“After all these years? People wouldn’t have believed me before. But now? And after that story? There’s no way.”
“So, the only reason to come forth is to be believed? That’s the only way it means something?”
I open my mouth but have no answer.
“There are always going to be bad people.” There’s a coughing fit and I want to tell O.G. to see a doctor. “There’s always going to be evil. That’s not why you step forward. I’m not saying that you should. I’m not telling you what to do but somebody has to do something. Somebody has to be the person who steps up.”
“Nobody would believe me. I’d lose everything.”
“What’s left to lose?” I wince. “Isn’t there a quote about rock bottom being the best foundation?”
I pick at some cracking varnish on the counter and think about his words. “What if I do and nothing comes from it? What if I put myself out there and it does absolutely nothing? He walks away and nobody cares.”
“I think you have to be prepared for that possibility.”
I drop my forehead to the counter. It’s cold and painful. I don’t care.
“But what if just one person finds solace in it? What if it helps one person come out against their attacker?”
My chin begins to quiver. But he doesn’t stop.
“What if it causes one man to tell another man that that toxic talk isn’t okay? What if it challenges the system in place?”
I sigh. “This is why I told myself I was going after him. To cause change. To help other people.”
“Exactly. No matter what happens with him, someone has to be the one to stand up. Someone has to risk it all. It’s about power. Someone has to take it back. I believe in you, Maggie. I believe that you are that person. I always have. You have to believe it too.”
I bite my lip and take a steadying breath. If I speak now my tight throat will give my tears away.
“Look, I have to go. But I did choose you for a reason. Make me proud.”
“I’m scared.” My voice cracks.
“You wanted to change things. You have the power to do that. I trust you’ll find a way out of this. That you’ll see the truth and stop lying to yourself.”
The call ends abruptly. I don’t have a chance to say anything.
The phone may as well be a paperweight for all it’s giving me. I can’t come forward. What would it do but make even more people hate me? I have to find another way to bring Zebulund down. My story won’t matter.
My eyes squeeze shut. My heart is pounding because it’s getting the memo before the rest of me. It knows I’m about to make a choice. A very scary and stupid choice.
O.G. is right. I’m lying to myself. All these years set on revenge, but the truth is I’ve been living a lie. I use my powers and my stories as protection. I’m still so afraid that my words don’t matter. That if I come forth about my abuse I’ll be called a liar and a whore. All my life I’ve felt that my body was vulgar. That it was wrong and dirty and shameful. That all this really was my fault somehow. I thought I could cover myself. But I can’t anymore. I can’t go back to lurking in rooms of criminals and living that lie.
People will call me names. All the people cursing me for the article about Roe proves that. But it doesn’t matter. I’m done hiding the truth. From myself. For the countless others.
My strength isn’t revenge. My strength is courage. With or without Roe, I know what I need to do. I know it isn’t my fault. I accept what happened to me. It doesn’t define me.
I need to free myself. Telling Roe about my abuse helped me reclaim my body. Now it’s time to reclaim my life.
33
Roe
It takes exactlyone nonstop flight from Los Angeles to Omaha to realize what an idiot I am. By the time the plane bumps onto the tarmac, I’m fully enraged with myself. My anger earlier was misdirected. Maggie wanted to work as a team and make things better but I left.
“Idiot,” I mutter to myself. My neighbor shoots me a dirty look.
They do a double take of recognition so I look away and lower my hat. I’m on the only available flight home. Which means a cramped middle seat on a puddle jumper built before I was born with no Wi-Fi. It doesn’t matter. My parents and the town are likely thinking the worst of me.
