April 2019
Spring Break
I carry Owen on my hip as I try to vacuum the living room rug. She's been a stage fiver clinger these days and it doesn't make life any easier.
"We have Kenneth Ford reprising his roles as well, all grown up as well." The announcer says on the tv.
"It's wonderful to be here," Ken says. "Thank you for having me, well all of us here."
Owen's head whips around at the sound of his voice. "Ah!"
"Daddy isn't here, he's on the screen," I whisper turning off the vacuum and sitting down with her and pointing to the T.V.
I grab my phone quickly hitting video and capturing the interview on camera.
"Of course, I think you are the most grown-up one of the bunch. You were about 8 when you did the show?"
"Yes about there," Ken says nodding his head. "Definitely was not expecting this call that is for sure."
"I hear you're a father now?" The announcer says in Ken's direction and I watch him turn red in the face but ends up smiling.
"I am! Of course, I am biased, but I think she's utterly gorgeous," Ken says. "It wasn't something I was expecting, but it's been amazing."
The picture on the screen of him holding baby hands, while one of Owens little feet is up in the air, and her dark curls wild on the back of her head.
No face, per our agreement about this. We knew going in it would be talked about.
"Da-da, da-da," she reaches for the screen. I sit there most in shock letting her go down to the floor, catching her crawl towards the t.v. "Da!"
Ken was going to love this, and possibly hate himself for missing this!
"When we were scrolling for a photo through your social media, we noticed you don't show her face?"
"Well, that was a decision my co-parent and I made together. For various reasons, and who can blame a parent for protecting their child?" Ken answers carefully crafted answers. It had been my own decision but he follows it without really complaining.
"Of course, I get it. None of my kids end up on any platform without their permission. Especially with that story from the Maritimes coming to light? All those poor young students and girls," the announcer agrees with him.
The camera pans back to Ken who is sitting uncomfortably there before he spoke.
"It is heartbreaking and terrible. Though I'm sure most of us can attest to child protection, given how old we were when the show was on. I think for any of us who have children now, it's something that we think even more now."
"You were only kids when the show aired," the announcer nodded their head.
I pause at his words, I didn't expect to have it so widespread.
I turn off the T.V not wanting to watch more at this moment. I pick up Owen kissing the side of her head. Twirling with her in my arms as I danced with her as she giggles, waves her little arms around.
"Daddy will back soon enough," I whisper to her, letting my head rest against her for a moment as she reaches for my face. Letting little pudgy hands pat my face all over. "Do you think you can say, Mama?" I ask her. "Ma-Ma," I demonstrate to her, she mostly just looks at me with her stormy grey eyes.
"Okay, okay." I laugh lightly. "We'll work on that, but first I should send your daddy that video." I quickly re-watched it before I send it over to Ken.
I finish up my chores when my phone begins ringing with Ken's face lighting up my screen as I go up to my room as the call connects.
I think briefly about my messy hair and unwashed face with yesterday's mascara still smudged but ultimately I don't care and I know Ken doesn't either.
"She did not!" Ken says over the speaker of the phone, still in disbelief from the video I just sent him.
"She did!" I exclaim as I walk up the stairs "It was so adorable."
"I can't believe I missed it," Ken says shaking his head, "God, this has to be some bad omen to not do this."
"But you're doing it," I tell him. I could remind him that when he went to figure out at work, they had told him that they were planning closing for renovations and repairs on the old house. "How're your parents?" I ask him as I walk up to my room.
"They're good, I think they miss you and Owen more than me though," he tells me.
"Come here," I haul Owen out of her crib with one arm. "My you are getting so big," I settle her on my bed. "Look at the camera Owen," I hold it out in front of her face. "Who is that?"
"Ahh!" She instantly tries to reach for. She babbles off every vowel sound she can make but doesn't quite hit Dada again.
"Who is that?" I ask again.
"Owen," Ken says through the speaker of my phone and she looks around, before at the phone again. "I'm right here sweetie pie," he says to her.
She reaches for the phone once again, before she let out a cry. I sigh, trying to keep my arm about her and hold my phone.
"I think she's getting tired," I tell him.
"I'll see both of you in a few days," He tells me. "Owen," he calls out her name.
"Ahh!" She reaches for my phone, tiny chubby fingers hitting the screen while accidentally cutting off Ken from the call.
"Dada?" She cried, her lip wobbling as she bats at the screen ready to burst out into a tantrum.
"Daddy will call back," I tell her kissing her temple and not a moment he does.
"Dada!" She exclaims when he appears and his smile goes crazy bright.
We talk for a few more minutes before he turns his head and I hear someone call him.
"I gotta go, round three of media press," he says sighing.
"Break a leg," I tell him. "I'll call you later tonight for bedtime?"
I drop Owen off at Joy's who offered to watch her for the afternoon and early evening.
"Are you sure you're up for this?" I ask Joy unloading the diaper bag from my shoulder.
"Gotta get the practice in," She tells me smiling, but she looks tired. She hasn't had the easiest time being pregnant and seeing her made me feel guilty that I complained about not being able to dance.
"Do you need to do it seven months pregnant though?" I ask her teasing slightly.
"We'll be fine, she's easy enough to care for," Joy brushes me off. "Now let me have," she holds out her arms. "We have a busy day of playtime and have some lunch and maybe go for a short walk in the park?"
"Well, don't tire yourself out," I tell her as I pass over Owen who doesn't seem to want to let me go. "Owen I have to get going, Mommy has to go," I say whisper in her ear. "Mommy will be back."
It takes a minute before I get to leave as she's still crying and it breaks my heart. But I can't be late, and I hold back my tears in my car as I drive to meet my parents at the lawyers' office who was running the crown's case.
Beth and I worked up to this day and while I was still a jittery mess and my parents seemed to be on high alert on watching my moods. Someone was always usually home except for rare occasions, and if I wanted to shave my legs, well I had to ask for my razor. Dad hadn't been kidding when he said he didn't want a replay of what happened with Walter.
Dad hugs me when I walk up to them and mom wraps her arm around me.
"How was your morning?" Mom asks.
"I cleaned," I say shrugging. "Owen saw Ken on the television and recognized him," I tell her.
"Did she?" Mom says humming, but she had a smile on her face.
"She crawled right up to the t.v stand and shrieked Dada?" I tell her not to make a huge deal about the latest milestone of their granddaughter as we walk in to deal with court stuff. Mom stops me anyway and holds my arms and looks me in the eyes.
"Our grandbaby said her first word and you glaze over it like it was nothing," Mom says. "Gilbert did you hear what she just said?"
"It's not that big of a deal," I say still trying to downplay it, considering she was the reason why I am even here today.
Dad mostly just rubs a hand over my hair and we walk into the law office and we're led into a conference room straight away.
"Miss Blythe," the Crown lawyer nods her head to me. "You can take a seat, your parents can sit off to the side in those chairs," she tells me.
I do as she says.
"How have you been lately?" She asks me.
"All right," I tell her politely.
"That's good, why don't we just dive into this all?" She asks me and we all nod our heads.
"We have your written statement from the RCMP, we just want to go over it with you once again. She explains. "But to also prep you if necessary for the trial and to speak to the judge."
I nod my head.
"I do have some good news though," she tells me. Sliding over a small duo-tang that had printed paper in it. "You did good with the court-approved therapy and he agreed that that situation with your daughter's father is irrelevant for the case. You should read it over,"
"Is that wise?" Dad speaks up worried that it may send me over the edge to have a clinical assessment in my mind.
"If the defence brings it up, it will be good for her to know what they are referring to," The lawyer told him.
So I read it.
Miss Blythe, has exhibited tendencies of obsessive-compulsive personally disorder. She also has extreme body dysmorphia, disordered eating on the verge of becoming an actual eating disorder if she does not accept help for it. Her need for perfection is garnered by her need to control her body's autonomy. Often using self-harm and restrictions with food and excessive exercise as methods to assert control.
While characteristically many of these can be categorized as teenager angst. It is said through report cards, and character references that Miss Blythe was a happy child up until the age of 11-12. When became withdrawn and antisocial with her peers, and focused on the things she could control in her life. In essence, she created coping mechanisms by hyper-focusing on what she could control and excel at most. Allowing her to feel like she had some stability to her young self,
It is by my knowledge to agree that a direct change of personality which could have resulted from experiencing a traumatizing event. The diaries she brought with her, painted a child's obsessive need to change herself, using unhealthy methods to make herself feel in control. When control was taken from her.
As her coping mechanisms were failed she resorted to using alcohol and illegal substances. To dull what she referred to as a battle in her head some nights. As well as making acquaintances with older students and dating. I would however not classify Miss Blythe as a promiscuous teen. Having preferred a relationship to casual hook-ups. As evidence of her journals, where she only speaks of one young man whom she had dated.
In whole, I have concluded the night that resulted in a pregnancy, with a male who is six years older to have been unfortunate circumstances. There is no evidence of grooming or malicious intent for either side of the party. That the fact their families knew each other was nothing more than a coincidence. I do believe both parties are honest about the situation at hand having spoken to both of them.
Though while it is clear that emotions are present, they both seem to respect each other while navigating the situation at this point in time. They both understand what can happen and what can't after their own trial and error as they share the responsibility of raising a child.
In closing, there is no correlation to their past history to coincide with the defences accusations about Miss Blythe's immoral character. There is remorse and guilt present when she speaks of the subject. More often enough she worries that she ruined his life more than hers. That would not be present if it was premeditated to fulfil a fantasy. Furthermore, Miss Blythe's mental well-being is evidence enough to conclude that she did endure something she perceived as traumatic as a child.
"Your journals were most helpful to the cause of them, but also gave a good understanding of who you were back then."
"No one will see them?" I ask her, knowing there were photocopies of my private thoughts.
"No, that is between you and the therapist," she tells me kindly. "Now, we have put in the request that if they wish for you to be in the courtroom, that he will not be there. Which are a fair request and none of the other witnesses wish for him to be there either."
I nod my head.
"Now clothing, we suggest something subdued, you don't have to look like you're going to a funeral. But nothing flashy, no jeans or leggings, a pair of dress pants or a nice skirt and blouse is most appropriate for your age." She tells me.
"How long will it go on for?" I ask. "I still breastfeed, and while she takes a sip cup fairly well these days. I still feed her on a schedule and pump when I need to?" I explain quietly.
"It's hard to say, but we can always ask for a recess, and let them know ahead of time if you need to step out of the room." She tells me.
I nod my head to her.
"I won't have to see him will I if they do call me up?" I ask her next.
"We can ask for him to be taken from the room, when and if you take the stand," She responds kindly.
She goes over more things with my parents, most of it goes over my head anyway. When it was all over, we walk down to a nearby sandwich shop for lunch as Dad had to go back to work, and mom still had school board meetings to go back to.
"It will be okay," Mom says breaking me out of my thoughts.
"I just want it to be all over with," I say resting my head in my hands, elbows on the table. I look at my salad and pick at my side of garlic toast that it came with.
"It will be soon enough," Dad says. "You should eat a bit more if you heading to work after this," he tells me next. "At least the chicken in it," he tries to compromise with me.
I'm still early for work, so I make use of the time to go over my recital piece. I quickly into my tights and leotard and said hello to Tessa who was going over paperwork.
She didn't mind me coming in early to dance, or if I used an hour between closing up the shop and her paperwork if I worked in the evening. Something my parents don't quite know, and hopefully won't ever find out. Though driving myself around, it was easier to hide that was for sure.
Except like almost everything today, it wasn't going well. It felt like everything was falling around. I find myself screaming in frustration as I pause from working through my routine. It was in my head, but my body couldn't quite grasp what I had in my head. I had fallen off balance, I barely caught myself before I injured myself.
I want to kick the wall, I want to hurl a point shoe at it if they weren't so expensive.
"Calm down Rilla," Tessa tells me. "Try it slower, and work through the movements to understand your balance and what you need to do. Practice makes perfect over time."
I fight off snapping at her, she's only doing her job after all.
"I should be able to do it by now," I vent.
"All right shoes off, back to basics for you," Tess tells me and I stare at her blankly.
"Off," She tells me again this time I hurry and untie and pull them off. "Slippers," she tells me next.
I nod and pull them on.
"Start again," Tessa tells me and I got through my movements once again.
I hit unpause on the music and go back a few seconds so I am ready for it and then I go through the motions once again.
"It's missing something," I tell her sighing, I push the curls that fallen out of my messy bun from my forehead.
"Is there?" Tessa agrees with me looking at her watch for the time. "Well think of it over class maybe it will come to you. But one more time before the littles come to join us.
I only nod my head to her.
I run through the motions and movement, but as I get to the troublesome spot. Three girls come swishing around me and I reach for them, but they avoid me as if they were a wave, washed away from me.
"Do it again," I call to them, looking at the clock. There was still a few minutes before the class on juniors who were usually about 8 or 9 started.
Tessa smiles and watches us, rewinding the song on my phone, but also. Videotaping it for me for future reference and then begins class and it all falls into a routine for me.
I smile as I stand up and wipe off my brow. "There you go, Maisey," I tell the child how needed help with her shoes.
"Thank you, Willa," She said before skipping away and I shake my head. "I have to go pee now!"
"Well, you better get to it then," I laugh and call after her and pick up random shoes and the ribbons they had been playing with this class.
"Mommy! You never pick me up!" I like towards Tessa who is out in the hall greeting parents and nods her head
"I know I got off work early so I switched with Daddy to surprise you," I hear a familiar voice and freeze.
"Mommy you have to come to see Miss Willa,"
No no, I am not ready for this, I am not ready for this because I know that voice. I force myself to smile.
"Maisy," She warns her daughter.
"Willa, this is my mommy," Maisey says proudly and I look up into the face of the person who knows all my secrets and innermost thoughts.
"It's nice to meet you," Beth says. "Maisey talks non-stop about you, it's nice to put a name to the face." I look at her for a good moment, confused because we know each other.
"But?" I say confused. "We know?"
"You know my mommy?" Maisey speaks up.
"Sort of," I say. "I helped her one day in the shop," I explain to Maisey, but look at Beth.
"I didn't know you recognized me," Beth replied keep up the ruse, but there was a look of surprise on her face.
"I wasn't completely sure," I tell her. Why did this feel like I ran into my teacher outside of a school when I was a child?
"Well it was nice to meet you again, after all the talk about Miss Willa after dance, and in the playground with friends. It's nice to put a face to the name. They all admire and look up to you and try to be like you twirling around like fairy princesses." Beth tells me.
"I am far from that," I say automatically.
"Nuh, uh, you're a fairy princess with your hair and freckles and your pretty feet. You're like Ariel even, do you have a boyfriend with dark hair? You can have your own Prince Eric?" Maisy chimes in and my breath catches.
Did these gaggle of little girls see me as such truly? Some fairy princess who dances fancy tricks for them?
"Well we won't take up any more of your time," Beth says breaking my silence. "It was nice to meet you," she says keeping up the charade.
"You as well," I say nodding my head. "See you next class Maisey," I tell the little girl handing her, her bag.
I sink on the piano bench I was near and Tessa's come in looking at me.
"Everything all right?"
"You know when you younger and you see your teachers outside of school and you don't quite know how to think or feel about them not just living at school?" I ask her.
"Yes," Tessa muses. "Why?"
"I think I just found the adult equivalent to that," I tell her sighing. "Therapists," I tell her.
"Ahh yes Mrs. Montgomery is a therapist," Tessa nods her head.
"Do all the little kids look up to me?" I ask her quietly.
"I'm sure a few of them do, but it comes with the territory when you're a good dancer," Tessa tells me. "It's why I try to install positive thoughts surrounding body image, even when I knew it's an uphill battle for some girls."
"Girls like me?" I look up at her. "If I didn't get pregnant when I did, would you have said something?"
Tessa takes my hand and squeezes it. "If I regret anything, I wish I had noticed sooner than I did. It's hard sometimes to know or see the difference. You were dedicated to dance, you hit puberty and grew a few inches your body changed."
Small note. From what I can gather in Canadian courts and Law, anything present in court is shown to the crown, the defence and as a witness, Rilla would be shown everything as well that the crown put together for part of the case that pertains to her. So nothing is a shock in shock to her come the trial. Also, I am no doctor so if the clinical assessment is far off in what it would actually be, please let that slide!
Hope everyone had a lovely week!
Tina