They hired a 17 year old at work today. She’s not even 3 years younger than I am and every time she speaks I feel confused. Realizing I’ve become more of an adult, I try not to talk to her that often. We’re two different worlds that I don’t know how to connect.
It’s late, there’s no rush in the restaurant, and there’s not much to do except prentending to clean the same spot for 20 minutes. She’s on her phone in the foyer while I’m cleaning a tv screen. I change the channel to the news to see what happened in the area this week, but instead I land on a courtroom report. There’s a man, angry, defying anyone who dare go against his word. He avoids questions professionally and seems confident in his speech. He claimed he did not do it.
There’s a woman. She says she doesn’t want to be here today, that’s she’s terrified, that she’s telling nothing but the truth. She describes sexual assault from a drunken man with no remorse. She speaks now to save others. The women behind her look devastated. I know that I hold the same expression.
Then I see that the 17 year old is next to me. She’s watching the screen intently and her face holds an awful grimace. She sees me looking and hardly blinks when she turns.
“I really want them to believe her.”
She says it and suddenly she and I are the same person. I know her pain and she knows mine. We are scared little girls and bruised women. I feel compassionate, but I’m angry that this is what connected us. I’m angry that she knows this shame that we didn’t fucking ask for. I’m angry that no one believed us when we told them.
She turns to go back to the foyer. I assume we both knew there was nothing to say, but if one person can tell a courtroom about what happened to her, I think I can say something.
“Hey,” I called after her. She turned.
janainaart
2087
izzy806
snowghoul
gummygunk
pixelskylines
