Unspoken - Kiss of the Wolf Spider, Part I

by Sharianne Bailey

  Monday 11 March 1991

  Sometimes the ways of the social services are difficult to work out. The counselling team, who are responsible for my recovery, have decided it is time for me to visit my father in prison.

  They said, “It will be good for your healing!” I don’t understand how they think it will help. Miriam doesn’t seem in favour of the visit. I told them I now understand fully that he was the perpetrator and that I was the victim. I’m no longer fooled by his lies or his old declarations of love and I no longer have to listen to any of his decisions. But they insist I must go and see him.

  I’m so nervous. What do you wear to prison? I need to dress in a way that shows him I’m mature and coping fine; that I’m well despite everything he did to me.

  I finally decided to wear a smartly tailored red dress that Debbie’s mom had bought for me. It was the only formal dress I owned. It made me look and feel more sophisticated and older than I was. I applied a little make-up with severely unsteady hands.

  Although the psychologists had decided on the visit to my father, it was Miriam who took me there, as she was my social work case officer. We drove through intimidating gates and I looked up at a large number of brown brick buildings. Imposing and austere, they glared back at me. Iron gates, red brick walls mounted with sirens and barbed wire surrounded the place.

  As we stepped from the car, my confidence crumbled.

  “Miriam I’m scared. I don’t think I want to do this. Why do I have to see him? Can’t we rather just go home? ”

  “Mrs Byrne and the team think you need to see him, Jane. To be able to deal with the past and to walk on into the future, she says it’s vital that you confront him... to see he’s no longer in control of you. She also thinks it’s important to help you accept that he’s being punished fairly. It will help you to believe that you were not the person in the wrong.”

  “I already know that! I’ve been told so many times.”

  “I understand, but this is what Mrs Byrne says we need to do.”

  “What if he’s angry and hits me?”

  “He won’t be able to. There’ll be people there to watch.”

  “What if he won’t speak to me?”

  “He will. The prison psychologist says he’s a changed man. He says your father has realised his wrongs and he’s sorry. He said your father wanted to see you some time back but Mrs Byrne refused because he was still trying to be in control. She said you’d see him in your time, not his.”

  I wasn’t convinced that this was ‘in my time’ - since I didn’t want to be there - but I had to do what Mrs Byrne said.

  Our heels clicked against the stone floor as we entered a dank foyer. Miriam addressed someone through a security window. The official directed us to ‘Block C’.

  There we were met by a second prison official, a stern-faced man in a green-brown uniform. He asked Miriam the purpose of the visit and we had to sign a large, grubby book. “The prisoner will be taken to a room where his daughter will meet him,” he told Miriam without looking at me.

  We were led through more doors and gates and corridors. Beyond was a long passage that first sloped down then up like a hill. “That’s for security,” whispered Miriam as another large gate was opened. In the distance I heard muffled shouts like people playing a ball game. I shivered as I heard the gate clank. Suddenly we were locked inside that dark, scary place.

  We were taken to a bare room with a table and chairs and waited. I thought about a letter I’d written to my father in jail. I told him I was sorry and that I loved him. I had to write it or the guilt would have consumed me. I wondered if he’d forgiven me for sending him to prison.

  When they brought him into that room I looked at his green prison shirt and trousers; no longer the smartly-dressed businessman. My heart raced as I faced him and looked into those blue eyes. An awkward tension gripped my throat and constricted my breathing. I wanted desperately to run and hide. On the other side of the room was his warden, unsmiling, just standing and watching us. Did he have to be there to listen?

  Dad looked okay and I tried to tell myself to relax but I was really afraid of being in the same room as him now. He stared at me and I looked at Miriam for comfort and strength.

  At last he spoke. “Hello Jane.”

  He wasn’t warm – but had he ever been?

  “Dad?” my throat closed completely and the tears began to well up.

  He hugged me and I clung to him. Then I released myself, totally confused by this paradoxical situation. How was it possible to love and hate the same person so much at the same time?

  We talked about superficial things. I found out that he had set meal times, rules, things he could and couldn’t do. There were places he could and couldn’t go and he had no friends and no family. He was lonely.

  Then I thought about my own circumstances. I was now banished to a children’s home where I was also ruled by a bell. There were rules and regulations, set meal times, places I could and couldn’t go. I also had no family and until recently, no real friends. His prison – my prison – what was the difference?

  Time was moving on and I needed to ask him The Question. The one that had been plaguing me – the one I didn’t get to ask in court. I needed to hear him admit guilt and apologise from his heart.

  Quivering inside I tried. “Why did you do it to me Dad? Why did you use me for your pleasure when you knew it was wrong?”

  “I loved you Jane. I always told you I loved you. Don’t you remember me telling you I loved you…that you were my special girl?”

  “Yes but you hurt me and I told you I didn’t like it ….”

  “I’m sorry but I did it because I loved you ….”

  Was he stupid? Couldn’t he comprehend that the day I ‘told’ his secret was the day I’d figured out his lie! Could he possibly still expect me to believe that his actions had been motivated by love? That was the wrong answer! Not what I wanted to hear.

  Between sobs, I managed to say, “Well I’m sorry you’re in prison. I didn’t know you’d go to prison … but I hated what you were doing to me. I’m sorry I told your secret ... but you were making my life terrible and….”

  Like a sad little boy he said, “Well you promised not to tell, Jane, and you did break that promise. So now I’m a prisoner and I’ve lost everything.…”

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” I wept and hugged him.

  “Time’s up!” Miriam decided we’d been together long enough.

  We looked at each other – two pathetic, broken people and said our farewells.

  Later Miriam told me that when we left she was furious, since I was now apologizing for his crimes. She believed that my dad had used the visit to continue to manipulate me and to increase my burden of guilt. She suspected that the prison psychologist had used Mrs Byrne’s pliability for his own ends and it was all about Mr Dirk Farrell and his rehabilitation, not actually mine.

  Miriam said she would fight against all the psychologists if they tried to make me to go back there. I loved her so much when she got on the phone to Mrs Byrne and said, “Jane Farrell is also my client and I will make sure she knows that she will never have to consent to another prison visit - ever!”

  So much for my psychotherapy!

  A few weeks later I went home with Debbie to spend a weekend with the Barkers. Saturday was lazy and relaxed. On Sunday after breakfast we attended their Sunday service. After some lively praise and worship, someone read from the book of Job. This Job was a really faithful man of God who endured terrible suffering without cursing God. I was surprised to hear that God let his good people suffer too!

  Sunday 28 April 1991

  I don’t always enjoy church but today Pastor Pete said some interesting things about anger and blame. With everything that’s been going on with my dad I found it quite useful.

  He said we should accept blame and repent when we’re guilty but never let the Deceiver lie to us and heap condemnation on us when we’re not in the
wrong! I think that’s been happening to me.

  He said sometimes bad things like accidents and illnesses just happen, even to good people and we don’t know why, but often it is because of sin , but not always your own. His sister died because a drunken driver hit her car. He said sin always hurts someone! I guess that’s what happened to me. I got hit by a truck load of other people’s sins!

  He said we all carry the consequences and scars of sin ( our own and other people’s ) in our hearts and on our bodies.

  You can think of sin like a huge, heavy, stinking bag of garbage on your shoulders. It weighs you down and can make you ill. You can keep looking at the bag, exploring what’s inside it, feel its weight and cling to it because it’s yours. It contains your guilt, your hurt, your pain, your rightful anger, your bad stuff, your sins. Or you can forgive others, repent about the rotten stuff you did and dump it at the cross of Jesus. Then you walk away tall and unburdened, choosing not to lift it up again!

  When an altar call was made in church today I decided to respond. I didn’t go up to the front of the church, but deep inside I decided to dump my anger and hatred and bitterness at the foot of the cross. I don’t want to walk around holding on to all the stuff that’s happened to me. I need to be set free to start over. I hope it’s true. I need it to be true!

  Saturday 9 November 1991

  It’s 8 months since that horrible prison visit and I’m doing okay! Pastor Pete’s teaching is helping me to get on with life.

  It was my 17th birthday this week. Tyler gave me such a lovely gift. Earrings and a beautiful box of chocolates.

  He’s still ‘my man’. I adore him and he’s my best friend. We hold hands, go for walks, play board games and watch TV together but he never tries to make the relationship sexual. I love him so much and I’m so grateful.

  About the Author

  Sharianne Bailey was born in Africa but lives in New Zealand with her husband. She is an English graduate, a reading teacher and writer. Her life is enriched by the presence of lovely friends, dear family and beautiful mountains covered in snow in winter. She loves to see people come to wholeness through God’s grace and wisdom.

  Kiss of the Wolf Spider is her debut novel.

  It is available as both a single book and as two shorter books, Unspoken and Redeemed.

  Unspoken has been produced as an e-book with Redeemed to follow shortly.

  See more at www.authorshariannebailey.com

  or connect with

  Sharianne Bailey-Author on facebook.

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  1 Cooney, Judith. Coping with Sexual Abuse, The Rosen Publishing Group, New York,1987