by PJ Nakfoor
I started counting silently. One, one thousand; two, one thousand; three, one thousand…
I felt despair as the minutes wore on. I continued to look for pockets of rainwater, but they were few and far between. I was starving and my stomach growled as my head filled with images of Carl grilling burgers in the backyard. I could almost taste the juicy burger sandwiched between a soft roll, and piled high with lettuce, tomatoes and pickles. We always had potato chips with our burgers, and imagining the salty, crunchy Kettle Chips made my mouth water. I would wash it all down with an ice-cold Diet Coke before licking the oil and salt from my fingers. Never again would Carl grill, or work, or take walks, or be the steady force in my life. The grief overtook my senses and I lay face down on the damp ground and pounded it with my clenched fists. I wanted to cry, but all my tears had been used up the night before.
* * *
As I walked, I wondered what Faith and Franke Ashe must be thinking. Frank was expecting us to return his truck today. Probably panicked and fearing the worst. If either of them reported us missing, where was the help?
After half an hour, with no sign of the thicket ending, I decided to turn around, find the riverbank, and start over, so I began to retrace my steps. I was dehydrated and most of the rainwater from the previous night had dried up. I eventually passed the outhouse in the middle of the grassy meadow. Several minutes later, I thought I could faintly hear the flow of the river. My fear, anxiety and grief returned in waves, but I knew that none of it would bring the help I so desperately needed. I kept walking through the surges of emotion because stopping to give in to them would provide me no benefit.
Suddenly, I heard some rustling coming from the heavily wooded area about ten yards in front of me. I stopped to listen—could there be a ranger or hunter out there?
“Help! Help me!” I yelled over and over.
No voices, but I heard that rustling sound again. It must be a deer or some other animal. I had to remain brave. I stood quietly for several minutes and didn’t hear it again, so I continued my journey. Then I heard a yelp or cry, like a child’s. I saw movement in a tree and discovered the cry was coming from a bear cub in the lower branches. I froze. My heart felt like it was beating right out of my chest. The cub appeared to be alone. Maybe it was hurt or tangled in the branches?
I knew I shouldn’t approach the tree and I remembered that running was a bad idea. I started to back away slowly and quietly, until I saw a large, black bear emerge from the woods. The cub’s bawling became more persistent—he was calling for his mother. The bear started moving toward the tree, then stopped and stood up on her hind legs. She was huge! She eyed me, maybe thinking I was the reason her cub scooted up the tree.
What should I do? Remain quiet, or make noise? I couldn’t remember. Again, I slowly backed away. She was about fifteen yards away from me, and the tree holding her cub was between us. I knew that black bears were generally harmless toward humans, except when their cub was involved. I felt paralyzed and unsure of my next move, so I stopped and stood still.
Any fear I had experienced in my life was minuscule compared to what I was feeling then—except for the day I was abducted and thrown into a van. But the certainty of my impending death was identical, and I felt just as helpless. I was going to die in the middle of nowhere after abandoning my dead husband. We would leave our beloved Faith an orphan.
The bear slapped her front paws on the ground and loped in my direction while looking directly into my eyes.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
1996
Vivi had a third EMDR session with Dr. Chatterjee, who made sure she was as comfortable as possible. Soft Indian music floated through wall speakers, and along with the gentle sound of the water fountain, Vivi felt relaxed and ready for the session.
“Okay, Vivi, look at my finger,” the doctor said, as she slowly moved it back and forth. “Now, go back to the day at the fair. How did you feel when you realized the man and lady knew each other?” She continued the finger movement at a slow, steady pace.
“Afraid and betrayed back then. But today I feel angry!”
“Sit with the feelings of anger and betrayal for a few minutes. You have every right to those feelings. Let your rage surface. You are protecting five-year-old Vivi. When you’re ready, we’ll take you back to your safe place.”
Vivi locked her eyes on Dr. Chatterjee’s finger, determined to stay the course. Although her fear and anxiety were less this time, fury bubbled over like a boiling pot. Vivi screamed at the top of her voice, “How dare you prey upon little children. I hope you both go to hell!”
“Good, Vivi, you’re expressing the rage that you tapped into. Very good. Now keep following my finger while you return to your safe place. We’re almost finished.”
Vivi went back to her safe place and felt comfort and satisfaction, but no fear. She nearly floated off the settee when the session was over, and she prayed that the treatment wouldn’t wear off. She and Dr. Chatterjee discussed Jesse in more detail, and it was decided that further EMDR sessions might be necessary.
“One trauma at a time,” said Dr. Chatterjee, as she escorted Vivi to the door.
* * *
Over the next school year, Vivi enjoyed stable mental health. She decided to wean herself off the Zoloft and did this under the direction of Dr. Chatterjee. Maybe she could remain off medications forever. Was it possible?
Her junior year of high school was fairly smooth. She still hung out with Astrid and Bethany, though they occasionally had boyfriends, so she didn’t see them as much as she used to. Vivi herself didn’t date—Jesse had soured her on that notion for now. But she often fantasized about falling in love. She kept her eyes and heart open for someone caring, respectful and loyal.
After Jesse was taken into police custody, he was allowed to go home until the trial, but could only attend work or school. He didn’t return to their high school—to her great relief—and she had no idea if he was employed. She heard rumors that he had entered a local alternative high school and hoped that meant she would never have to see him again. Sergeant Betts had told her not to worry about the future, so she hadn’t. In fact, she told Dr. Chatterjee that she wished not to discuss Jesse unless her panic attacks started again. Her psychiatrist didn’t think that was the best strategy but went along with Vivi’s wishes since she was currently emotionally stable.
Then the subpoena arrived.
The trial was set for August 7th. Vivi immediately called Dr. Chatterjee and said she needed an urgent appointment. Fortunately, the doctor had expected this and arranged to see her the following day right after school.
* * *
Shane told Vivi he enjoyed living in the apartment. His roommates were easy-going, and their schedules differed, so they didn’t see one another frequently. They shared the chores and took turns cooking, and Shane kept his promise to come home for most Sunday dinners. Vivi hung out at the apartment on occasion. It was a typical college dwelling, sparsely furnished, with posters on the walls and beer mugs on the windowsill. She was pleased to see that not only had he given up pot, but he didn’t drink alcohol either. He had confided in his roommates that he attended twelve-step meetings and they were cool with that. If they grabbed a beer from the fridge, they’d also grab a bottled water or soda for Shane. And neither of them smoked pot, which made the living situation easier.
When Bethany was between boyfriends, she would occasionally ask Vivi about Shane. Vivi wanted to blurt out that he was gay, to shut her up once and for all, but that wasn’t her story to tell.
* * *
Vivi and Dr. Chatterjee discussed the upcoming trial and Vivi’s fears.
“I’m afraid I’ll fall apart in the courtroom when I see him,” she sniffed.
“It’s all right to show emotion. It would be abnormal if you didn’t. You can be emotional and strong at the same time.”
“How do I do that?”
“If you need a minute to cry, take one. When the wave h
as lessened, speak in a confident tone. Don’t try to speak while you’re crying. Avoid looking at Jesse if possible—make sure your brother or grandparents are seated where you can concentrate on looking at them.”
“That sounds like a good plan,” said Vivi. “Now I should tell you something I had kept a secret until my interview at the Advocacy Center.”
Vivi told Dr. Chatterjee about the day in the park and didn’t leave out a detail.
“Vivi, no wonder you’re afraid,” she said without a trace of judgement. “This secret has been rotting you from the inside. Thank you for telling me. We’ll plan an EMDR session before the trial.”
Vivi left the office feeling buoyed by disclosing her secret. A vision came to her—an ocean wave cresting over a surfer. She could rise to the occasion like a fearsome wave. She was sure of it.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
2020
I was terrified and stood paralyzed for several seconds as the bear loped toward me. I knew my fear was something she could sense or smell. Although I remembered reading that if confronted by a bear, one should wave their arms in order to appear larger, as well as make loud noises, instinct told me to run—and my instinct took over. I turned and bolted in the direction of the outhouse. It wouldn’t offer much shelter, but maybe some temporary protection. I didn’t look back as I ran for my life, finally reaching the outhouse and hiding inside. The door was a couple of feet wide, and I didn’t think the opening was large enough for the bear to enter. Since it was broken, I couldn’t latch it closed.
I was so short of breath after the escape I thought I might keel over. I sat on the bench and listened for telltale sounds indicating the bear was nearby, but my gasping breaths and thumping heart were all I could hear. Once I settled down, I thought I heard the thwap-thwap of a rescue helicopter but decided I’d imagined it. After several minutes, I was calm enough to really listen. All was quiet, but still I sat frozen as an iceberg, deathly afraid to make a move.
I waited at least twenty minutes before I peeked out the doorway. Both the bear and her cub were milling about the meadow. Most likely, I was long forgotten but I was not making an exit until they were out of sight. Looking up, I guessed it was mid-afternoon according to the position of the sun. Carl had taught me this skill during our camping days. I was thirsty, hungry, terrified, lost, overwhelmed with grief, and being held hostage by a black bear. I was drowning in desperation. My life couldn’t get worse. For some reason, a favorite Bible quote of Nana’s nearly slapped me in the face.
“This, too, shall pass.”
* * *
Regardless of my fear, I must have been exhausted enough to doze off. I was startled awake by the same thwap thwap I’d heard earlier, but this time it was louder, and I was sure it was real and not my imagination. I peeked outside and saw no sign of the mother and her cub. I knew I had to make a move—I couldn’t risk giving up any more daylight, or possibly missing a rescue.
I reoriented myself and decided that my earlier plan to start over was foolish. I needed to continue to make forward progress and be confident that I would find my way around the thicket, and back to the river. I stepped out into the blazing sunlight—it must have been ninety degrees and I was without sunscreen or sunglasses. I bravely headed toward the thicket and resumed my journey.
This, too, shall pass. This, too, shall pass.
I moved quickly, determined to make up for the time I had spent in the outhouse. I made an effort to walk in shady areas when possible, to protect my blistering, bitten skin. But I was reminded how much mosquitoes like the shade. I couldn’t win.
I didn’t hear or see a helicopter and cursed myself for falling asleep in the outhouse. Please, please don’t quit looking for me! The thicket appeared to become less dense as I moved ahead. Despite multiple obstacles, I was making progress!
Keeping my senses keen, I allowed my mind to wander to some carefree memories of my youth, like the time Shane asked what the work “fuck” meant—he had seen it drawn on the sidewalk in chalk. Nana sat us both down and gently but clinically explained the meaning. Shane jumped up, put his hands over his ears, and yelled, “If I have to do that, I’m going to be a priest!” Later, Papa told her she could have been less graphic and avoided the trauma. Then there was the April Fool’s day when Shane and I put a rubber mouse on Nana’s pillow. At bedtime, we heard a scream. She literally shrieked, “Eek! a mouse!” Papa was angry about that one, telling us Nana could have had a heart attack, which took some of the fun out of it. And the best one, during the only slumber party I went to in ninth grade, we soaked Astrid’s bra in water and put it in the freezer. The next morning when Astrid found it, Bethany laughed so hard, she peed her pants.
Then my thoughts drifted to Faith, imagining how upset she must be knowing her parents were missing. This darkened my mood, something I couldn’t afford, so instead I envisioned all the things I would do after surviving this excruciating experience. First, I would be the mother to Faith that she deserved. I’d be emotionally present for her, especially while grieving for her Dad. I’d go to her school and sporting functions and scream from the sidelines like the other parents. We’d take shopping trips, get manicures, visit Chicago and cook together. I’d help her with boyfriend problems and applying to colleges. Maybe we would plan that Italy trip we’d dreamed about. I felt stronger and more optimistic with each idea, and before long I had rounded the thicket and was trekking toward the river, at last hearing its distant ripples and swirls. And like Cinderella’s at midnight, my fantasies ended abruptly.
I heard a spine-chilling rattle at my feet.
CHAPTER FORTY
1997
Jesse was charged with home invasion, first degree, and two counts of criminal sexual assault, second degree. He and his lawyer had decided on a jury trial. Although the crimes were committed when he was a minor, the trial was run much like that of an adult. Family Court focused on rehabilitation of minors rather than punishment, which made sentences unique to minors as opposed to adult defendants.
Vivi was apprehensive as she and her family reached the courthouse, which was an imposing building with concrete columns flanking the steps. They parked, climbed the steps and walked through the tall, heavy wooden doors. She avoided making eye contact with anyone until they were inside and seated. The courtroom was also intimidating with its elevated judges’ bench and ornate framed portraits lining the walls. She had designated Shane to be her support person, so he was able to sit next to her for the entire trial, except when Vivi was on the witness stand. Even then, he would be seated in the first row.
When Jesse, dressed in an ill-fitting suit and short haircut, his mother and his lawyer entered, Vivi trembled and was gripped by nausea. Shane put his arm around her protectively. Jesse didn’t look their way, but she thought he must have felt Shane’s blazing stare as the trio walked past them.
The proceedings began with instructions from the judge. The jurors entered the room and took their seats. Vivi had been told because it was a juvenile case, there would be six of them instead of the usual twelve. There were four women and two men, most of them middle-aged.
The young, energetic lawyer, Madison, was Vivi’s petitioner, and acting as a prosecutor would in an adult trial. She was a bird-like woman who wore stylish, colorful glasses, which she put on and removed frequently, as if to emphasize a point. She and the defense attorney gave their opening statements. Jesse’s lawyers argued that Vivi and Jesse had a consensual relationship, and when it ended, Vivi became angry, and the scene at her home was the result of an argument.
Vivi had to force herself to suppress the bile rising into her chest while listening to his fabrications.
She sized up the lawyer. He had slicked-back, dyed hair and wore an outdated leisure suit. She turned to look at Shane, who was inconspicuously holding his middle finger up against his cheek. He turned his head, so the finger was directed at the sleazy lawyer. She found humor in this and it helped take some of the heaviness out o
f the moment.
Vivi was called to the stand first. She glanced at Shane as she stood and walked haltingly to the witness box, shaking as if she’d drunk an entire pot of coffee in one sitting. She was uncomfortable in the floral sundress and cardigan sweater that Madison had recommended—to emphasize her young and wholesome appearance. She hated wearing panty hose. They made her thighs sweat. She was sworn in and took her seat.
Vivi remembered what Dr. Chatterjee said : It’s all right to be emotional but keep your voice strong. She met Shane’s eyes and immediately felt less afraid.
Madison stood and faced Vivi. She mouthed the words “It’s okay” before she began. She asked basic questions about Vivi’s age, school, home life and how she met Jesse. Vivi answered with increasing confidence. The more focused questions came next.
“Vivi, what happened the day Jesse came to your house looking for you?”
Vivi cleared her throat. “I didn’t answer at first, but he wouldn’t leave. He kept pounding on the front door, begging me to talk with him.”
“And then what happened?”
“I unlocked the deadbolt but left the chain locked. I opened the door a little just to talk. He was holding a bouquet of flowers, but I still didn’t let my guard down. He asked if he could hand me the flowers through the gap, but then he forced the door open so hard, it broke the chain. Then he knocked me to the floor and laid on top of me.” Vivi’s voice trembled, and tears threatened.
“Vivi, do you need a minute? Some water?”
“Yes, thank you.” Vivi sniffled and dabbed at her eyes with the tissue she had stuffed in her sweater pocket. She felt ashamed, wondering if the jurors thought she was stupid.