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It shouldn’t have surprised me. She once told me she wished she’d aborted me, and that was in casual conversation. Now she sees me as the reason her husband is in prison. I’ve given her an actual reason to hate me.
My head spins as I listen to her plead with the court to release my father, telling them he’s a changed man—that he’s found god. She blames his actions on his drinking and swears he’ll never drink again. She actually cries, telling them alcoholism is a disease and he’s a victim too. Of course, she doesn’t offer any type of apology to me—his actual victim. She doesn’t acknowledge me at all during her speech, or as she makes her way back to her seat. Not that I’d expect anything different.
The parole board asks if I’d like to speak, and Lizzy gasps beside me. My heart thuds in my chest, my eyes unwilling to look at either of my parents again as I stand. It isn’t until I attempt to take a step toward the front that I realize I’m still gripping Lizzy’s hand as if my life depends on it. Instead of pulling her hand from mine, she gets up and follows me to the front of the room.
“Can you please state your name for the record?” the man in the middle asks as I step up to the podium.
“Brenden Scott.”
“You’re the man Jordan Scott attacked?” the woman to his right questions.
“Yes. I’m also his son.” The room’s whispers and murmurs get louder, but I block them out, focusing only on Lizzy’s hand in mine.
“What would you like to tell the court today about your father and his possible parole? Do you feel he’s rehabilitated and should be released?” The man on the left eyes me over the rim of his glasses.
I clear my throat, trying to gather my thoughts and catch my breath. Lizzy steps closer to me, making me feel instantly calmer as her body presses into my side.
“I can’t speak on Jordan Scott’s rehabilitation. I suppose it is possible he’s turned over a new leaf during his time behind bars, even if I doubt that to be true. However, I can tell you this: Jordan Scott is an alcoholic and a mean drunk. He tried to take his own son’s life merely because he was trying to get him home safely from the bar. Perhaps he’s learned a lesson and all of this will keep him away from drinking when he gets out. But I can’t stand here and tell you I honestly believe that’ll be the case. Please understand I do not feel like this man is a threat to me, but he could be a threat to anyone near him when he’s been drinking. Which, until he was locked away, was every day of my life. Before you decide whether you should let him out, I only ask that you consider all the other awful things that could’ve happened that night. Things that could still happen if he’s allowed to go free.”
“Thank you, Mr. Scott,” the man in the middle says, dismissing me.
I turn away from the podium and beeline for the exit, feeling as if all the oxygen has been sucked out of the room. Lizzy is still at my side as I burst through the door. It slams closed behind me, making my departure grander than I intended.
Lizzy smiles as my eyes finally land on her, not even a hint of judgment in her features.
“Thank you for being here today.” I let go of her hand and wrap my arms around her.
She does the same, squeezing me tighter than she ever has. We continue to hold each other in silence outside the courtroom doors for the next few minutes. It allows me time to pull myself back together, as my trembling hands and erratic heartbeat both become steadier.
It’s as if she knows exactly what I need.
“Do you want to wait for the decision?” she asks, leaning back to meet my eyes.
“Hell no.”
“Okay. Can I interest you in some ice cream then?” She smiles, attempting to wiggle her eyebrows in the most adorable way.
It feels like a hundred-pound weight has been lifted off my chest as I laugh. She’s incredible.
Lizzy brings light into the darkest corners of my mind.
And I’ve fallen hopelessly in love with her.
