Chapter 43 Aftermath
Aftermath
There’s a knock on my bedroom door and Carole says, “Simon, it’s time to go.
” I check myself in the bathroom mirror and make sure I am presentable.
I do some of my deep breathing exercises and take my daily dose of medication for my anxiety.
I come into the living room where Dad, PJ, and Carole are waiting for me.
PJ takes my hand, and Dad puts an arm around me.
Carole kisses me on the cheek and says, “You are stronger than you know and we’re all super proud of you. ”
Carole drives and Dad sits in the passenger seat next to her. PJ is in the back with me, still holding my hand. With my other hand I bite my nails. Some habits are hard to break. PJ leans forward and tells Dad that his parents are going to meet us at the restaurant when we’re all done.
“That will be nice, PJ,” he says. “I look forward to seeing them again and getting to know them. Under better circumstances this time, of course. Simon, you deserve this belated birthday celebration, more than ever. I’ve heard there will be a spectacular cake waiting for you later too.”
I give Dad a small smile and resume looking out the car window.
I think back to everything that has happened in the last week since telling the crisis center therapist what Brian did to me.
I now must go to the crisis center every day after school for the next few weeks.
When my time at the crisis center is finished, they will help find me a permanent therapist out in the community to see once a week, not every day.
I’ve also been to a psychiatrist. He prescribed the medication that is helping me get through this dark period.
I hope the medication is temporary, but it’s way too early to tell.
The hardest thing has been telling my family and PJ’s parents about what happened to me.
I haven’t told any of my friends yet, and I don’t know if I will.
Aunt Sarah didn’t say much when she found out what Brian did to me.
She just sat there with a blank look on her face.
We haven’t heard from her since, and I don’t think we will for a while.
It’s still unclear to me if she knew what had happened, or if she suspected, or if she was in the dark about it like everyone else.
I’m guessing I will never know the answer to that question, and I will just have to accept that.
This is also something the therapist and I are working on.
Acceptance. Easy to say, harder to do. Aunt Sarah hasn’t come back to pick up Millie either.
Carole and I are fine with this arrangement, because along with Sammy, we are now a family of four again, and that is as it should be.
Dad and Carole hold the large glass doors open for PJ and me, and we walk into the police station holding hands. The four of us approach the front desk.
A uniformed officer glances up and asks, “How can I help you?”
I open my mouth to speak, but only a small squeak comes out.
Dad rubs my back and says, “Take your time. There’s no rush.”
PJ squeezes my hand and looks at me with deep love in his eyes. I look to Dad, who has finally become the father I’ve always needed him to be, and last to Carole, who has tears streaming down her face. I couldn’t ask for a better mother.
I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and say, “I want to report a crime.”