by Atieno Mzuri
I gathered that Matt had gone down to Jake's office but Jake was absent that day. And Jake had then told Matt that if he pulled such a stunt again he would go ahead and have him arrested for violating his probation. Note here that one of the rules for Matt's probation was not to use the internet in any way. He had violated this, he ran over ten Facebook accounts, several email addresses and online dating profiles.
Armed with this information and by now understanding that I had to be ready to move yet another piece on the chessboard, I did not say anything to him that night. I was instead, super sweet to him and we made love and talked for a long time. I was learning to keep my facial expressions under control, my poker face was a work in progress.
Next day Matt wasn't working and he wanted us to go through more profiles and set up another date. I told him I was feeling a little discouraged because nobody had turned up for a second date.
"Is that it? I think you have a crush on Jake. " he said.
"Why are you saying this to me?" I asked. "You know Jake hasn't even called me for a second date."
"That's good. He wasn't right for you anyway. I had a weird feeling about him. If anything I have learnt to use my instincts."
"Well that's fine. I will meet someone else."
I would do the waiting game again. Jake would be in town in a week's time.
While I was waiting, something happened that week that threw a spanner into the works. Matt was at the tobacco shop where he sometimes worked. I was catching up with Single Ladies and enjoying the foreplay between Keisha and Malcolm when the doorbell rang. I stood up reluctantly to go peep and see who was visiting us. We didn't have any friends. We didn't have any visitors.
When I saw who was on the doorstep, my heart fell into my stomach and I felt my knees give way as I collapsed. ...
Chapter Sixteen (Enter Jim Spencer)
As I sank to my knees the policeman pounded the door again.
"Police! ! Open up!!"
I thought of jumping out through the window
but that would mean broken legs or a broken neck. I unlocked the door.
"Matt here?"
'No."
"Good. It's you I wanted to see."
"Me?"
"Here. .." he said as he handed me a business card. "That's the number of the boss. Call him"
"Today?"
"I would highly recommend that." He said as he walked away.
Through the window I watched him get into his car and drive away. Then I dialed the number. Better to get it over with.
“Yes?"
I identified myself.
"I would like you to find a way to get out of that house and come and see me without Matt's knowledge. You don't know what you are getting into.”
Exasperated, I flung the phone in my hand across the room. Fortunately it landed on the couch. I immediately stood up and walked across the room and swiftly redialed the number. Perhaps it was better if I knew what everybody kept hinting at. So far, nobody had been direct with me.
“Glad you called back.” Jim Spencer's gruff voice came through. “You have to get out of that house. I can't go over it on phone. Find a way to come and see me.” he repeated.
“I can't get out of here. Why won't you tell me what this is about?”
“I don't want to talk on phone. It's too dangerous for you. Trust me on this. Just come and see me.”
The next day I took the bus to Mancato. I had to get directions and bus numbers using the internet and I ended up using a route that took me three hours instead of one hour to get to the destination. The stops were many and feeling the pressure of my escape from the little apartment, I sweated profusely and arrived looking quite disheveled.
The shabby extensive house was on a hill some distance from the bus stop. Luckily I had worn flat shoes so I walked briskly. As I approached the dark gloomy house, my pace changed and I took almost ten minutes to cover the quarter mile winding road. I glanced warily through the trees expecting Matt to jump out of the thin forest and stop me.
I knocked on the brass handle and a large black man with a receding hairline let me in. He had a rather small head and a very large tummy that hung almost to his knees.
“I am here to see Mr. Spencer” I said
“Come this way.”
Without preamble he led me down a long passageway to the back of the house where the office was located. I sat down at the outer reception and waited. As I looked at the art on the walls, I recalled the first time that I had visited this place.
That was a month ago. Matt had been desolate that I was packing my bags and had insisted on bringing me here.
“I need you to see the psychiatric half-way home where I received treatment. If you talk to the counselors, they will assure you that I am safe to live with and that I would never harm you.”
“How can they do that?”
“By telling you about the treatment that I went through. And how different people who go through the program come out. And how they become useful members of the society.”
“I certainly don't want to meet more sexual perverts. Do you even know how scary that is?” I asked
“Don't call me a sexual pervert!” he yelled. “They are people, just like you. Don't be so stupid.”
I waited for half an hour before Jim Spencer rushed in and profusely apologized that he had kept me waiting.
“Always an emergency around here. Always something new.” he said by way of apology.
“It's alright.” I reassured him. “I am here now. So, why am I here?”
He walked round behind his large rectangular desk and sat down. He pointed at the armchair and I assumed I was being ordered to take a seat. Then from one of the desk drawers he pulled out a file.
“This here is Matt's file on his stay at this institution. It also details the crime that he committed, and the court proceedings, his sentence, his treatment and follow up treatment outside the institution.”
I looked up startled.
“Why do you look so surprised?” he asked.
“Well, I didn't know he was still going through treatment.” I said
“Strictly speaking, it is not treatment. At this stage we call it management and it merely involves drugs and a monthly visit to a psychologist. But we take it very seriously and we document everything. What I am going to tell you is strictly confidential but you have to trust me. For your own safety, you need to move out of that house today.”
“Why are you telling me this? What is your interest?”
“I have a request of you.”
“Okay, tell me the story first.”
I sat back and in my heart whispered a fervent prayer that he would corroborate the story that Matt had told me. He picked up the folder, leafed through a few pages.
“Well, in the early afternoon of January 1995, nine-year-old Kim Walker was swimming in the pool of the apartment complex where she lived. This was the same complex where Matt lived. Kim claimed that while in the pool, Matt came up behind her, put his hand inside her bathing suit, rubbed her “front private part,” and asked if she liked it.”
“What? Are you sure?” I asked “Matt told me something different.”
“It gets worse.” he said. “Allow me to get to the end. Matt, on the other hand, claimed at the trial that he had been swimming in the pool when Kim jumped in on top of him. He admitted to then grabbing her by the ankles to pull her off and dunking her under the water two or three times but maintained he never touched her in the genital area.”
“That's it? He touched her genital area?” I asked trying to hide the shock and nausea that I felt. We were talking about a nine-year-old little girl. Not the sixteenyear-old woman that Matt had told me about.
“I am afraid there is more. The next day Matt followed Kim to the pool and lured her back to his apartment on the promise of baking for her some apple pie. At his apartment, he carefully removed the little girl's clothes and had vaginal and anal sex with her. He tore open tha
t little girl and it took three months for her to heal.”
“What happened after that?”
“As you probably know by now Matt was found guilty and sentenced to ten years in jail. But he only served one year of that and he was then sent to this institution which was a pioneer of sexual repression treatment. At the time, there was scientific evidence that pointed to some men being biologically inclined to only find sexual pleasure through force. The government funded this program. Several inmates who had been charged on sexual offenses and who were considered treatable were released into this program.”
“But why are you telling me this?”
“Because I don't believe Matt should have been released to this program. He was too violent. He should have remained in prison. The government made a mistake in this. He was one of the many that were released into the program whom we believe we couldn't treat and whom we were forced by the government to release back into society before they were fully treated.”
“You didn't finish telling me about the trial.” I reminded him.
Jim Spencer continued to leaf through the file as he talked.
“Matt is deceitful. He offered evidence that Kim had been touched by other male relatives before him and he called an expert who testified about general behavioral characteristics exhibited by child victims of sexual abuse. The expert said he was aware that Kim had been seriously molested by at least one other adult male both before and after the incident with Matt, and that such a child might develop “hypersensitivity” and thus misconceive the nature of any physical touch by another adult male. The expert also testified that such a child could have a negative reaction to a quite innocent, non-sexual touch.”
“What you are saying is that you can't be sure that Matt had sex with Kim?”
“No, I am sure he did. I worked with Matt for many years. I know he did it. But the prosecutors were unable to prove the major charges that would have put him away for life. Anyway, the psychologist nonetheless rendered an opinion that Matt suffered from a mental disorder making him likely to engage in acts of sexual violence. He suffers from a paranoid personality and pedophilia. Based on this opinion the court sentenced him and ordered that Matt be re-evaluated every year.”
The silence in the room was loud and palpable. I could feel my heart pumping hard and I thought I was going to collapse.
“Coca-cola or Mountain Dew?” Jim Spencer offered.
I took the Coca-Cola that he offered and gulped it like a drowning man. I was thirsty and felt like I was being strangled. I stood up slowly, and then collapsed back onto the armchair. I simply had no strength. Idly I wondered how I would manage the bus-ride back to the little apartment and how I would leave. Should I confront Matt with this new knowledge or should I just leave? I wondered. But he would just lie. Over and over he had lied. When I thought I was finally coming to terms with the situation and could move forward, I would stumble upon another lie.
“I still don't understand why you told me all this stuff.” I said.
“Because Matt is dangerous. He sexually assaulted his last girlfriend but we couldn't get her to testify. She ran away and we have been unable to bring her back.”
“What was her name?”
“Tsitsi. Has Matt mentioned her? Her sister reported her suspicions to us but Tsitsi ran away before I could get to her. Now I need you to testify against Matt. He is a dangerous man and should not be out there. You my dear young lady are going to help me correct this mistake that was made.”
“But Matt has never assaulted me." Then I decided on impulse to add a lie because I didn't like this man. "In fact we have only had sex twice over the last six months.”
“It's just a matter of time. It will either be you or someone else that he will visit the indignity upon. The place for pedophiles is locked away, not out there mingling with normal people. Think about it.”
Jim Spencer paced up and down and his face contorted into a fierce mask. His white skin seemed whiter and his bulging eyes seemed whiter and wider. It was a terrifying sight indeed.
“I need you to decide right now. Can you testify against him or not?” he repeated savagely.
“He hasn't done anything against me.” I responded.
“Have it your way.” Jim Spencer said as I started to turn the door handle to let myself out. “You can either cooperate and save your skin or not.”
I stopped in my tracks.
“Tsitsi was an illegal immigrant. So are you. You ignorant piece of shit. You come to my country, this great country and become involved with criminals and you think you can get away with anything. I expect an answer from you within the next 24 hours or by God, you will know who Jim Spencer really is.”
I opened the door and fell out into the passageway. The large black man who appeared to have been eavesdropping was startled by my fall but he steadied himself and grabbed me, helped me up and led me down the passageway. At the main door, he handed me a piece of paper, which I quickly stuffed into my purse as I ran from that shabby house. Later on when I got to the apartment, I read the note.
CALL ME, TEL 713 3330000. I CAN HELP YOU.
Chapter Seventeen (Matt’s Pounding) The bus dropped me off at the bus stop by the Dairy Queen down the street from Matt's apartment. I walked heavily towards the apartment. But as I was about to open the door I noticed the light in the living room was on. I decided to go take another long walk to clear my head. Not that I needed it. All afternoon as I rode the bus back I had been thinking of the new developments.
Jim Spencer was going to nail me if I didn't find a way to turn over Matt to him. I had seen the venom in his cold face and I knew there was no escape. If I didn't turn Matt over, then Jim Spencer would turn me over to the Homeland Security department. He had made that clear. I would have to sacrifice Matt if I was to survive.
I walked back to the Dairy Queen and bought a large Coca-Cola. Strode into the park and sat on one of the benches, idly watching the group of baseball players. They seemed young and without a care in the world.
My phone rang. I shuddered as I glanced at it. Matt was calling. There was no need to hide any longer. Sooner or later I would have to go into that apartment and just find the evidence that Jim Spencer needed. Part of this evidence would definitely involve stealing the black laptop and giving it to Jim Spencer. Matt was under clear instructions not to use the internet and especially not to use any social media. But I had constantly seen him use Facebook under many false aliases. All I needed was to sneak out the laptop to Jim Spencer and let him download the data.
I wondered what else I could do to incriminate Matt.
“Yes Matt?” I answered the ringing phone.
“Where are you? You've been gone for so long.”
“I am over here at the park. I will be home in half an hour. Just watching the baseball players.”
“I will be right over.” he said and hung up.
Too bad, I thought to myself. I would have to face Matt sooner than later. Might as well be now.
Five minutes later Matt strolled into the park and sat by my side. He slid his arm across my shoulder and pulled me close to him. I didn't resist. I needed the warmth of another human being. Even if it was this guy I was plotting to betray in the next few days. It was for my survival, I reasoned. It was either him or me. And he had survived tougher times so obviously he would survive this one more betrayal.
“How was your day? I was worried about you.” he asked.
“Not too bad. I went downtown and spent the day just walking through the maze. The maze that connects the Minneapolis buildings.”
“Yeah, I know it. Often walked there myself when I needed to think and just lose myself observing people.”
“Really, you need to do that sometimes?”
“Of course. I remember when Sue divorced me and took everything I had. Remember I told you that story of my first marriage? Well, I spent a lot of time walking that maze and walking around Lake Calhoun. It's amazing how walking ten m
iles a day will help you refocus your energies.
We continued watching the baseball game in silence. Then he resumed our conversation.
"But tell me, did you meet anybody interesting?” he was studying me in a strange way. His eyes glazed over, like he didn't want me to know what he was thinking.
“Why do you ask?”
“Because, I am still waiting for you to give me an answer. You still haven't said whether we are going back to our original plan of getting married next month. Atieno, I still love you.”
"What the hell are you talking about? Aren't you supposed to be helping me meet someone? "
"You don't seem to be making any progress there."
"You are right. Nobody seems to invite me for a second date. Give me some more time to think about it. But truthfully, I don't know what to do. The recent events have really thrown me. Give me some time to grow to trust you again. If you have told me the entire truth, I am sure we can get past it. But I do need time.”
“Anything you need to know, please ask. I am desperate to have you by my side for the rest of our lives.”
“Matt, you have told me the entire truth, haven't you?” I asked him once more.
I wanted to give him one more chance to tell me the truth, now that I had heard Jim Spencer's version of the truth. One thing I had learnt in life was that there were always three sides to the story. In this case, there were ten or more versions. There was the version that Matt had told me. There was the version that Jim Spencer had told me. The one Wahala had told me. And somewhere in there was the hidden truth.
“Yes.” he responded. “As I trust you have.”
“I have nothing to hide.” I said.
“Are you sure about that?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
“I cooked. Let's go back to the house.”
“What did you cook?”
I was surprised that I was able to carry on the mundane conversation. In the distance I saw the baseball players packing their stuff and getting into their cars ready to drive off. The sun was slowly setting and the orange sky was absolutely beautiful.
