“What’s with women and kicking guys in the balls?” says Carmen. “I think woman just like doing it. It don’t work! I kicked my guy in the balls, and all it did was make him madder.
Carmen speaks directly to Helen, “You see how I call him “my guy”? It’s not what they do to your body, as much as your mind. That bastard worked his way into my life…forever. That’s why he’s ‘my guy.’”
Carmen then addresses the entire group, “You see, women got it all wrong. They go for the wrong set of balls. There’s only one way to stop a guy. …It takes guts, but it’s the only way.”
She leans forward in her chair and whispers as if she were sharing some dark, ancient secret. “When he’s on top of you, start acting like you’re into it…like you’re enjoying it. Start going, ‘Oh baby, oh baby…you’re so good’… They like stuff like that. Then you run your hands through his hair and over his face. When you’ve got him off guard, ram both your thumbs into the outer side of his eye sockets…real hard…till both his eyeballs pop out!”
A cry of horror and disgust comes from the group of women.
“Oh, I could never do anything like that!” says Marion.
“It’s the only way,” says Carmen. “Ram his eyeballs right out of his head!”
“I guess he’ll see things your way after that!” says Sylvia.
Carmen and Sylvia laugh out loud. The other women sit shocked and silent – as is Helen.
***
Back in her room, lying in bed, Helen thinks about what she heard that day. Angela is wrong; the group session did not help her in any way. She did not learn anything about herself or the way she feels or how she can cope. One saving grace is she knows now what she does not want to become.
***
It is a day later. Helen and Richard sit in front of Angela’s desk. Helen is no longer in a wheelchair.
“Thank you for being here for Helen today, Richard,” says Angela. “What I’m going to say concerns both of you so I’ll come right to the point.” She looks directly at Helen, “I’m afraid what you’ve feared all along has come true. Helen…you are pregnant.”
There is a long moment of unbearable silence. Helen stares straight ahead – not blinking.
Richard bursts out aloud, “Well, what we need to do is to set up an abortion as soon as possible.”
“That will be Helen’s call,” Angela insists.
“Hey, what’s this?” Richard’s voice is angry. “First, you ask me here and tell me it concerns me, and then you tell me I haven’t any say in the matter!”
“Helen must be our first concern. She’s the one who will have to live with the decision.”
“Oh, and I don’t!” Richard hollers. “You’re supposed to be a doctor. You think anything other than an abortion is the right choice?”
“There are physical and mental repercussions to having an abortion as well. It’s not just done flippantly!”
“Stop it…both of you!” Helen cries, grasping her hands on the arms of her chair. “I need time to think.”
Richard calms down; he reaches over and places his hand on Helen’s. He looks as if he will cry at any moment. “Sweetheart, we can start fresh. We can still keep trying to have a baby. The doctors never said it was impossible, only difficult. There’s still a chance.”
“I need time to think,” Helen whimpers.
“We can be happy again, I swear. If we have to, we can adopt. At least it would be a child of our own choosing. …But not this child…not this child!”
Part of Helen believes everything Richard says to be true. Why she will not agree to an immediate abortion is something even she does not understand – but she just can’t.
“Helen, please!” Richard pleads. “Don’t do this to me…to us. …Another man’s baby…and this baby won’t even look like mine!”
“I need…”
“You need time!” Richard’s voice booms. “To do what – keep us from moving on with our lives?”
“I’m sorry, Richard. I’ll have to ask you to leave,” Angela forcibly interjects. “I think it would be best if Helen and I talked alone now.”
“Please, Richard…no more,” Helen begs, rubbing her hand on his. “I can’t take this…please, for me?”
Richard looks into her eyes. He sees such pain there – it makes him feel horribly uncomfortable. He tears away from her hold. He feels sorry for her, but it is clear in his mind what steps need taking at this point. He rises without a word and storms out the office, slamming the door behind him.
“I’ve got to go home. I’ve been here too long. I can’t deicide anything here. I need to clear my head. …I want to go home,” Helen cries.
“What about Richard?”
“Oh, he’s just feeling hurt. He’ll calm down in time. He’s a lot more bark than bite.”
“Well, why don’t we give him that time…to calm down? We’ll schedule your release for the day after tomorrow. But I want to set up weekly office visits for you with me…for a while.”
Helen’s eyes are misty. She speaks, “Angela, what would you do? If you were in my shoes, what would you do?”
“I’ve always been a firm believer in a woman’s choice, and that includes giving birth as well as abortion. I’ll stand behind whatever you decide, but I can’t tell you what to do…that’s up to you. I know it’s incredibly difficult, but it all rests on you.”
“Do you?” Helen asks. “You have no idea how difficult this is.”
Angela turns in her chair. She stares out the window as she speaks, “Being the head of a hospital’s Rape Recovery Program isn’t a job you choose…it chooses you.”
“You mean…you…?” Helen whispers.
“Yes…years ago.”
“And was there a child?”
“Yes…there was a child.” Angela’s voice cracks slightly.
“And what did you do?”
“I’d rather not say; I don’t want to influence your decision. I’m your doctor. I should never have told you this much.”
“Then, not as a doctor but as a friend…tell me what you did.”
Angel turns to face Helen. “As a friend? I carried the child…full term. Then I gave it up for adoption. I never even asked if it was a boy or a girl…I didn’t want to know. He or she must be in their late twenties by now.”
“And…was it the right decision?”
Angela pauses, turns her gaze once more out the window, and thinks aloud, “I don’t know…I don’t think I’ll ever know.”
CHAPTER TWO
Do You Like Flowers?
At home, Helen finds it nearly impossible to relax or sleep, her mind consumed only with thoughts of her problem pregnancy. She tries to fill the long hours, but nothing captures her full attention. She tries to do some work at home. Carol, her assistant from Colony Home and Life, delivers some papers for her to review, but she finds it difficult to concentrate.
Though she feels ashamed to admit it, she is thankful Richard’s work on the Montreal deal keeps him away from town most of the time. When he is in town, he often works long hours and comes home late in the night. Helen feels the weight of his body as he slowly gets into bed, gently trying not to wake her. But she is awake. She pretends to be sleeping, afraid of confrontation. When Richard is home, he is cordial, polite, and loving to a point. Intimacy is something Richard does not feel comfortable initiating. He wants to give her space. He believes she’ll let him know when and if. As for Helen, for the moment she is not sure if she’ll ever feel comfortable being intimate again. Angela tells her this is common and will soon pass. But for the moment, it doesn’t seem as if it ever will. Helen is grateful Richard hasn’t tried anything.
Neither one of them mention the pregnancy or possible abortion. Helen strongly believes Richard is right – an abortion is the only sensible solution. But a spark somewhere deep inside her prevents her from moving ahead with it.
“I know this child,” she thinks silently. “I don’t understand how, but
it’s not a stranger to me. …I know this child!”
Whenever Richard is away, Helen’s parents visit her, bringing take-out from restaurants so she doesn’t have to prepare something. These dinners are exhausting and trying for Helen. Like Richard, her parents became tight lipped, skirting the issue. Save for tidbits of local gossip offered by her mother, they often eat in silence.
Surprisingly, Helen learns during one such dinner that her parents know of the pregnancy – Richard told them. Perhaps he wants to recruit them as allies in his demand for an abortion or thinks if her parents are in the know it puts her under pressure to be of the same mind as his wishes. Helen should be mad with him for doing so, but she never mentions it to Richard. So much of the fight in her has left her recently. She avoids conflict whenever possible.
Sadly, Helen receives no other visitors. She realizes her and Richard’s demanding work schedules not only impinged on their intimate personal life, but destroyed their social life as well. The only time her spirit slightly approaches being calm is when she sits, staring out the back window at the garden with Chelsea, her cat, sleeping on her lap. Sweet Chelsea, her unconditional love and affection Helen always valued – especially now going through the most trying time of her life.
Twice a week, she drives to the hospital for a session with Angela. Helen holds mix feelings about these meetings. On one hand, it feels good to let go of some of what is going on inside her, but on the other hand, hashing over the same thoughts and feelings over and over makes them seem larger. Her life feels like it is spiraling downward with no stopping in sight.
She yearns to return to work where she can find solace and fill empty hours. She seriously considers calling her boss and asking to return to work. After all, she is no longer covered in bandages, and what slight discoloration she still has, makeup will easily cover. She believes if she goes back to work, the distraction will give her some release and a little of her sanity back.
“I’ve been thinking of going back to work, but I’m not sure if it’s too soon. Do you think it would be the right move? I’m not sure what I should do.”
“What do you feel you should do?” This is Angela’s stock answer to most of all Helen’s questions – answering a question with a question. This repetition only makes Helen feel more hopeless.
Helen is so close to calling the office and declaring herself fit for duty – just this close – but for some unknown reason, she can’t bring herself to make the call. Then the straw that breaks the camel’s back unexpectedly arrives at her front doorstep.
***
Helen slowly and cautiously opens the front door where she meets with a face from her past – a man she has not seen in many years, yet still easily recognizable. It’s Father Kelly from church. His face is still ruddy and round, even rounder when he smiles. Much of his hair is now gone, and what remains is thin and gray. Lines in his face have deepened and his skin is wrinkled. Even without a clerical collar, which he always wears, Helen easily recognizes him. She will always remember Father Kelly.
She invites him in and escorts him into the living room.
“Please, sit down, Father. Can I offer something? Would you like some…” she hesitates a moment. What do you offer a priest? she thinks. “Would you like some tea?”
“Tea sounds fine,” he says, his round face glowing. His small eyes and large smile are reminiscent of the Man in the Moon.
Helen excuses herself to the kitchen where she franticly searches for tea bags she believes are still somewhere in the back of the pantry.
All her life, she has known Father Kelly. When she was little attending parochial school, she view him as a large and authoritative figure. She trembled whenever he entered the classroom. As a child, Helen’s parents always took her to Sunday services, and there was Father Kelly on the altar, looming over the congregation like some great saint from the Bible. Now, years later, as a full-grown woman, her hands still tremble as she makes the tea, knowing Father Kelly is waiting in the next room. Good gracious, it’s like having Moses over for afternoon tea.
She knows he came at the request of her parents – most likely, at her mother’s asking. She feels angry. How could her mother do such a thing? This is so awkward; she has not been to church in years. She knows why he has come, and she is unquestionably not in the mood for a lecture.
She sits down opposite Father Kelly, places the tea tray in front of her on the coffee table, and pours out two cups. She isn’t sure what to say, so she waits to hear what he has to tell her. He takes a sip of tea and then places the cup down.
“How are you feeling, Helen? You have been in my prayers every night since I heard.”
“My parents sent you here, didn’t they?” Helen wants to come straight to the point. She doesn’t want to prolong the uncomfortable feeling she’s having. Besides, she is mad – mad with Richard for telling her parents, mad with her parents for telling Father Kelly and whoever else might know.
Ever since the night she was attacked, she’d been losing control of her life. She instantly realizes that if she is ever to get her life back, it will be up to her alone. And that will never happen until she stands up and begins to take it back.
“Yes, they did…because they love you…as does Richard, and so do many other people who care for you.”
“And this has less to do with my rape as it does with being pregnant, doesn’t it, Father? Well, if I want to have this baby, it will be my decision. If I want an abortion, it will be my decision…not Holy Mother Church!”
Father Kelly is taken aback by Helens straight forwardness. As well, Helen has surprised herself. Yet, inwardly she is pleased with her action. And for the first time in a long time, she feels as if control is returning to her.
“My dear,” says Father Kelly, “you misunderstand my purposes. The Holy Mother Church is not without sympathy. Abortion is wrong…but…”
Helen waits for the other shoe to drop.
“But there are certain circumstances where abortion is not a sin. And I believe this is such a circumstance. If you allow me to go before the Bishop for you, I believe I could get you special dispensation…to have an abortion.”
Helen is nearly in shock. Her mouth drops open. “You mean to tell me, the Church wants me to get an abortion?”
“No, of course not. …I’m just saying under the circumstances, I believe, the Church might grant absolution for you to do so.”
Helen’s mind is swimming. She’s had enough. All her life, the Church told her what is right and wrong. Now the same authority that imbedded such notions in her mind wants to retract their once unmovable decision.
“Father, with all due respect, I thank you for coming, but I’m not feeling well, and I’d like you to leave.”
“Oh, of course…but think about what I’ve said,” Father Kelly says as Helen shows him to the door. Before leaving, he makes one last plea. “Just think about what I’ve said. If you need me, just call the church.”
She resists the urge to slam the door when he leaves. She closes it gently, turns and leans against the door.
Helen doesn’t want to think about it. This is the last straw. She picks up the phone and dials her boss.
“Tracy? This is Helen. …Oh, just fine. …Listen…I’m sure I’m ready to come back to work. …Sure, I’m sure. …Monday? Monday will be fine. …In fact, it sounds great. …See you then.”
***
Seated behind her old desk, a sense of normalcy comes over Helen. There are piles of backlogged paperwork needing sorting through. Usually, she cursed the mountains of paper, but now she feels thankful for every sheet.
Carol brings her a cup of coffee.
Carol Hastings, Helen’s assistant, is short with a robust figure. She carries herself well and dresses in plain business style. Her dishwater-blond hair is always kept short and neat. She enjoys working for Helen, and it shows by her willingness and enthusiasm to please.
“So, Carol, how have things been while I was gone?”
“Same old, same old…you know.” Carol hesitates for a moment to think and then decides to come out with what is on her mind. “Those two detectives…”
“You mean Goebel and Benson?”
“Yeah, those two…Well, they came by a few times and questioned just everybody…especially the men…or I should say the black men who work here?”
“And, what happened?”
“Most of the guys took it all in strides, but it did piss some of them off. They didn’t take kindly to being a suspect. I’d be careful with what I say, if I were you. There’s a small handful who blame you.”
This conversation with Carol is the closest anyone at the office comes to recognizing what happened to her. Of course, all her coworkers stop for a moment at her office door to inquire how she is feeling. But there is no direct questioning from any of them. It is all done with a false air of an illness, as if she had been out with the flu or broken a leg from a skiing accident. This is fine with Helen.
She is not looking pregnant, yet. She is sure no one knows about that. She looks forward to the next few weeks of playing catch-up with her job and pushing all other thoughts to the back burner of her mind. And that is exactly what she does.
But there is still fear one of her coworkers is her assailant. She finds herself staring at all the black men she meets, trying to size them up in her mind.
From indirect contact, the number of possible suspects at Colony Home and Life range from twenty or thirty. But direct contact, she can only think of three.
There is Tito who works in maintenance, but he is from Trinidad, with a distinct accent he surely can never hide successfully.
Next is John Pierce, supervisor over payments. John physically matches the description, but not the profile. He is a kindhearted, churchgoing, temperate man – dedicated to his job, his beautiful wife, Tina, and his two lovely children, Lateasha and Trent, both under five years old. It seems a near impossibility to consider John would do such an act. Still, stranger things happen in the world. Though it is unlikely, Helen does not exclude John from her mental line-up.
Defiled Page 3
