Present time…
The top drawer of my dresser slid open without a single creak or groan. As with everything in the bedroom, it was new and in perfect condition. Mine. That wasn’t a description I had thought I would end up giving it. I hadn’t noticed the shift in how I perceived my environment, but at some point in the past several months, I’d come to accept my aunt and uncle’s house as home, not simply a place I would be temporarily staying.
Three months had passed since mother had filed her lawsuit to regain custody of me. The initial terror of that first week had receded, replaced first with a curiosity about the legal process, followed by a retreat into indifference. It’s not as if I weren’t mindful to the consequences of what would happen should my mother’s attempt to take me back succeed, but the longer it dragged out, the less I thought of it.
Legal stuff isn’t nearly as exciting as it gets shown on TV. Shocking, right? I had yet to step foot in a courtroom, everything that had happened up to this point has been lawyers from both sides filing documents and mailing them back and forth. The hearing was supposed to take place in about two weeks, but it had been delayed twice already, so it wasn’t on the forefront of my mind.
I still hadn’t gotten over how amusing it was that legal documents were referred to as briefs. The first time that the attorney my aunt and uncle had hired had visited the house to discuss their legal strategy, his comment about “needing to get the briefs ready” had me laughing so hard that I didn’t even realize I had wet my pull-up.
All the websites I purchased diapers from never actually referred to them as diapers, opting instead for range of euphemisms. Disposable briefs was the most common one, though I failed to see how it made anyone feel better about purchasing them.