by Becky Due
Rebecca threw her arms around him and kissed him on the cheek. She felt like the luckiest women in the world to have such a great man. She believed that he knew she could take care of herself; and that alone gave her strength. But then, of course, every other football or basketball game they went to, Jack would say, “Try not to fight with anybody today, okay?”
“Okay, I’ll try. But you got my back, right?”
“Of course. Remember last time?” He’d nod his head as if saying, “You don’t need to worry about a thing; I’m here for you.”
She smiled thinking about another time she spoke up. She was in a public library sitting at a table with a few other adults. At the table next to them sat two teenage girls and a teenage boy. The boy was trying to act like a big shot, swearing and calling some other girls bitches. Rebecca looked over at them and said, “Hey!” looking the boy straight in the eyes. “That’s enough!”
He was about to mouth off, but a man sitting at Rebecca’s table stopped him with a second and louder, “That’s enough!” Rebecca wondered if he would have said something if she hadn’t started it.
There again, if women lead, men will follow. Maybe women should take on the role of Morality Police. She giggled.
Rebecca had recently seen in the news the actress Marlee Matlin confessing that she had been sexually abused at age eleven and had suffered domestic abuse. She wrote her name in her notes. Rebecca also wrote down Jane Velez-Mitchell, who had been speaking out about addiction and the war against women, and Mackenzie Phillips, who was speaking out about incest. She wrote down Rihanna, too.
If Angie agreed to team up with other women, Rebecca would pitch full-segment ideas to Primetime, 20/20 and Dateline. She already had plans to pitch Angie alone as an expert on Nancy Grace and Issues with Jane Velez-Mitchell. Angie could cover everything from missing and exploited children to women who are missing, abducted, raped or murdered.
While working on Angie’s plan, Rebecca also started preparing for a trip to New York for a media conference where she would have the opportunity to pitch editors and producers of everything from radio, television, magazines and newspapers. Although there were about three hundred different producers, each PR rep had time to pitch to no more than fifty or so, depending on how quickly you moved around or how quickly you were rejected. Rebecca had been to the conference when she was first starting out on her own, and she was looking forward to attending the event again.
Knowing her subject matter was always a tough sale, Rebecca had to be creative. Her first trip to New York had exposed her lack of experience and naivety. Most wanted funny, happy, uplifting stories about how to make money or how to stay young and attractive. Rebecca was rejected repeatedly, but she made great contacts and many new friends. She couldn’t wait to get back; she was ready this time, and her focus would be Angie. Because of famous women speaking out about their own experiences with violence, sexual assault and addiction, Rebecca knew she could get her foot in the door. She wrote down a few pitch ideas. She had big plans for Angie.
In her stack of mail was a book called Grandmother’s Way: Lessons in Love and Life for Young Women from a potential new client. It was cute. She randomly read through some of the pages and loved the simple style of the book. Each page had an insightful one liner:
Don’t do drugs.
Keep good friends.
If you break the law, admit it, accept your consequences and learn from the experience.
Hold out for sex. It makes you a stronger, better person.
Keep your personal space organized, clean and safe.
Don’t sleep with married men.
Sometimes making a decision is the best decision… so you can move on with your life.
Your family may be your best friends.
Finish school and keep learning.
Tell the truth.
If you drink, make sure you are safe.
Always trust a person’s actions more than you trust their words.
Find a job you love so it doesn’t feel like work.
Save sex for somebody who respects you.
Be happy if you have one or two close friends.
Follow rules and laws; it builds character.
Enjoy yourself when you’re alone.
Listen to your parents; they may not always be right but always listen.
If you fight with a cop, the cop can hurt you.
Find your purpose for being on this earth.
After paging through the book, Rebecca thought it would make a perfect gift for girls and young women. The book covered everything important in a young woman’s life. Rebecca turned to her computer to find out more about this author. The author had written one other book called Profound Things Women Say, which Rebecca was able to view from the author’s website. It had the same style, very simple one-liners:
God is good to me. I have a warm bed at night. (from a homeless woman in a shelter)
He put his arm around me like a grandfather, then he grabbed my tit. (from a woman working at a restaurant)
Friend 1: I can name tons of things you do for him. Tell me three things he does for you.
Friend 2: (Silence)
Friend 1: Come on, just three.
Friend 2: I don’t want to talk about this. (two friends talking)
He sent me a dozen red roses but only because we were fighting. He never sends them when we’re getting along. (from a woman talking on her cell phone)
They actually gave me the training I needed to do a good job. (from a woman working in an office)
Learn to laugh at yourself. (from a woman going through chemotherapy)
I’m just asking for some help. These are your kids, too. (from a mother to her ex-husband)
The book was thought-provoking, but not as cute or saleable. It was late and Rebecca was tired. She would finish going through her mail in the morning. She and Lily headed for bed.
Tuesday
3:18AM
She had a restless night. Lily kept barking and Rebecca kept hearing strange noises all night. She didn’t know if it was howling coyotes, the thunderstorm or the wind, but the noises and thoughts of work kept her awake. So at three-eighteen, Rebecca got up and went downstairs to make coffee.
At the last step, she slipped and fell, landing hard on the stairs on her back and butt. She had fallen back on her right arm trying to catch herself, so she gently moved her arm and wrist checking to make sure she wasn’t seriously hurt. She wasn’t.
When she stood up, she realized that she had slipped in water. There was water on the bottom step. Lily couldn’t have done it because she was locked in the bedroom with her all night, and she was still in bed. When she put her hand on the railing, she noticed that the railing was slightly wet as well. “What is going on?” she said, turning on lights and looking up, but seeing nothing that appeared to be leaking. She headed to the kitchen to grab some paper towels.
She was happy she hadn’t hurt herself. She had fallen hard, but maybe that extra cushion on her rear had come in handy after all. Rubbing her butt, she started the coffee maker, then went back to wipe up the water. When she bent over, the room started spinning. The scent of Polo was strong, the scent of Roy’s cologne. She rushed to the alarm to make sure it was set; it was. She ran to the phone to make sure it had the dial tone; it had. “Okay.” She held onto the phone as she rushed around checking all the doors and windows; everything was secure. She ran back up the stairs and Lily joined Rebecca as she rushed around checking the other doors and windows. Everything was locked and the alarm was armed. It had to be her imagination, Rebecca thought, and she started to relax.
She poured herself a cup of coffee, and the telephone rang. Rebecca assumed it was Jack, then realized it would be around two-thirty his time, so there was no way he would call her that early. She answered the phone and the line went dead. Rebecca filled with fear and again started thinking about Roy. She rushed to the living room and closed all the blinds. She checked the alarm agai
n to make sure it was set and saw the red light was on. The alarm was armed. She took a few deep breaths then calmed down by reminding herself that people dial wrong numbers sometimes. That’s what it was, a wrong number. But she couldn’t get over the fact that as soon as she was up with the lights on, the phone rang. Maybe it was a coincidence.
Rebecca sat down on the couch and started to cry. She felt like she was going crazy. The only other time she felt she was insane was when Roy was stalking her. She remembered coming home and finding one of her blinds open. She never opened that blind because she never used that window. Yet she would convince herself that she had opened it or that her cat must have played with the string and somehow opened the blind. Or she would come home to discover that a light was on even though she remembered turning it off before she left for work. She also thought that her journal had been moved around but never in her wildest dreams did she think that somebody would be stalking her or going into her apartment and going through her things. It was easier to believe she was going crazy.
Rebecca was scared. “What can I do? What can I do?” She didn’t care anymore if she looked or sounded paranoid. She was going to make that call to Victim Services and Roy’s parole officer. She needed some answers. “Okay, when their offices open, I’m calling!” she vowed. Then she decided to see what she could find out on her own, so she headed to her office and Googled “Roy Smythson”.
She was hoping she would find information about him counseling other men with anger or obsessive issues or bipolar disorder. She wanted to read an article about Roy Smythson who turned his lemons into lemonade and he was doing very well. Or how Roy Smythson worked on music while behind bars, his talent and story making him the hot new songwriter in demand. Instead, she learned about other Roy Smythsons: Roy Smythson, the sailing champion; Roy Smythson, the teacher. She kept searching. On page four there was a court hearing document.
“This might be something,” she said, clicking on it. The document was from before he was sent to prison. She started reading about the program he was offered instead of prison. Suddenly Rebecca felt a lump in her throat. “I wasn’t offered a deal. I didn’t get a choice as to what was going to happen to me. He attacked me. Didn’t he deserve punishment for what he did to me? I still have hearing damage because of what he did to me. I’m scared for life and he was given a deal?” She kept reading, feeling insignificant and angry.
Suddenly, she was elated. There had been a mistake; he didn’t go to prison and he was given a deal. She was thrilled about the program he was offered. She had been afraid for no reason because he never went to prison. She wanted to celebrate. “What a relief! It’s over! I can stop worrying.” She did have mixed feelings about his lack of punishment but, for her own wellbeing, she’d rather he be rehabilitated and safe in society than in prison full of anger and thoughts of revenge.
She kept reading, skipping the words she didn’t understand, until she came to: The appellant Roy Smythson was charged with one count of assault in the fifth degree and one count of burglary in the first degree for forcefully entering his ex-girlfriend’s place of residence and physically assaulting her…
“I was never his girlfriend!” She continued reading about his felony armed robbery and then skipped ahead.
After completing nearly four months of the anger and substance-abuse residential treatment program…
“Anger and substance-abuse program! What? He didn’t have a substance-abuse problem…” or did he? Thinking about his behavior, she kept reading.
Appellant was taken into custody by law enforcement due to his disturbing conduct during a morning anger management class. Appellant started making ape noises in front of other students which became gradually deafening until they were piercing shrieks. The staff attempted to quiet appellant but he continued his disruptive behavior. Law enforcement was called. While the police were restraining him his screams turned to a chant, “I’ll kill her! I’m going to kill her…”
“What!”
Appellant was not allowed back into the program, and his parole officer recommended because of the severity of his crimes that he be sent to prison and his probation be revoked.
Rebecca couldn’t believe it. This had to be a mistake. Why didn’t somebody tell her. She would call Victim Services as soon as she could. She either wanted Roy’s parole officer’s phone number or she wanted Victim Services to check with his parole officer to make sure he was still checking in. Would he have a parole officer? Or after serving five years is that it, his time was served? She needed answers. She desperately needed to find out what had happened to Roy. This document made Roy sound crazy, really crazy. How could he be such a mess? She almost felt sorry for him.
“Let me think about this… let me think.” Just because that happened, didn’t mean that he hadn’t straightened out his life. It didn’t mean that he was coming after her. It didn’t mean anything. That happened over five years ago. She was sure prisoners received counseling while incarcerated. Rebecca thought about Jack’s comment about Roy having five years to plan his revenge. Now that terrified her. “Revenge… Revenge…” The word sounded strange to her. She couldn’t comprehend its meaning. She grabbed her dictionary and looked up revenge: returning injury.
Should she call Jack? She checked the time and decided to wait until after she had spoken with Victim Services. She felt awful. She was sick to her stomach. She wanted it to be a bad dream. She wanted all of it to go away. She felt so overwhelmed that she didn’t want to think about it anymore. She called Lily and they trudged back to bed.
She brought both cordless phones upstairs with her, pushed the chair in front of the door and made sure it was locked. She turned on the TV, but the only thing that was on at that time of morning was a Lifetime movie so she started to watch, hoping it would distract her. But most of all she wanted to go back to sleep and wake up from the dream. Both of Rebecca’s thumbs rested between her pinky and ring finger. She was terrified. She had a deep foreboding that Roy was out there, watching her.
Rebecca lay there recognizing that she had become one of those women, one of those women who lived in fear, always hiding, stifling their lives to escape being found. Her fear was disrupting her life. It wasn’t fair that she had to live like that. Roy was winning. How much time had to pass before she could live fully, without fear? Rebecca started to cry. She didn’t want to be afraid; she didn’t want to live like that anymore. She would take action. Maybe she would get a gun.
For five years, Rebecca could have been free from worrying about Roy. Five years. Nobody cared enough to even tell her that they had caught up with Roy and that he was going to prison for five years. She could have had five years of freedom.
Maybe this is just the way it is for women. Maybe all women at her age start dealing with these types of fears. Most women have had ex-boyfriends, husbands and lovers. Women have dated people who weren’t good for them or weren’t healthy. Women have dated the bad boys and the drug addicts or alcoholics. Women have dated the bipolars and the depressed. Women have dated the users and abusers. Women have dated the needy, controlling and the jealous types. Women have dated the really nice guys, only to discover later that they are cheaters or have some deep, dirty past or fetish. By Rebecca’s age maybe all women carry a burden of fear because of their pasts with men.
6:05 AM
Jack called and woke Rebecca.
“My night was good, but I didn’t get as much done as I had hoped,” she yawned. “How was your night?”
“Well, after we talked I turned on the TV, and I think I was asleep by the first commercial.”
Rebecca tried to laugh. “You were tired. How did you sleep?”
“Pretty good. How about you?”
“I didn’t sleep well. Lily was barking a lot… You know, neither of us sleeps well when you’re not home. Maybe she’s a little nervous without you here.” What she wanted to say was, “I’m scared without you here. Please come home.”
“Well, I�
��ll be home soon. How are the coyotes?”
“They’re around. I hear them every night. In fact, I got up around three and now I’m back in bed… Oh, my God! I forgot to turn off the coffee maker!” She got out of bed, pushed the chair out of the way and headed downstairs. “I’ll take you with me.”
“Wow, you beat me getting up. What time did you get to bed last night?”
“I’m not even sure.”
“Oh, honey, you’re not getting enough sleep. I should let you go back to bed.”
Rebecca opened all the blinds after turning off the coffee. It was a beautiful morning, still dark with stars high in the sky and the moon shining brightly. The storm had passed. “I’m glad you woke me. I have a lot on my mind, and I want to finish Angie’s packet today, then start on the fun part.”
“Your Ps.”
“That’s right,” Rebecca smiled.
“Is everything else okay? You sound a little down.”
Rebecca started crying but didn’t want Jack to know. “No, I’m okay. I just miss you, that’s all.”
“I miss you, too. Do you want me to come home? You don’t sound yourself, Reb.”
“No, honey, I’m fine. I guess I just get a little scared sometimes: the burglar, the coyotes.”
“Is the alarm set?”
“Of course.”
“Then you’re safe, honey. Don’t worry. And the coyotes won’t hurt you. They are more afraid of you than you are of them.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t go that far.” Rebecca laughed and Jack joined in. Rebecca felt better, with Jack making her feel like nothing could or would ever hurt her.
“Honey, maybe you have cabin fever. Maybe you should call a friend and go have lunch, see a movie or go shopping. Maybe you need to get out of the house for a while.”
“You know, that’s a good idea. You’re probably right,” she agreed, knowing that she wouldn’t be going anywhere, at least not until she finished what she had set out to do.
Before they hung up, Jack told her to call him any time she needed to talk. He said it didn’t matter if he was in a meeting, out for lunch or sleeping, he would answer his phone when she called. He also told her that if she needed him home, he would come home. All she had to do was pick up the phone. Jack reassured her without realizing it, and she knew that sometimes Jack liked to be needed by her. It made him feel important. She did need him—she couldn’t imagine life without him.