The Girl Before

by Rena Olsen

  Without warning, Glen flies at me, grabbing my shoulders. The door crashes open and guards pour into the room, pulling him off of me. Connor is close behind them and comes over to me, helping me to my feet. I wave them all off. “It’s fine. Let him go.” The guards comply, but stay close, and Connor does not leave my side. Glen looks between the two of us.

  A brittle smile cracks his face. “I see. You’re fucking him, aren’t you? A little bed action and a little information? How could you betray me like that, Clara?”

  To Connor’s credit, his only reaction is the muscle jumping in his jaw. He lets me run the show.

  “No, Glen. I’m not sleeping with Connor.”

  “Right.” Glen’s body is tense, ready to spring, and I’m glad that the guards remain in the room with us now. I had hoped to do this without a visible audience, but instead I tune them out and focus on Glen.

  “You lied to me, Glen. My whole life, you lied.”

  He crosses his arms, staring me down, refusing to speak.

  “All those girls were told the same lie. Their parents didn’t want them. They didn’t have a home. They were alone in the world, and you could give them a place to call home, a family that loved them.” I laugh, but there’s no joy in the sound. “But it was all for money, wasn’t it? And prestige in your sick little community.”

  “You don’t understand, Clara.”

  “I understand, Glen. You lied to me, pretended to love me, and screwed other girls while I waited at home, while I did everything you asked. EVERYTHING.” I shout the last word, my calm façade crumbling beneath the weight of my emotion. I take a step forward, ignoring the small sound Connor makes. “I wanted to give you the world. I wanted to give you a family. But instead, you let your mother poison me, kill my babies, keep me feeling inferior in every possible way.”

  Glen’s reaction is immediate. His entire body wilts. “My mother did what?”

  And I realize that he didn’t know. He has no reason to lie at this point.

  “The tea she always gave me . . .”

  Realization dawns on his face as he puts the pieces together. “She’s the reason . . .”

  I nod and watch as tears fill his eyes. I gaze into his shattered expression, and my heart breaks. It breaks for the life we could have had, if we were both different people. For the life I thought we had. For the babies I will never meet. For the last bit of innocence that was lying hidden within Glen, now eradicated by news of his parents’ treachery.

  “I am going to continue to cooperate with them, Glen,” I say as I begin to walk toward the door. “You are no longer anything to me.” The words stab me as surely as they must stab him, and I pray that someday they will be true. “I wish for you a long life of captivity, just as you made happen for all those children.”

  A strangled cry comes from behind me when I am almost to the door. “Clara.” I have never heard Glen make a sound like that, and I turn around. Behind me sits a broken man, his power over me gone. “I always loved you, Clara,” he says, his voice barely loud enough to carry to me.

  My smile is gentle. “Maybe you loved Clara,” I agree. “But Clara no longer exists. Good-bye, Glen.”

  Head held high, I exit the room to the sound of Glen’s sobs. Once the door closes behind me, I sink to the floor of the hallway, heedless of whatever dirt and grime I might be resting in. My head cradled in my hands, I break.

  Connor lets me cry for a few minutes, then helps me to my feet. Jay is on the other side. As I stand, I feel a weight falling from my shoulders. My heart is shattered, but my soul, which has been dark and twisted for so long, is starting the long process toward healing.

  Then

  Kelly is perfect. Her short bob is brushed to shining, and her simple jeans and T-shirt are exactly to the specifications of her client. She is my first daughter to go out into the world, and she will be taking care of children herself. She is sixteen, but looks older, at least eighteen or nineteen. Old enough to be a nanny traveling with a family.

  Only her face does not match the image I am trying to portray. Tears stream down her cheeks. “I don’t want to go, Clara,” she whimpers. “Please, let me stay and help you.”

  “Don’t be silly,” I say, brushing imaginary lint off her shoulders. “You get to go and travel the world. Mr. Green and his family do business in Europe and Asia and South America . . . and you will get to take care of his two children. They are adorable.” I realize I am rambling, nervous in my own right that she will not perform. Glen will not be happy. Though Papa made the initial contact, he’s sitting this part out, since the training has been primarily a joint effort between Glen and myself. He will be waiting to hear how things go. And to give his judgment.

  “But . . . have you seen him?” Kelly asks, her voice trembling. “He’s old, and I know what you said about—”

  “Hush,” I say, sharper than I intend. I gentle my tone. “He is your life now, Kelly. Simple as that. Don’t forget it, and you won’t have a problem.”

  Kelly continues to sob quietly, shoulders shaking. I am grateful that the client requested no eye makeup. It would be a disaster by now. I hand her a tissue. “Calm down, Kelly. He’ll be here soon.”

  Glen taps on the door and walks in. “What’s going on?” He does not look pleased to find such a mess of a girl waiting for him.

  “Just some nerves,” I say, standing in front of Kelly, shielding her from his view. “She’ll be fine.”

  “Mr. Green just called from the front of the building. He’s on his way up.”

  Kelly begins to sob louder, covering her face with her hands. Glen pushes me aside and walks up to stand directly in front of her. “Kelly.” She lowers her hands and looks up at him. Without warning, he slaps her across the face with his open hand. “Snap the fuck out of it,” he says. His voice is low, but menacing. “Your client will be here soon. If you don’t perform as promised, you’ll end up at one of our other . . . establishments.”

  The fear in Kelly’s eyes is clear. None of the girls here are fully informed about the other branches, but they know they do not want to be a part of them. She wipes her eyes and nose and squares her shoulders. Glen turns and stalks out of the room without another word.

  As soon as he is gone, I rush to Kelly’s side to inspect her face. There is some reddening, but I do not believe it will bruise. I cover it as best I can and finish as the bell sounds through the apartment.

  “To your beds, girls,” I order, and the other girls move to sit on their beds, silent as they watch Kelly with expressions varying from anxiety to envy. We wait.

  “Clara, bring Kelly out,” Glen calls. I brush my hands across Kelly’s shoulders one more time before opening the door and leading her out. I plaster a bright smile on my face for the intimidating Mr. Green, who stands waiting, briefcase in hand. I assume it holds his payment. Papa and Glen deal only in cash.

  My eyes are still on Mr. Green when I see his eyebrows vee as he looks over my shoulder. I turn to see that Kelly has stopped. Her eyes are wide as she stares at her client, and then her face crumples.

  “I’m sorry,” she wails. “I can’t . . . I can’t . . .” She backs up, her intent to flee back to the bedroom clear. Glen is there before she can take a step.

  “You can and you will,” he hisses, his grip tight on her wrist. He yanks her forward, and she stumbles. I rush forward to catch her, but Glen reaches out and shoves me away. I run into the table, and I feel a bruise begin to blossom on my hip. “No, Clara. The time for soft words is over. She’s been trained for this.” He leans forward and whispers something in her ear that I cannot hear.

  Mr. Green has been watching the entire exchange with interest. “Is there a problem?” He sounds almost amused.

  “Not at all, Mr. Green,” Glen says. “Kelly just cares so much for her sisters and Clara, she’s having a hard time leaving.”

 
“Should I worry?” Mr. Green’s voice is laced with suspicion.

  I jump in. “Of course not,” I say, laughing a little. “Kelly is loyal. As soon as she meets your children, she will never want to leave them. And I know you can offer her things we cannot.” I raise an eyebrow and he grins.

  “That is true.” He turns to Kelly. “Girl. Get over here.” He tosses the briefcase on the table next to me. “You belong to me now.” He grabs her from Glen and pulls her forward until her front is flush with his. He grips her chin and forces her face upward. “This place does not exist. These people do not exist. Only I exist. Are we clear?”

  Kelly nods, a difficult gesture with her chin firmly in his grasp.

  “Good. We are leaving then,” he says. With a tip of his head toward Glen and a wink in my direction, he drags Kelly out of the apartment. Glen locks the door behind them.

  “How could you let that happen, Clara?” he asks without turning around.

  “I’m sorry, Glen, I told you she wasn’t—”

  He slams a hand against the door. “You don’t tell me anything! When I have a client, I expect the girl to be ready! Or are you not able to handle simple instructions?” He spins to face me and stalks forward. I try to back away but the table is there. He stops in front of me and places his hands on either side of my hips. Our lips are a breath apart. “If you can’t handle this, then maybe I need to find someone who can.”

  His words hit my heart like an arrow, piercing my soul. “You don’t mean that.”

  “Screw it up like that again and you’ll see how serious I am.” His words leave no questions as to his meaning. He grips my arms, squeezing tight, till it hurts, then throws me to the floor before stomping off to his study. I understand his anger. Papa found Kelly, and Mama gave me some help with the training, but Glen handled the transaction on his own. He needed it to go smoothly so that Papa will trust him to handle part of the business independently, with his own clients.

  When Papa stops by later to check in, Glen is all smiles. “It went great, Pop!” he says. “Smooth sailing.” He flashes me a grin. “Clare was brilliant, as I knew she would be.”

  I manage a smile back before heading to put the girls to bed. Glen is closing the door behind Papa when I return.

  “We did it!” he crows, and grabs me around the waist, spinning me around. He carries me to the bedroom, and soon I forget all about the bruises on my arms and hip as we celebrate. There is only Glen, who gives me pain sometimes, but also takes it away.

  Now

  I am surprisingly calm as I wait in an antechamber, counting the minutes until I will take the stand to speak against my husband. Ex-husband? We found out that the marriage between Glen and myself was never even legal. How could it be, when Clara did not exist? They could have gotten documents, as they did for the South Dakota trip, or for any of the other girls when they were sold, but it was one last cruel joke from Papa, who had never forgiven Glen for screwing up and falling in love with the wrong girl.

  The room echoes with the ticking of the clock. I asked my family to give me some time alone. I have not seen Glen since our confrontation at the prison. He has tried to call, though I have no idea where he has found numbers to reach me. There is an extensive network of people within the prison system who can get almost any bit of information, apparently even information protected at the highest levels of government. He has sent letters as well, and those I have not been able to bring myself to throw away. I hope that after this day is over, I can find the strength to release him for good.

  The door behind me creaks open, and I stand and follow the deputy into the courtroom. The benches are packed, and I resist the urge to search the room for the faces of my daughters. I know some of their families are attending, but I was told the girls were not allowed to come. Despite my avoidance of eye contact, I can feel the weight of the audience’s stares. I do not know what they think of me, nor do I want to know. I have thought every terrible thought about myself, probably more than they have, and dwelling on it will only set me back. Unable to help myself, I glance at the front row. As promised, Dr. Mulligan and Connor are sitting there. My focal points. My resolve strengthens, and I walk with purpose to the witness stand, where I am sworn in.

  When my eyes finally find Glen’s, it is as if the entire room has disappeared. No one else exists but us, for a few seconds at least. Even after I break our gaze, I feel his stare, his eyes like lasers boring into my forehead. I don’t remember all the questions I am asked. We have rehearsed this so many times, I can answer automatically. I’m glad there are no surprise questions, not even from Glen’s lawyer. I know the evidence is damning, and my testimony, as an accomplice and a victim, is very convincing.

  As I step down, I take one last glance at Glen. I drink him in, the blue eyes, dulled by his months in prison, the normally tousled hair, now cropped close to his scalp. He is thin, but I can tell he has been making use of the prison gym. I wonder if he has set up his empire there yet.

  I walk from the room feeling lighter, the weight of my guilt somewhat assuaged, and the corners of my lips tip up of their own accord. I am ready to move forward. I rub my rounded belly, the life inside almost ready to join the world. It’s time.

  Then

  “Good night, angels,” I whisper, flipping the light switch and pulling the door closed behind me. The last of the girls are in bed, though it is still light out. Glen insists on a seven o’clock bedtime for all but the oldest girls. I wander downstairs to find Passion in the kitchen, finishing the dishes.

  “Anything else you need, Clara?” she asks, and waits obediently for my answer.

  “No, thank you, Passion,” I say. “Just keep an eye on the girls for me, okay?”

  She nods and leaves the room. I rummage through the cupboards and refrigerator, coming up with a few items for a snack. Glen is working late at the brothel again. It was opened a year ago, and though it took a while for business to pick up, things appear to be running smoothly now. Lately Glen has been working a lot of hours over there. He always comes home very late, and exhausted. I wince as I bump a bruise on my arm, a remnant of my question about whether he should take a few days off.

  Since Glen did not appreciate my suggestion of a break, I will bring a break to him. He should have time to have a small snack, even if he works while he eats it. I will slip in, drop the snack off, and be gone without interrupting him. Although, if he has time for a quick kiss, or more, I am always ready for him. I smile as I remember how we tested out the various rooms before the brothel was open.

  Ted is waiting with the car when I leave the house. He was dubious when I asked this favor, but I promised I would take all the blame if Glen was angry. He will not be angry. The drive to the other building is short, and business is good tonight, if the cars packing the small lot are any indication. Loud music and laughter float through the air, disturbing the peace of what could be a beautiful night. I make a face. I rarely come here, and never when they are busy. I find the entire practice distasteful, but I know that Glen knows what he is doing, and it is a successful business for him. This new location has done well.

  Glen used to keep the girls at a separate location and drive them to hotels that would look the other way as needed. When we bought the house and property, he was able to purchase this plot of land as well. A “one-stop shop,” he calls it. I remember Papa G using a similar phrase.

  I step out onto the gravel and wave at Ted. “I’ll be right back,” I say. I go to the side door and knock. I refuse to walk through the main part of the establishment. The door creaks open a few inches, a surly eye peeking out from the crack. The eye widens when it recognizes me, and the door swings wide. “Hello, Miss Clara,” stutters the man. His face is familiar, but I do not know his name. I step inside.

  “I brought something for Glen to eat,” I say. “Is he around?”

  There are three other men in this
dimly lit and smoke-filled back room. The first man glances at the others, tugging at his collar. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard. “He’s uhh . . . indisposed right now, Miss Clara,” he says. “Would you like to . . . errr . . .”

  “I can just leave it,” I say, smiling to put the man at ease. All the men are nervous around me, especially after what happened with Joel, when he disappeared. I don’t believe they know much, only that Joel crossed a line with the girls. Still, they do not like to have much interaction with me and avoid even looking at me if they can. I wonder if they have guessed at what other lines Joel crossed.

  A door at the far end crashes open, and the man steps in front of me, hiding me from view. I do not protest, but peek over his shoulder. Glen stumbles in, each arm slung around a topless woman. He is clearly intoxicated, as I have never seen him before. I shrink back further, though with the darkness of the room, the man in front of me, and Glen’s drunkenness, I am practically invisible.

  “We’re gonna be in my office,” Glen slurs, pulling one of the women closer and giving her a sloppy kiss. It looks like he is trying to eat her face, and I feel sick to my stomach. He gropes at the other woman’s breast, and she moans as if she is enjoying it. Glen breaks away. “Hold my calls!” He laughs and gives an exaggerated wink to the men in the room, then stumbles to a door on the opposite wall, the one that leads to his private office. It is difficult to tell who is holding whom up, but the women appear to be doing most of the heavy lifting. The door slams shut, and though the sounds are muffled, it is obvious what is going on behind the wall.

  I step out from behind the man. “Thank you,” I say. “I think I’ll just head home.”

  He nods and doesn’t attempt to speak. I yank open the door to the outside, welcoming the cool rush of mountain air on my flushed face. I don’t look back as I pull the door shut, blocking out the last of the sounds of Glen’s drunken tryst. I lean against the side of the building, trying to catch my breath, but my lungs will not pull in enough oxygen. I feel light-headed.