Pieces For You (14 page)

I inhaled deeply, hoping to calm myself.  The first time either of my parents deigned to talk about what happened and my father refers to a heinous attack as ‘the incident,’ dismissing it as if it were nothing more than a drunken indiscretion between consenting adults.  I was in a coma for almost two weeks, underwent multiple surgeries, had over twenty broken and fractured bones, nearly lost an eye, still had two scars on my face that required plastic surgery to repair, and if that wasn’t enough, I was violated in every possible way.  I wanted to scream and rant, but it was no use expending energy that would not change them or make me feel better.

“Yes, I am going to testify,” I said, trying to appear calm, certain I was failing.

“Have you considered the ramifications of exposing the sordid details as a matter of public record?  Our friends, potential employers, future suitors…everyone would have access to your testimony.  Furthermore, you would open yourself to cross-examination from opposing counsel.  Are you certain you want to invite such scrutiny to every facet of your life, considering the potential embarrassment for yourself and our family would be substantial?”

“What concerns you more, father?  The further indignity I will suffer or that your friends at the country club will know I was violently raped?”

My mother gasped at either my blunt accusation or use of the word ‘rape,’ but I couldn’t be sure which was the source of her distress.

“There is no need for histrionics, Samantha.  You are needlessly upsetting your mother,” he reprimanded harshly.

“Answer the question,” I challenged, unwilling to back down.  I was determined to force him to acknowledge the truth.

“I personally have no interest in assigning blame.  You cannot be so naïve that you don’t understand the way such matters can besmirch a family like ours.  As a member of this family, you have a duty to protect the Whitney name at all times.”

“Or else?” I questioned, surprisingly shocked despite his expected reaction.  “I am fairly certain I heard an underlying threat in there.”

My father sighed as if I was an unbearable burden.  “Why do you insist on having every detail spelled out?  Do you enjoy our discomfort?”

“
Your
discomfort?” I asked in astonishment.

“Yes, our discomfort!  How do you think your mother and I feel having to discuss this distasteful matter simply because you don’t have the discretion to deal with your difficulties in a more private and respectful manner?  I paid a fortune to have you treated by the facility Everleigh suggested.  I was led to believe they would fix you, saving us from such unpleasantries.”

“I’m sorry I can’t pretend as well as you, or be content to medicate myself to the point of oblivion like mother.  I guess I’m selfish like that.” 

My parents completely ignored the jab, pretending not to understand my accusation, in effect, proving my point. 

I thought I was blessedly numb after so many years of disappointment.  I had hoped when they injected their acid of disapproval into my heart that it would no longer burn—god was I wrong.  The small part of me that still loved my parents for their basic genetic contribution to my being was incinerated—excruciatingly and irreversibly reduced to ashes.  In that moment, the final piece that tied me to the last name I shared with them died.

“You will not testify or discuss the subject in any way…ever.  Do not defy me in this, Samantha; you will not be pleased with the consequences,” my father barked.

“I can assure you that I
will
be testifying and I
will
speak about the attacks, my suffering, and anything else I damn well please to whomever I want, whenever the fuck I want,” I screamed, my restraint finally snapping.

“As you wish, Samantha.  But if you will not protect the Whitney name, then you will not benefit from it.  As of now, you are cut off—financially on your own—without the protection or clout your name has previously provided.  You will find out exactly what it means to be without family.  Perhaps after you have truly suffered, you will come to your senses.”

“Money.  Ha!  I never gave a damn about the money.  You may have been my father and mother, but you were
never
my family.  Family doesn’t desert a member during times of crisis.  Family doesn’t coerce to the detriment of another.  I would tell you a family loves, but it’s an emotion of which you are incapable, and therefore you wouldn’t comprehend the significance of the word.”

I rose on shaky legs, snatched my purse, and walked to the door.

“Goodbye,” I whispered, knowing it would be the last word I ever spoke to them.

I made it to the car and out of my parents’ posh waterfront community before the dam of emotion broke, forcing me to park in a nearby strip mall.  Once the car was safely in park, the tears came and didn’t stop.  I sobbed for the parents I never had.  I sobbed for the loss of Meme, the only mother I had ever known.  I sobbed for the little girl who desperately sought her parents’ love, not comprehending I was chasing something they didn’t understand and could never give.  Finally, I sobbed for the woman I now was, devastated by their abandonment during the lowest point of my life and the knowledge that all they felt for me was shame.

My phone rang and the call automatically connected through my car’s hands-free system.  I tried to hide my tears but I suspected the caller heard my despair.

“Where are you?” Griffin’s voice came over the line, a balm.

“Oyster Bay,” I croaked.

“What are you near?”

“I…god, how could they—”

“I know, baby.  I’m on my way, I just need you to look around and tell me what you’re near.”

“Eleganté Spalon, but you don’t need to come.  I’ll be fine by the time you get here, it’s an hour away.”

“What happened tonight?”

I told him everything, every blistering and trivializing word.  Silent rivers of disgrace coursed down my face.  That man—I would never again call him ‘father’—exposed one of my deepest fears and callously reinforced my insecurity.  Blame—was I to blame for what happened?  Should I be held accountable?  The rational part of my brain screamed the word ‘bullshit’ at the notion, but a small destructive voice within me whispered he was right…if the man who created me held me responsible, wasn’t I?

“I’m here, baby,” he soothed as my car door swung open, causing me to levitate out of my seat.  “Just me, Lo.  You’re safe,” he said as he reached in the car and unbuckled my seatbelt, scooping me into his arms and removing me from the driver’s seat in one smooth movement.  Before I knew how it happened, I was cradled in his lap in the backseat of my Mercedes.

I wanted to be strong, for once be master of the feelings that commanded me, but today was not that day.  In the security of Griffin’s arms, I unleashed a raw display of anguish and betrayal.  He held me together by offering his strength when I did not have my own.  He listened to my senseless ramblings, grief-laden wails, outraged screams, and tormented whimpers.  He soothed me with simple words and validated my feelings, providing empathy and compassion in each judgment-free tender caress.

When there was nothing left and I was completely empty, he still held me.

“How can you stand to be around me?  I have a meltdown once a freaking week and you have the shit-luck to always be nearby.  Aren’t you ready to run yet?”

“If there was anywhere else I’d rather be, I’d be there.  The only thing I can’t stand is
not
being around you.”

“I’m…I don’t…okay.”

“There is no response required, Lo.  Tonight the jackass who never deserved the privilege of calling you his daughter decided to tell you how
he
sees you.  You need a second opinion, so you got mine.  You choose which to believe.  And for the record, I am not an emotionally stunted, self-absorbed narcissist—making me a more reliable source.”

We sat in silence for a while as I processed everything he said and accepted that most of it was spot-on.  The ugly, spiteful little voice in my mind that tried to keep me chained in a prison of torment was barely audible for the moment, and I experienced a second of blissful peace.

“By the way, how did you get here so fast?”

He cleared his throat.  “I was in the neighborhood.”

“Really?” I asked doubtfully.

“Yes.”

“Why were you in the area?”

“Ev and I may have discussed our concern about the dinner with your parents.  There was some debate over who would spend their evening killing time in the area, but I ensured I was here should you need back-up.”

“What did you offer her in exchange for the honor of being my human Kleenex?”

“Ev can’t be bribed.”

“Then how are you here alone?”

“Distraction.  I enlisted help from the only person I know who can manage that spit-fire.”

“Ooooh, Hunter is in so much trouble.  It’s going to be a fun couple of days at home.”

“He’s only in trouble if he didn’t do his job right.  If his shock and awe campaign was a success and you return home in reasonably good health, he’ll be fine.”

“Wrong.  She will see this as yet another time he outwitted her, which will lead to retaliatory measures.  Trust me, the condo is going to be better than an episode of ‘Survivor’ after this stunt.”

I felt his smile on the top of my head, accompanied by a small kiss.  I’m not sure why or how he always managed to show up when I needed him lately, but I hoped it wouldn’t stop.

"Every heart sings a song, incomplete, until another heart whispers back.  Those who wish to sing always find a song.  At the touch of a lover, everyone becomes a poet."  -Plato

Thursday morning I awoke exhausted from a restless night’s sleep.  I dreamt of myself as a child lost in a maze and unable to find my way out.  It was the first time I’d dreamt of anything other than the attack and, regardless of the dream, it was good news.

I joined Huntleigh at the kitchen table and helped myself to the pancakes and bacon that could only have been made by Hunter.  Blueberries exploded in my mouth, making my taste buds sing.  The man’s cooking abilities may be limited to breakfast foods, but with his skill I could eat breakfast for every meal.  I vocalized my approval with unintelligible grunts and moans, my mouth never empty long enough to form actual words.

When I had finished my first round of deliciousness, their odd silence registered.

“If you are just going to sit there like statues and watch me eat, make it authentic—strike a ridiculous and unnatural pose…maybe hide an arm behind your back to make it look like it’s missing, at least that way I can pretend you’re art and not feel creeped out.”

“Ha, ha.  Tell me what the heck happened last night.  You could have woken me when you got home,” Ev chided.

“First, you were
not
asleep when I got home,” I said, grinning at their guilty faces.  “PS, the neighbors called and said you need to keep it down, you’re working their dogs into a frenzy.”

“I was worried…Hunter was distracting me so I wouldn’t obsess over what arrows your parents might sling—it’s his job to keep my mind occupied so I can stop being overbearing,” Ev said.

“It’s a tough job, but I’m
up
for the challenge,” Hunter said cheekily.

“Oh god, you are spending way too much time around Sam,” she muttered.

“I love Sam, but more importantly, she tends to be where you are, which is where I want to be,” he countered with a look of genuine adoration on his face.

“Awww, stop it you two, you’re making me misty.”

Ev kissed his lips sweetly, the same love shining from her eyes.  They were disgustingly perfect for each other, the ideal balance of independence, challenge, and devotion.  Despite my fear that I would never be ‘fixed’ enough to find happily ever after, I was content to live vicariously through theirs.

In an attempt to give them privacy, I relocated to the couch where they joined me a few minutes later.

“What happened at Chateau Moneybags last night?” Ev asked, her distain apparent.

I groaned, unsure if recounting the events would lead to another emotional vomit-fest or if I had really exorcized some of the demons last night.  I steeled myself and delivered the blow-by-blow to my rapt audience.

I still felt anger and sadness as I relived the showdown, but the devastating pain that had overwhelmed me the night before was markedly absent. 

By the time I finished, Hunter had laid himself across Ev in some complicated martial arts position to restrain her.  She was raging, prepared to fight—out for retribution.  She struggled against Hunter’s ironclad hold, desperate to get to a phone and enlighten the people formerly known as my father and mother regarding their many failings as parents and human beings.  Eventually I tried to persuade her that a call would be a waste of breath—my parents would not hear her words and spontaneously gain self-awareness.  Perhaps I was cynical, but I wouldn’t allow such hope to take root.  I had been devastated and disappointed by them too many times.