When I do call, I am greeted with a recording to leave a message. So I explain my call and give him my telephone number and thanked him once more.
I forget about it as I am pulled into work, to the point where I am too exhausted to even dance some days.
But this day was something else, I wasn't supposed to be here and I didn't like it. I didn't like this feeling and I tried to get out of it, but in the end, it was thrust into my lap and as much as I tried to explain how I couldn't. It did not work. I try to distract myself, I wanted to be in bed curled up with Ken and Owen. But instead, I was dressed up, in heels and make-up waiting. Waiting outside the courthouse
"Today we are waiting for the results of the appeal of Issac—- who had been found guilty on accounts of," my voice cracks. "Child pornography and sexual assault to minors," my camera crew doesn't understand why, as they all look at me with concern.
"A case that sent shockwaves through the public, and hearts of families. We are just getting the final verdicts on this appeal."
A person whispers it into my ear monitor off to the right as they read the paper someone just gave them.
"It's been denied"
At that moment I decide something, something that hadn't been approved.
"I want to say I can't imagine what went on in that closed courtroom years ago, but I know firsthand the torment and accusations the defence lawyers threw out at the victims. Because I was there, I don't need to imagine and hope no one does. Standing here for the past hour waiting for this to end reminded me of all the things I try and forget. Because I was eleven years old. I was a child. I have been dreading this day and thankfully I like all the others can breathe easier tonight. I am Rilla Blythe reporting for CBC News."
If I knew in that moment of realization that my phone was ringing in my pocket on silent. It was still buzzing when I felt for it in my purse after the camera shut off.
"Hello?" I answer hoping they hadn't hung up.
"Rilla Blythe?"
"Yes, yes sorry I was filming a segment," I say moving away from the crew.
"Oh my apologies, I can call back?"
"No it's fine, but who is this?" I ask as politely as I can.
"Oh yes, this Clarence Harvey from the Royal Winnipeg Ballet," he introduces himself.
Right!
"Of course, sorry it's been a long morning, 5 am will do that to you," I joke taking out me ear monitor
"What do you do?" He asks curiously.
"I'm an intern for the local CBC, I do on-air and journalism writing mostly," I explain. "You know backup plans so my parents don't entirely freak out," I joke as my phone beeps. I look at it and it was my mother. I click decline.
"Of course," He says with a chuckle. "Though the reason for the call and sorry for the late reply. I got back and was showing my colleagues the video I took of your dancing. We were wondering if you could or would come out to Winnipeg and spend a few days with us in the studio. Show us what you can do and see if you would be a good fit for the company apprenticeship?"
"Can I have a day to figure things out on my end?" I say biting my lip. "Flights and all that, it's expensive and all?"
"Of course, I think if you are here for a few days we can most likely find you a room in residence for a few nights. It might overlap with move-in day with the students, so it may not be entirely quiet.
I laugh lightly, if he only knew my life.
"I'll keep that in mind when discussing it with my boyfriend," I tell him.
I hang up and sigh, and I look around at my crewmen who were still watching me.
"Rilla?" One approaches me. "That wasn't—-that wasn't true was it?" He asks cautiously.
"That I was a victim?" I say rather boldly. "No that was true, and I suppose everyone will understand why I don't post photos of my child out on the internet," I tell him thinking back to that day in the studio.
It doesn't take long after that for my phone to ring and I see that it's my mom and I groan. I ignore it, mostly as I was catching a ride back to the station with everyone.
I was expecting to be yelled at for my going off-script, for admitting my history and truth. I still had two weeks to go, but my heels clicked as I walk down the hall to my boss's office.
He motions for me to come in while on the phone.
When he hangs up, I lay my pass on his desk.
"I can't do this again, I can't and will not do this again to myself. I'm sorry I made the news biased, but it happened and I will type up my resignation for you after this." I blurt out.
"If you do that I will tear it up, what you did was brave and inspiring. I have had multiple people calling me asking about you and if you are looking for work. I won't be surprised if you end up trending on Twitter for speaking up on the case and what it meant to you. And I swear, if I had known—I wouldn't have. But Grace called in and told me that you were in the area for something else."
"I tried to tell you," I remind him. "I told you that I prefer not to, it's not something I talk openly about," I tell him. What I don't say is that Grace more likely suggested that he call me on purpose.
"Finish out your time here, if you wish to not be on the air we can work with that, but honestly people are applauding you and if we have to make any sort of statement, I rather have your input on what you wish to say and rather not say that you resigned," Dan tells me.
I sigh, I think about the ballet, the interview.
"I need a few days off," I tell him boldly. "I need to do something for myself before I am forced into university by my parents," I tell him honestly and when he asks what it was I explained fully
"They want me to go to Winnipeg and sit in and participate in their company classes," I tell him Ken over dinner my stomach still filled with every sort of emotion known to man. "I would need to do it before school though and I just looked at the price of airfare, and it's not pretty."
"It never is, but I have money saved from the movie still, that will cover it. I mean you let me go off and earn it. It's like half yours anyway?" Ken reminds me, watching Owen as she tried to pour some dressing on her salad without help. "Put the flight on my credit card tomorrow, call him and tell him the days you can get off and if it works. Elowen, do you need help?"
Owen shakes her head, but Ken gently takes the dressing from her anyway before she drenches any more of her food with it.
"He said I could say in one of the dorms for a few days," I tell him. "Dan at work said just tell him what I need and they'll make it work, I can even call it an assignment if I want?"
"Well that will help with your parents, so call him back, and accept and we'll figure out the rest," Ken tells me. I nod my head as my phone beeps and I sigh.
"What's wrong?" He asks frowning.
"Nothing, just a few of the girls—the ones I met through the trial. They saw my blurb and are reaching out. It's all very nice, don't worry. It's just a bit overwhelming and mom is freaking out still."
"Did she answer you?" He asks to know that I told her to meet me at Beth's office tonight. I nod my head and pick at my dinner.
"Owen eats your dinner don't play with it," he tells her focusing on our daughter who was playing with her food.
"Gross," she says making a face.
"You liked the fish last week," he reminds her grabbing her fork and trying to get her to eat another bite. She shakes her head whining loudly.
"How about some cucumber?" I say spearing one of hers drenched in dressing and holding it up to her.
"Gross, all gross," she says shaking her head.
"It's not gross, even mommy likes it," I say, taking a nibble. But I grimace because I hate salad dressing. I take a long drink of water to wash it down before taking a rather large bite of my own small piece of fish and chewing it slowly. "See?" I add one before I take a bite of my salad for good measure.
Owen looks at me for a moment.
"Gross," she says pointing to where the salad dressing that she had poured on her plate in independence, which was now touching other food. I shake my head and haul her over into my lap.
I feed her off my plate, which had no sauces, just fish and dressing less salad. I look over at Ken for a moment who had a look of thought on his face. He doesn't say what he wants to say but I know it coming at some point.
"Next time we'll use your other plate," I tell her. "That way your food doesn't touch things it's not supposed to, and maybe let me or dad help you with salad dressing? You don't always need a lot of it?"
Ken stays silent but gets up and moves over to the kitchen and comes back with another cut of the fish he made it put it on my plate. I look at it for a moment and just feed more of it to Owen telling him silently that I had no appetite.
"Eat something Rilla," He says quietly. "You know how you get when you don't eat enough before spending an hour at Beth."
"I'm eating what I can," I remind him.
"Who Beth?" Owen asks looking up at me.
"Beth is mommy's…." I stop unsure of how to explain her to someone so young. "Beth is mommy's talking buddy. Like when you get angry or sad and you talk to me about it," I explain. This really isn't the same because trying to get a toddler to understand her own emotions and that emotions are important to voice and share is harder said than done some days.
"Oh, okay," Owen says simply. "Playtime now?" She says bored of the conversation and dinner. I nod my head and let her slide from my lap.
I wait a few moments before looking at Ken. "Just say it already will you?"
"I have nothing to say?" He says simply.
"Really? Because for a hot moment it looked like you were suddenly rethinking this whole dance thing in your mind. Worried that I would fall into some sort of spiral again."
"I wasn't, but should I be worried, if you are bringing it up to me?" Ken says. "It's not exactly a kind career, could you handle that sort of pressure if it came down to it?"
"I think so?" I tell him and I get up with my plate and I stand by the sink for a good moment.
"How do you do it?"
"How do I do what?" He responds coming up behind me.
"This?" I say waving my hands in the air. "Patience, not worrying? Not over thinking I don't know be a freaking adult!" I say in frustration.
"Oh, I worry," Ken says simply. "But I also don't wait for the proverbial shoe to drop either. Life is what you make of it. Patience is a virtue and learned. I don't know what you really want to hear right now honestly. Being an adult is just what we're doing? Living our lives, paying bills and just doing what we feel is right for us?"
I sigh.
"Then why does the world feel like it's going to implode at any moment and I'm at the centre of it all?" I say quietly.
Ken without fail does the one thing that makes me love him more and gathers me into his arms. "The world is not imploding, it's just changing and that is always going to be a little frightening." He tells me kissing my forehead when I look up at him, before resting my head on his shoulder.
I meet mom outside of the building, she's there already waiting for me. I park Ken's car and grab my purse.
"So what can I do for you, both today," Beth says. I messaged earlier explaining and hoping it was all right if I brought my mother for some much-needed mediated talk about my life and my choices. I know Dr. Chang would never allow it, but Beth is different and often deals with teens and parents. If we were both honest, we knew that our time was coming to an end, because, even I knew that Dr. Chang is the one who keeps up my prescription and could do the same thing as Beth did. Though Beth has helped me through some of the toughest days of my life and I am grateful for her, but I was no longer a teenager or in college. Our time is running its course and I was oddly okay with that.
"I'm sure you saw on tv what they did today?" I sit down in my usual spot.
"I did," Beth says nodding her head. "It was very brave of you, to say what you said."
"Basically I invited mom here to just sit and listen because she thinks I'm fucking loco for doing what I did."
"I never said that!" Mom objects to Beth. "And I have never thought that either."
"Oh right, because last week you were yelling at me by accidentally sleeping through my alarm," I say rolling my eyes.
"You forgot your daughter because you were hungover and from what I heard from Uncle Fred was caught having sex at the old harbour point as well." Mom retorts scrunching her nose. "Which clearly lacks judgement on many levels from location to the obvious lack of condom, because it was in a lighthouse for god sake!"
"Seriously!" I cry out. "Your one to talk, where was Joy conceived? Because I'm pretty sure it was in the Blythe Family's barn, so you can't really scold me for being your daughter! Also, again, it's not your business what sort, and how we use contraceptives we use in our relationship! Even though you clearly know that we still use condoms because you made sure to tell us that you saw the wrappers that morning!
"Rilla, Mrs. Blythe—Anne," Beth says authoritatively and we both shut up for a moment realizing where we were.
"This is a no-judgment space, no one assumes anything."
We both blush and nod our heads.
"Do we want to address anything from that conversation?" She asks us and neither of us shakes our head and sits in silence.
"All right then, Rilla why don't you explain why you decided to talk about what you went through?" Beth asks.
"Well, I didn't really plan it, but I was there and I guess I was tired of feeling like it was some dark secret. Yes, I understand why my name was kept out of it, but if I can't talk about it. If I can't admit it out of fear? Doesn't that mean he's still winning?" I say trying to sound confident in my words, but ultimately I sound small and scared.
"But he was found guilty," Mom says frowning.
"Going to prison for 15 years, or more like 13-14 years in reality doesn't mean everything was fixed," I say to my mom. "Why does it shock you that I want to move on from it?"
Beth looks at my mother for a moment. "I heard about the photos in Rilla's sibling's bridal shop, and how they shocked you?"
"It just seems too soon?" Mom says frowning.
"For you," I say quietly. "For me, I just want to move on, I just want to put it all behind me. Yes, we found out about the photos at the same time, but I've been dealing with him in some way or form since I was eleven mom. I think it's time that I don't keep it like a dirty secret like I'm ashamed of it. I just want to own my life, I want to be able to post a photo on social media and not have a mental panic attack about where it can go or what can happen. I can't change that past but isn't the point of all this therapy you pay for is so I can change my future?"
"I didn't know…" Mom says quietly. "We never meant for it to feel like that, it was just law and you were a minor."
"I know, and frankly back then I talked about it so much to everyone important, that I didn't want to talk about it more with you. It was easier to not talk about it, but that was then, this is now. I'm ready now, I think I am anyway?"
"You wouldn't have said what you said, if you weren't ready to face the outcome," Beth reminds me. "How did it go at work?
"I didn't stay really, though Dan said that he got calls about what I said. That everyone thinks that what I did was brave and inspiring?" I tell her. "He wouldn't let me resign though," I say honestly.
"You tried to quit?" Mom says voice squeaking and I shrug.
"You don't go off track, you don't say personal things like that on live television. I could have been fired for something like that in reality, but I wasn't." I tell her.
"Can I ask you something?" Mom asks after a moment so I nod my head. "You don't like social media, but you put yourself on live-streaming television?"
"It's a job, and I'm good at it? Really it's not all that deep, I compartmentalize if need to, but usually it doesn't bother me. Work knows generally not to bring up Owen, or my life as a teenage mother and most respect that." I tell her. "It's just different at the end of the day. I have work social media, which I know you follow. But it's all curated, it's not candid or real life. It's not photos in family albums or odd stuff that I do post."
Mom nods her head.
"Do you know that any photo that I post is often some sort of task or challenge that Dr. Chang gives me?" I tell her.
"May I ask something Mrs. Blythe of course feel free to ignore me. You are not my client, but I can't help but wonder something since you came?"
Mom looks shocked for a good moment but nods her head.
"Why are you so focused on Rilla's life choices, often calling them irresponsible or ill-thought-out?" Beth asks my mother. "She does well for herself? She works, she did school? Beat a million odds with teenage mother statistics, and by that I mean the ones that are not correlated to your help which has been abundant of course. So why do you not trust her to make her own choices when it comes to what she wants and her relationships, and her life in general?"
I look at mom who is rather shocked she sits there for a moment.
"You don't have to answer, it's not exactly my place to ask such things. Usually, I only do these sorts of with minors and parents these days upon recommendation. But Rilla asked if you could join in, which I thought reflected much of her own growth in a way. That she is willing to open herself up to you in what is very much her safe place." Beth says simply after a moment. Before looking at her watch. "It's nearly time away.