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“Trinity!” Calls her wife from the living room, where she was coming in from her surgery shift at MGH. “Letter for you from Connecticut courts. Looks official, you didn’t break any laws last time you visited your mom did you?”
“I’m in the bedroom!” Trinity calls out. “And aside from speeding, which we know doesn’t count, I can’t think of anything?”
Yolanda leans against the bedroom door, taking a moment to admire her wife as she finishes putting the laundry away. Trinity turns to see her and flashes a quiet smile.
“You got something for me?” She reaches for the proffered letter and rips it open. Her eyes skim the letter and she can feel her face fall and her blood turn to ice. She reads the letter again, slower this time, to make sure she understands it. Instead of reading the letter out loud, she hands it to Yolanda with shaking hands. She watches her wife read the letter and her face shift into fury.
“They don’t have a fucking right to demand this of you. We can fight it, they have the affidavits and repeated depositions you gave when you were 18, you don’t have to stand up in the courtroom.”
Yolanda’s immediate instinct to try to find another way squeezes Trinity’s chest with warmth, but deep down she knows it doesn’t matter. If they need a witness to put Coach Will away, she’ll fucking volunteer. She’s never thought about it before, not really, not since she signed the NDA and settled her lawsuit. A little in passing on anniversaries and less and less as she’s gotten older. But she knows that if she can have a hand, a real hand, in getting him away from other children then there’s no world where she doesn’t do it. The only reason she hadn’t when she was younger was because her lawyer had told her there wasn’t enough of a criminal case. A preponderous of evidence for a civil case, sure. But not beyond all reasonable doubt, not enough for a jury trial. So she’d settled outside of court, got enough money to get herself through college and med school and residency without dipping into her mother’s meager savings or having to beg for money from her father, and done her best to heal.
She reaches for Yolanda’s hand and laces her fingers through her wife’s and pulls her close. Yolanda stops talking immediately and they just stand together for a few moments while Trinity gets her heart rate back under control. The steadiness of her wife’s heartbeat and physical presence helps ground her and reminds her that she does have a choice here. She pulls away to reread the letter. It is not a summons, exactly, though it reads like one. It’s an invitation to join a group of women who have survived Coach Will’s abuse and pursue criminal charges in Karol v. Connecticut. It suggests that she talk to her own lawyer, which she knows she will. She’s still occasionally in communication with the original lawyer who won her the settlement and she’s sure that Claire will know an excellent one here in Boston who can help too. The wave of dread that fills her is no match for the safety of her actual life. She buries her head in Yolanda’s neck for a moment, breathing in the familiar scent of her perfume as her brain whirls, making decisions quickly about who to call and how to handle this. She’s endlessly glad though that she doesn’t have to tell Yolanda about this letter afterwards, that she was here to catch her immediately.
“I want to do this.” Trinity lifts her head so she’s making eye contact with her wife. “I know we’ve never talked about it before and it may feel like a shock to you, but I want to.” Yolanda nods quietly, her eyes watching. “Look, I’m well into my thirties. I’ve had time and therapy to get my head on straight. I am not going to crack into a million pieces. And I have the depositions from when I was a teenager that can help back up my current testimony.” Her voice softens. “I am not the best shot they have, I’m sure, but I am still an excellent witness. I won’t be selfish enough to back down a second time.”
Yolanda brings her hand up to cup Trinity’s jaw. “I will follow your lead here, always, cariño. Whatever you want.”
Trinity leans up and gives her a kiss, before switching to all business. “I’d like to start by emailing my old lawyer’s office. They will be closed right now, of course, but I’d like it to be on their radar immediately tomorrow morning. Then I want to have dinner with you and we can talk about a game plan.”
~~~~~~~~~
Trinity breathes in shakily as she hovers in the entrance to the courthouse. Its cold, clean marble and sweeping columns stare her down, daring her to enter. But she will. She’s been called a lot of things over the years, but a coward has never been one of them. If anything, most people think she’s too brave. She’s not going to prove them wrong here.
So she slips in the door and goes through the humiliating metal detection process. She always sets off the detector. Pins in her leg, and probably in her hip soon too. It doesn’t matter how many times she explains the situation, no security guard has ever been kind and understanding about it. Even carrying a doctor’s note signed by her sister Mary, with her white bread American name and multiple fancy degrees, hasn’t helped much. So she grits her teeth and submits. The end goal is worth it. If William Karol walks out of here a free man, it will not be because of her failure.
She is here early, to meet with the lawyer and the other girls. She recognized a couple names on the list. Other girls she knew were suffering at the time too, Sophie, Bella, Kaitlin. Once a shared sisterhood of silence, now broken open. But there’s others on that list that she doesn’t know and when she walks in the door, her breath catches at how young some of the survivors are. She’s 36 now. She’s lived more of her life post-abuse, post-Jenna than she has in a world where Jenna lived. But the youngest of these girls can’t be much older than Jenna was when she died.
“Dr. Santos. Trinity.” The lawyer’s voice is warm but even. “I’m glad you could make it.”
“Of course. I’m sorry if I’m late. Difficulties with the metal detector.”
Sophie gives her a smirk. “Come on Spike, you know better than to try to sneak a weapon in.”
Trinity rolls her eyes but smirks back as she sits down. “Oh don’t worry, I have all the weapons I need already.” The teasing sets her at ease immediately. It feels like she’s back in the gym, giggling with the girls as they show off for each other. Sophie had always started it, back before everything collapsed. Her broken, teenaged response had been to completely cut off anyone from that part of her life once she got to college. It’s good to see that they don’t hold that against her, and the interaction felt as natural now as it had then. Her heart swells a bit with affection for the girls she had loved for so long.
The lawyer shuffles the papers he’s holding before passing them out, each with a name on it. “As we’ve each discussed individually, each of you has a very specific and important role to play in this. Sophie, you’re our opener as the first known victim. Trinity, you’re our finale, speaking for both yourself and Jenna.” He looks up. “Everyone knows and understands their position right? And you feel ready for the brutality of the cross? I know we’ve practiced, but if anyone feels like they might need to bail, now is the time.” None of the girls move. If the drills had been anything like they had been for Trinity, then they feel as prepared for this as they can be. As she looks around the table, she sees her own grim determination reflected back at her in the eyes of the other witnesses. If anyone can do this, she thinks, this is the group.
They are all sitting in a group together. The lawyer’s suggestion. He said it showed solidarity and a united front. She’d prefer to sit with Yolanda, who was coming down with Claire and Mary and Vikki, but she understands the thinking. Plus it’s harder to be anxious when the barely legal girl sitting next to her is shaking like a leaf and she channels every ounce of the bedside manner she’s been criticized for her entire career to comfort the girl. It works okay, and the girl has calmed down by the time the judge and then Coach Will come out. Even with all the prep she’s done, even knowing that it would be hard, it is so much harder than she could have possibly imagined to see him in the flesh again. His gaze sweeps the group and he sighs and shakes his head before leaning to whisper something to his lawyer. It raises her hackles but she forces herself to calm down. She can do this. They can do this.
One by one, the girls go up. She knows that she won’t go the first day, won’t even go the second day, probably. The waiting is a unique kind of awful, knowing that she is the button on the prosecution’s case. She feels the weight of that position very heavily. Her testimony is the last thing the jury will hear before the defense takes over. She doesn’t pray, but she hopes that she is compelling and persuasive. That the jury and the judge hear her and the other witnesses and believe them. That the horrors being told on the stand are not for naught.
Trinity takes the stand on the third day. She is the only prosecution witness that will appear today. The air is tense and her anxiety is well and truly alive. But she draws strength from the others surrounding her, and from the protective armour of her suit. The witness stand is an unforgiving seat, but she swallows hard and forces herself to look at the lawyer as he stands to address her and the jury. She’s ready for this. She prepared. She ran her story like an actress runs lines. And yet, still, when he asks her to tell everyone in her own words what had happened to her, it feels like her throat has closed up. She lifts her eyes to the public gallery and searches out Yolanda, landing on her almost immediately. Next to her, she sees Claire, Mary, and Sarah, as well as Vikki, and Mel and Ellis. Frank too is there, next to Mel and looking serious as can be.
On Yolanda’s other side is her mother, who she was convinced would not actually show up. But she did and it gives her a burst of strength. Next to her are some of her in-laws, who made the trek up from New York to support her, who have treated her like family from the moment Yolanda brought her home for the first time, who have made her feel safe and secure and loved. She thinks of the text message that Samira sent her this morning, giving her the kind of unqualified support she’d needed, even though she couldn’t take the time off to show up in person. Of Whitaker, who had called her on his way to work to tell her that he loved her and was praying for her, the only person she’d ever tolerate that from. She thinks of Princess and Perlah and the sun pendant they had given her when she had left the PTMC that she wore everyday, because they were always with her. Thinks of Frank and Abby and the kids, who she and Yolanda are visiting after the trial no matter how it ends because she knows she will need the kind of love that exists in a house with happy children. She drags her eyes back to the lawyer. She will do this for those children and for all the other children that will be spared ever meeting him if Coach Will is convicted.
“I met Coach Will, the defendant, when I was 14. More than 20 years ago now. He had never coached before, at least that’s what he told us on his first day.” She meets Yolanda’s steady gaze and doesn’t look towards Coach Will at all. “All the other coaches were older and physically punishing. Slaps on the wrist or cheek, insisting that we keep training long past when we should have. Even with injuries so severe we should have gone to the emergency room. I’ve competed on a concussion more than once.” Her eyes drift back to Sophie’s, who told a nearly identical story two days ago. Sophie gives her an encouraging smile. “And we were starving, just all the time. It made it hard to think straight. And then Coach Will came. And in a lot of ways, he made our lives better. Less hitting. More sweets, though never real food. Instead of everyone staying late everyday, only one or two would. Whoever Coach Will favored at the time.” She sucked in a deep breath. “The first one he favored was Sophie. At the time, we had no idea what was actually going on, so most of us were very jealous. Then he picked Jenna and me. At the time, we were inseparable. Couldn’t take one of us without the other. So he took both of us and started slowly. Kisses on the forehead. Touches that lingered just too long. Massages for our sore muscles that progressed to wanting shirts off. Encouraged us to moan because he wanted to know he was doing a good job.”
She shuts her eyes and blows out a breath before continuing. “At that point, he separated us more. From each other and from the other girls. All while moving his kisses from my forehead to my lips and then my neck. Moving his finger from my muscles to inside my vagina. Eventually, he would finger me while I jerked him off. He loved to come all over me. And then I would go home and scrub my entire body and it never,” Her voice cracked. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees her mother flinch. “It never felt like I was clean. From the time between his arrival in 2013 and his departure from the gym in 2016, I would estimate he raped me hundreds of times. And I was lucky, because it was just fingers and hands. All the women you have heard from have been the same. But with Jenna, my best friend, he upped the stakes. The moment she turned 16, he started having penetrative sex with her. She was convinced that this was love, real love, and that he would marry her and they would live happily ever after, despite all the problems with that. Despite knowing full well that he was assaulting others in the gym. He dug his claws in that deep. So when she discovered she was pregnant, she was delighted. That’s what she told me. Delighted. That they would be a real family.”
Trinity took a fortifying breath and locked eyes with her wife, who smiled at her, then at the lawyer, who gave her an encouraging nod. “I could not convince her to tell an adult, or to let me bring her to Planned Parenthood. She was bound and determined to have this baby and create a family with him, with Coach Will. She was 17. He was 28. She decided to tell him at a competition. One I would miss because I had broken my leg. Intentionally.” She lets that hang in the air. She can see Frank’s quietly understanding look from here. She wonders if he’s remembering the day they really and truly buried the hatchet so many years ago. She unconsciously rubs her leg a little bit before continuing. “She did tell him there. I don’t know what exactly happened because the only remaining witness is the defendant. What I do know is that she wrote in her diary, which I know is exhibit F, that he rejected her and called her silly and that she should get rid of the problem. So she slipped away, found a handful of random pills, and took them. One of the other coaches found her in the morning, well past the time of death.” She lets that hang in the air too. “I lost my best friend that day. But it shook things up enough that Coach Will was quietly removed and he found employment elsewhere. No one ever asked enough questions. And that is why we are here today.” The lawyer nods and she relaxes fractionally. She takes a moment to look through the crowd. Sophie, Bella, and Kaitlin are all looking up at her and she feels so much more assured in that cracked sisterhood of silence reforming into something new, something better.
She answers the lawyer’s questions for her exactly as practiced. Calmly. Clearly. Concisely. But then it’s time for the cross examination and she has to practice some breathing exercises, but it’s fine, she’s fine. She’s got this. They question everything, trying to poke holes in her story or in her credibility. Asking why she signed the NDA so willingly, why she did not tell anyone anything, she had wanted to be a favorite hadn’t she? This was a man’s life didn’t she know that? The cross was winding down, she could tell.
“So Miss Santos did you–”
“Doctor.”
“Pardon me?”
“My title,” said Trinity calmly and firmly, “is doctor. My name is Doctor Santos. Not Miss.” Out of the corner of her eye, she sees the lawyer smile before trying to hide it.
“Of course, I’m sor–”
“I was hoping that you would catch and correct yourself. But you didn’t. My name is Dr. Santos.”
He shuffles his papers before continuing. “So, Dr Santos, did you find Mr. Karol to be a competent coach who improved your gymnastics?”
“Objection!” Her lawyer speaks up, just as he has every time the defense has asked the witnesses this. The judge sustains, just as he has every other time.
His lawyer shuffles his papers again. “Nothing further, your honor.”
The judge nods at Trinity. “You are dismissed.”
Coming down from the witness stand, she feels almost light. As she walks to take her seat back in the battalion of women, she finally spares a glance for her abuser. He clicks his tongue and shakes his head sadly at her. It reminds her of being in the gym and feeling like she’d never measure up to what he wants from her. But she’s glad she didn’t. She’s more than happy to disappoint him. He’s pathetic and sad, and she’s not interested in the cost of his approval. She hasn’t lived for his approval, or anyone’s frankly, in many years. So instead of flinching or flipping him off, she gives him a nice, wide smile. It’s going to cost her later, when she comes down from the adrenaline she’s running on, but making sure he knows he has no power over her is worth it. He’s not worth hating.
Trinity slides back into the seat next to one of the younger girls. The energy in the seats where they are all sitting feels weird, like when green clouds gather before a big storm and the entire world holds its breath. The judge moves ahead with the prosecution’s case and Trinity doesn’t relax, but she does stop paying such close attention. She keeps listening, but she knows that there’s nothing more she can do. It’s in the jury’s hands now. There’s a sort of peace in her bones though, knowing that she’s finally faced him, finally told the truth about him in a way that matters.
The prosecution’s case is weak, she is pretty sure. It’s mostly grounded in the idea that he was a good coach who helped them be better athletes, and on the fact that other girls said nothing ever happened. Still, all the stories match. The defense witnesses and the prosecution witnesses all describe the same environment. She even watches one girl, much younger than her, that she didn’t know, come to the realization that the other girls were telling the truth on the stand during her own cross examination. It breaks her heart, truthfully. She makes a note to look the girl up later and make sure she knows that it’s not her fault she trusted the authority figures in her life, and that she doesn’t hold the witness statement against her.
A day and a half after she gives her own witness statement, Trinity is sitting and watching the closing statements. It’s a shockingly short trial. She had expected to be away for weeks, had been prepared for a brutally long slog where she maybe did not even have a job at the end of it, where Yolanda had to go back to work so at least one of them kept the money coming in. But no. Only about a week.They are dismissed for jury deliberations and she glances around at the empty and exhausted eyes of the girls around her.
Kaitlin shifts through the crowd to stand next to her. “Do you think it was enough?”
“I don’t know, but I sure fucking hope so.”
“I guess even if they don’t convict, the accusations are out there now. No taking it back.” Kaitlin pauses and then continues in an even softer voice. “No taking it back for us either.”
Trinity shakes her head. “No. No taking it back for anyone.”
She twists her hands in front of her. Trinity remembers how anxious Kaitlin had been as a child, a few years younger than she was. She remembers Kaitlin asking once if what was happening was okay and her own no getting drowned out by the other girls. The silence stretches for a few moments while the chatter drifts around them, but Trinity is fairly sure the conversation is not over. So she waits.
“Are you afraid this is going to be the only thing we’re known for? If we win, we’re victims, if we lose, we’re…” Her voice trails off.
Trinity carefully takes her hand and squeezes it. “I think that it’s worth it. I thought about that at the beginning, that if anyone ever googles my name, they will come across this case immediately. It’s sort of horrifying to have your deepest, darkest secret laid bare for anyone and everyone.” Kaitlin nods. “But I can't see a world in which I regret it. It’s the right thing to do. Even if no one else agrees. Even if it's the first and sometimes only thing people know about you.”
Kaitlin bites her lip and nods. “It’s the right thing to do. You’re right. I wish the right thing wasn’t so hard.”
“Yeah. Me too.” Trinity makes a split second decision. “Have you met my wife yet? I’m going over to say hi if you want to come.” Introducing her to Yolanda ends up being the right call. She can see Kaitlin’s shoulder’s relax, just a bit, getting to talk to someone who does not know her but isn’t reacting the way she fears. It’s not the same as a true stranger, of course, but it’s something to hold on to and right now it’s all she can offer. Trinity can feel herself unclench too when she slides her hand into Yolanda’s and feels her wife squeeze her hand gently. They hang around mingling for far less time than the lawyer had warned they would before they are called back in for the verdict.
As Trinity sits down in her seat in the pack of women for the last time, she feels numb. Her leg is bouncing, the good one of course, the bad one has been complaining loudly about what she’s been putting it through lately. Through her haze, she hears the jury foreman say “guilty,” not once, but after every charge. She expects to feel joy, relief, grief, anything but the numbness that presses on her rib cage. She pastes on a delighted smile and cheers with the other women. Sophie gently touches her face and wipes away the tears streaming down it without her knowledge or permission.
When she’s finally released to Yolanda, she is deathly silent. Her wife doesn’t try to speak to her, just gently guides her to her car and drives them back to the hotel they are staying in, and bundles her upstairs. Carefully undresses her and puts her in her pajamas, talking softly to her about what she’s doing all the way. Then changes herself and gets them both into the bed.
“Cariño, go to sleep. I am here.” She starts singing softly in Spanish and Trinity lets the sound wash over her. She speaks Spanish pretty well at this point, but she can barely even understand either of the languages she learned as an infant right now, so her third language is a no go. But she lets herself be lulled to sleep by her wife’s voice. It feels safe, almost holy.
When Trinity wakes the next morning, Yolanda already has basically all their stuff packed up. The emotional hangover makes it hard for her to focus, but she knows that getting up and heading out to Pittsburgh is the right move. It’s a long drive, but Yolanda will let her nap in the car the rest of the way in exchange for getting them out of New Haven itself. Yolanda never quite mastered the art of driving in cities, down to refusing to drive in Pittsburgh unless absolutely necessary during her residency, so Trinity is the one who drives on the rare occasions they use a car in Boston. Yolanda is a public transit fan through and through. It’s the New York in her. She didn’t even learn to drive until she’d moved to Pittsburgh for her residency.
Trinity drags herself out of bed and gets ready and they just squeak by without incurring late checkout fees. She drifts off quickly after they switch on the highway. When she wakes back up, the clock reads five hours later. They stop at a rest stop within the hour and switch back so Trinity can navigate Pittsburgh. It’s been a few years since she’s been back, but right now, Trinity wants to return to the place where she had finally found her footing and felt safe for the first time. Her people are scattered somewhat now, with the Whitaker back in Nebraska practicing rural medicine, and Samira doing important research in LA, but it’s comforting how many people ended up sticking to Pittsburgh when she gets to visit.
When they step out of the car, they are greeted by the Langdon children barreling towards them excitedly. Even Tanner, who is officially a teenager and is normally too cool or too busy to talk to Trinity and Yolanda when they video chat, greets them at the car. Hunter flings himself into Yolanda’s arms as soon as she’s physically out of the car and Ava wraps her skinny arms around Trinity’s middle and squeezes tightly. She opens her other arm to Tanner and he hunches over to hug her too, a little embarrassed she thinks. Frank slides up next to Yolanda and gives her a kiss on the head before grabbing their luggage and doing the same to Trinity. He grins at the scene and his eyes crinkle at the edges. There’s lines there now that weren’t there when they met so many years ago. She’s changed too, with the occasional white streak in her hair she’s chosen not to dye. There was a time in her life where she wasn’t expecting to age at all, so every sign feels like a victory.
“I’ll put these in your room, it’s the same one as usual.” He leans in close to Trinity’s ear and whispers, “Abby’s in the kitchen whenever you get in.” She flashes him a grateful smile. Abby Langdon is probably the most calming person she’s ever met and she’d never met a punch she couldn’t roll with. That was probably why she and Frank worked so well together.
“Shall we go inside, kids?” Yolanda has already started moving with Hunter in her arms so the shout is really being thrown out to Tanner and Ava, who do obediently follow, chattering about school and sports and friends. Trinity smiles to herself watching them, her arm slung around Tanner’s shoulder.
“You’re gonna be taller than me real soon kiddo.”
He grins at her with the exact same smile as his father. “Sooner rather than later I think too. Mom and Dad are both taller than you.”
She ruffles his hair while he ducks to get away. “Oh I don’t doubt it. You are very much your father’s lanky string bean son.”
When they make their way into the house Trinity makes a beeline for the kitchen. She’ll spend lots of time with the kids over the week and a half they are here, since it’s summer break. Frank won’t be able to be around all that much, but he’s an attending now so he has enough flexibility to make sure he’s at least here for dinner every night. Abby is secretly Trinity’s favorite Langdon though. They’d met at one of Yolanda’s parties and instantly clicked. When she really wants to torment Frank, Trinity tells him that she’ll happily steal his wife from him and leave him behind, she was sure Yolanda would agree to a third if it was Abby. He knows it’s a joke, but it still makes the vein in his forehead pop a little bit and sue her, she still likes to have a little fun with him.
Abby pushes her computer away and stands as soon as she sees Trinity enter and opens her arms. Trinity falls into them immediately. They stand like that for a few minutes, not saying anything, just settled. Then Trinity straightens up a little bit so she can meet Abby’s eyes.
“Guilty. Oh fuck. He’s guilty.” Then promptly bursts into tears. She can hear voices in the distance, but they are far enough from the kitchen that she doesn’t worry about one of the kids seeing something that she’d have to explain. Mostly though, she roots herself in Abby’s arms holding her tightly. She has no idea how long they stand there, with Abby silently holding her. When she finally pulls away, with a tear-streaked face, Abby gives her a lopsided smile.
“You were so brave Trinity, but you don’t have to be anymore, sweetheart.” This immediately sends her into a fresh round of tears. She hears the low tones of Frank’s voice behind her and can feel Abby answer him, but doesn’t move from her cocoon. Abby will let her know if she needs to do anything. She just lets their voices wash over her, the easy affection they clearly have for each other makes her smile, just a little. Abby taps her gently, a sign to pay attention, so she lifts her head.
Frank looks a little uncomfortable, like he knows that he’s intruding, but he keeps going anyway. “I couldn’t stop Princess and Perlah from coming over, though I did get them to promise to leave their families at home. They are going to be bringing dinner. Chicken adobo, which they said was ‘a classic’ and, honestly, I’m afraid to tell them no so, uh, they’re going to be here in 10 minutes.”
Trinity can’t help the smile that spreads across her face. She knows there will be a real party in a few days where everyone in Pittsburgh that she knows will come over, but she’s grateful to get this time with the two of them just as much as with the Langdon family. Her breath catches again with the reminder that she is safe and loved and reaches out to squeeze Frank’s hand.
“That’s perfect. I’ll go freshen up a bit before they get here.”
She feels better after splashing some water on her face. She hovers in the doorway to the living room for a moment, watching the kids run around while the adults chatter. She can smell the delicious reheating chicken adobo coming from the kitchen and the rapid Tagalog that the nurses exchange while they make the food. Ava spots her and wraps her arms around her very tightly. The middle child and only girl, she has always had an affinity for Trinity. It heals something in Trinity’s soul to see a little girl who was so loved and who had never had to fend for herself. Life in the Langdon house is far from perfect, she knows, but Frank worked very hard to manage his addiction and has been recovered now for many years, and had doubled down hard on being a good husband and father. He’s changed in ways she never could have expected that first day. It was really the happiest ending possible, happy enough that when Abby had discovered she was pregnant again five years ago, the reaction had been more joy than trepidation.
Trinity hugs Ava close and searches the room until she finds Yolanda. When their eyes meet, she gives her the softest smile she is capable of. The one that means “thank you for building a home with me” and “I love you” that she knows Yolanda will understand. Yolanda looks back with just as much love and fondness. They don’t want children, they know that, but she loves being an aunt and being included in all these families. It’s a far cry from her lonely childhood. She’s in the lives of her sisters and their children, even. Her family has grown and expanded past what even her wildest dreams could have hoped. It feels a bit like a vindictive victory too. None of the people who had hurt her over the years had succeeded in destroying her, not her capacity to love nor her loveability, not her spirit, and not her ambition. She was a survivor and she’s glad. This was worth surviving for.