Pieces For You

by Rulon, Genna

  “Most sane people wouldn’t want to enter the limelight and expose themselves in such a way. I guess that means you’re sane,” Thia began. “I can’t tell you what to decide, Sam. I will say that you have nothing to feel shame about—you did nothing wrong. We can debate whether you are the best representative for the victims of rape until we are both breathless, but it’s irrelevant. You are that person. You are a rape survivor, but it’s not all you are—you are strong and intelligent, courageous and sensitive. Most importantly, you are the reminder to every other victim that it does get better…whatever imperfections you think you have, whatever flaws you believe remain, you are still worthy of love and happiness…and so are they.”

  “Aren’t you supposed to be impartial? There was a whole lot of ‘partial’ going on there.”

  “Sometimes the best way to help a client is to give them the truth. You get to decide how to assimilate that truth into your life, but this is not a matter of opinion.”

  “I really don’t want to do this, Thia,” I said, taking a deep breath, “but I will. If the interview could effect change in colleges and prevent future rapes, I have no choice but to go ahead. I owe it to the girls who died, to those who will never have a chance to tell their stories.”

  “You had already decided to do it. You wouldn’t have called me otherwise—you would have called someone who would dissuade you.”

  “You think you’re so clever, don’t you?” I asked with mock insult.

  “Oh no, I know I’m that clever. Genius, didn’t you know?” she said, tapping her finger to her temple.

  Well, that explained her eccentricities. Weren’t most geniuses eccentrics?

  “Time’s up. Your homework is to admit to yourself you are going to do this…then call the TV lady and give her the green light. Read the questions she sends and call me if you have any concerns. Now scram.”

  I rose and trudged toward the door, reluctantly accepting her conclusions.

  “And Sam, one more consideration,” she paused, assessing me. “When you say ‘yes,’ you will have a perfectly justifiable excuse to buy a new outfit and shoes.”

  I gave her a smile as wide as the Grand Canyon. That woman knew the way to turn my frown upside-down.

  I continued smiling as I drove to The Stop to share my decision with Griffin. I had just closed my car door when an unnerving thought occurred to me. What if Griffin didn’t want me to do the interview? Fuck! I’d never even considered the possibility. What would I do if he asked me not to do this?

  I walked into The Stop like a woman heading before a firing squad, fearing the worst. Griffin saw me from behind the bar and immediately came to my side. Without a word, he took my hand and led me to his office.

  “What’s up?”

  I explained about the call from Liz and why I wanted to accept her invitation. He never said a word or gave any indication of his thoughts. He was a disturbingly blank slate. When I finished, I waited for him to respond, but he said nothing.

  “Well?” I finally asked when the suspense was too much to bear.

  “Well, what? I support any decision you make. If you need to do this, then what is there for me to say other than ‘I have your back’? And I do, Sam, I will always have your back.”

  I threw myself onto his lap, clamping my arms around his neck in a vice-like grip. Then I kissed him like he was the center of my universe…because he was.

  “You are perfect,” I said, my lips still pressed to his.

  “No, Lo, I’m not perfect. I’ve done things you may not approve of. I’ve been trying to tell—”

  “Okay, close to perfect. Definitely perfect for me,” I said, cutting him off. “And I’m going to make you prove how perfect you are for me when you get home tonight.”

  He groaned as I wiggled my butt on his lap to drive home my point.

  “You just love me for my body,” he teased.

  “No. I dig your pretty face, too.”

  “Pretty?” he complained while tickling me.

  We stayed that way for a while, holding and teasing each other—just being us.

  I walked into Higher Yearning to find Meg beaming at me. She was glowing so brightly I was tempted to fish my sunglasses out of my purse.

  “Someone’s in a sunny mood today,” I said after storing my purse and coat in the back. “What gives?”

  “Oh, no reason, I just had a great weekend.”

  “Your date. Shit, I forgot! Tell me everything. Is the mission accomplished? Were you right about the Ph.D.?”

  “We didn’t get that far. We met in Port Jefferson, then went to a bar and danced for hours. His dance moves were unreal…I was closer to finding my happy ending dancing with him than I’ve ever been with another person. Mind blowing,” she said with a glassy look in her eyes.

  Yep, man definitely held a Doctorate in Erotic Fine Arts.

  “So there was nothing other than dancing?”

  “He kissed me goodnight—again, mind blowing—but I didn’t feel comfortable inviting him to my place and he didn’t offer his. Total bummer…but he asked me out again for next weekend, so I have my fingers crossed for a more fulfilling outcome.”

  I laughed at her dramatic wink, happy to see her so enthusiastic.

  “I’m not looking for a relationship relationship, but I think this one has the potential to be just the right balance of exclusive fun without all the emotional entanglements. I could see more than a one-night stand with him.”

  “Well, if his naked dance moves are as good as his clothed ones, you may want to go back for seconds…and thirds,” I said.

  “Exactly. We had a great time at dinner. The conversation flowed, he was charming, and we laughed a lot. Casual dating with toe-curling goodnights is exactly what I need. No muss, no fuss—and when it runs its course, there are no hard feelings, just some steamy memories and lingering laughs.”

  “Sounds like a good plan,” I said skeptically. “You sure you can keep emotions out of it?”

  “Oh yeah, that’s the easy part. And he is definitely not the type to get emotionally attached. Easy-peasy.”

  Meg believed every word she said, I could tell, but her words revealed a piece of Meg I had never noticed before. She was scarred…someone had hurt Meg—bad. It was easy to miss with her sunny disposition and positive outlook, but it was there. Maybe having my own scars made it easier for me to see…now that I could see beyond just myself.

  “Careful, lady. Anyone I knew who ever swore love couldn’t touch them got drop-kicked by the bitch.”

  “Bitch has got to catch you first, and I’ve learned how to run—fast—like Olympian 50-meter sprint fast,” she said with humor, but I thought I caught a flash of steel in her eyes.

  “Now you’re just tempting fate. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  “Lightning doesn’t strike the same place twice—even fate isn’t that spiteful.”

  I placed my hand on her arm, wanting to offer her support. It was then that I realized I knew nothing about Meg’s past. She seemed so open and warm, but I couldn’t remember a single detail about her past outside of references to a typical, happy childhood.

  “Meg, you know if you ever need to talk, I—”

  “Wes? What are you doing here—miss me already?”

  I looked up, horror-struck. Why the hell was Meg calling Westly Black, “Wes,” with a smile on her face that promised exactly what I had done to Griffin last night? Holy fuckballs. No, no, no…this could not be happening.

  “What happened to Mark?” I snapped at Meg.

  Her head spun to me so fast I was afraid she would get whiplash. I guess my tone was even sharper than I had intended.

  “Who the hell is Mark?” she shot back.

  “The assistant DA you’re dating?”

  “Um, no. I went out with Wes,” she said and pointed to him. Neither of us had bothered to acknowledge him yet.

  I turned my deadliest stare on him and pointed, too. “You—go sit in the corn
er and wait for me there.”

  His eyes narrowed at me before turning to Meg. “Meg, let me explain.”

  Meg held his stare. “Did you come here to talk to me or Sam?”

  “Miss Whitney,” he said flatly.

  “And I assume there is something I don’t know that I’m not going to like?” Meg asked flatly.

  He nodded.

  “Thanks for dinner last night. As I said, I had a nice time. Unfortunately, I’m going to have to cancel our plans for this weekend. I don’t have time for drama and bullshit. I just wanted to have a little fun. You’re not fun anymore, apparently you’re just an asshole.”

  Wes opened his mouth to speak but quickly closed it, shaking his head as he walked to the furthest table.

  “Explain,” Meg said to me.

  “He’s the asshole attorney for the guy who hurt me. He’s been coming in to bribe or threaten me to prevent my testimony for months.”

  “That son of a bitch—I sure know how to pick them,” she sighed. “At least I found out now,” she said casually, but I saw the disappointment in her eyes. “I had no idea, Sam. I would never have accepted if I’d known.”

  “I know,” I said while giving her a quick hug. “Let me go take out the trash.”

  And with that, I headed in Mr. Black’s direction.

  “I should kick you in the balls for screwing with my friend’s head. Why are you even here? Heath’s dead, in case you hadn’t heard. There is no trial.”

  “I never represented Heath. I represent the Varbeck family—”

  “Semantics. Let’s get this over with and then I never want to see you again. And God help you if you come sniffing around Meg!”

  His body stiffened, but it was the only indication he had heard me.

  “The Varbeck family asked that I bring you this,” he said, extending an envelope in my direction. “They also wanted me to express their sincere apologies for any pain you may have suffered at the hands of their son. They aren’t monsters, Sam, even if their son was.”

  With only a brief glance in Meg’s direction, he left, hopefully never to be seen or heard from again.

  I sat down and opened the envelope. Inside, there was a check for two million dollars and a hand-written note.

  Dear Miss Whitney,

  There are no words to convey the depth of our sorrow for your suffering. It is no excuse, but perhaps one day you will be a parent and understand the unconditional love for your child, even when you are horrified by their actions. I have to believe that he was ill beyond his control, no longer the same little boy, because that is a mother’s love.

  We have decided to divide the trust Heath was to receive on his next birthday amongst his victims. I know restitution cannot undo the damage, and perhaps it will only serve to assuage our guilt.

  You will be in our prayers and I hope you can one day find room in your heart to forgive us for defending our child despite his guilt.

  Sincerely,

  Sandra Varbeck

  I wanted to rip the check to shreds like their son had done to my life and send it back to them with a nasty letter, hurling blame at them and accusing them of being responsible for Heath’s evil. I was about to do just that when it occurred to me that I was reacting and not thinking. I didn’t know if a deep, dark secret lay within the Varbeck family that produced the monster Heath had become, or if pure evil existed in him from birth. It was an answer I would never have. The painful realization that this mother loved and supported her demon son, despite his evil and no matter how absurd it seemed, was truly a testament to a mother’s love—and a stark contrast to my parents. For that alone, I decided not to return the check, but there was no way in hell I was accepting a penny of the money intended for him. I was at a loss for what to do with the money until inspiration struck.

  I slid my phone from my pocket to locate the number I needed.

  “Thank you for calling RAINN, the rape, abuse, and incest national network, how can I help you?” a voice answered.

  “Yes, I’d like to make a donation.”

  "Nobody ever did, or ever will, escape the consequences of his choices." -Alfred A. Montapert

  I entered the Psychology building at Hensley University where the professors’ and advisors’ offices were located. I had received a voicemail this morning asking me to come in for a meeting at noon and knew it didn’t bode well for me. Knowing what the meeting was likely about did not lessen my apprehension. I was prepared for the possibility of such a call since I went to visit Heath in prison, and when I heard about his death, I expected it.

  I walked down the long corridor toward the corner office—the Department of Psychology Graduate Advisor. I hoped she would make this quick and not try and counsel me about my choices…there were none.

  I knocked on the doorframe to capture her attention before entering. She nodded to the seat across from her, the smallest chair in the room, and smirked.

  “You don’t want me to get too comfortable, huh?”

  “I think it’s appropriate that you feel a bit uncomfortable, don’t you, Griffin? We’ll call it penance,” she said, unreadable. “You know why you’re here?”

  “I have a guess.”

  “Heath Varbeck lodged a complaint with the warden prior to his death, claiming you arranged for him to be sexually assaulted by other inmates.”

  “Did he?” I answered, unwilling to lie, but not planning on volunteering information that could lead to criminal charges.

  “Unfortunately, inmate against inmate violence is extremely prevalent in prisons, and the warden found no evidence of any wrongdoing on your part. I’m sure you know all evaluations are recorded.”

  “I recall hearing that.”

  She rolled her eyes at me, acknowledging the dance we were engaged in. The warden, police, and university might have suspected I had influenced the abuse Heath suffered, but there was no concrete evidence. I doubt any of them were crying over the death of a serial killer. I was relieved that no charges would be leveled against me, especially while I was still completing my community service for beating the shit out of Robbie. Whatever else came out of this meeting, it was still my lucky day.

  “The Varbeck family does not intend to pursue civil action against the State for Heath’s death, so other than a mountain of paperwork, the issue is dead.”

  Knowing her twisted humor, I assumed the pun was intended. I nodded my understanding and appreciation. I had been counting on the Varbecks’ desire to avoid further publicity and distance themselves from their son’s crimes. I was relieved the risk paid off. I never planned for Heath to be killed, but I couldn’t say it was shocking either, nor was I sad at the news. In truth, I would have preferred he suffer the abuse for the next sixty years behind bars. But it worked out for the best; Sam wouldn’t have to endure a trial or face Heath again. The latent threat he posed while living was now removed. Already she was lighter—definitely worth any smudges now staining my soul.

  “The problem is, you never should have been in that room with Mr. Varbeck. Your clinical hours were completed, and you had a significant conflict of interest.”

  I raised my eyebrow at her for the last comment.

  She stared back, undaunted.

  “Yes, it is possible to evaluate and treat clients when there is a personal connection. Many therapists have done so successfully, but it requires compartmentalization and objectivity. Are you going to tell me you entered the eval room to meet with Heath as an objective psychologist?”

  “No. I stand by my assessment and diagnosis, but I was not objective where he was concerned.”

  “Griffin, you abused your access to the prison for your own agenda. You violated several moral and ethical tenets. I am sorry, but I cannot recommend you to the licensing board. You have completed all requirements and as such will receive your Doctoral degree in Clinical Psychology from Hensley; I won’t interfere in that regard. You could consider finding another sponsor for your licensing, given time, but I woul
d suggest you prepare yourself to answer several difficult questions before anyone would even consider taking you on.”

  I nodded.

  “You would need to prove to the sponsor you would be able to exhibit better judgment in the future.”

  “I am not planning to go out and buy a spandex body suit, utility belt, and mask. It may have been vigilante, but my actions were contained to justice for one person. I don’t have delusions that I can or should try and rid the world of all evil.”

  “I’m sorry it has turned out this way. I believe you would be an effective therapist. Are you sure you made the right choice, sacrificing the assistance you could have provided to many others for the benefit of one?”

  “Hell yes. If it ensured her safety, I’d do it again without regret, no matter the cost to me.”

  “Okay.” We both rose and she escorted me to her door. “As you are no longer my charge, and you have technically graduated from Hensley, there is one thing I would like to say.”

  I gestured for her to proceed.

  “As a therapist, I am appalled by your behavior. As your advisor, I am disappointed in your choices. As a woman and a friend, I’m glad he got a taste of his own medicine.”

  I laughed at her candor. I’m not surprised that anyone would be glad to hear that Heath endured the same treatment he inflicted on others without remorse, but I hadn’t expected her to verbalize that truth.

  “One more thing…if you love Sam and you want to have a future with her, you need to confess your part in Heath’s death. The guilt of withholding the truth from her will eat at you, and she may not forgive the betrayal if she finds out. Plus, you are going to have a hard time explaining why you suddenly are abandoning or delaying your licensing.”

  “I know, but I’m scared she’s going to run. Violence is a trigger for her, and while the violence against Heath wasn’t done by my hands…I’m not exactly innocent.”