by J. B. Hawker
“How can you promise that?”
“Maybe I can’t actually guarantee it, but I can promise you it will only get better if you get some help.”
“What, like say a prayer?”
“Praying never hurts, but I was talking about professional counseling. Women who survive even an isolated incidence of rape often require long-term therapy. What you endured was much worse. You can’t expect to just get over violation like that on your own.”
“So you don’t think God can cure everything, after all? I’m surprised.”
“Oh, I think he can. I know he can, but much of the time he expects us to use the tools he has already provided. God is not a genie in a bottle who must give us our wishes as long as we rub him the right way.”
“I’ll think about it…the counseling. Thanks for listening, anyway. Goodnight.”
Bunny sat on the sofa after Marki had gone to bed, quietly praying for this girl God brought into her life. It was beginning to occur to Bunny that God, in his typically mysterious way, was giving her the daughter she once prayed for so fervently.
Unusually, both Max and Marki joined Bunny for breakfast the following morning.
“I don’t need to go to the office until after lunch; shall we go out and do something together this morning, ladies?” Max asked.
“What a good idea. Where shall we go?” Bunny responded.
“You can count me out,” Marki interjected. “The news crew is filming my interview this morning. In fact, my cab should be here any minute. I’ll head down to wait, now.”
Marki rushed off without further comment.
Max and Bunny had discovered his daughter was not a morning person, but today she was more taciturn than usual.
“She must be nervous about the interview,” Max remarked.
“Maybe. I think she’s also a little uncomfortable after last night,” Bunny said.
“Why? What happened last night?”
“I was up when she came back. She was pretty upset and confided more to me than she wanted to, I expect.”
“What upset her? Was it that Kyle fellow? Did he hurt her?” Max asked, putting his fork down forcefully beside his plate and starting to rise.
“Easy there, big fella,” Bunny soothed. “It was nothing like that.”
When Max sat back in his chair, she explained.
“Marki just had some unexpected reactions to her ordeal on the ship. It surprised and unsettled her. I think she had convinced herself the whole thing was no big deal.”
“What exactly happened?”
“I don’t think I should go into too much detail. It’s her story to tell, not mine. But, I suppose I can tell you she discovered she’s not ready for any new romantic relationships, just now.”
“The girl needs to see a therapist.”
“That’s just what I suggested. We can only hope and pray that she takes our advice.”
The offices and studio of KTEX-TV were bigger and more impressive than Marki anticipated. She was happy to have Kyle’s strong arm to hold while he showed her around. He began with his office, naturally enough, ending his guided tour at the studio where the interview was to take place.
Marki was introduced to more people than she could remember and taken in hand by an assistant who showed her where to sit.
Once in the chair, Marki was fitted with a mic and subjected to light and sound checks. Her nose was powdered to knock down shine and she was instructed on how to sit then left alone to await her inquisitor.
She felt slightly sick to her stomach as she waited, not her usual pre-performance jitters.
She jumped when the reporter interviewing her, Patricia Dupont, stepped up to introduce herself then blushed from embarrassment at this display of nerves.
“You don’t need to be worried, Marki. Just give clear, concise answers and everything will go fine. We can edit out anything we don’t like, so just relax and be yourself.”
Patricia immediately assumed her professional persona, turning to the camera and beginning her introduction.
“Today we are fortunate to have with us Marki Banks, an entertainer on the ill-fated Mers Comtessa cruise ship, recently in the news when it was captured in the Indian Ocean by a band of terrorist pirates. Marki, one of the lucky few to survive the ordeal, lives right here in Houston and graciously agreed to share her experiences with our viewers. Thank you for being here, Marki.”
“You’re welcome, Patricia” Marki managed to croak out. “I’m happy to be here.”
“You were part of the ship’s crew on that fateful day of the attack, isn’t that right?”
“I am a singer and a dancer. I was a member of the troupe providing the entertainment at the ship’s cabaret shows.”
“How many were in that troupe, Marki?”
“There were eighteen of us, nine girls… and nine boys.”
“And how many of you survived the attack?”
“Just four other girls and me,” she responded in a small voice, as though she only just realized her narrow escape.
“That’s amazing. You mean none of the men in the troupe survived?”
“We were rehearsing a number for that night’s show when the gunmen crashed into the practice studio. They just started shooting and grabbing us. They pushed all the girls into the corridor. We heard gunfire and never saw the guys again.”
“So you didn’t actually see anyone shot?”
“Only my friend, Clinton. They shot him when they came through the door.”
“How shocking for you. So, what happened next?”
“We girls were separated into groups and locked into staterooms with a couple of guards.”
Marki was growing increasingly uncomfortable. Bunny was right. Talking about that day was bringing back all the little details she’d been suppressing.
“Go on. Then what happened? You were in a stateroom with some other dancers and two pirates, is that right?”
“I was with two of my friends.”
“Were they among the survivors, too?”
Marki needed a deep breath before she could answer, “No.”
Makenzie and Kayla! She hadn’t even thought about them. She gulped back bile as she was hit by a wave of nausea.
“We can see this is still a very fresh tragedy for you, Marki. Would you like some water?”
The reporter indicated a pitcher and glass on the table beside the interview chair and Marki nodded her thanks before pouring the drink, taking time to try to calm herself.
“Now, then, you and your friends were alone with the armed pirates. What happened next?”
Remembering her father’s advice, Marki said, “I’m not really comfortable talking about that right now.”
Patricia Dupont knew they were just approaching what her viewers most wanted to know and was not about to let Marki evade the issue. Sensing the girl was on the brink of a break down, though, she decided to come back to that subject later.
“Of course, we understand. Everyone appreciates how difficult this must be for you. Perhaps you can share with us how you alone of the three in that room managed to survive to be rescued.”
Marki was taken aback by the almost accusatory tone of the question. It had the desired effect of prompting her to speak more boldly than previously in the interview.
“Makenzie and Kayla said to just do whatever the pirates wanted, so they wouldn’t hurt us. They figured we’d be let go when the ransom was paid. I didn’t think they would ever let us go, so I fought back every time the men touched me. I kicked and clawed and bit them. It didn’t do much good. Sometimes they just laughed and they beat me up a bunch of times. The last time I was knocked unconscious I woke up out on deck with the other passengers. I don’t know what happened to my friends after that.”
“That’s remarkable. So the other passengers were being kept on the upper deck?”
Marki was more comfortable now and responded, “Yeah. They had everyone in smallish groups s
ort of staked out under guard around the deck. The pirates didn’t let anyone go back to their rooms or anything.”
“I understand you were involved in an escape attempt shortly before the Navy came to your rescue.”
“The pirates started killing random people every so often. We figured it was when whatever ransom deadlines they set passed without any money. We thought if we just waited to be rescued, there might not be any of us left.”
“So what did you do?”
Marki explained the plan and what happened when it was put into play. Patricia interrupted her when she mentioned Franz’s self-sacrifice.
“Did you think afterward that perhaps this brave man’s sacrifice wouldn’t have been necessary if you had not acted when you did?”
Marki gave Patricia a look before replying, “Actually, I did think that, at first, but later I learned the final deadline would have passed before the rescuers arrived. The head pirate was planning to blow up the ship if that particular deadline wasn’t met. It was our actions which distracted him and saved everyone.”
“That is quite a story, Marki. I’m certain our viewers admire your fighting spirit. Can you share a bit more of your experiences before being taken to the upper deck? I'm sure there are other abuse victims in our audience who could benefit from hearing your story.”
Patricia’s prompt reminded Marki of her mother’s advice.
“I don’t think of myself as a victim, Patricia. A victim gives up. I never gave up; no matter how often I was beaten, degraded and assaulted. When I was dumped on the deck bruised and bleeding with my teeth broken and my clothes torn off it was a victory for me. I won.”
“Thank you for those inspiring words, Marki. And thank you, again for being with us today.”
Patricia wrapped up the interview and the director said, “Cut.”
The interview was over and Marki had survived.
Chapter Thirty-Two
A feast is made for laughter, and wine makes merry; but money answers everything. ─ Ecclesiastes 10:19
Marki was both drained and exhilarated following the interview. She decided to let Kyle take her to lunch when he asked.
She needed to process the experience and get Kyle’s take on it before reporting to her family.
She’d received a number of texts from her mother during the morning but hadn’t responded.
At lunch Kyle enthused about how well Marki had done. His face beamed when he told her how proud of her he was.
Kyle liked Marki a lot and hoped they might have a future together. He’d been worried about her when she left so early the night before, but was relieved she seemed to be herself again.
Marki wasn’t quite as restored to normal as he thought, however. While she picked at her broiled salmon Caesar salad, snatches of memories of her murdered friends and flashes of her time on the Mers Comtessa competed with Kyle’s earnest comments.
She declined his offer to take her home, choosing instead to try to exorcise her demons with a round of shopping therapy.
“As long as I have Max’s credit card, I won’t need any other therapy,” she thought, her high heels clicking rapidly toward her favorite shops.
Max and Bunny were in the den with the TV tuned to KTEX, waiting for Marki’s interview to come on.
Marki had gone up to Kyle’s apartment to view the news.
“I’m glad Marki didn’t stay to watch this with us,” Max commented, taking a sip of lemonade.
“Why not?”
“We can be more honest with each other about how she does, since she isn’t here. If it doesn’t go very well, we will have time to put a better light on it before we need to tell her what we thought.”
“I guess so. Don’t you think she will do a good job on the interview?”
“I don’t know...I just feel sort of anxious about it. I don’t think she’s ready to talk about all the things they might ask.”
“She seemed okay this afternoon when she got back. That must be a good sign,” Bunny said.
“You’re probably right. I’m just so new at this father business, I’m probably overreacting.”
“Turn up the sound, Sweetie, I think this is the interview.”
The couple watched without commenting until the reporter signed off, then turned off the television.
“Looks like she managed to get through it all right. I wondered for a minute there if she was going to lose it, but she rallied,” Max commented.
“I’m actually a little disappointed.”
“What?” Max asked with a quizzical expression.
“It seems as though Marki is building a callous over her emotions and she’s never really dealt with them, yet. That doesn’t seem healthy, to me.”
“I see what you mean, but it could just be her way of coping with things. She probably gets that from her mother. That woman was hard as nails, even before I left.”
“I hope you are wrong. Marki is at a turning point after all that she endured. I certainly hope she makes healthy, wise decisions from here on out.”
They were in their room, getting ready for bed when Marki returned.
She tapped on the door, whispering, “Are you guys still awake?”
Max opened the door.
“We’re not in bed, yet. What’s up?”
“Did you see the interview? What did you think? Kyle thought I looked super-hot.”
“I thought you looked sweet, and very poised,” Bunny replied.
“I thought you handled yourself well. Was it very difficult?” Max asked.
“Oh, not really. I had some nerves before it started, but when that cat insinuated I’d done something wrong, she got my dander up and the butterflies flew away,” Marki answered.
“I did notice there seemed to be an edge to some of her questions. I imagine she was trying to provoke you. Better ratings and all that.”
“So what’s next on your agenda?” Bunny inquired.
“Kyle said this was just the edited interview. The full interview is posted on the TV’s website. That will get a lot more viewings and my mom can watch it. She wanted me to tape it, but this way, I won’t have to. Anyway, I’m hoping I’ll get some more interviews and stuff. This could be just the beginning, my mom says. I gotta go call her. G’nite!”
“Just the beginning,” Max said after he closed the door. “The beginning of exactly what, I wonder.”
“I think Marki and her mother are expecting too much from this one interview on a local news station, don’t you? There may be a small flurry of reaction, then the whole world will move on and the Mers Comtessa will be nothing but a Jeopardy answer, if that.”
“I do hope you are right. I want Marki to have a successful career as an entertainer, if that’s what she wants for herself, but sensationalism does not seem like the best way to make it happen.”
“I know we include Marki in our prayers every night, but tonight let’s specifically pray for her to heed God’s leading,” Bunny suggested.
“We can ask, but as I know all too well, God won’t force her to follow his lead.”
Marki was on pins and needles the next few days, waiting for the response to her TV interview. She spent as much time as possible working out in the condo’s gym, trying to work off her nervous energy. Nevertheless, she was becoming more anxious and irritable daily. Even Kyle was finding her difficult to be with and she was becoming a frequent topic of conversation for Bunny and Max.
“I was so hoping your daughter would be content after getting her story on television, but she seems more unhappy every day,” Bunny commented to Max on the drive home from her final physical therapy session.
“I know, Hun, I’ve been wondering how long you can put up with her behavior.”
“Now that I’ve passed my physical and can get back to my daily exercise regimen, I’ll be able to tolerate even Marki. Don’t worry about that,” she reassured him. “I think my brain is getting back to normal, or what passes for normal, too. I
was able to write a passable column for the magazine this week.”
“That’s great! I know how you’ve worried about missing your deadlines. Are you working on the Great American Novel, again, too?”
“You don’t need to be snarky. Just because it’s a historical romance, doesn’t mean it isn’t real literature…or maybe it does, but it’s still hard work and deserves a little respect.”
“I know, Sweetie. I was only teasing. I admire your tenacity for even attempting a full-length novel. I know I could never do it, even if I had any writing skills,” Max replied.
“Fortunately, you have plenty of skills in other areas.”
“That’s right I do,” Max leered.
“Oh stop that, and watch the road,” Bunny chastised with a grin.
As usual, Marki was out when they returned home, the clutter in the kitchen indicated she had eaten before leaving.
Max pitched in cleaning the kitchen while Bunny straightened the dining and living rooms.
Glancing into the open guestroom door, Bunny was surprised at how empty the room looked. When she tiptoed in she realized the only clutter on the bed and floor was from empty shopping bags and hangers. A quick look into the closet revealed all Marki’s clothes were gone, along with her luggage…and Bunny’s largest suitcase which was usually kept in the guestroom closet.
Bunny checked the attached bathroom and found Marki’s usual squalor, but none of her toiletries or make-up among the wet towels and debris.
“Max! Max, come here!”
“What is it? What’s the matter?” Max called out while hurrying to Bunny’s side.
“She’s gone. I mean I think she’s left us. All her things, and some of ours, as well, are gone. Just look.”
“Did she say anything to you about leaving?” Max asked as he walked around picking up items from the floor and looking into drawers.
“Not a thing. When she went down to the gym this morning, I asked if she would be in for dinner, like always. She responded, just as always, that she would if she didn’t get a better offer.”
“Looks like that better offer must have come through.”