Charley seemed particularly interested in Savannah.
“Your little girl is so cute,” she said. “I think it’s so great that you have an African-American child. My niece adopted three girls and one is African-American.”
I knew I could safely open up to this woman. She was so warm and nonjudgmental.
“You know what I hate?” I asked. “I hate it when people look at us and say, ‘Oh my God! She’s so lucky!’ I always say, ‘No. I am the lucky one.’” She nodded and smiled.
Four hours went by at lightning speed. When I realized the party was wrapping up, I glanced at my watch and was stunned to see it was almost midnight. Sean and Maria were just sitting there, looking bored. With everything going on around us—including a spirited performance by ballroom dancers—Charley and I had been in our own little world. I’d forgotten Sean was even there.
As Charley and I hugged good-bye, I couldn’t help but think about how she would be classified by the church. L. Ron Hubbard wrote, “The sudden and abrupt deletion of all individuals occupying the lower bands of the Tone Scale from the social order would result in an almost instant rise in the cultural tone and would interrupt the dwindling spiral into which any society may have entered.”
As a lesbian, Charley would be branded a lowly level 1.1 on the Tone Scale—unless she was “handled” in Ethics, the way I had been. My exposure to homosexuals had been pretty much nonexistent, but if she was an indication of what most of them were like, then maybe the church should reevaluate its judgment. There is nothing covert or hostile about this woman, I thought to myself as we were preparing to part ways. She is warm and kind and she seems to be living a very normal, happy life.
I could tell that Sean was furious once we returned home. He didn’t say a word. Even during the worst of times we always made small talk if we weren’t fighting. I walked upstairs, checked on the kids and went to our room to get ready for bed. Sean was already there. As I stood in front of the bathroom sink, washing my face before I turned in, I could feel him staring at me. He was eerily quiet. Don’t provoke him, I told myself. Finish up and go to bed.
“Who do you think you are, ignoring me and talking to a lesbian all night?” Sean finally asked.
The glacial tone of his voice frightened me. He was livid. Apparently the neighbors who had been sitting across the table from us were teasing Sean that he’d better watch out because it looked like he had some competition from the lesbian. Did I understand how embarrassing that had been for him? He was shouting. Don’t respond, I told myself. Hold on. Only a few weeks to go before he’s out of here. The cold granite of the countertop pressed against my stomach as I prayed he would leave the bathroom. But that wasn’t going to happen. I would have to be punished for humiliating him.
I was bent over the sink when Sean grabbed me from behind. He held me so tightly around my chest that I couldn’t breathe. I tried to turn to get away, but I could not move with the weight of his body pressed against mine. The more I resisted, the more he seemed to like it. I pleaded for him to stop and calm down so we could talk it out.
“Please, Sean!” I whispered. “The kids are in the other room.”
Sean didn’t say a word. He just pushed me harder against the bathroom counter.
“Not tonight. Please not tonight!” I cried.
I knew what he was doing. His intention was to remind me that he was the man and I was his wife and shouldn’t ever forget it. I heard the zipper on his pants unzip. I couldn’t fight anymore. When he finished, I fell to the floor and shook uncontrollably.
“You have no idea how done we are,” I said. “You have no idea.”
From that moment on, Sean and I lived separate lives. I ordered him to sleep in the guest room. He didn’t argue. We stopped talking, eating meals together or even sharing brief moments together with our children. To keep my sanity, I began counting down the days until we could leave for Clearwater.
Freedom was so close I could almost taste it.
* * *
Several weeks flew by. I’d committed to helping Dror get his film funded, and he was ready to start filming. He called constantly. If he wasn’t telling me about a budget or scene change, which I didn’t understand anyway, he was pushing for me to come to the set to meet the actors. I was too busy with my own business, I said. I had a big deal pending. I was headed to Flag as soon as the matter closed. I’d see him when I returned to California.
The week before our scheduled flight to Florida in April, I came down with symptoms of flu. I was nauseous and so fatigued that I couldn’t lift myself out of bed. On Sunday night, after sleeping for a solid twenty-four hours, I hobbled downstairs to check on the kids. Sean was in the kitchen, boiling hot dogs for dinner. I took one whiff of the hot dogs cooking and fled to the bathroom. I threw up until I was gagging on air. I know this feeling, I thought. The sensitivity to smells, the bone-tiredness . . .
Once I felt steady enough to stand, I stumbled out to the kitchen and told Sean I was running to the store. I got to the drugstore just before closing and purchased a pregnancy test, then sped home and ran into the house without closing the garage door. Into the bathroom I went. My hands trembled as I did the test. The instructions said it would take two minutes for the results to appear. I placed the stick on the side of the sink and waited, checking every couple of seconds. After a few minutes that felt like a few days, a big blue “X” appeared in the window. The reading was positive. I was going to have another child.
A sense of strength washed over me, dousing my moment of panic. Okay, I thought. I am having a baby, but I will not change my plans. I will go through with my divorce. There is no going back. My mind is made up. If I can’t do it for myself—because the timing seems wrong or the idea of raising three children alone is too daunting—then I will do it for my children. They deserve better than the life they are living with Sean and me. They deserve to just be happy and carefree and loved.
Throwing the test in the wastebasket, I walked upstairs to the bathroom, where Sean was giving Sage and Savannah a bath.
“Guess what, guys,” I said. “Mommy is having a baby!”
Savannah was a toddler, still too young to understand, but Sage yelped with delight. Sean looked smug and knowing. I knew what he was thinking. His place in my life had just been secured. Surely I wasn’t going to leave him when I was having his baby. I hoped he could read my expression because it said that I was determined to do this without him. As tired and sick as I felt at that moment, I would not allow my confidence to be shaken. He could think whatever he was thinking. I would not be deterred. No matter what the church said or did.
* * *
I was nodding off to sleep on the flight to Florida when I had a vision. Part of my old self was dying. My eyes were closed but I was watching it happen. Far from feeling fearful, I was in bliss, content. All my life I’d had a sense of foreboding and fear. For as long as I could remember, I was always worried about something. Can Mom make the bills? Can we afford to buy groceries? Will I pass this test? Will I get that job? Now, as my head bobbed and the voices of my chatty children turned to echoes in the distance, I felt free. For the first time in my life, I wasn’t afraid. No matter what, I had me, and I could overcome anything.
As my mind drifted from one pleasant thought to the next, the pilot’s baritone voice awakened me. We were starting our final approach into Tampa International Airport.
“Sorry, folks, but it looks like the weather is unseasonably cold and rainy,” he said.
I looked down at Savy, who was asleep in my lap. Sage was coloring in the seat next to my personal assistant, Monica, who was accompanying us on the trip. I looked over at Sean, who stared straight ahead.
We landed in driving rain, but my mood was still bright from my dream sleep. I was headed to a new and better life for my children and me.
Because I was one of the top donors, we receive
d VIP service when we arrived in Florida. A representative from the President’s Office was at the airport to greet us. We piled into a limo for the thirty-minute drive to Clearwater.
Flag’s Fort Harrison Hotel was under renovation, so we were lodged in a large suite that resembled a New York City penthouse apartment in one of the newer buildings. Monica settled into her room, and I checked into the suite with Sean and the kids. I was dismayed to find only one bedroom. Sean sneered, but I wasn’t having it. I called downstairs to tell the concierge we would need another room, for Sean. Of course, he said. But it was very late. They would make the arrangements for tomorrow. By then it was midnight. Okay, I thought, so what’s one more night? I was six weeks along and so tired all I cared about was falling into bed and crashing. I didn’t care who was beside me.
I tucked myself tightly under the covers and turned out the light. A moment later I felt Sean slide in beside me. I cringed in the darkness. A few seconds passed and he tossed his arm over me. Sitting straight up in bed, I pushed him with the full force of my body weight. How dare he? I thought. I was seething.
“Don’t you come near me!” I hissed, unable to conceal my loathing for him.
Sean launched into a tirade. I was worthless, a Suppressive Person, a horrible wife, a liar. This was the usual rant. I didn’t know what to do, so I took it. Don’t fight back, I told myself. For four hours he ranted until he finally wore himself out. It was four thirty a.m. when I turned in. At sunrise, I crept out of the room. I called Mary Mauser back home to tell her what had happened.
Mary had been my spiritual advisor since my previous advisor and I had had a falling-out a couple of years earlier. I liked Mary. I found her to be a breath of fresh air because her predecessor’s gruff, controlling style could be overwhelming. Mary was a lot more like me in many ways, only older. She was petite and blond and successful in her career in computer software technology. She lived in a nice home in Santa Clarita and seemed to know everyone. I thought she was steady and strong, which made me feel secure in her counsel. The only thing that bothered me was that she gossiped a lot. She was always telling me unflattering stories about the people she worked with, and I couldn’t help but wonder what she told others about me. Every time she spoke ill of someone, I let it go, just as I’d been trained by the church to do with all negative thoughts.
In exchange for her service as my spiritual guide, Mary received a commission on the courses I bought and my donations to the church. She was making a good buck on me, but she seemed to really care about her church work. Mary was aware of my marital struggles. There had been many times when I’d called upon her to get Sean calmed down, and she’d always managed to do it. That alone was worth the money.
I told Mary about how we’d arrived in Florida and experienced a terrible night. I’d had two or three hours of sleep at most and I was exhausted. Mary was sympathetic. She promised to contact Flag’s Ethics Department to let them know what I’d told her. It was the proper chain of command. Sean knew he was in trouble when he was routed to Ethics that day. As soon as he left, Charmaine Roger, one of the church’s chief fund-raisers at Flag, swooped into my suite.
Charmaine and her husband, Bruce, were a power couple in the church. Their primary role at Flag was fund-raising. They were based in Florida but often traveled to the Celebrity Centre to solicit donations from stars and wealthy businesspeople. I was always on Charmaine’s target list. I was fond of both, but I especially admired Charmaine. She was a tiny woman but a fireball. Mary had told her what had happened and she was furious. When I said I was pregnant, she picked up the phone and arranged to have Sean’s belongings moved to another room. Within minutes, the housekeeping staff was packing up his things. I was comforted to know Charmaine was in my corner, but my peace of mind was short-lived.
After Charmaine left, I was freshening up in the bathroom while Monica played with the kids when I heard banging on the door. Sean had come back to the suite from Ethics and noticed his things were gone.
“Where are my clothes?” he screamed. “You are not going to separate me from my children!” I was shocked.
“You just get back from Ethics and this is how you act?” I asked, trying to control the fear in my voice. He raged louder. I was trapped in the bathroom as he stood blocking the doorway. I felt desperate to protect my body because of my pregnancy; I tried to keep myself calm and as far away from Sean as I could be in the bathroom. The louder he yelled, the more concerned I became about Sage and Savannah hearing him. I wanted to shut the bedroom door and do everything I could to get Sean calm and out of this room. When I pushed past him, he grabbed my arms and started to push me back. I knew that I needed Monica’s help and I screamed, “Sean, let go of me!”
Monica ran in from the other room. “Let her go, Sean!” she cried. “What is wrong with you? She is pregnant! Are you crazy?” Her tone of voice seemed to stun him. He released his grip and ran from the room.
I called downstairs for help. “This is an emergency,” I said, barely able to catch my breath. “I need to see an ethics officer immediately.”
While Monica stayed behind with the kids, I rushed down to the Ethics Department. The ethics officers were behind locked office doors with keypads. “Just a moment, please,” the receptionist said, disappearing behind one of the doors. I was terrified that Sean was about to come barging in. Only a moment or so passed when an ethics officer introduced herself.
“Come back with me,” she said, motioning toward one of the doors. She ushered me into her office and asked what had happened. I told her everything.
“Okay,” she said when I’d finished. “Now go back to your room and we will get on this immediately.”
It was the early evening by the time I got back to my suite. The kids were reading with Monica. I had been told in Ethics that Sean was being ordered to stay away. I needn’t worry. Security would be watching.
I was back for only a few minutes when Charmaine appeared with a butler carrying a tray of cookies, fruit and tea. The kids filled their plates with goodies and Monica took them to another room so Charmaine and I could talk privately. I poured my heart out to her. There was only one solution, she said: I had to divorce him. It wasn’t what I expected to hear and I was flush with gratitude. Charmaine had influence, and she was on my side.
Charmaine switched the conversation to fund-raising. For the next two hours, she talked about the benefits of giving generously. Considering my future plans, she said, I would need the church more than ever. Increasing my membership from Silver to Gold was essential. The upgrade would cost $250,000. I thought her timing was off. I was going through one of the worst periods of my life and she was there to sell me an upgrade. The church was always looking for more. Whatever I gave was never enough for very long. Whenever I found myself thinking about it, I tried to remind myself that altruism came at a price. It took a lot of money to serve our larger purpose: the fight to save mankind. And better the church got my money than Sean, I thought. I wrote the check that night.
The following day, Sean and I were called into session together. The sooner, the better, I thought. Let’s just get this over and move on with our lives. I was thinking we’d have a couple of days in session and then the powers that be would concede there was nothing left to salvage. I would then be free to go home and proceed with the divorce.
The auditor began by asking Sean to sit next to her while she hooked me up to the E-meter.
“Hold the cans,” she said. I did what I was told and waited. “What have you done to Sean?” she asked. What? What have I done to Sean? “What have you withheld from him?”
My head was filled with thoughts I wasn’t supposed to be thinking: This guy’s an abuser. I want a divorce. Why are you asking me these stupid questions? Can we please just get this done? I tried to clear my head, to stop the negative thoughts, knowing that the needle wouldn’t float if I continued to think them. Then there
would be more questions. Stop! I told myself. Clear your head. This is all good. The auditor is good. The process is good. The church is good.
Hours passed, with only a short snack break. It was late evening. I just wanted sleep. I reminded the auditor that I was pregnant. I was feeling nauseous. She accompanied me to the cafeteria for sparkling water to settle my stomach. “I need a bathroom break,” I said when we returned to the room. With Sean and the auditor on the other side of the bathroom door, I retched over the toilet. After a few minutes, I heard a knock on the door.
“Okay, are you done?” the auditor asked. “Would you like to come back to session now?” Do I have any choice? I wondered. I felt like I was in the Twilight Zone.
The following morning it was Sean’s turn on the cans.
“What have you done to Michelle?” asked the auditor.
“Nothing major,” he said. For the next hour, he recited what amounted to nonsense. “I didn’t tell her I was on the computer. I left dishes in the sink. I didn’t give Sage a bath one night.” My face twitched. I wasn’t allowed to interject, but I wanted to scream. C’mon, Sean! Let’s get honest. I don’t want to be here forever. Tell the lady the truth . . . “I screamed at her all night. I forced her to have sex.” If only I could get him mad. Maybe then he would break down, if he was angry enough. I know! He hates when I roll my eyes at him. When Sean gave another innocuous answer, I made sure the auditor wasn’t looking, then rolled my eyes. He went berserk.
“Look!” he cried. “She’s rolling her eyes at me!”
I shrugged as if I didn’t know what on earth he was talking about. Another safe answer, another roll of the eyes.
“See!” he shouted, pointing at me. “She’s doing it again!”
Perfectly Clear Page 13
