Page 48 of Better as It

Brenner. The drunk driver.

The man who killed Benji.

“I, um, yeah,” I whisper. “Okay.”

“We’re offering you the chance to give a victim impact statement at the sentencing hearing next week Would you be willing to participate?”

I sit on the edge of the bed. My hands are trembling.

“I… I don’t know.”

“You don’t have to decide now,” the woman says kindly. “I’ll send over the packet. If you want to read a statement, we’ll help prepare it.”

“Okay,” I say again, because it’s the only word I can manage.

After she hangs up, I stare at the folded onesie in my lap. It’s red with tiny motorcycles printed all over it.

Benji would’ve loved it.

That night, I tell Toon while we’re brushing our teeth.

He freezes, toothbrush midair. “You gonna do it?” he asks.

“I don’t know.”

He spits, rinses, leans against the sink. “What’s holding you back?”

I shrug. “It’s been months. I’ve been trying to move forward. I don’t know if opening that up again is going to help. Plus, baby boy could come any day now. I’m not far from my due date.”

Toon doesn’t push.

He just nods and hands me my floss.

Later, in bed, he reaches for my hand under the covers and squeezes once.

“I’ll be there,” he says quietly. “If you do it. Or if you don’t.”

I don’t say anything.

I just hold on tighter.

Two days later, the packet arrives. I don’t open it right away.

It sits on the counter while I wash dishes. It follows me into the bedroom like a ghost. Every time I pass it, I feel like Benji is waiting for me to speak.

When I finally crack it open, it’s just paper. Dates. Guidelines. Sample statements.

But it feels like I’m holding a loaded gun. I write the first draft at midnight. Then I rip it up.

I write the second one the next day. Too angry. Too raw.

It takes four tries before I land on the version that feels right. That doesn’t scream for vengeance, but doesn’t let him off the hook either.

I read it aloud to Justin one night while he’s rubbing cocoa butter into my swollen ankles. He doesn’t interrupt. Just listens.

When I finish, my voice shaking, he leans over and kisses my calf.

“That’s what strength sounds like.”

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