“…Anyway, I guess you took yourself to the hospital and were stitched up. I'm not sure what you said at the hospital, but I was scared to death the police were going to be coming for me. But they didn't. And then you came home, and you were kind of limping, and I saw you were in pain, and I just hated everything, and I told you I couldn't ever do that to you again, and then, you told me, it was the only way. You actually said, ‘Marcus if you don't fuck me till I bleed, I will never fuck you again.’ Um, you called yourself a ‘Dirty-hole'..." Flinch. "... And you told me you would only fuck me once a month, and that it had to be like that, and that you would say 'black' if it was too much. And that was it… Christ Suzanne, you had never even swore before, and now you were all intense, saying the f-word, demanding sex acts that I couldn’t possibly do to you. It was just so messed up…
“…Anyway, I had a few more affairs, which you knew about, and said you could care less about. You told me to fuck anyone and anything, as long as I didn't tell your parents. And that's, ah, that's it. We just continued like that for the last 4 years, until May, when you got really strange, or I guess started remembering your past, or had the brain aneurism. Christ, I don’t know Suzanne, but we were okay, except sexually. You were a really good wife and actually my best friend. But you were just so weird about sex, and you never used the safe word like you said you would. You just never used it, no matter how awful everything got. It was just so horrible Suzanne, and I didn't know what to do. I didn't know who to ask. It's not like I could have asked my coworkers if their wives fucked them crazy, to the point of blood and agony…
“…Um, I didn't know what to do, so I just had my affairs, and waited until a month or so rolled around and you started to tell me at night that you ‘had to be fucked’. I even tried to ignore you, but then you became extra violent to yourself, and I would shake for weeks dreading the sex you wanted. Then I just stopped shaking and I would have sex with you as hard and as quickly as I could so it was over fast. That's it Suzanne. Please tell me you remember some of this. Please?!"
"Why did you hit me Marcus? I was so afraid of disappointing you and of being hit by you all the time?"
"Hit you?! Jesus, Suzanne! I've slapped you twice! Two times ever! And both times were at your parents’ house during one of her goddamn parties. Both times you were acting insane. The first time you were crying and screaming at me, trying to get me to fuck you in the downstairs billiards room..." Gasp. Oh, god. I remember...
"That room. I remember that room... That’s the cold floor…" I whisper.
"Suzanne? Talk to me..." Mack begs.
"No Mack. Not now. Please tell me Marcus what happened. What did I do in that room?"
"Oh Suzanne, it was really awful, I don't really want to tell you, but it was..."
"Marcus. Please tell me everything. I need to know. I have to know."
"Um... When I refused to have sex with you, I mean, there were people everywhere, but you got really angry at me and before I knew it, you started, um, there was a pool cue, and you were moaning like these really bad words, and I had to stop you, and you weren't even, like, aware I was there or something, so I just grabbed your arms and slapped your face, like they do it the movies... and it worked. You just stopped. You looked at me like I was a monster for hitting you, and you said something about me fucking you real good later... I don't know, it was so messed up...
“…I didn't know what to do anymore, and then you just straightened your clothes, kissed my cheek, and walked back upstairs to the party like you hadn’t just freaked out downstairs. You were like a robot, smiling and nodding, but kind of staying away from most of the people. I made you leave as soon as we could without pissing off your mother."
"And then what happened Marcus?"
"You went crazy when we returned home. You were so sexually aggressive, and you used stuff, and you were tore open again, I think badly, but again, you just ran away from me and went to the hospital to fix yourself. I didn't know what to do anymore.”
"I remember what happened. Mr. Hampton, and Mr. Williams. Fucking Peter began whispering filthy things to me. I didn't know why, and I kept walking away, and they kept following. Oh shit! I remember Mel Hampton sticking his fingers inside me now in the quarter hallway. Oh, he dug in me so hard, right under my skirt that I just jumped and froze, but then Marianne walked down the hall, and I could finally push Mr. Hampton away. Shit Mack! He called me a ‘filthy cunt-hole’. I remember now. I WAS a filthy cunt-hole. Fuck! I remember the feeling... I tried to get away. I tried..."
Oh GOD... Hunching over, I vomit everywhere. Jesus Christ, I hit Mack with that one. Oh, even Marcus’ shoes got a little splash-back. Oh no. Help me. I can’t feel this anymore. I can't feel this.
"Suzanne! Suzanne, listen to me!!"
"No! Shut up Mack! I remember. I remember the other time too, Marcus. My mother’s birthday 3 years ago. We were there and then Simmons was there! I remember he told you, you were a lucky man, and then he kissed my cheek and whispered to me, "I know how that pretty pussy tastes." He said that!! I remember. I didn't know what to do. I was in the wine cellar screaming when you found me. I remember now. I wanted you to fuck me to make that memory go away. I tried so hard, but you just wouldn't fuck me. I remember begging you!! I needed you to fuck me because you were only bad when I made you bad! That was the good kind of bad, because I made you bad, but you wouldn't be bad, and then you slapped me.” Oh. "You slapped me to calm me down. I remember Marcus. I remember it now.”
In the silence, I can’t help looking over at Mack. Oh, no! Mack looks really sick, or like in shock or something. Shit! Not my Mack. I don't want him all fucked up too. I need Mack.
"Mack? Please don't be fucked up. I think I really need you now. I have that feeling all over me, and inside me. It's everywhere. I’m disgusting. I really am just a worthless filthy cunt hole... I…”
"Suzanne! You are not disgusting. What was done to you was disgusting. And you are NOT worthless. You never were, and you aren't now. You are a sexually abused woman who is slowing finding her way to her memories, so you can finally move forward. Suzanne, you are amazing, and wonderful, and beautiful, and an absolute delight to know..."
Grabbing Mack's hands when we walks up to me, I bow my head, and whisper, ”Mack? What do I do? I feel too much this time."
"I know Suzanne. I'm going to try to help you feel better. I want you to feel better. You were an innocent young victim to many terrible things. But I'm here, and I'll help you from feeling all this pain, all the time."
"That's it Mack. It's just pain. That's all I know. I can't breathe for the pain inside me. I don't think I've ever known anything but pain. I just want to feel nothing again. Nothing was better. I liked feeling nothing for 15 years..."
"Did you ever love me Suzanne?" Marcus suddenly whispers.
Looking at Marcus, I'm shocked that he's even here still. This is so messy. This is gross, and an embarrassment. There’s vomit on the floor, and the room smells of it. Everything is so un-tidy. I am UN-tidy. He looks devastated… for me? Or because of me? Christ! I think he's even crying.
"Did you Suzanne? Did you ever love me?” Um...
"Did YOU ever love ME, Marcus?"
"Yes, of course. I’ve loved you since you were 14 years old." What?!
“I'm sorry? I didn't even know you then. You only came around when I was finishing college."
"Suzanne. Do you remember when you were 14, and you were crying behind the Clubhouse gates, and you were cutting your thighs with a small knife and I stopped you from cutting yourself more? I was 20 and too old for you, but I fell for you that day. You were so pretty and so sad, and you had these beautiful eyes that were, like, begging me to help you or something. Do you remember that? Please tell me you remember me saving you from cutting yourself more that day?"
"I, um… what?"
Watching Marcus take a big inhale and a slow exhale, I just brace myself. He seems so sincere, but I don’t know what the he
ll he’s talking about. Maybe Mack with his ‘shrink’ ways can tell if Marcus is lying to me. I’ll have to ask Mack later.
"I found you. You were alone behind the Clubhouse gates saying all kinds of bad words, kind of mumbling them to yourself, and then I saw your skirt was lifted to your panties, showing all the blood on your legs And then I helped you. I used my golf towel and a bottle of water to help clean up the damage to your legs when you wouldn't come inside the building with me. Please? You have to remember. I took care of you, and you were so sad, and you cried, and you asked me to leave you alone. And I told you I needed to sit with you for a while, and eventually you stopped crying…
“…Suzanne, you thanked me, and told me I was a ‘good boy’ and that you wished you could love someone like me. And I wanted you to love me in that moment. I wanted to take care of you, so I did. I hung out with you until you needed to go, and then I walked you to your parent’s limo, and I kissed your forehead and asked you to please be well and then I gave you my number and I asked you to call me… but you never did call. Suzanne? Do you remember me?" Shit. I really don't.
"I, ah, no... I'm sorry Marcus, I don't remember. You sound very nice, but I just remember always crying at the Clubhouse. I remember nothing but pain there. Thank you though if you were nice to me that day."
"I was always nice to you Suzanne. I wanted to marry you the minute you turned 18, I even asked your mother but she told me you had ‘some problems’, and that I should wait a while, so I waited. Do you remember when we finally spoke at your mother’s Summer Social Party, and I told you I had been waiting forever for you? Please Suzanne? Do you remember?"
"I'm sorry Marcus. I wish I did. You sounded very nice then. I wish I remembered you, but all I remember is sadness and unbearable agony. It was a bad life for me then. I'm really sorry."
Choking, I can't help but sob. Wow. Marcus wasn't always a fucking asshole. Or maybe he was never a fucking asshole. I have no idea. I know my head, or rather; my entire worldview seems to be spinning at the moment. My total memory of my husband has been upended. I really wish I didn't have to think anymore today.
"I'm sorry Marcus that I'm too terrible to remember all those good things you're telling me. I wish I could remember. It would be nice to have a good memory for a change. Maybe I will later, I don’t know anymore. But I'm really tired, and I'd like to go rest for a while, okay? Thank you for coming to New York. I'm sure we'll see each other again soon. Thank you. But I really need to lie down now."
"Suzanne. Please? Are you coming home with me? I'll make it better for you. Now that I know what was wrong, I think we can be happy. We were happy, but this time I think we can be happy for real. We’ll go to counseling, or you can go alone, whatever you want, I just want you to come home with me. Please."
"Marcus. I..."
"Suzanne, it would make me really happy if you came home with me." Oh, it would? Really?
"Marcus. Suzanne has had quite a few bombshells dropped on her today, and she needs time to process all these events, and even to figure out how she feels about them. Suzanne is going to be..."
"I KNOW Suzanne, Dr. MacDonald. Better than you, I think. I AM HER HUSBAND. I have been taking care of her for a long time. Suzanne, please? Please come home with me?"
"Um… “ What should I do?
“Please Suzanne? I want you to come home.”
“Um, okay, I will. But not yet! I just need a little more time here to straighten out my head a little, okay? Then I'll go back to Chicago with you."
"Okay, good. It's settled- just please don't wait too long. I've been dying to have you home for 4 months now."
"Oh, okay. Home. I'll try to get better quickly Marcus. Thanks for coming today. I'll see you soon. I have to go. Oh, sorry about your shoes. I'll see you later."
Practically running from the room, I'm dying. I have to get to my bed. I just have to make it to my room. I hear Mack behind me. I know he’s trying to help me, but I just can't do it. I can't talk right now. I can’t talk about my feelings, and I can’t stop this madness from hitting me full force. It's like a train slamming into my brain. I. Am. So. FUCKED!
"Please Mack! Please leave me alone! I don't want to talk yet! I just can't! PLEASE leave me ALONE!! Just for now. I will do or say anything you want later. Just not yet. I’M NOT READY YET!"
As I make it to my room, unlock, and throw my door open, Mack grabs me, and spins me into his arms. Slamming into his chest, I am shocked at his brutality, and then... I just don't care anymore. Grabbing onto his shirt, I just scream everything out.
I don't know what I'm saying. Christ! I don't even know what I'm feeling. I just know Mack is holding me tightly to his chest, and I am hysterical. The grief is pouring out of me. The pain is slashing at me. The agony has torn me completely apart.
What the hell is my reality? I can't tell anymore.
Screaming, and crying, begging, and fighting, Mack just holds me tightly. Time continues as the pain rages inside me.
When I feel Mack shake his head, I look to see my New York Kayla crying in the doorway. With her hand over her mouth, she looks pretty shaken. Welcome to my world sister... Oh. Funny!
Pulling away from Mack, I whisper, "It’s time for me to rest now. We can talk forever, as long as I can sleep right now. Please Mack. I have nothing left."
"Okay. Suzanne. I'll be in my corner if you need me when you wake up."
"Please Mack, I mean alone. I just feel so gross and kind of nasty right now and I need to be alone."
"I'm sorry Suzanne, but I can’t leave you right now under the circumstances. And even if I could leave you, I wouldn't. I want to be here when this finally crashes all around you, and then I'll help you back up. I’m not leaving you, especially after a day like today. You know this, so please don't fight me. Just rest. Would you like anything first? Food? A drink of water? Is there anything I can get you?"
"I just want a quick rinse-off shower, than I want to lie down. Mack there is nothing I can hurt myself with in the bathroom, so can I please just have a few minutes alone? I need to wash all this dirty off my body."
"Of course. Do whatever you need to do Suzanne. I'll just be waiting for you to finish.”
"Thank you," I whisper as I turn for my bathroom.
"Suzanne. Today changes NOTHING. You are still the wonderful Suzanne I know and love, and you are still the Suzanne who is fighting so hard to find herself. TODAY CHANGES NOTHING. Please remember that."
Pausing in the doorway, I exhale. "Okay, I’ll try to remember that. Um, Mack? I’m not ready…”
“Okay, Suzanne.”
And walking away from Mack, I think about Marcus, and I think about Z. I wish I could talk to Z just once. I wish I could just tell him before I go back to my life with Marcus. I wish I could just whisper the words I have always wanted to say.
“I want to love you, Z.
But I am gone…”
PART 4
AFTERLIFE
Sunday, November 20
CHAPTER 36
Okay, so I'm finally ready to leave. Everything I have is packed and ready. All my clothes, and my Grey's anatomy DVD's are packed along with the countless ugly, sometimes hideous 'I Love New York' trinkets and gift shop crap Kayla insisted on buying me… in case I forget her. (Like that’s going to happen!)
I'm ready. I finally told Mack 2 weeks ago that I'm ready to return to life in Chicago, with Marcus. After countless hours talking together, Mack and I brought in Marcus so he could understand where I'm at, and where I plan to take myself. To say Marcus was thrilled was an understatement. It was quite touching really to be wanted by Marcus so badly.
I know deep down Mack thinks this is a mistake, but true to form, Mack advised me, and helped me prepare for my decision, without manipulating my decision. All Mack did was set up a kind of outreach program for he and I, once I leave New York.
Mack is still on retainer by my Estate, and as such, he doesn't plan to return to the hospital full time un
til the spring. In the meantime, I am to fly to New York every Thursday morning, staying overnight at Kayla's so Mack and I have each Thursday and Friday together. I'm to return every Friday night to Chicago, so Marcus and I have the weekends together.
I'm not returning to work in Chicago. Financially, I don't have to, and because Marcus has no legal holdings on my Estate, he can't touch my money. The money from my grandfather doesn't fall within Marcus' and my prenuptial agreement. Plus, Marcus has clearly stated that he wants nothing to do with my inheritance. I think he still feels horrible about what my parents did, and especially about how he inadvertently helped them manipulate and abuse me throughout the years of our marriage.
Marcus has agreed to 2- one hour private video phone sessions with Mack a week, and he seems to be okay with continuing his own counseling. Marcus has also agreed to a two hour video phone session with me and Mack every Monday evening, so the three of us can discuss Marcus and my weekends together, which truthfully I'm quite nervous about.
It turns out Marcus is suffering from quite a bit of guilt towards me, and because of me. But I know Mack is helping Marcus process the sexual reality I had created in our marriage. I also know Mack has tried to help Marcus understand that though he was brutal to me sexually; it was in fact ME who had created the need for the brutality and abuse, because of my own issues and because of my inability to understand at the time why I was forcing Marcus to hurt me.
It was such a strange little world I created for poor Marcus, and he is struggling with his part in it all. Once I calmed down in October; Marcus met with Mack and I again, and I was able to apologize to him for the sexual hell I had put him through over the years. Feeling the need to apologize to the man I believed raped and sexually abused me for years, because it turns out I forced him to do it was, well, screwed up, to say the least. Actually, it was So Messed Up, I can't believe I survived the whole conversation.
I am HER... Page 43