Chapter 38
VERA
André has just informed me that the police have decided Enzo will be tried alongside Garros. He’s up against the same charges as our former client, but there’s a silver lining: the authorities are giving him some leeway. I get it. It was Enzo who brought the case to light.
With everything now laid out, it’s time for me to leave this place.
“You’ll need to give another statement later this week,” Officer Alonso tells me as he hands over my belongings.
I sling the backpack that has been with me all weekend over my shoulder and try not to grimace.
“Lo siento, Vera,” he says.
“I know,” I reply. “Me too.”
They won’t let me forget that I’m not off the hook just yet. I’m facing my own charges and will have my own trial. Who would have thought I’d end up in the defendant’s chair before I ever made it to the defence one?
“Take care,” the officer says, his tone almost mechanical.
I’m free to go.
André walks me to the exit, and Officer Horseface accompanies us both. I should really learn her name by now. I’m about to ask her, but she speaks before I get the chance.
“What a mess, huh?” she says, giving me a pat on the shoulder. Then she leans in closer, as if what she’s about to say is a secret. “Try not to make us look so bad next time, okay?”
I look at her with wide eyes, not quite sure how to respond. The woman starts to laugh.
“Come on! It would have been fun to see a man in your situation. But a woman… I can’t laugh at that. You know what I mean?”
I nod, but the words don’t stick.
I’m exhausted. Yes, I’m a woman and (almost) a lawyer.
I like flashy clothes and keep makeup on hand for a quick touch-up.
Sometimes, I make mistakes—just like anyone else.
I think what that woman was trying to say was: a strong woman doesn’t do what you’ve done.
She doesn’t act like you’ve acted. A strong woman wouldn’t find herself in this mess.
What example are you setting for all the girls who will come after you?
A strong woman should be born knowing everything and never make mistakes.
She must be a perfect woman! It’s almost like… the rules of feminism! Right?
To hell with it. I’m not a role model. I never have been, and I never aspired to be. I’m a real person. I speak English rolling my r’s. I fuck things up sometimes. I piss off the men who piss me off.
No. I’m fine as I am, and I wouldn’t change the decisions I’ve made for anything, even if they weren’t the right ones. If that makes me a bad role model, fine, I’ll be a bad role model.
I can live with that.
André sighs and puts his arm around my shoulders.
“We’re leaving,” he announces. “Thanks, Alba.”
Alba. Go screw yourself, Alba.
We step out of the police station, and André’s car waits by the entrance.
“I’ll take you home,” he offers.
“Thanks,” I reply.
I swallow hard, hoping he reads between the lines. Thank you for spending so much time here with me. Thank you for being patient. And thank you for not firing me… yet.
“It was all my nephew’s doing,” he says, laughing, as if he understands what I’m thinking about. “Come on, I can’t wait to get home.”