Chapter 18
Five years after Diane broke my leg, Second Stand opened its first permanent office.
A little brick building with a ramp.
Laura insisted on the ramp.
“Pain should not have to climb stairs,” she said.
We painted the front door blue.
Dad hung the sign.
Nora cried and denied it.
At the opening, I spoke.
Briefly.
I hated speeches.
But I owed one to the women sitting in folding chairs, watching me like my healed leg was a promise.
“My mother-in-law broke my leg with a rolling pin,” I said. “But the worst wound was hearing my husband ask me to apologize to her.”
The room went still.
“That sentence taught me what abuse protects. Not love. Not family. Control.”
Laura stood beside me.
I continued.
“This place exists for the moment after someone tells you to apologize for being hurt. Come here instead.”
Applause filled the room.
Dad stood in the back, crying openly now.
No pretending.
Later, Paige brought her little daughter to meet me.
The girl handed me a drawing of a woman standing.
May you like
One leg was colored bright gold.
I framed it in my office.
