The way she bites her lip, I can tell she was prepared for this question, but perhaps not so soon. “Do you know anything about Andrea? Where she’s from, how she came to be who she is?” I shake my head no. I’ve tried asking Lauren, but she’s tight-lipped about it too. “Take a seat.” Ophelia motions to her office before closing the door behind us and sitting in the chair behind her desk. “My mom is from Washington, as well, and she knew Andrea and her parents. I never knew them when I was younger, but whenever there was a call for help from Andrea to my mom, I was always there to answer it.” I don’t know why, but it’s comforting to know Andrea and Ophelia aren’t complete strangers. “Andrea and I have met several times over our adult life. But our moms, they were best friends growing up. I can’t give you all the details because it’s not my story to share; however, Andrea’s dad was an abusive man. So abusive that when she was just a teenager, he murdered her mom. Andrea ran away and ended up here, where my mom hid her until she found someone who could and would help get Andrea away from her dad and everyone else in his family.”
“That’s terrible.” I suspected that Andrea had a past similar to mine, but nothing so horrific. Her drive is admirable.
“I don’t know all the details of how she came to be emancipated or what she does now. I just know that when she has asked me for help, I’ve very rarely turned her away. She sent you to me because she knew I would be here for you as more than an employer. I know you have Lauren, but Laken, you need a host of people who will support you in any way you need.”
My throat grows tight with emotion because I realize Ophelia is right, and I want to accept her offer, but I’m unsure how to do that. Mason isolated me for so long, though it was not very long at all. Every day felt like months, but it was only a little over a year that we were together. The marriage happened so quickly that I still feel the whiplash from it.
“I get that; I do. I just need to learn how to live again first.” Ophelia grins at that as she stands and makes me promise to come to her when I’m ready to talk or have a girls’ night out or in, whichever I’m more comfortable with.
Two weeks later.
“You’re going to have to look at me one day, darlin’.” Lieutenant Decker is determined, kind, and a huge flirt, and I’m still not comfortable around him yet. I did get a look at him walking away one day, and Ophelia is right; he is a beautiful man. Everything I would assume a Florida beach boy would look like. Shaggy, dark brown hair, but not like it’s unkempt, more so that he wakes up that way after a night of wild sex, like Ophelia keeps teasing, and just walks out the door.
“Maybe one day.” My go-to response.
Handing him his coffee, he raps his knuckles on the counter like he always does and lays his palm flat for a few seconds too long—almost like he’s waiting for me to reach out and touch him—before he pulls away and walks out the door.
“He’s into you,” I hear Ophelia whisper from behind me.
“Is not.” I can’t even think about that. Not yet. Not when I have a looming court date. I’m trying to get rid of a man, not catch another one.
“He is.” I hear Lauren as she steps up to the counter. “He knows a good catch when he sees one.”
Ignoring the two of them, I grab Lauren her regular iced coffee and egg white breakfast sandwich. After paying, she leaves to sit outside, where she’ll enjoy her breakfast and the newspaper for an hour before leaving to do whatever it is she does during the day. I find the more time I spend at The Cup and with Ophelia, the more accustomed I become with my new life and being out in the world again. Because of my parents’ grocery store, I’m used to working in customer service, but when the only person you speak to for so long is an abusive husband who is more likely to hit me than speak to me, I learned long ago to remain silent.
Thankfully, Ophelia has a remarkable customer base who have fairly quickly accepted me into their routines a couple of days a week. I’m almost afraid things are going too well for me.
The court date could very well blow everything up, and I don’t know if I have it in me to keep on hiding.
Two weeks later.
“You should go out with him,” Lauren encourages as we wait for the conference call to begin. I’ve been biting my nails to the quick for days now, and they’re cracked and raw as I stare down at them. “Maybe a manicure first.” She grabs my hand to inspect my dinged-up fingers.
“Two-minute warning,” I hear the court employee say as a timer appears on the screen.
“Just breathe,” I mutter to myself. I’m prepared. Or I thought I was. But now I’m not so sure. I don’t know if he’ll be able to see me, or I, him, and I think the uncertainty of that is what has my nerves on edge.
“Take a drink,” Andrea suggests as she pops up on the screen with thirty seconds left. “Breathe, keep your answers short and to the point. Don’t elaborate. Today is all about you telling the judge you want the divorce and why. His attorney won’t be speaking to you, just like I won’t be speaking to him.” I nod as I swallow a small sip of water. Lauren sits on the other side of the table, holding one hand while maintaining eye contact. She plans to give me cues if I need them.
“Here we go. No need to rise. Sit straight, don’t smile, and just listen until you’re called on.” I nod again as the screens light up with faces and the courtroom. I’m the only one not present in the room because the fear of Mason pinpointing my location is a real possibility and a danger we don’t want to risk.
The bailiff runs through the details of the case, and when I see Mason and his lawyer pop up on a screen, I feel like I’ve been sucker-punched. The air is stolen from my lungs, and I can’t breathe. Lauren squeezes my hand, bringing me back to life and centering me so I can take in what’s being said. It’s thirty minutes of legal jargon before I’m finally given an opportunity to speak.
“Mrs. Miller, am I to understand that you are requesting the divorce because of spousal abuse?” the judge asks, and I cringe at how he uses Mason’s last name.
“Yes, sir.”
“You’ve reported the abuse?” I didn’t think this would get so hard so quickly.
“Yes, Your Honor.” I see Lauren nodding in encouragement as Mason looks up at the screen.
“Could you elaborate? Give me the details and dates.” Swallowing around the lump in my throat, I try to block out his glare. I know what kind of anger rests behind his gaze.
“Your Honor, if I could interrupt a moment? My associate who is there with Laken is relaying to me that she feels Mr. Miller is trying to intimidate my client. I request that his camera be turned off so she will feel more free to share her experiences.” Andrea is a lifesaver. “She would also prefer to be addressed as Laken or Ms. Cooke when possible.”
I watch the older man for a minute as he contemplates Andrea’s request. She told me that so many male judges follow the old boys club rules, and since he was new here, she wasn’t sure what way he would swing when requests like this got made.
“Bailiff, could you please shut off the plaintiff’s monitor.” I breathe a sigh of relief as Mason’s face disappears from view. “Ms. Cooke, Laken, please accept the court’s apologies. It will be on record what your name choice is. If you’re comfortable now, please explain your side.”