subtly and he returns his gaze straightforward.Everyone is focused on Sam and I doubt anyone noticed Robin'sbrief hostile glare but me.
I swallow my second pillof the day dry.
Finally Sam is excused andwe break for lunch.I barely pick at my sandwich as Counter goesover my testimony with me for the third time, the first two timeshaving been over Skype before we flew down.
I don't want to do this.I'm terrified.But I know I have to find some courage, because thisis my chance to stand up for myself—to be my own hero—and I have tocome through for myself.
We re-enter the courtroomand get settled, but before we begin, the doors fly open and a newface steps inside.
Well, not a new face.Anold face.
Chip is here.
He looks around the roomuntil he finds me, offering me an unsure smile.He's grown taller,his hair longer, almost shaggy, and he pushes it behind his ears.He looks good in his khakis and blazer—handsome, and more maturethan I ever expected him to look.He walks over to the bench behindme, this one act demonstrating the reason for his presence—tosupport me.
My mother elbows me, as ifI hadn't noticed him, and I nod at her.I smile at Chip, my friendwho I honestly never thought I would see again.He must have drivensix hours to be here for me.
"Who is that?"Samwhispers to me.
"That's Chip.FranklinChipley," I tell him.
"The sheriff's son?"Samremembers everything.
I nod.Sam nods at Chip ingreeting and Chip nods back with a slightly confused expression.Ofcourse, he has no idea who Sam is.
The judge re-enters and weall stand in unison until he tells us to be seated.I'm called tothe stand not a minute later.
I am a pathetic witness.My voice is shaky, soft, and the judge asks me to speak up severaltimes.I feel like I'm failing, but I tell the truth.I answerevery question, if not always particularly eloquently, andProsecutor Counter is very patient with me.The defense objectsmore times than I can count, and the judge grants their objectionsmore often than he overrules them, making me more anxious eachtime.It feels like he's on their side.I don't know why, but itdoes, and it terrifies me even more.
I avoid Robin's eyes,except for when I'm asked to point him out in thecourtroom.
I disappoint myself bycrying more than once, and I have to take three breaks, and onemore anti-anxiety pill.But I don't panic and I suppose that's somesmall victory.
It's nearly five in theevening by the time I'm finished and the judge decides to continuewith my cross tomorrow.I'm partly relieved, but at the same time,I just want to get it over with.
I step down from the standand receive hugs from both my mother and Sam, who whispers to mehow brave I was.Chip approaches us hesitantly, and my mother pullshim into a hug, thanking him for showing his support.
I can't find words to tellhim how much it means to me that he showed up.Instead, I startcrying, and he wraps his arms around my shoulders.It's the firsttime I've tolerated the touch of a man other than Sam since Cam'sdeath.
"Of course I'm here, Rorygirl.I've always had your back, you know that," he whispers to me.It's true—he has.But I'm not sure if I've always knownit.
"Thank you Chip," I murmuras I pull away, wiping my eyes.
He turns to Sam and holdsout his hand."Franklin Chipley, I'm an old friend of Rory's," heintroduces.
Sam shakes his hand,sizing up Chip as if he might be some kind of competition, which isridiculous."Sam Caplan, Rory's boyfriend."
