Returning Injury (8 page)

After watching the DVD, Rebecca stood up, stretched and headed to the laundry room to deal with the load of wash. She shoved the towels into the dryer and closed the laundry room door. She walked into the kitchen nook and looked out the large windows. It was dark outside and she couldn’t see anything, not the moon or a single star. She hoped it wouldn’t rain anymore, but she especially didn’t want a thunderstorm. It seemed every time it stormed, they lost power in the house. Jack had been on a mission to get a generator, but they didn’t have one yet.

Rebecca was glad Jack was out of town because sometimes her work made her angry about how some men treated women, and she didn’t want to take it out on him. As she stood staring out the window, she remembered the time when she had been doing PR for a former high-priced prostitute.

Holly had been saving money to better her life and get out of the business with enough money to follow her dreams of becoming a full-time artist. While making the transition to get out, she became sick and learned that she had contracted HIV and that it had rapidly turned into AIDS.

Holly wanted to share her story and help other young women avoid her mistakes. Rebecca worked with her for a few months, helping her with her press release and coaching her on her interviewing skills. Rebecca learned a lot about the sex industry and she learned a lot about the sadness that came with it. Holly was hard and had an enormous hatred for men. But her behavior contradicted that every time she was around a man or was being interviewed by a man; the loathing was camouflaged with flirty, sexual sweetness.

Holly had been raped at a young age, so she thought that she could turn her sex into power. She convinced herself that if men were going to take it from her, she might as well sell it. She admitted that she wasted her life, wasted her brain and wasted her body, all because she didn’t like herself, didn’t believe she was worth more and didn’t trust anyone. She said in the back of her mind she always knew that she would die of AIDS if she continued, but she couldn’t stop. She didn’t know how to stop.

Hatred for men had briefly colored Rebecca’s life while she and Holly worked together. One evening Jack and Rebecca were lying on the couch together watching a movie. There was a scene where a man staying in a hotel called for an escort. When he was called to let him know that she had arrived, he said, “Send the bitch up,” and a woman went up to his room. Rebecca was so angry that she got up and stormed out of the room. When Jack came after her, he tried to convince her that it was only a movie. But it wasn’t only a movie. That was real for so many women. And why would a woman play a role where she was a prostitute and being called a bitch?

Rebecca remembered later watching a documentary that made her understand a little better about why a woman would play a demeaning role in a movie. The documentary was about a black woman who played a maid for a white family in a television series. Many people criticized her for playing that role, and felt she was a sellout. Rebecca will never forget her reply: She said she would rather play a maid on TV than be a maid in real life.

Rebecca hoped there would be more strong female roles and better role models for women in the future—leaders and champions, not porn stars, prostitutes and victims.

Rebecca jumped when the phone rang. She checked the time. It was almost nine-thirty. Jack always called to let her know that he made it okay and to say good night.

Rebecca didn’t like to fly, and she was a little nervous when Jack flew off for business. She used to make him call her as soon as he landed to let her know he made it without a plane crash, but Jack didn’t like the pressure. He wanted to stay focused on work and his goals for the trip. So he said he would rather call her once he was settled in his room, relaxed and prepared for the next morning.

Rebecca didn’t understand until she started traveling for business herself. She had to get her luggage, catch a cab, get to her hotel and check in, all the while mentally preparing and going over the agenda for the following day. She always forgot to call Jack as soon as she landed. His point was well taken.

“Hi, honey, I made it. I’m checked in and already in my pajamas.”

“That sounds good. Oh, honey, you gave me quite a jolt this evening. You left the music on full blast again.”

“Oh, Reb, I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay. It wouldn’t have been that bad except it was rock and roll.”

“Very funny. How was your day?”

“Great. How’s Vancouver?

“It’s rainy and gray.”

“Here, too. I hope we don’t get a storm.”

“Oh, I have to get that generator.” He sounded disappointed in himself. “Do you want me to call somebody to get a generator out there?”

“No, it’s okay. It can wait. You’ll be back in a couple days, and we’ll do it then.”

“Okay.” He exhaled. “Well, honey, are you headed to bed, or are you still working?”

“I’m still working, but I’m getting tired.”

“Don’t stay up too late. I’ll let you get back to work. I have my football game on, so I’m going to order room service and enjoy the game.”

“Do they have something good or will it be your usual?”

“Funny you should ask. I was just looking at the menu and it looks like I’ll be having my usual. Can’t go wrong with grilled cheese.”

Rebecca smiled. She knew him too well. “But, I’m a little chilled, so I’m also going to order some soup. Bet you didn’t expect that.”

“Honey, you are full of surprises.”

Jack laughed. “Oh, I’m in room ten-thirty-two. You have the hotel phone number, right?”

“Yes, I have it.”

“Okay. Well, I’m going to say good night now so I can place my order. You know me, I’ll probably fall asleep during the game. Call me if you need me, or I’ll call you in the morning.”

“Okay, good night.”

“Good night, honey. I love you.”

“I love you, too. Sleep well.”

Rebecca hung up the phone and started wondering about Jack. What if he was heading to a strip bar or calling a prostitute or wanting to masturbate to pornography? Does he go to strip clubs with people from work? Does he do anything that would jeopardize their relationship? What if her husband was one of those men who takes his penis out and rubs it on women? What if she was living in denial and her husband was living a secret double life?

What if this wonderful marriage she had was a fake? What if she woke up one day with a strange, sexually transmitted disease?

Every woman must think, not my man; he wouldn’t do that. Not my son. Not my dad. Not my brother. But somebody was doing it. If there was no demand, there wouldn’t be so many strip clubs and prostitutes. Or was it that because there were so many women willing to demean themselves through all types of prostitution, that men effortlessly justify using and abusing women because these women are so easily accessible?

After being immersed in Angie’s information, she didn’t know if she should feel lucky to have such a great man or if she should be afraid and untrusting. Rebecca had always felt that trusting somebody was a wonderful quality, but she started to wonder if trust had become the same as naivety.

She started to cry. She hated doubting Jack. He had never given her a reason to doubt him, and he seemed to trust her. She could just as easily have a boyfriend come over every time he went out of town.

But doubts nibbled at her, so she decided to try to catch him doing something wrong. She would go through his office for evidence, then in forty-five minutes she would call his room. She would be able to tell if he had somebody there with him. If he wasn’t in his room, then it was possible that he went to a strip club with some of the guys he worked with. That was what she would do. She wanted to be reassured that Jack was all she thought he was.

Rebecca’s neck felt stiff, so she decided to do some stretches and yoga on the floor before going through his office. She took deep breaths and exhaled, releasing tension in her neck, shoulders and back. With each deep breath, she felt herself become more centered and calm. First, she smiled, then she started to laugh at her behavior and crazy thoughts. She knew that if she wanted to be suspicious, she could drive herself mad. Jack wasn’t doing anything that would hurt her heart, and she wasn’t going to do anything that would hurt his.

Rebecca finished her stretches, then returned once more to Angie’s material. She plopped back down on the couch and began to read. She loved her career even though the world it exposed could be horrifying. Rebecca took a deep breath and hoped her next client would be a comedian.

After reading more of Angie’s relentless revelations about abused women and children, Rebecca was frustrated and angry. She felt like going downstairs and lifting weights or running on the treadmill to relieve some of her anxiety. But she knew she was tired and she had been drinking, so she decided to get some fresh air and take Lily out again.

Rebecca jogged to disarm the alarm while throwing air punches. She unlocked the door, and she and Lily went outside. Rebecca stood there waiting for Lily to go while repeating, “I pity the fool who messes with me!” and “I pity the fool who messes with women!” She hadn’t thought about Mr. T for a long time.

The wind had died down and the night was still and beautiful. But Rebecca’s mind was racing. She had so many great ideas for Angie and how to help her. Rebecca was impressed with Angie’s persistence, and she was thankful for people like Angie who had the heart and ability to make a difference. Angie was not a victim—she was a strong woman. All women have a story and all women could relate to Angie.

Lily finished and attempted to bury her potty, digging in every direction, turning and dancing around.

Rebecca laughed. “You must feel so much better, you little stinker. You are the cutest little pug in the world! Come on, let’s go in where it’s warm.” Lily took off running for the door. Rebecca had to run to catch up so Lily wouldn’t pull on the leash and choke herself. They ran inside.

Lily walked to the first step to go upstairs to bed. “You want to go to bed? Oh, okay. Let me turn off the lights and set the alarm.” Rebecca went to the kitchen and set the alarm. She picked up a few more things to read, then turned off all the lights except the upstairs light. She glanced at the front door as she started up the stairs. The lock was in the vertical position—it wasn’t locked. “Oh, my God!” She rushed back down and locked it.

Rebecca and Lily headed upstairs to bed. Cringing at her uneasiness, Rebecca pulled on her pajamas. Her strength and confidence had been profoundly shaken after Roy’s release from prison, especially now that Jack was out of town. For the last couple of weeks Rebecca had become more sensitive to the continuous stories of rape, abduction, stalking and murder on the news. She tried to deny that she was afraid alone and overly concerned with door and window locks.

Rebecca thought about her old neighborhood and wondered when and how she had lost her courage. She wasn’t afraid of anything when she was younger, and she was angry that Roy had the power to change her. She didn’t want to live in fear. She wanted to be tough again—she wanted to be fearless.

At times throughout her life, Rebecca had harnessed that youthful toughness and learned to tap back into it. After the attack, she regained some of her strength and confidence after she replaced the lock on her door, started taking self-defense classes, joined a gym and started lifting weights, and installed a simple battery-powered alarm for the only window that could be accessed without a ladder.

Rebecca never wanted to be a victim again. She felt empowered by that conviction, and she hoped that when it came right down to it, she would be able to protect herself. It didn’t matter if it were coyotes, Roy or a cheating husband, she hoped that she could handle anything. Which started her thinking about when she chased a burglar.

She and Jack were staying in a hotel in Rochester, Minnesota, where they went every year for their Mayo Clinic physicals. And every year they had the same room, a poolside suite with a door going out to the pool and another door that went out into the hall. Jack liked to sit out in the courtyard by the pool every morning to read his paper and drink coffee.