"Who are ‘they’?"
"You know, the men, I guess. The men who did stuff, and said stuff to me." Dammit. I hate this.
"Who were the men?"
"I told you some already. Why are we talking about this?"
"I would like to know about the men, and the 'stuff' they did and said to you."
"Why do you care...?" I practically whisper.
"I want to help you process these memories. I want to help you deal with these memories. Once you do, I think you can have the life you want, or at least you can take the necessary steps to create the life you want." Pause.
Shit. I'm feeling so sad again. It’s like a never-ending cycle of pain, sadness, despair and desperation.
"I know what I want, but it isn't for me."
"You can have some things you want. You may even be surprised at how easy it is to ask and receive whatever, or whoever it is you want in life."
"I disagree. Nothing in my life has been easy. And I don't believe asking, or willing life to change for me now, is going to happen. It's too late for me."
"It's never too late." Oh, he is SO wrong.
"Mack, thank you for your kindness, and I guess, for your friendship, but on this you are dead wrong. Once my mother realizes I’m awake, she’ll take me away. I'd be surprised if she doesn't know by now, even though she’s probably busy preparing for her party. She’ll come here, tell me what's going to happen and it will happen. Just like that. Really, there's no sense in me wanting or hoping for anything, I’ll just be disappointed in the inevitable."
"Maybe, but don't you want to try? Don't you want to make a decision that’s clearly yours to make?"
"Of course I do, I always did. But it's just too hard to fight all the time. It's much easier to simply do what I'm told."
"That's right... It's easier. You aren't even trying anymore. When was the last time you fought for what YOU wanted? When was the last time you really tried, and didn't merely live through the motions of trying?" Asshole.
"You don't know me! You don't know, Mack. They're brutal and suffocating. They tell me what to do. They have always told me what to do... But I DID try. When I was younger I tried to stand up for myself. I tried to tell them no, but NOBODY listened! They even laughed at me when I said something contrary to their demands. They always laughed at me. I have always been an inconvenient little joke to them…
“I once asked my mother why I was born, and do you know what she said? She actually told me she had to have at least one child to secure herself within the family fortune. That's it. When I looked at her in shock she laughed at me. She fucking laughed, pouted her lips and said 'Ah, did you think I actually wanted you? Poor baby. I never wanted you- you’re fucking fat, and a whore.'" OH GOD! What?! "Oh. I, ah, forgot about that. Shit. That's pretty bad, isn't it?" Giggle. Why do I giggle? I really AM insane, I think
"I would say that’s pretty bad, yes. In my non-medical opinion, your mother sounds like a complete fucking bitch." What?!
Both Mack and I erupt into laughter. It feels good to just laugh with Mack. He is so easy. I don't have feelings for him. He is just kind, because he is. Instantly, I feel so sad though, and my laughter has quickly turned to tears again. Christ! I'm sick of crying. I spent a lifetime not crying, and now it’s all I do.
"May I give you a hug?" Mack asks me kindly.
"Yes, please."
Walking to me slowly, I think to appear non-threatening, Mack sits on the side of my bed, and just takes me into his arms. He doesn't hold back. He just holds me so tightly, I melt into his chest. He is so warm, and kind, and my sadness spills over.
"I'm sorry I'm crying all over your shirt."
"I don't care, it’s not mine. It's Z's. I grabbed it this morning when I picked up his clothes for him. I'm sure he won't even notice it missing. That boy has a serious obsession with clothing."
"I know... I snooped in his closet." Flinch.
"No worries. I won't tell him about the snooping, if you don't tell him about the grand theft dress-shirt. Deal?" His smile-voice is almost the same as Z's.
"Deal." I smile in return.
In the silence that follows, Mack stays right beside me. He even makes himself more comfortable on the bed, but not in a creepy way. He just leans back, and keeps his one arm wrapped around my shoulders. He doesn't touch me gross, or even seem like he wants to. Why? Every man I've ever met wants to...
"Why aren't you touching me dirty, Mack?" Shut up!
"Do you want me to?"
"Oh god, no! Oh! I'm sorry, that sounded rude. You are very attractive. I just don't really want anyone to touch me right now... But if you need to..."
"Stop. I do not need to, nor would I. Just hugging you like this could be seen as fairly unethical, but I wanted to offer you comfort-that's all. We are patient and doctor... and friends. I would NEVER touch you, or even think of touching you inappropriately.'
"I'm sorry. I haven't really known a man who, ah, didn't..."
"Touch you inappropriately? Violently? Abusively?"
“Pretty much.”
"Did Z hurt you?"
"God, NO! He was amazing, well, after the first time at the hotel. He was always so kind and sensitive, and loving, and really, really good at all the sex stuff..." Big blush. Argh.
"That's good. What do you mean about the hotel?”
“Um, he was a little forceful with me… BUT ITS OKAY! He can do whatever he wants to me... Well, he could. I don’t think he will now.”
“How was he forceful with you?” Mack asks so calmly, it makes it easier to just talk.
“He kinda made me, um, have an or-gasm…” I whisper.
“Forced you? Did you tell him to stop? Did you ask him to stop and he refused?”
“Not really… I did say stop a few times, but then I kind of gave in and then kind of wanted him to continue, I think.”
“Did you ask Z to stop, and he refused?”
“Not really, I guess. I didn’t really want him to tie up my hands like he did, and I didn’t want him to touch me where he did, and I didn’t really want to have an orgasm… but then I guess I must have wanted him to, because I did have one. So it all worked out. I’m fine, right?”
“Do you feel like it all worked out well?”
“Yes, I think so. I mean it doesn’t feel like Z did anything wrong to me, just more like I was uncomfortable with what he did to me. But then the after was awesome, so it’s good now, right?”
“Do you think it’s right?”
“Yes. Z didn’t hurt me. He did things to me that I didn’t want, but then I did enjoy myself, so it’s okay. I like what he did to me, and I really liked what he did to me afterwards.”
“Okay. But you can tell me if you change your mind, or feel like Z went too far, or didn’t stop when you asked him to. I’m YOUR doctor and there is nothing you can’t tell me, about Z or anyone else for that matter. Understood?”
“Yes, but Z didn’t do anything wrong. I feel he didn’t. I only feel good about all the things he did to me.”
“Okay, good. Now I don't have to kick his ass." That was such a nice thing to say.
"Thank you for that. No one has ever defended my honor before."
"No problem. You deserve to have your honor defended. Plus, it would've been fun to kick Z's ass." Big smile. God, he really isn't like a doctor at all.
Mack slowly sits up, and moves back to the chair beside me. Z's ‘faux leather’ chair. Squeezing my hand, Mack settles into the chair and extends his legs under my bed. He looks like a teenager, or something.
"Is your husband violent or sexually abusive? Does he hurt you?" Gulp.
"He's not violent or abusive... He's just not very good at sex, so he kind of hurts me when he does it to me. I don't think he means to hurt me. He just doesn't listen to me when I tell him it hurts, or when I ask him to stop. He gets pretty excited about sex, I guess I'm lucky he only does it like once a month-ish."
"Do you understand that you ju
st said you both tell him he hurts you, and you tell him to stop, but he continues to hurt you, and he refuses to stop? Do you not see how your husband is both violent and sexually abusive toward you? If you were anyone else, and you heard those statements, wouldn't you feel as though the person were being violated and abused?"
"Well, yes, but Marcus is my husband, so he's supposed to..."
"Supposed to abuse and violate you?"
"Um, no. But it's not like that. He just likes to do sex fast and kind of hard against me. I honestly don't think he means to hurt me, it's just me. I can't really get, ah, prepared for sex, so I'm not really ready down there when he starts doing it to me. Honestly, it's my fault." Annnnd, another blush.
"Actually, it is NOT your fault, at all. There are many sexually incompetent men out there. There are many men who like sex hard and fast. There are many men who can't even maintain an erection for more than a few moments. There are countless pills on the market for it. And there are countless books on how to become a better lover for men...
“…There is NOT however, a widespread acceptance that a woman should be torn apart, ignored, violated and abused sexually, just because her partner likes it ‘hard and fast’. Do you understand what I'm saying to you? Listen to me closely. Whether you are unprepared for penetration or just don't feel like having sex... when you say 'stop', or 'you're hurting me'... everything is supposed to stop. Period. Just like that. Your husband did abuse and violate you, each and every time you spoke up, and he continued to penetrate you. That is reality. And I really need you to understand that reality. You have choice and options, and you are allowed to make sex stop. No matter whom it is with."
"Okay, but..."
"Listen to me. There are no 'buts', I know, you know this. Z told me you once said your husband 'takes you against your will'. Why are you fighting this reality now?"
"I'm not fighting it, I'm just trying to say that's it's not always that easy. Sometimes Marcus was just excited. Maybe Marcus didn't really hear me. Maybe he meant to stop but was caught up in the moment or something."
"If Z was caught up in the moment right now, if Z didn't really hear you say stop, or if Z was really excited... Would it be okay if he continued penetrating you after you said he was hurting you, or if you even said the word stop? Shit. What do I say? "Fine. If I did all those things, and you told me I was hurting you, and you told me to stop but I ignored you and continued penetrating you anyway, would that be alright? Would that be acceptable behavior?"
"Well, no. You're my doctor." Duh.
"Forget I'm your doctor. Pretend I'm just a man. Is. It. Okay?"
"But we aren't lovers, so..."
"So Z can hurt you because he is your lover? Marcus can hurt you because he is your husband? But if I was really excited, and I ignored you, and I wanted to..."
"Um... If you really wanted to. I guess, I mean, if you were very excited..." What the hell is the right answer here?! Christ. This is annoying.
"Is it okay if I rape you?" Flinch. What?! Fuck!
"I don't know, Mack, IS IT? Fucking DOCTOR Simmons thought it was fine to RAPE ME! Why not YOU?!" Gulp. Whoosh. There goes my air...
Shit. Here I go. Jesus Christ! I can't get any air into my lungs. Grabbing my own chest, I try to will the air in but nothing is happening. Fuck. This one is bad. This one really, really, hurts.
Mack is talking to me, but I can't hear him. There is so much noise in my head. I'm screaming I think in my own brain. Shut up! What is that noise? It's like a train, or a loud truck engine... There’s something in my head and everything is spinning now. I can barely keep my eyes open.
Oh. My. God. This is it, I think. My heart is pounding. I think I'm having a heart attack or something. Shit. I've felt this before. When? What did I do to stop this before? Think!
Mack is in my face again. I still can't hear him. There are others here now. What are they doing? My bed suddenly drops, and I'm flat on my back. Why? I'm still gasping, but nothing is coming in. My lungs are dying, I know it. I can feel it.
Ouch, my arm. There’s a nurse beside me now. What did she do? What the hell is Mack saying to me? I see his lip's move, but there is still only this loudness in my head. What's on my face? What are they doing to me? Just help me! Please, HELP ME!
God, I'm tired. I just need to sleep. I need this to stop. I need silence. And closing my eyes, I feel the pull. I think this is death coming for me finally. I think it’s here. Oh, thank you. I can't stand this anymore. Just take me. I'm so tired...
Sunday, June 19th
CHAPTER 25
Waking, I'm alive... and I can breathe. Yay! Everything is so quiet. Looking around, my body doesn't really hurt right now, but my head still throbs. I wonder if I'll ever have a pain-free head again?
Where is Mack? Maybe with Z? Maybe Mack has finally washed his hands of me. Maybe I finally said too much. I knew it would happen. I knew I would make him leave. I just didn't know how, but now I do.
I can't believe what I said to him. Jesus Christ! I remember Dr. Simmons now. I remember my mother insisting I visit with him at the hospital. I remember fighting her. I remember him showing up at our home. I remember fighting him. And then I remember his hospital.
Oh god. It was brutal. I remember his words. I remember his breath. I remember how gross he was, and I remember how many times I tried to stop him. He was so fucking gross!
Oh! I remember meeting him at one of my mother’s parties with Marcus. Shit. Dr. Simmons introduced himself and told Marcus 'he was a lucky man'. What a fucking pig! Yes, he knew what Marcus was getting, didn't he? Ick. Oh shit! Here it comes...
Leaning over the railing, I dry heave again. When was the last time I ate? I wish I had some food in my stomach so barfing wouldn't hurt so much. God, more dry-heaves, and more gagging. More nothing, but pain.
Suddenly, there is a nurse beside me with a bedpan, like I need a bedpan. I’m vomiting... nothing. There is nothing inside me. I have nothing left to barf. I am nothing in this moment.
"Thank you. I'm sorry for all this."
"No problem. It's my job," she says with a grin.
"Um, my head is killing me. Do you think I can get some of those pills of yours?"
"Absolutely. Are you okay for a minute? Can you hold this bedpan?"
"Yes, I'm okay."
"I'll be right back," she smiles.
Once she leaves I try to get comfortable, but nothing works. No matter which way I lie, my head pounds. This is honest agony. I think I would cut off a limb or something, just to ease the pain in my head for a while. Maybe if I distribute the pain evenly, I could handle this pain better. Giggle. How sick was that?
"Why are you giggling? Most people cringe after dry-heaves."
"I was thinking about cutting off a limb, to evenly distribute my pain."
"Oh, sadly, I don't think that works. You would just have 2 types of pain. But it was a good and thorough hypothesis, nonetheless." Is she teasing me, too?
"Are you teasing me?"
"Absolutely. Does it bother you? I just thought you could use a little humor. Am I wrong?"
"No. I like to be teased. It kind of makes me feel like I'm a part of something, or that someone likes me... I can't explain it, but it feels good."
"Well, that's good then, because I’m kind of the local smart-ass among the nurses here. Actually, my colleagues don't like me all that much, but I seem to get on quite well with my patients, so there’s nothing anyone can do about my smartassedness." What? How funny. She makes up words too.
"I make up my own words too. Thank you for being nice to me..." and looking I see her name is Kayla. KAYLA?! Seriously?!
"I'm nice to everyone, unless of course, you piss me off- then I make your life a living hell. Being a nurse makes for an easy Sadist."
I just pause, look at her, and burst out laughing. She is so cute. I don't even care that she's really tall. She is just so, like normal, or something, but still really nice and beautiful. Actually, she
is just like my old Kayla. And suddenly, I miss ‘Chicago Kayla’ very much.
"Why are you crying?" Am I? Yup. Again.
"I have a Kayla in Chicago. Actually, I had a Kayla in Chicago, and she was tall like you, and funny like you, and a real smartass too, with a crazy sadistic side as well. You just seem so much like her; it's like a cosmic joke or something." More tears.
As nurse Kayla hands me the pills, she continues moving around wires and cords beside me. She seems to be thinking about something. God, I hope it's a good thought.
"Maybe it's the name. I've known one other Kayla, and she and I hated each other because we were exactly the same. We even knew that's why we hated each other, laughed about it, then continued hating each other anyway," she says laughing.
"Maybe it IS the name then."
"Do you miss her?"
"Yes, but it's complicated. She slept with my husband."
"Oh. What a bitch!"
"No! She didn't actually know he was my husband at the time."
"Huh. That is complicated. Do you believe she didn't know?" Do I believe her? Yes, I do.
"I believe her."
"Can you forgive her?"
"I'm not sure. Yes, I think. It’s just so weird. How do you sit with a friend you know has had sex with your husband...? What would YOU do? Honestly."
"Well, after I punched them both in the face, I'd forgive her, but I'd dump his sorry ass. He knew he was married, after all."
"Kayla said that! She actually said I could punch her in the face, and she wouldn't even hit me back! I can't believe you just said that!" Holy SHIT. It's like the freakiest déjà vu, ever!
"It really must be the name then."
"Can I put my normal clothes on now? I just feel so, like, fat and naked in this gown."
"We can try later this afternoon, certainly. You just took more pain meds. The awesome ones..." she winks “So you'll be too unstable to stand for a few hours. But I promise later, I'll help you walk around a little. Once you can walk around on your own, I can remove the catheter, and then you get your own clothes. Sound good?"
I Am Her... Page 32