Page 74 of Love Rewritten

“Physically maybe.”

Trisha folds her hands in front of her and takes a step back, a sympathetic smile on her face. Or pity, maybe. God, I’m so tired of the pity.

Dallas hangs his head. “I wish I had some magical word that could make whatever he says roll off your back, but I don’t. It’s all you. You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for.”

“I don’t feel strong. All this pain, mentally and physically, makes me feel so weak like I might fall apart with even a simple hello from him.”

Dallas looks up and nods at his mom. I hear her shuffle behind me, and then the door closes, leaving us alone again. “Look at me.” He tips my chin up with a knuckle until our eyes meet. “Pain, be it physical or mental, isn’t a weakness. It’s a strength. It means you care about something so deeply that you’re willing to hurt for it. You cared about that relationship, at least for a little while. Don’t disregard that. It’s a part of you, even if you may not want it to be. And as cheesy as this may sound, it made you who you are. And now, you care about this relationship and getting yourself back to some sort of a new normal. That’s strength, Abby. Not weakness.”

A corner of my mouth ticks up involuntarily at his words and my eyes drop to my lap where Dallas still holds one of my hands. “I’ll try to remember that.” I take a deep breath and give him a short kiss before standing. He stands, too, and I smooth invisible wrinkles on his shirt.

He runs his hands up and down my arms and asks, “Ready?”

We make our way to the elevator and listen to the hum of the engine and gears bringing us down to the first floor. Trisha doesn’t say anything until we sit down on a bench outside the main doors of the courtroom. The black dress I’m wearing feels too constricting. It’s a halter top. Probably not my best choice when I’m trying to be comfortable, but I didn’t know when else I would wear this dress. It’s the one I had originally picked out for the awards ceremony until Dallas bought me the other one.

Dallas had said he’d take me out on a date that required a black-tie dress code so I had an opportunity to wear it, but why wouldn’t I wear the other one again? He certainly seemed to enjoy it. Or maybe it was simply the fact that I was in it.

“Okay, so here’s how things will go. We’ll make our way in, pass through the partition, and sit at the desk to the right just like last time. Family and friends will be in the gallery behind us. Sam isn’t in there yet, but he will be seated on the left.”

I nod once. It’s all I can do to keep my heart from jumping out of my chest and my feet from gluing themselves to the floor. Someone pops their head out of the double doors of the courtroom and lets Trisha know they’re ready for everyone. It sends my heart pounding even harder. I don’t know when it happened, but I’m standing now, clinging to Dallas’s hand like it's the only thing keeping me above water. He encourages me forward and I follow, as unwilling as my mind might be.

Trisha tugs one of the doors open and motions for Dallas and me to go in first. So, he does. And I do.

I keep my eyes on the floor just like the last time I was here, not wanting to pay attention to anything more than I have to. Dallas takes his seat in the front row of the gallery directly behind my chair as Trisha and I make our way through the partition and sit down behind the large wooden desk. I let myself look over at the desk where Sam will be sitting, almost like a preparatory glance, though I’m not sure it does anything and then turn away.

I turn around to where Dallas sits with Logan, Meredith, and Rose. My mouth drops open when I see who sits two rows behind them. Cameron and Will. Cameron smiles at me, and I almost let a whimper escape my chest as my eyes fill with tears. I hadn’t expected them to show up. After having dinner with them, Cameron and I have been texting more, still very minimally. Small updates on things. But she’s here, and so is Will. And I couldn’t ask for anything more from them right now. Dallas follows my eyes and realizes they’re here, too, before turning and shaking both their hands.

A thought crosses my mind that makes me check the rest of the seats for Mom, but she’s not there. I shouldn’t be upset. I haven’t talked to her since the day we had lunch at Landry’s when I finally told her about Sam. She’s called and texted, but I’ve guiltily ignored all her attempts at reaching out.

There’s some more shuffling of people at the front before the side door of the courtroom opens and Sam walks in, not in a jumpsuit and handcuffs, but freely and in a gray suit. Our eyes lock as he sits down, and I see the slightest grin on his face. I certainly hope he’s not still grinning by the end of this. I force myself to look forward until everyone is told to rise and the judge walks in. He sifts through some paperwork before proceeding.

“Good morning. You may be seated. This is the case of Cooper vs. Johnson.” Everyone sits, and the creaky benches and chairs echo through the small space. He starts through all the beginning proceedings just like he did last time, and I mostly tune it out, including the opening statements, until the questioning starts, and I have no choice but to listen.

The judge asks Sam and his attorney, Mr. Grant, to stand. Once he does, the judge asks, “Mr. Johnson, in the case of Cooper vs Johnson, with the charge of criminal domestic violence in the second degree, how do you plead?”

I swallow, waiting to hear his answer. Trisha had said this could go either way. A lot of times they’ll plead not guilty at the hearing and then guilty on the date of the actual case as a way to diminish the sentence because that can sometimes show the judge that they understand what they’ve done. But, as much as my body wants a longer sentence for him, I almost want him to plead guilty.

Sam meets the eyes of the judge and says, “Not guilty, Your Honor.”

Well, so much for learning from his mistakes. But I suppose I’m not surprised. Sam will do anything to avoid facing the consequences of his actions. He returns to his seat, and the case continues even though I’m internally screaming at those four simple words.

Trisha introduces a few pieces of evidence like Sam’s text messages and calls from him stalking me, the pictures he gave me the day he sent me to the hospital, and a bat they found in his car. There was so much evidence that it looked more like a book being passed to the judge than anything else.

Trisha whispers in my ear right before I’m called to the stand and says, “Don’t look at him. Keep your eyes on me. Or Dallas. Whoever keeps you calmest.” I make my way to the stand, and the plaintiff swears me in before I sit down in front of the microphone. Why do we need a microphone? This room is small. Too small. And suddenly, I’m far too aware of how close I’m sitting to Sam now. And I make the mistake of looking up at him.

He's leaned back in his chair so casually that my blood instantly turns hot, boiling, like I need somewhere to dump it before it burns me. So, I force my eyes back to Dallas whose mouth is set in a flat line. But he smiles, even through what looks like frustration and anxiety.

Trisha stands from the desk and approaches me. “Ms. Cooper, can you start by telling me when you and Mr. Johnson started seeing each other?”

Okay. I can do this. I knew these questions were coming. Just answer the same way I did when we went over them in her office.

“We started dating at the end of my freshman year of college. We met in a shared class.”

I grip the wooden chair beneath me to ground myself as I answer all her questions. They’re all the same as what she prepared me for. She starts with what the relationship was like before, then slowly morphs her questions into what it was like before we broke up. The knot in my throat makes it difficult to answer, but I force the words past it.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see my sister wipe her eyes on her sleeve, and Will places an arm around her shoulders. I’m not sure why I didn’t expect this to hit the people I know so hard, but laying it out like this is almost just as shocking to my own ears. I’ve restated parts of the relationship with different people, but not all at once, and in front of a crowd no less.

It helps that Meredith, Rose, and Logan barely react to any of this, which is a sad thought, too. Dallas must have told Rose and Logan enough that the information isn’t shocking, and I’ve told Meredith enough that I know she isn’t surprised either.

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