Cryin' in the Rain: Conclusion

But things didn't go that way. In the first place, the detectives who interviewed me didn't like a lot of my answers. They brought out all of the domestic violence calls my neighbors had made and noticed that I had never pressed charges against him; even when I was hospitalized as a result of an attack.

The lawyer my parents got me, tried to convince them that my answers couldn't be considered valid since I was severely depressed.

But one of our neighbors had somehow recorded our screaming at each other and the recording made it seem as if I had goaded Jimmy into hitting me. The last and most damning thing was the number of times I had shot him.

The crime scene experts and the forensic scientists correctly figured out that my first two shots were to the center of his chest. Since he was moving towards me and was close enough to touch me. Either one of the shots would have killed him. Shooting him twice was over kill.

They claimed that Jimmy was already falling and had stopped moving towards me but I had shot him in the head twice once he was already down. Then I shot him in the chest once more. The recording, which was probably made with a cell phone, once amplified, was so clear that you could hear the sound of the gun clicking as I tried to continue shooting after the gun was empty.

The case was a lightning rod for a lot of different political groups. Battered women were on my side. Gun owners were on my side. Gun control people wanted to use me as an example. The DA wanted to charge me with murder. My lawyer was pressing for self defense or justifiable homicide.

Murder would have gotten me life in prison. Self defense would have let me walk. Justifiable homicide would have gotten me three years max with probation a possible alternative.

In the end we made a deal for three to five years in a medium security prison. I thought it was fair, especially since I no longer cared what happened to me.

I finally got my wish. Dylan came to see me and we had a long talk. We talked about everything from how sorry I was about everything, to how much I had suffered after he left. I told him about everything that had happened with Jimmy and why I'd put up with it for so long.

I told him how I'd been totally convinced that Pattigail was Jimmy's daughter. He told me about how well she had adjusted to being his spoiled little princess. He promised to bring her to visit me every month. I made him promise to never bring her. My daughter was barely over a year old. I wanted her to forget about me and have a wonderful normal life. Even if she did remember me; I didn't want her to remember me in prison.

Most kids don't remember very much of their lives before they're school age. I hoped that it would be the same for her. I made him promise to love her the way he once loved me and to put her first the way he had me. And then I kissed him really quickly, before he could object and I ran away. I ran out of the room before I started blubbering.

My three years passed quickly. Dylan came to see me regularly, but every time he did it was more awkward. He tried really hard to be nice to me and he was. The problem was that the love was simply gone. I was just another person to him. It nearly killed me.

On the other hand, Sarah and I became friends. She honored my requests and never brought Pattigail to see me. But she brought pictures, lots of them, and videos. Sarah also turned out to be a regular baby machine. Over the three years that I was inside, she gave Patti as they called her, both a sister and a brother.

The day that I was released from prison, she and Dylan, along with my sister and my parents were all there. I think they knew that I needed to find myself and start again.

My parents gave me a phone with all of their numbers already entered and a set of luggage. My sister gave me clothes and a book of photos of myself growing up and throughout my life. "You have to know where you've been to really appreciate where you're going," she told me.

Dylan and Sarah gave me a car and a credit card. The car was a new jeep Cherokee with all of the bells and whistles. It was big enough that I could sleep in the back if I couldn't find a motel.

I looked at them all and felt nothing but love coming from all of them.

"I... I don't know what to say," I told them all. "I wish I could stay, but..."

"We understand," said my dad. "You need to find yourself."

"And when you find yourself?... well if you don't find yourself out there... You can always come back," said Sarah. "You have friends and family and... a daughter... here!"

It was amazing. I wanted to find someone to take care of Pattigail and there was no way I could have found a better person than Sarah. She was as caring as Dylan was. I could see the tears in the corners of her eyes as she said it. The thought of losing Pattigail was killing her.

"Sarah she barely remembers me," I said. "My little girl is far happier than I could make her. She loves you. She doesn't need another mother." I hugged the woman who had taken the two most important people in my life away from me.

"But... she could use another... Aunt," she sobbed. I just nodded and took the keys from Dylan.

"You're going to have to come back," he said. "Your insurance is only paid up until about Christmas." I nodded again.

"If not before," I said. I knew that even if I didn't come home, Dylan would renew my insurance. And shit, he could afford it. I felt like I was being torn in two. On one hand I was excited about my future and finding my place in the world. On the other hand I loved every one of those sappy, sentimental suckers I was walking away from.

They would all be fine, whether I came back or not. Knowing that freed me and let my heart soar for the first time.

Just before I reached my new Jeep, it started to rain. That was good. The rain would help me to hide some of the things I was feeling.

"No one understands the heartache."

"No one understands the pain."

"No one ever sees the tears..."

"When you're Cryin' in the rain."