Chapter 13 – Maddie
Don’t Fuck with Glenda Albright
Maddie
I KNEW THIS was coming, but gosh I freaking hate this place.
If I never see the inside of this courthouse again, it will be way too soon.
It’s been months since the last time I was here, but I still remember the smell.
Almost like an old attic. Maybe that’s from the aging carpet and fixtures.
Possibly the scent of all the paperwork that passes through this place.
Or that could just be how depression and regret smell.
If it is, I might be what stinks. It’s been nearly a week since Drake showed up at my office, and I’m still fighting my emotions surrounding the incident.
The fear. The violation. The guilt. The frustration.
It’s at the front of my mind all the time.
Well… not all the time. Leo’s managed to distract me on more than a few occasions.
Unfortunately, he’s the reason for many of the emotions I’m harboring, so as soon as that distraction’s over, they come back with a vengeance. I can’t help but feeling like I’m fucking up his whole life. That he’s giving everything and I’m bringing nothing but problems to the table.
And I’m an awful, needy person because I still wish he could be at my side right now.
I’m not alone. My victim’s advocate is here on one side and the new attorney Leo hired is on the other.
But neither of them makes me feel safe the way he does.
Which is kind of funny considering I’m pretty sure my new attorney could take Drake down without breaking a sweat.
She hasn’t stopped glaring at him since we took our place at the back of the courtroom for his hearing.
My victim’s advocate leans close, resting a hand on my shoulder. “You don’t have to be here for this if it’s too much. I can stay and let you know what happens.”
I try to smile, wanting her to know how much I appreciate the offer, but I can’t. Not while I’m staring at the back of my ex-husband’s head. “I want to be here.”
Want is probably a strong word. I have to do this. Not only to prove to myself I’m not afraid, but to show Drake I won’t hide from him.
Plus, I want Drake to see my new attorney. I want him to know the game has changed. That I won’t be dealing with the lackluster and meddling representation of an attorney I felt forced to use.
Now I have Glenda Albright in my corner. From what Leo was able to find out, she has a reputation for being vicious, cutthroat, and fearless. All things I could never be—even on my best day—and I love having her next to me.
Even if I do find her a little intimidating.
Hopefully she scares the shit out of Drake. Or at least a couple juicy farts. Enough to make him back down on a few things concerning our divorce so we can get it done and over with.
Unfortunately, today won’t deal with any of that.
Today is about his violation of the protection order I have against him.
My victim’s advocate seems to think he’ll get at least a little bit of jail time for it, and I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or bad thing.
I learned very early in our marriage it wasn’t advisable to poke the bear.
And jail time would be one hell of a jab.
I check my watch, because it’s gotta be close to starting time, and I want to get this done and over with so I can get the heck out of here. Go visit Abuela and let her feed me something that might make me feel a little better.
But when I see the time has come, instead of relief, I feel ready to throw up. I don’t like confrontation, and court is kind of the ultimate confrontation.
I wipe my palms down the front of my dress pants—by the time this is all over I’m going to have worn holes on the thighs of everything I own—as the bailiff moves to close the doors. Before she can complete her task, I hear a familiar voice yell, “Keep it open.”
I turn as three faces I know well rush into the quiet courtroom.
I blink in surprise as Sylvia, Sharon, and Betty make a beeline for the row of benches along the back wall where I sit.
My advocate seems to understand they’re coming for me, and she stands, leaving space for the girls to take the seats directly beside me.
Sylvia plops her butt down on the long surface, immediately reaching for my hand. “Did we miss anything?”
I shake my head, throat tightening. I planned to go through this pretty much alone.
I knew there was no way in hell I wanted my parents here—and that there was no way in hell Leo should be here considering what happened the last time his path crossed Drake’s— so I was resigned to having only the advocate and lawyer at my side.
And that would have been enough. It would’ve been okay.
But knowing these girls have my back gives me strength I wasn’t expecting. Strength enough I lift my chin and my eyes, holding Drake’s gaze when I find him staring back at me.
I can do this. And, because of my friends and Leo, I can do it without the fear and isolation I was facing before.
It gives me hope I’ll come out the other side of this.
Probably a little broken and a little damaged, but somehow I think I’ll also be better than I was before.
Braver. Stronger. Maybe even a little louder.
The bailiff checks the hallway, then closes the door and takes her seat as the judge enters the room, and the hearing begins.
“THEY WHAT?” MY abuela’s head tips back on a hearty—and slightly evil—laugh. “That is amazing.”
My lips twitch at the memory of watching Drake walk out of the courthouse—after being told to report Friday for the four weeks he was sentenced to serve—to discover his car being towed. “It was pretty fantastic.”
I knew exactly who’d called about Drake being illegally parked outside the courthouse. I didn’t even have to see the smug looks on my residents’ faces to know it was Sylvia, Betty, and Sharon who were responsible.
“I’d like to meet those women someday.” My grandmother turns back to the chicken legs she’s cooking for our lunch. Her eyes slide my way. “I wouldn’t mind meeting the man you’ve been spending time with either.”
I try to smother out the smile brought to my lips when she mentions Leo, and fail miserably. “He wants to meet you too.”
My abuela turns to face me, one hand grabbing her walker for added stability, her graying brows lifted high on her forehead.
“Then why aren’t you calling him to come over here?
” She motions in the direction of the chicken sizzling on the stove.
“I made plenty of food.” A wide smile splits her face.
“I’ve seen the size of that boy. I’m sure he can always eat. ”
Now it’s my turn to lift my brows. “You’ve seen Leo?
” Even though my parents and Leo’s have been friends for years, Abuela isn’t much of a social butterfly.
She never went to any of the parties or get-togethers.
So how did she manage to get her eyeballs on the blond Adonis I’ve shared a bed with for the past six nights?
But still haven’t had sex with, which is starting to get really disappointing.
It’s not like nothing’s happening. We’ve done just about everything else, but he hasn’t remotely attempted to push for more.
I’m too big of a chicken to make that move myself. And I couldn’t now even if I wanted to, because my period is about two seconds away from starting. As if this day couldn’t have been shitty enough, I had to sit through court fighting cramps and bloating.
Being a woman can really fucking sucks sometimes.
“I know how to use the interweb, muneca.” Abuela turns back to the food. “I’m not that old.”
I snort. “I don’t think it has anything to do with age. My mother is pretty terrible at navigating the Internet.” I shake my head. “She’s always sharing those scammy found-dog posts on her timeline.”
“That’s because your mother is an idiot.” My abuela peeks at me over one shoulder. “I love her, but sometimes I wonder if she ever thinks before she acts.”
I know the answer to that. “She lets my dad do the thinking for her.” Any time I ask my mother a question, her answer is always that she has to discuss it with my father. Like she can’t form a conclusion using her own brainpower.
And since that’s what I saw growing up, I landed in a similar situation. Married to a man I allowed to make all my decisions. I stayed quiet and small and passive. I let him do the thinking for me.
I wish it wasn’t true. Want so much to pretend like it didn’t happen.
But it did.
“I don’t know how she ended up like that.” My abuela shakes her head. “Sometimes I sit and try to think of what I could have done to make her think it was a good idea to give away her voice like that.”
I know my grandmother has a lot of regrets. I know she feels bad for how much she had to work when my mom was growing up. How often she was gone and my mother was left on her own. I’ve heard her apologize directly to my mother for it countless times. Take accountability for the mistakes she made.
I’ve also heard my mother refuse to accept her apologies, which is okay. No one has to accept an apology if they don’t want to. It’s just ironic that she’s unwilling to apologize to me, yet expects any and all of her failings to be simply overlooked.
“I think some people just turn out the way they do no matter what happens to them.” At least I hope so, because I’m trying really hard to turn out differently than my mother.
I might have gone down a wrong path initially, but I corrected the course.
I don’t want to be in a voiceless marriage.
I want to be with someone who listens to what I say. Someone who values my opinion.
Someone who values me.
Someone like Leo.
I know our reconnection is very new, but I already feel like I know him relatively well. Well enough I can’t help but compare him to Drake. Think of how different a life with Leo would be than the one I led during my marriage.
When I’m quiet for a few minutes, my grandmother turns, angling a brow at me. “Are you going to call Mr. Rugby, or not?”
I can’t hide the smile that works across my face. “Yes. I will invite Mr. Rugby over.”
Pulling out my phone, I open up the text thread I have with Leo and tap out a message.
My abuela wants to know if you would like to come have lunch with us.
His response is immediate.
Absolutely I would.
I tap out my grandmother’s address, sending it before I join her at the stove, helping chop up the vegetables that will simmer with the chicken.
After adding the onions, peppers, tomatoes, and potatoes to the large skillet, we pour over a can of tomato sauce and a couple cups of chicken broth, then set it to simmer while our rice cooks.
Cooking with my grandmother is exactly what I needed today. Time to relax and reset, surrounded by familiar smells and the love of the woman who knows me better than anyone.
Just as we’re finishing assembling the food, there’s a knock at the door of my grandmother’s condo.
I wipe my hands and walk from the kitchen through the small living room to let Leo in.
I’m excited to see him, but unfortunately any greeting I might offer is drowned out by the sound of Cupcake, my abuela’s slightly unhinged Chihuahua, barking her tiny ass off at the stranger who’s entered her domain.
Sometimes I forget how stupidly aggressive the dog is. Once she knows a person, Cupcake’s generally tolerant of their presence. My grandmother doesn’t get many new visitors, so I haven’t had to deal with her dog’s forceful personality in a while.
I could probably stand to take a few pointers from Cupcake and start screaming my head off at strangers occasionally too. It might weed out the bad behaviors.
Cupcake goes at one of Leo’s ankles like she’s about to rip him limb from limb—even though she probably couldn’t even manage to dislocate a toe. I bend quickly, intending to grab the tiny maniac, but Leo shakes his head, chuckling.
“She’s okay. She’s not going to hurt me.” He crouches down, voice turning soft and smooth. “You just want to make sure I’m not here to hurt any of your girls, don’t you?”
That’s part of the reason I actually really like Cupcake. She would defend my abuela to the death. Would take on anyone or anything that tried to hurt my grandmother without hesitation or concern for her own well-being.
And she must decide that Leo isn’t dangerous, because in about two point five seconds, cupcake goes from rabid beast to a bitch in heat. I swear the dog is smiling as she dances in circles, shaking her ass around at Leo as he gives her pets.
Honestly, I don’t blame her. I would probably dance in circles and shake my ass around to get Leo to pet me too.
Actually, I might try that out once my period’s over. See if it works as well for me as it is for her.