In The Cage

by Sandy Kline

  “I am so sorry babe.”

  Jake wraps his huge arms around me and I just fold into his lap and let him comfort me. After a few minutes Diego notices and comes to investigate.

  “Are you sad about Ethan again?” Diego asks me.

  “Yes honey. I was just telling Jake what happened and it made mommy sad again.”

  “Are you gonna be okay?”

  “Of course honey. I’ll always miss your brother and be sad about it but I’ll always be okay.”

  “Can I watch more cartoons then?”

  “Of course you can, but in an hour we have to move. The hotel needs this room for another guest. We’re going to a new place.”

  “When is our vacation going to be over mom? I miss my home and my friends.”

  “I know you do sweetie. Mom has a few more things to do first and I promise we’ll do some fun things too.”

  “Okay mom.”

  Chapter Eight

  Answers and Even More Questions

  When our time is up we move to another hotel not far so we can still be by the water. This time we end up at the Berkeley Marina Hotel. I pay for a week in advance. While we’re settling in Jake heads off to see Jamarcus to get back into training and to talk about the upcoming fight. Both men are worried about what the promoters may try to do to top the last three man stunt they pulled off at the last underground event. It was nice to have him around but it’s also nice that he’s gone for a bit. I don’t know if he believes my whole story and it stresses me out wondering if he’s sitting there wondering if I killed my child and am trying to pin it on my ex-husband. Or he may be thinking that I am in California to exact my revenge on him and I am responsible for his disappearance. Both those stories seem more plausible than the truth at this point.

  Over the next couple days Jake is busy with his training so I use the time to play with Diego and take him to places he likes to go. We also see his new favorite movie, Guardians of the Galaxy, two times. He just can’t get enough of that flick. One afternoon after seeing the movie for a record third time Diego asks some hard questions.

  “Mom, what are we doing in California? And don’t tell me it’s our vacation. What’s wrong mom?”

  “Why did we suddenly have to move to California?”

  “Sweetie, you’re a big boy now. And because you are I think you can handle some truths. But first I have a few questions of my own. Is that okay Diego? Can I ask a couple questions first?”

  “Sure mom.”

  He sounds confident but I can tell he is afraid.

  “Sweetie, what did I tell you before we came to California? Did I tell you why we came here? Did I give you another reason other than a vacation? And…this question is going to sound really weird, but how long have we been in California. Do you remember when we left?”

  “Yes.”

  “Really?”

  “I remember because it was Ethan’s birthday.”

  “What?” My mouth drops open.

  That cannot be right. But somehow I know it is. We always celebrate his birthday; Ethan’s. I always give Diego a toy so I know he remembers the day and the last birthday we celebrated was almost two months ago. We have been living out of hotels in California for two months and I don’t remember a single day before I met Jake. Well, not exactly. I do remember seeing a fight with Taylor. At least I think it was a true memory but I can’t be certain. All I know is that for some reason I have lost two months of my life and I’m pretty sure I was drugged or poisoned or something like that.

  “Momma…are you okay?”

  “Yeah…it’s just that mommy can’t remember any of the last two months. I don’t remember Ethan’s last birthday and I don’t remember anything up until the night I met Jake a few days ago.”

  “Is that even possible?” Diego asks with a healthy dose of skepticism.

  “Before this week I would have told you no.”

  “But now…”

  “Now I know something was done to me and that’s why I don’t remember anything. Maybe you can put together things for me that might jog my memory.”

  “Over the next half hour Diego recounts some of the different things we did each day but nothing clicks. The one disturbing detail I am able to pick up from all this is that for some reason every night I went out leaving Diego with a sitter. That’s bizarre because I never leave Diego at night with anyone.”

  “Oh wait, there was that time a couple weeks ago when you went out Friday evening and you said you’d be back by midnight.”

  “Oh my god, I was late wasn’t I? Was the sitter pissed? I’m so sorry honey.”

  “Yeah she was super mad. That’s why she quit and you had to find another sitter.”

  “Really? That’s kind of picky.”

  “You really don’t remember?” He asks, mystified.

  “I’m sorry sweetie; I don’t remember ever being late.”

  “You didn’t come back until Monday afternoon.”

  “What the…are you kidding me? I left Friday night and did not come back until Monday?”

  “I was scared mom. I thought something happened.”

  “How come the sitter didn’t call the cops?”

  “Because I told her you are an undercover cop and you couldn’t leave and come home in the middle of an important case. I told her not to blow your cover and this kind of thing happens all the time.”

  “Honey I am so sorry. Something was wrong with me sweetie. Mommy would have never left you if she would have been in her right mind. Here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to buy you a phone. A cell phone so you can call me any time and I’ll always answer. That way you always know I’m okay. Sound like a plan.”

  “Does this mean you’ll leave again?”

  “I don’t know. I may have to but I promise I will always come home in the night. No overnight stuff; got it?”

  “Pinky swear?” He asks, holding up his pinky.

  I hook my own pinky in his. “I pinky swear that I will never leave you home overnight and that I will always come back the same night.”

  That seems to satisfy him for now and his thoughts return to cartoons. That’s fine with me. I really want to talk to Jake. I need to unscramble my head somehow. Since he lives here maybe he knows a doctor who does hypnotherapy. I’ve had several friends who have had good successes remembering forgotten things with hypnotherapy. Maybe it’ll work for me.

  “Diego, mom’s going to go out on the deck and get some sun and talk to Jake.”

  He waves his hand to acknowledge my words but his eyes are glued to the TV. I sit out on a reclining chair and call Jake. He doesn’t answer the first call so I try two more times with no success. I decide to just close my eyes and relax. Maybe if I think hard enough about what Diego told me I may remember some things on my own. I’m about ten minutes into my fruitless attempts at remembering when Jake actually calls me back.

  ‘Hi Jake.”

  “You called three times, is everything okay?”

  “I called you three times, what do you think?”

  “Yeah…I guess not. You want me to come over?” He asks.

  “Is it possible? I don’t want to wreck your workout routine.”

  “No, it’s cool.” He says. “I wouldn’t have called back if I couldn’t have been available to you. You at your new digs?”

  “Berkeley Marina Hotel.”

  “I know the place. I can be there in about 45 minutes. I want to take a shower if you don’t mind. Or I can take a shower at your place…” He says wistfully.

  “Nice try buddy. Diego’s here and there’s no way we’d get away with it. Believe me I’d like nothing more than to shower with you.”

  “Alright, see you in a bit then.”

  “Bye.”

  About an hour later he’s at the door knocking. I open the door and take advantage of a hall empty of people or my curious son. As I melt into his body I can feel something stiff and vigorously poking against my nether regions.

&n
bsp; “Really?” I say to him. “Have you no control over that thing?” I ask him. “Are we teenagers suddenly?”

  “Is it so bad to be wanted like this?” He asks me.

  “It is when my son is in the next room and I can guarantee his radar ears are snooping on us the second I opened the door. And you can bet he’s counting he seconds until we come into the living room. If we take too long there’ll be questions you may not want to answer right now.”

  “You’re right of course. Let’s go in.”

  Soon as Jake walks in Diego is suddenly not interested in cartoons.

  “Jake!” He exclaims “You’re back.”

  “Yeah buddy I’m back. What are you up to my man?”

  “Watching cartoons, wanna watch with me.”

  “Umm…maybe in a sec. Your mom’s got something she wants to run by me. Give me a few minutes and I’ll join ya.”

  “Promise?”

  “Yeah…I promise.”

  Satisfied, Diego goes back to his program and I lead Jake out to the balcony. We both take seats.

  “So what’s up Christine?”

  “I uh…talked to Diego this morning. Trying to get any clues as to why I can’t remember the last week or so of my life.”

  “Did it help?”

  “Yes and no. I thought I have been here for a week, maybe two at most but turns out I’ve been here a couple months yet I have no memory of any of it.”

  “Two months? Are you kidding me?”

  “I wish was. That’s not even the worst of it.”

  “Do I even wanna know?”

  “There was a three day period where I kinda disappeared. Fortunately the sitter stayed and didn’t call the cops on me. She thought I was an undercover cop on assignment.”

  “Why’d she think that?” Jake asks.

  “That’s the story Diego gave the sitter. Must have been pretty convincing because she believed him.”

  “Smart kid you got.”

  “Yeah, he really is.”

  “So what can I do for you?”

  “I wanna try something to help me get my memory back; especially that three day period soon after I got here.”

  “What, you mean like regression therapy?”

  “Hypnotherapy. You know anyone who does that?”

  “That’s for real? I always thought it was a bunch of hocus pocus, not a legitimate form of psychotherapy.”

  “I have a few friends who have benefitted from it. So I guess you don’t know anyone who does that?”

  “I have an acquaintance who is a child and family therapist. She’ll probably know someone who does that.”

  “Could you call her?”

  “Sure.”

  Jake digs out his cell phone, looks up a number and dials it. He waits for a second then talks.

  “Hey Amber, it’s Jake.” He says. Then after a pause. “I’m good, how are you?”

  Jake chit chats a bit before getting to the reason for his call. He explains the bare bones of my situation then asks her about hypnotherapy.

  “Whoa, you do that shit?” He asks.

  Then he pauses before handing me his phone. “You mind talking to her?” He asks.

  “Yeah, that’d be great.” I take his phone. “Hello?”

  Chapter Nine

  Reluctant Memories

  A half a dozen conversations later and three office visits and I am ready to try some hypnotherapy. The goal is to dredge up the memories of the three days that I left my son alone with his sitter.

  “This is not fool proof.” Dr. Frazer says.

  “What do you mean, like it won’t always work?”

  “There’s a high risk of false memories cropping up. For that reason many doctors don’t use hypnosis to recover forgotten memories. The person doing the hypnosis has to be very skilled at navigating those murky waters. It helps if someone at some point can confirm what you think you have remembered. Any ‘memories’ that come up in our sessions will seem real whether they are or not. You won’t be able to tell the difference between the real ones and the ones your brain may decide to fabricate.

  “Remind me why we’re doing this then…”

  “Because I am skilled at this. Detectives in the sex crimes unit often use my services and I have spent quite a few hours in court giving expert testimony. Unlike many doctors who use hypnosis, I do know what I’m doing.”

  “Okay…let’s try then.”

  I make myself comfortable in the recliner and take a deep breath as she begins. I’m not even sure this is going to work on me and I’m totally surprised when it does. My eyes grow heavy and my breathing slows as I fall deeper and deeper into a relaxed state.

  “What the hell you doing here bitch?” A powerfully familiar male voice asks.

  I whip around on my stool and sitting at the bar next to me is none other than my ex-husband, Robert King, or as he is known in the MMA circuit King of Pain.

  “You been stalking me?” He asks.

  I had forgotten just how big he is. The man is massive. He stands about six feet seven inches and weighs about…I don’t know, three hundred pounds maybe. Muscles bulge everywhere I look, even in places where muscles shouldn’t be. The man’s an ogre. Even when he doesn’t have his perpetual scowl on his face he’s as scary as hell.

  “How’s the kid?”

  “How do know about Diego?” I ask suddenly very alarmed.

  “Who the fuck’s Diego? I was talking about Ethan.”

  “How do you think he is asshole?”

  “Well since I haven’t seen you in…in a decade more or less I was just wondering how our son is.”

  “Are you serious? Are you fucking serious?” I ask. My voice is rising from harsh whispers to outright shouting. “Tell me you remember the night you and Boomer trashed my house and walked out on us.”

  “I remember we were looking for something…” He replies guardedly.

  “What were you looking for?”

  “I don’t know… money maybe?” He finally says.

  “You have Alzheimer’s or something?” I ask. “Because I remember every last detail of that night shithead!” I’m beginning to lose it and people are starting to stare. They’re probably wondering how a five foot four inch girl can stand up to a behemoth like King. They’re probably waiting for him to pick me up and break me in half.

  “Look lady, I don’t know what you’re here for or what you want but I can’t help you so go find another bar to drink in.”

  “You want me to go away? Just admit to what you did that night and I’ll walk out of here right now and go back to Oregon.”

  “Yeah we trashed your house…our house, so fucking what?”

  “What else? I ask him. “What the fuck else did you do that night?”

  “Whatever you say I did I probably did it. There… satisfied?”

  “I want you to say it. Say what you did to us.”

  “Wait a fucking second. You wearing a wire?”

  “Of course not!”

  “You get the fuck out of here bitch! I ain’t coping to something I didn’t do.”

  He gets up off his stool. The backs of his legs hit it, knocking it to the floor with a crash. Patrons on either side of us scatter. I jump off my own stool and stumble backwards. My burner phone that is recording our every word pops out of my pocket and falls to the floor.

  “You bitch!” King shouts. “You were recording me.”

  He looks down at the phone as I scramble to pick it up. My fingers just about get to it before a heavy black boot crashes down onto it crushing it into a thousand tiny pieces. I snatch my hand back thankful my fingers didn’t get the same treatment as my phone.

  “You fucking piece of trash.” King rages. “You think you can stalk me and trick me into confessing to something I didn’t do, and you actually think you can just walk out of here after that?”

  With surprising speed King snatches my wrist and pulls me after him as he stocks out of the bar with me in tow. I’m terrifie
d, but I also know he’s not going to do anything. Not after half the patrons in the place saw us arguing and him dragging me out.

  “You can’t do shit to me Randy. I got fifty witnesses that saw you drag me out of here. You can’t be that stupid!”

  “Who said I’m going to do anything?” He says, then points to a white van entering the parking lot. “He might though.”

  Quickly the white van pulls up to us. The side door opens up and Boomer steps out. He’s got a black hood in his hands and several lengths of rope. How could these guys have planned this? I mean, clearly they did. Time to scream!

  “Stop! Somebody help me please!”

  “Christine!” A woman’s voice shouts. “Christine wake up!”

  Suddenly my eyes fly open and the first thing I see instead of Boomer and King is Doctor Frazer. My body shakes uncontrollably as my brain tries to make sense of what just happened. I was just being thrown into a white van and now this woman appears. I shut my eyes and shake my head like that will erase what just happened.

  “Christine…open your eyes. You’re safe here. Nothing and no one can hurt you here.”

  I open my eyes again. My doctor is still kneeling in front of me with a concerned look on her face.

  “What did you just remember?” She asks me.

  After I relay what I just remembered, I just have one question for her.

  “What I just went through…this memory I just had, was that a true memory of something totally fucked up that my sick mind just fabricated?”

  “Did you think you were ever kidnapped?” She asks me.

  “Hell no! I didn’t even know about those missing days until my son told me about it.”

  “Sadly I think what you have remembered may be a true memory. But to know for certain we would have to have a second party corroborate your story. Tell me, do you know the name of the bar you were in?”

  “I’m guessing it’s that bar where the bikers and fighters like to hang out in; Carburetor I think it is.”