The Cost of Commitment - KJ2

by Lynn Ames

  personal haven and buffer from the rest of the world, now seemed empty and cold without her lover in it. Even Fred was feeling a bit blue. Rather than running around the house with a stuffed toy in his mouth, he was lying on his bed, moping.

  As if on cue, the phone rang.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, my love.”

  “Hey, sweetheart. How’s it going?” Kate tried to push the pain in her head aside.

  “Oh, Kate, it’s amazing. I spent the day today talking with a Navajo singer, or medicine woman. So much of their approach to medicine is about healing the spirit. They use sand paintings that take days to produce to help the patient restore harmony and balance with their environment. Then, when the ceremony is done, they destroy the painting! I wasn’t allowed to see a completely correct painting, because the Navajo believe that will invite evil spirits, but the singer did show me one being created for artistic purposes.”

  Although Kate was somewhat familiar with Native American healing rituals, she kept quiet, preferring to let Jay share her excitement.

  “Oh, Kate, it’s so different from our scientifically based approach.”

  “Yes, it is.” The amusement was clear in Kate’s response.

  “I’m sorry, love. Here I am, going on and on.”

  “I love hearing you go on and on when you’re excited about something. I’m glad you’re enjoying the experience, sweetheart. Sounds like it will make a great story.”

  “Oh, yes. Over the next few days I’m going to travel with the singer to the various parts of the reservation. It’s such an eclectic mix of traditional Navajo ways and western cultural influence. For instance, they may live in a hogan, but they have television. Go figure.”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  Jay paused a beat. “As much as I’m happy to be here learning new things, I miss you, Kate.”

  “I miss you, too, baby. The house seems awfully empty without you.

  Even Fred is sulking.”

  “Aw. I’ll buy him an extra stuffed toy for Christmas.”

  “He’ll appreciate that.”

  “Oh my God. I almost forgot. Speaking of Christmas, you’ll never believe it. My mother called and left me a message at the office, which she never does. She wants me to come visit so we can have an old-fashioned Christmas like we used to do when I was a kid. It was about the only day I looked forward to all year. This would be the first Christmas I’ve actually celebrated since I left for college.” Jay prattled on excitedly, “Of course, I told her I would never come unless you were Lynn Ames

  invited, too, so she agreed. I figured we could fly out there the day before and leave the day after. What do you think?”

  Kate thought her head would explode. Her pulse pounded in her ears.

  “What did you tell her?” Her voice sounded strange and strangled, even to her own ears.

  “I told her I would talk to you about it, but that it sounded great.”

  “You told her what?” Kate was incredulous.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “What’s wrong?” Kate got up and began pacing around the living room. When she got to the glittering tree that graced the corner, she turned around angrily and strode in the other direction. “What’s wrong?

  How can you ask me that? You go off and unilaterally commit us to spend Christmas with your parents, a father who abused you for years and a mother who stood by and allowed it to happen, and you want to know what’s wrong?”

  “They are my parents, the only set I have,” Jay answered hotly, “and they are reaching out to me. Why can’t you be happy about that?”

  “They aren’t reaching out to you, Jay, they’re trying to get you home so they can talk some sense into you. Don’t you get it? They’ve just found out you’re gay and hooked up with some disgraced woman, and they want to get their hands on you to straighten you out again.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  Kate made a noise of disgust. “It’s as obvious as the nose on my face.”

  “Yeah, because you know my parents so well,” Jay retorted sarcastically.

  “I don’t have to know them to know what they’re up to. Do you think they’re the first parents to think that if they could just talk to their child they could show her the error of her ways and fix her?”

  “Oh, so now let’s generalize. You have no idea what my parents are about.”

  “You’re right. I can’t fathom a father who would do to his daughter what yours did, and I can’t abide a mother who would stand by and do nothing to stop it. I have absolutely zero desire to meet your parents, Jay.

  None. Zippo. If you want to spend our first Christmas with them, so be it.

  You’ll do it without me.”

  “Great. Here I thought I could finally go home and feel safe there because I’d have you by my side, and you won’t even give me that.

  Guess I know where I stand.”

  “If you want to look at it like that, which is ridiculous by the way, then how should I feel about the fact that it’s our first Christmas together, and you don’t even want to spend it with me alone?”

  The Cost of Commitment

  “You haven’t once mentioned Christmas and any plans for us. Now all of a sudden I’m supposed to know you had this big plan? What am I supposed to do, read your mind?”

  “No, Jay,” Kate said bitterly, “you’re supposed to know how much I love you, which might have led you to believe that I had something planned.”

  “Sorry,” Jay said, “the crystal ball’s in for repairs and my Vulcan mind meld’s a little off. I’ll just call my mother and tell her we can’t make it.”

  “Don’t bother,” Kate said resignedly, “I’ll go with you.”

  “No. I wouldn’t want you to have to spend Christmas with the family from hell.”

  “Jay...”

  “Never mind. Anyway, I’ve got to go. I’ll be out of touch for a few days because the reservation is a big place and we’ll be traveling around a lot.”

  “Jay...”

  “So I’ll talk to you later in the week. Bye, Kate.”

  Kate sat there, a dial tone buzzing in her ear, wondering how a conversation that had started off so well had gone so horribly wrong.

  Was that her fault? Why couldn’t Jay, who was so smart, see what her parents were trying to do? Why did she want to have anything to do with her father, especially? It made no sense to Kate. She looked at the tree, with its shiny balls and tinsel, her dreams for a beautiful, private Christmas shattered, and cried.

  Half a country away, Jay was crying, too. Why couldn’t Kate understand that her parents were her parents, regardless of their faults and flaws? She thought about a conversation she’d had several months earlier with Barbara.

  Jay twisted her hands in her lap. “Maybe one of the hardest things is that my feelings about my parents are so muddled.” She looked up at Barbara, who had listened to her entire story in silence, nodding with compassionate understanding and offering a reassuring touch when appropriate.

  “Do you think it’s possible to love someone and hate them at the same time?”

  “Of course,” Barbara said gently.

  Jay struggled with her thoughts. “I’m not saying that quite right. I guess what I mean is, is it strange to hate the things that my father did to me but still want to have a normal relationship with my parents?”

  Lynn Ames

  “I don’t think so. Everyone wants the kind of family they know they should have had growing up. As an adult, you still crave that, and it’s natural that you should.”

  “In spite of everything?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “I’ve tried to explain it to Kate. You know, how convoluted and complicated my feelings are about my parents—that I love them in a way, and want a relationship with them because they’re my folks, but that it doesn’t mean I’m okay with the way my father abused me or the way my mother turned a blind eye.”

  “Mm.”

 
“She doesn’t understand the concept of loving someone who’s caused so much damage and pain. To her, he hurt me and he doesn’t deserve to have me in his life. Period.”

  “Knowing Kate and her strong sense of right and wrong, it would be hard for her to get past your parents’ actions. Combine that with the fact that we’re talking about you—the person she loves most in the world—

  and I’m not surprised that she feels the way she does. In her mind, she’s trying to shield you from further pain, even though you’re not asking for her protection.”

  “Exactly.”

  “That must make it hard for you.”

  Jay shrugged. “A little bit. When I do talk to my parents, mostly my mother, I do it from my apartment in New York. The conversations are stilted, and I tell them nothing about my private life, but I can’t seem to divorce them entirely. I don’t really want to.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with the way you feel, Jay. There are lots of people out there who’ve been through what you have and feel the same way.”

  Jay sighed wistfully. “Maybe someday I can introduce Kate to my folks and she can see for herself that they’re not complete monsters, just flawed human beings.”

  She had hoped that, with this invitation for Christmas and her lover by her side, seeing her father wouldn’t be so difficult. Kate’s presence would act like a protective blanket, shielding her from the hurt and fear.

  Jay wanted to be able to get past those things. Going to see her parents together with her lover, she had hoped, would accomplish that. Now, she was sure she’d never get that chance.

  “Still haven’t heard from Jay?”

  “No.” Kate sat, looking utterly miserable, in Barbara’s kitchen.

  The Cost of Commitment

  “It’ll be fine, you’ll see.”

  “That’s easy for you to say. You didn’t hear how hurt and disappointed she was.”

  “And she didn’t know how much this Christmas meant to you, so you’re even.” Barbara shook her head. “What a pair.”

  “Yeah. We sure are.”

  “When’s she due back?”

  “I wish I knew. The original time frame was supposed to be ten days, which means she should be coming home the middle of next week.”

  Barbara put her hand on her friend’s arm. “She’ll be here. She loves you so much it radiates off her, Kate. You were both out of line. When she gets back you can talk through it. It’s a communication thing.”

  “I was so busy I didn’t take the time to tell her what I was thinking about doing for Christmas, and then I just decided I would surprise her. It never occurred to me that there were any other possible scenarios. I knew that she hadn’t really celebrated Christmas much in recent years, so I guess I assumed everything would go smoothly.”

  “The best laid plans and all that. And she assumed that you’d want to meet her family, despite everything.”

  “Yeah.” Kate shook her head at that. “Why would she think that?”

  “Because they’re her family, Kate, the only one she has. She’s proud of you and she wanted to show you off. Plus, there’s probably a small part of her that still wants her parents’ approval. And given their history, I suspect she thought she’d have an easier time facing her father with you by her side.”

  “I still can’t understand why she would want to have anything to do with them.”

  “Kate, have you said that to Jay?”

  “Probably.”

  “Every time you tell her how appalled you are that she would want to keep in touch with her parents, you send the message to her that, once again, she’s doing something wrong. That was a message her father fed her continually as a child. You don’t want to go there, Kate. It leaves Jay torn between a yearning to please you and her desire to maintain some sort of relationship with her parents.”

  “I hadn’t really thought of it that way. All I’ve been thinking about is what I would do to him if I ever met him. The thought of letting him in the same room with her makes me sick.”

  “I understand how you feel, but be careful, Kate. He’s her father.

  Whatever else he is, he’s still her father.”

  “An unfortunate act of birth,” Kate muttered.

  “Do yourself a favor and don’t say that to Jay.”

  Kate grunted.

  Lynn Ames

  “You need to eat.” Barbara pointed a fork at Kate’s mostly uneaten chicken Sorrento. “And when’s the last time you had a good night’s sleep? You look exhausted.”

  In truth, Kate hadn’t slept well in the two days since the conversation with Jay, and she didn’t think she would until she could hold her in her arms again and they could work through things. She had spent the previous evening shopping for presents, wrapping them, and putting them under the tree. It was a way to feel closer to Jay.

  The sound of her beeper going off startled her. She looked at the clock. 7:00 p.m. on a Saturday night, six days before Christmas, no less.

  Didn’t it just figure? Getting up and studiously ignoring Barbara’s complaints about their interrupted dinner, she went to the phone and dialed the command center.

  The Cost of Commitment

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  he incident had begun an hour and a half earlier. It had started Tsmall, with some inmates in the D yard at Attica fighting with each other, but had escalated quickly. By the time Kate arrived at the office, Commissioner Redfield and the other members of the executive team were seated around the big conference table in the command center.

  Several speakers were set up in the middle of the table, each connected to a live, dedicated telephone line inside the prison. This arrangement allowed the team around the table in Albany to hear everything happening on-site at Attica, located hundreds of miles away in the outskirts of Buffalo, in real time and to interact with the prison leadership.

  “Report,” ordered Redfield.

  A disembodied voice answered, “There are large numbers of inmates in all four recreation yards setting fire to every flammable surface. Picnic tables, garbage cans, you name it. It’s like a giant bonfire. All officers have been ordered out of all yards, and the prisoners are barricading the doors in A yard.”

  Redfield, whose face was lined with tension, barked, “I don’t want to know that there are a large number of inmates, God damn it. I want to know an exact count.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll get someone on it right away.”

  “What’s the status of getting the rest of D block back to their cells from the mess hall?”

  “That is in progress, sir.”

  “Any issues there?”

  “There are some fires being set on the various floors, sir. We’re putting those out as quickly as we can.”

  “Where are we on locking down the rest of the blocks?”

  Lynn Ames

  “We’re just waiting for dinner to be over, sir.”

  “Get them back to their cells. Now.”

  “We’re working on that, sir. Right now we’re trying to make sure we have enough manpower to supervise.”

  “Get it done.”

  “Yes, sir. Sir? I have those yard counts now.”

  “Let’s hear it.”

  “One hundred twenty-one inmates in A yard, one seventy-nine in B, two hundred twenty-one in C, and one hundred forty-four in D.”

  Redfield did a quick calculation. “Six hundred sixty-five inmates.

  Great,” he muttered.

  For two and a half more hours they sat and listened to the sounds of the disturbance, periodic reports and orders being passed back and forth.

  “They’re climbing the walls to the second and third floors from outside in the yard, using weight bars to smash in the windows.”

  “Get the officers off the roofs, except for Times Square.”

  “Yes, sir. We’ve got a meeting going on in A yard. They’re breaking into the officers’ station in D yard.”

  Kate had received several phone calls from the loca
l media in Buffalo so far about the incident, and minutes earlier, news of the riot had hit the Associated Press wire, which would no doubt blow the story open nationwide.

  Kate had expected this, since any time the name Attica came up, reporters took special notice. In September 1971 a deadly riot at the prison had made national and international news. That event was very much on her mind as she devised a strategy to handle the media this time.

  When she came back from her latest interview, the disembodied voice was saying, “They’re breaking windows in Times Square, climbing the walls, attempting to break the window frames to gain access. Right now they’re working in groups of ten to twelve at a time, taking turns.”

  “Are the Elmira, Oneida, Collins, and Auburn CERT teams there yet?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good. Tell them to get the CS gas ready in case they break through into Times Square.” Redfield looked around the table. “This is no good.

  We’ve got to go out there.” He turned to his deputy commissioner for operations, Randy Garston, a middle-aged career corrections man with a no-nonsense face. “Mobilize the Albany CERT team. Kingston and Medford are the leaders on the team, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay. I want them and their two best sharpshooters with us—that way we can strategize on the flight over there. Give the other eight team members a van, and get them on the road ASAP. Request permission to The Cost of Commitment

  use the governor’s plane. I want the following people on board in addition to the four CERT guys: deputy commissioner operations, assistant deputy commissioner operations, assistant commissioner special operations, public information officer, and me. Everybody go home and pack a bag. Bring several changes of clothes since I have no idea how long we’ll be there. Meet in the Signature terminal at the airport at 0300.”

  Heads nodded around the table as the group began to disperse.

  Kate made her way to her car. Calling out five corrections emergency response teams, or CERTs, meant the commissioner anticipated the possible use of force to end the uprising. The presence of these teams was certain to raise the alarm for reporters. It was going to be a long night. She wished more than anything that she could speak to Jay before leaving, but she still hadn’t heard from her and had no way of initiating contact herself.