Beautiful Illusions

by Annie Jocoby

  That night, which was happening more and more frequently, I had vivid nightmares of being tortured. I was being burned with cigarettes, slashed with knives, beaten with a belt. It was always an unknown assailant. I always thought that I was going to die. I would wake up in a cold sweat, and Ryan would get up with me to reassure me that I was safe.

  I didn't feel safe, though.

  As for going to the office, I just couldn't. Ryan had already arranged for my cases to be taken over by various attorneys, working with Melinda to make sure that everything got reassigned while I was in the hospital. So I no longer had an active practice, which was fine with me. I couldn't go to the office after what had happened to me there. Ryan didn't try to force me, either.

  And Ryan still had not gone back to work. Caring for me was still his full-time job.

  However, after a week of nightmares, days when I couldn't get out of bed, and not eating, Ryan decided that it was time to drag me to see Dr. Halder.

  I shook my head. “Please don't make me go. I’ll be good. I can handle this.”

  “You need help. The woman I love is disappearing before my eyes. I can't bear to see you so tormented.”

  I didn't want to see the shrink. I didn't want to be forced to relive what had happened.

  But, of course I ended up going. Ryan went with me for support, but he said that I should talk to him on my own. He waited in the waiting room, flipping through magazines, while I went inside.

  “Hello, again, Iris,” Dr. Halder greeted me.

  “Hello.”

  He waited a few seconds, then asked me how I was.

  “Not so good.”

  He nodded. “Tell me about what brings you here.”

  Surely he knows the story. “Well, I was, uh...uh...” I looked at the doctor helplessly. “Could you please ask Ryan to come in here?”

  Ryan came in and joined us. I turned to him. “Could you please explain to Dr. Halder what happened to me?

  “Honey, he knows what happened to you. He just needs you to talk about it.”

  “Oh.” But I said nothing more.

  The three of us sat in silence for a few minutes. I was shaking, and I was suffering a blinding headache that suddenly came on. “I don't feel well,” I said. “Do you mind if I leave?”

  “Of course, you can leave at any time.”

  “Thanks.” I made an appointment for the next day. I wanted to make the appointment for the following week, but Ryan insisted that I try to come back the next day.

  Over dinner that night, with me still pushing around my food and eating small bites, I asked Ryan what happened to Rochelle.

  “She’s in prison, honey. She can't hurt you anymore.”

  I shook my head. I didn't believe that. My mind didn't allow me to believe it. I felt that Rochelle was still on the loose, and was still waiting for me to come out of the house so she could nab me again. This time, however, she would not let me live. I knew that for a fact.

  “Prison? Don’t you mean jail?” I asked. People were always referring to jail as prison, and prison as jail. As I was a former public defender, I was a stickler for the proper terminology.

  “Yes, jail, sorry. She’s awaiting trial.”

  “How come she isn’t out on bail?”

  “She’s a flight risk. She owns her own private plane, and has a house in Monaco. The judge decided that nothing would stop her from taking her plane to Monaco, and never being seen or heard from again. So, he denied her bail.”

  I shuddered. “I’m tired. I really need to go to bed.” It was 7:30 PM.

  Ryan nodded. “I’ll come to bed with you.”

  Ryan climbed into bed next to me. I laid down and tried to sleep. Ryan, for his part, wasn't tired, so he watched television in the bed next to me, plugging in his headphones so that the noise didn't bother me.

  I was out within five minutes and didn't wake up the next day until noon. Ryan had long since gone to work. It was his first day back at work, and he had asked me if I was okay with that. I assured him that I was. Going into the bathroom, I found a note from him, pinned to the mirror. “I love you honey. I’m at work, but I’m thinking about you constantly.” That was all that the note said.

  The new appointment with Dr. Halder was that evening, after Ryan got off of work. I knew, however, that I wasn't going to make it. So, I called Dr. Halder and cancelled. The receptionist asked me if I wanted to reschedule. I told her that I didn't know when I could come back, but would let them know.

  After getting off the phone, I started to panic. This was really the first time that I was alone since the incident. I called Daniel.

  “Hello,” Daniel said.

  “Hi, this is Iris.”

  “What's up?”

  “Could you drive me somewhere?”

  “Sure, where?”

  “Ryan's bank.” I really had no idea what I would do when I arrived there. I only knew that I was feeling abandoned and alone, and I was scared to death.

  “Iris, it’s his first day back after being away for months.”

  I understood. “Ok, then, could you please drive me to my mother's?”

  “Sure.”

  Daniel pulled up in five minutes, driving a new Jaguar. I hadn't seen that particular car yet.

  “Is this a new car?” I asked.

  “Yeah. Ryan bought it a couple of weeks ago.”

  I nodded. I couldn't get excited about the new car, even though I have always loved Jaguars.

  I stared out the window while Daniel drove me to my parent's house. My head was splitting open again. About five minutes into the drive, I started sobbing uncontrollably.

  Daniel didn't know what to do, so he stared straight ahead, watching the road, not looking at me.

  “I’m so sorry,” I croaked between sobs.

  “Not a problem.” He was obviously uncomfortable.

  I cried all the way to my mom's house.

  Daniel pulled up in front of the townhouse, obviously happy to be rid of me. He really didn't say anything at all to me. I guessed that he didn't really know what to say.

  I felt badly for him.

  I dragged myself into my mother's house. She was surprised to see me. “What brings you here?” she asked.

  “I have a headache. I need to lie down.” At that I dragged myself up to the spare bedroom, laid down on the bed, and immediately fell asleep.

  I awoke to darkness. I gradually became aware that there was a figure next to the bed. I looked at the clock. It was 8 PM. I had been sleeping for about 12 hours here at my parent’s house. My eyes adjusted to the darkness, and I realized that the figure was Ryan, sitting in a chair next to the bed.

  “Hello, beautiful,” he said.

  “Hi.”

  “Can I turn on the light?”

  “Sure.”

  He turned on the light. He took my hand. “I’m so sorry that I returned to work today. I had a feeling that you were going to have a tough time with my being gone. Daniel told me what happened.”

  I nodded. “Uh, maybe I can stay here for awhile? At least until I start to feel better.”

  He shook his head. “I’ve a better idea. I’m extending my leave of absence until you start feeling better. You’re too fragile to be left alone.” He smiled, and gently stroked my hair, while looking at me with a dreamy-eyed expression. “I need to protect you,” he said softly. “I wish I could’ve protected you before. But I need to protect you now.”

  All I could do was nod. Barely. “That's sweet,” I said without enthusiasm. “I’m just so tired.” At that, I laid back down and fell back to sleep.

  I woke up the next day at 10. Ryan was lying next to me. He was reading a book. In One Person by John Irving.

  He smiled. “You’re awake.”

  I nodded. “I don't feel well.”

  “Can I take you home?”

  I shook my head. “I’m literally too exhausted to get out of this bed.”

  “Well, I’m not leaving until you come
with me.”

  “Ok. Could you carry me?”

  At that, he picked me up and carried me down the stairs. I clung to his neck, my head buried in his shoulder. He called to my mother “I'm taking her home, Charlene.”

  At that my mother came up to us and kissed my cheek. She addressed Ryan “Take care of her.” At that, Ryan nodded and said nothing.

  “Beautiful, you need to start eating. You’re way too light.” Ryan used to pick me up when we would horse around before everything happened. Now, I guess I weighed quite a bit less than that. “You must’ve lost 50 pounds.”

  I merely grunted. He gently put me in the car, fastening my seat belt. I immediately fell asleep in the car.

  I woke up in our bed. Ryan must’ve carried me into the house while I was still unconscious. I had no idea what time it was, but Ryan was lying next to me, so it couldn't be too late in morning. But it was light out, so it must have been at least 7 AM. Ryan had his laptop and he was typing. When I woke up, he shut the laptop. He looked at me. “Good morning, beautiful.”

  I managed a small smile.

  “Uh, would you like to get back into your rehabilitation exercises?”

  I shook my head. All I wanted to do was lay in bed.

  He nodded. I had to admit that he seemed a stranger to me now. I would imagine that it was the same for him.

  Later on, I was in bed with my laptop on the Internet. Ryan was downstairs somewhere.

  I suddenly realized that I was conferenced in on a chat with Ryan and Nick. He must not have known that he conferenced me. I read the chat between them.

  Ry1979: I don't know what to do. I’m losing her.

  St.Nick80: Bro, give her time. She went through a lot. Being kidnapped, tortured and almost dying can do that to a person, you know.

  Ry1979: I know, but how do I help her?

  St.Nick80: Have you tried counseling?

  Ry1979: Of course. She won't go. She went one time, but had a headache and went home before the counselor could get anywhere. She won't eat, and she sleeps all the time now.

  St.Nick80: Where is she now?

  Ry1979: Upstairs, asleep.

  St.Nick80: Just keep trying, and be patient.

  Ry1979: I feel so impotent. I’m also afraid that she blames me. If she never knew me, this wouldn't have happened to her.

  St.Nick80: If she does blame you, then she isn't being rational.

  Ry1979: I have held back asking her to marry me until she gets better. I hope I finally get the chance.

  St.Nick80: You will.

  Ry1979: I love her so much. My heart is breaking.

  St.Nick80: Buddy, you need a break from all of this. Why don't you come on vacation with Rielle and the girls and me? We are heading out to the Lake Como house in a week.

  Ry1979: Thanks, but there’s no way I can leave her. I have to protect her.

  St.Nick80: Maybe she can come too.

  Ry1979: Maybe. I think she’s afraid to meet you, though.

  St.Nick80: I don't bite. Well, except for that one time. LOL.

  Ry1979: Ha ha.

  St.Nick80: Seriously, man, I miss you. If you know what I mean.

  Ry1979: To tell you the truth I miss you too. If you know what I mean.

  St.Nick80: I’ve been having steamy fantasies about you lately. Wanna hear?

  Ry1979: Not in the mood right now for cybersex. Maybe some other time.

  St.Nick80: Sorry, just trying to take your mind off of her.

  Ry1979: Impossible. She’s all I think about anymore.

  St.Nick80: Keep trying to get her into counseling.

  Ry1979: How do I do that? She won't go.

  St.Nick80: Be persistent. That's all you can do.

  I stopped reading after this. I was losing him, and, worse yet, I was losing myself. I was a shell of myself. No spirit, afraid to leave the house, not eating, sleeping all the time. I realized how depressed I was.

  And I knew what I had to do.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  The next day, as we were having breakfast, I casually asked Ryan what Rochelle's last name was. I was making a show of eating the eggs and turkey bacon that was in front of me, although, inside, I felt nauseated by it. Ryan looked pleased to see me eating, though, so I felt that I had to finish the plate.

  Afterwards, however, I discreetly excused myself to use the restroom, and threw up. His cooking was great, as usual, but I couldn't keep anything down.

  Not with the knowledge of what I would be doing that day.

  Back to Rochelle, though. “Anderson,” he said. “Why do you ask?”

  “No reason.” I looked at him, trying to hide the panic in my eyes. As casually as possible, I announced that I would be going shopping with Debbie, my best girlfriend.

  Ryan looked thrilled. “That's wonderful, honey. Do you need some money?” He was obviously happy that I was getting out of the house. It occurred to me that I really hadn't left the house on my own since I have been home.

  I shook my head. “No, I, uh, just want to browse. Get out of the house, get some fresh air, get caught up with her life. That sort of thing.”

  “Ok, then. What time are you going shopping?”

  “In about an hour.”

  After I showered, I kissed Ryan goodbye, and I got into the new Volvo and took off. I was shaking and nauseated, and it occurred to me that I should have asked Daniel to drive me. But I didn't want to raise any suspicion on what I was doing. If I asked Daniel to drive me, it would have been a tipoff that I wasn't feeling well enough to drive myself, and Ryan might have insisted on coming along.

  But this was something that I knew that I had to do by myself.

  I arrived downtown, and found a place to park.

  And headed for the county jail.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  The county jail was a red building downtown that didn't really look like a county jail from the outside, as it was modern. Inside, however, the cells were just as one would picture. At least the waiting rooms, where attorneys meet clients, were just as one would picture. I would know, having spent two years going in and out of this jail in my role as a public defender.

  I never dreamed that I would be coming to this jail not as an attorney, but as a victim. But here I was.

  I walked into the jail, and asked the guard for the cell number for Rochelle Anderson. The guard looked at his roster. “You here as a professional or as a visitor?”

  “A professional.” I knew that if I was a visitor, I either couldn't see her if it was not visiting hours, or I would be relegated to talking to her on a phone from behind a plated glass. I wanted neither option.

  “You got some ID?”

  I handed the guard my Missouri Bar Identification.

  “Please step through the metal detector.”

  I obliged.

  I took the elevator to the fifth floor, which was where she was housed. I went down the corridor to the attorney room, which is where attorneys meet with their clients, and the door opened automatically. I could see the guard in her booth, and I walked into the vestibule right behind another automatic door. I looked at the guard expectantly, and she pressed a button so that the other door opened, and I walked through.

  I sat down at a little table with a file in my hand and waited. I brought an empty file to make it look like I was there as an attorney.

  I waited for about fifteen minutes, before addressing the guard at the station. “Uh, I am here to see Rochelle Anderson.”

  The guard looked puzzled. “Did they call this in from downstairs?”

  “I thought so.”

  “Is she expecting you?”

  “Yes,” I lied.

  “Ok, then.” I saw her get on the phone and call. I held my breath, hoping against hope that there wasn't a problem of some sort. If they told me to come back, I really didn't think that I would. It was literally now or never.

  I could hear my heart pounding in my chest as I waited. This was more torture than what Rochelle
put me through. I was shaking like a leaf.

  What was taking so long?

  The guard motioned me to the window. I wasn't breathing, but let out a sigh of relief when she said that Rochelle was being brought out.

  Then I started shaking and trembling anew. A part of me regretted not bringing Ryan there with me, but this was something that I knew that I had to do on my own.

  About fifteen minutes later, with every minute ticking by like an hour, a woman came through the glass door, wearing an orange jumpsuit. She was a slight woman, dark hair, and was not necessarily beautiful but more...handsome. Square jaw, looked to be in her early fifties. I imagined that she was quite a beauty about twenty or so years ago, but she looked ravaged now. Rode hard and put away wet. She appeared to be heavily into drugs.

  I stood up, and she looked at me. “You,” was all she said as the door clanged behind her.

  I took a deep breath, willing myself not to back down, and not to beg the guard to take her away. I had to do this for my own mental sanity.

  “Yeah, me,” I said.

  I watched the guard behind the glass window, who was reading a magazine. Rochelle could literally strangle me, and they would be very slow to react. I wished that she had on handcuffs and leg irons, but I knew that this was not the protocol for professional visits.

  She sat down. “May I help you?” Very cold. If I was expecting her to break down crying with regrets upon seeing me, I would be sorely disappointed.

  “I wanted to meet you, face to face,” I said, mustering as much strength as I could. I wished at this point that I had invested in acting classes, so that I could act like I didn't care that I was facing her.

  “Why?”

  “Because I feel that I need to confront you and tell you how you have made me feel. I know that you don't care, but I need to say my piece so that I can move on.”

  To my surprise, her expression changed. She didn't look as hostile as when she first sat down.

  I took another deep breath, and began. “I don't know what I did to you to make you want to hurt me. I don't even know you. Why would you do that to me?”

  “Listen, Chica, don't take it personally. I didn't want to hurt you. I wanted to hurt him.”