I often wonder if he gave me the money now because he felt guilty about his daughter’s behavior toward me- his granddaughter, or if he just wanted me to have it in case I needed the financial help. Maybe it’s simply because I am his granddaughter and maybe he just loves me, though I doubt it most days. I don’t think I’ll actually ever know the reason why, so I should just let that question rest.
There was another hearing issued because I was not ‘legally of sound mind’, and therefore, I had to have a ‘Legal Executor’ for my Estate. Mack once again came forward. And again, I was told by Kayla, Mack had to also battle another Conflict of Interest hearing, which he won, by a hair.
My grandfather apparently hated the thought of my doctor having all medically legal and financial control over me. Inevitably, it was decided that a panel of three lawyers, subject to Mack’s approval, weigh in on my financial Estate. Therefore, Mack has the final say on my mental health; but he does not have full control over my finances. At that point, Marcus even came forward, but was quickly told to move on by my grandfather, which Marcus did, I found out later.
I guess if I didn’t trust Mack with my life, that all makes sense. As it is, I could care less what Mack does or doesn’t do with my money. He has proven himself to me time and time again. Mack is singularly the only person who has never hurt me, even once, my entire life.
It’s all a little intimidating, but Mack has fought non-stop ‘to ensure I have my freedom’, as he put it to me one night. I remember asking why he was even bothering with me, and he told me that he promised me he would never hurt me, and walking away from me would be tantamount to hurting me, but more importantly, because he likes me very much. He even grinned and shrugged, and told me I was ‘a total pain in the ass’, but ‘totally worth his time and effort’.
I remember balling my eyes out. I wanted to tell him to stop. I knew he was exhausted from dealing with me, and his other patients, and the legal proceedings, and the lawyers, and the Prosecutors, and an endless list of other things poor Mack had going on at the time. I knew his life was spiraling out of control, even as he tried to help my life gain some control. I know, because Mack looked exhausted though he would never say a word about it.
I remember begging him to let someone else help me, and he just sat beside me, took me into his arms, shrugged, and said “I won’t ever leave you to fight alone. I’m here, like I promised I would be, and I’m staying.”
After the Estate was changed to make me the sole heir, I read in the New York Times newspaper that my mother was suing me, my grandfather, a group of lawyers she said ‘illegally’ had the Estate provisions changed, and finally the hospital, and Mack as well.
Under the circumstances, my mother was advised to drop the lawsuit because apparently it would bring too much bad publicity to her other legal matters. And as a side note, she was also advised to drop her lawsuit because it would further victimize her poor, ‘mentally incapacitated’ daughter.
It’s so strange to read about yourself in the paper. I remember reading eight stories about myself, in six different newspapers. Apparently some of the people involved in my ‘bad stuff’ were quite unhappy with the turn of events, or rather, in being caught finally. They were even more pissed that their precious reputations and societal influence was diminishing.
Under Illinois State law, there is no Statute of Limitations on statutory rape. And somehow the Prosecutors managed to take possession of a very incriminating Black school book filled with photographs from my parent’s library. I’m not too sure of the exact contents of the book, but I have memories of some of it, so I know it’s pretty bad. Subsequently 6 predominant men from Chicago, two women, AND my beloved parents are being prosecuted by the State of Illinois.
I read that Mack and I were being threatened. I read that Mack had had his home and office trashed. To my horror, I read Mack had been assaulted outside the hospital one evening. I finally learned the depth of all that was taking place outside my walls. I learned of the threats and was scared to death, but not for myself... I was horrified for Mack.
I was so frightened of Mack being hurt because of me, I screamed and cried to anyone who would listen. I wanted a different doctor. I wanted and quite fruitlessly demanded to be released. I wanted them to let me go so no one at the hospital would be hurt because of me. I tried everything I could, but eventually, I was just restrained and sedated.
It was when I awoke from the sedation that Mack sat beside me, took all my newspapers away, and told me I could ask him anything. Mack promised to answer my questions truthfully but said that it was not in my best interest to read the hyped up, often misleading account of events from the newspapers...
And so I asked. I asked him what the hell was happening outside my little room and Mack told me, truthfully, and in a completely straightforward non-hysterical manner, though I was quite hysterical at the time.
Mack told me that originally when the allegations were made by him against Dr. Simmons, no one believed Mack. He was questioned repeatedly, and was nearly prosecuted himself for false accusations. However someone leaked to the press what was being said about Simmons and after an article appeared in a Chicago Times, eight women came forward to talk about the abuse they suffered by Dr. Simmons hands, in his hospital.
One of the women was actually a girl I knew from elementary school, whose parents also hung out in the same circle of friends as my parents. This coming forward by some of the other victims, prevented anything further from happening to Mack, and subsequently Dr. Simmons is in jail, without bail because he is a serious flight risk, while the Prosecution team formulate all their evidence. Simmons awaits his trial, which is to begin next year.
Next, I was told that though Mack and I, and I guess my parents, are aware that many more than six men were involved in my sexual abuse, the famous ‘black school book’ only clearly showed six men and two women’s faces. The Prosecuting team however is still looking to identify more of the men based on physical traits, and markings or characteristics in the photographs. I think they’re mostly waiting for me to remember more of the men, specifically.
When I asked how they found the book, Mack said he wasn’t sure, but he WAS very happy about it. Mack said it became a slam-dunk case against my parents because my mother is spotted in a few of the photos and my father’s handwriting is on the back of most of the photographs. And because of all the evidence, my age at the time, and the content of the pictures; my parents are being prosecuted the hardest, with at least 30 felony charges apiece, with only the slimmest, most unlikely chance of acquittal for each.
Apparently, my mother is already trying to plea down her potential sentence, and is setting a rather different scene than I recall, against my father. According to my mother, my father was an abusive monster who she feared every day of their married life. Blah. Blah. I can’t wait to testify otherwise…
Not that I have to testify in court. Mack and the lawyers worked out a kind of closed testimony where I get to tape my testimony in a different room with only the Judge, Mack, the lead Prosecutor, and the lead Defense attorney present. There are always ways the Defense Team can make this closed testimony not happen as I’ve been warned by the Prosecution, but I just have to hope for the best. The trial doesn’t begin until next year anyway.
I asked Mack if he knew why my parents did this to me, and sadly he had no explanation. Mack admitted to me that my mother seems so indifferent toward me, that it’s like there is something missing in her personality. Mack even suggested that she may have severe mental health issues as well, because of her complete lack of compassion and reaction to the events in question. Mack hugged me and told me quite honestly that I would probably never know why she abused me, and that I should maybe just accept the fact that I would never know the answer.
Mack did offer to accompany me to the courthouse to speak with her, if she would permit it, but I decided not to even try. I mean really, what the hell is she going to say that she hasn’t al
ready? My mother has made no secret of the fact that she hated me, so why listen to her say it once more. I’m done. I’ll never know why it happened, and it really doesn’t change what happened to me anyway.
I have heard however, and there are stories floating around about my parents trafficking in young girls, and there are other stories that suggest they were just singularly screwed up and evil toward me, only.
And of course, there are the few stories circulating that I am a total nut job head-case who made the whole story up for attention. I’m almost positive my mother started that particular rumor.
After Mack and I sat and cried and talked about all this, Mack finally came clean and admitted that he has had a bodyguard stationed outside my door since the beginning, and that he himself had his own bodyguard for a few weeks. He also admitted that he was in fact, attacked outside the hospital in an ‘attempted robbery’, and his house and office were also trashed and searched. He admitted to being absolutely terrified something was going to happen to me at the time.
Mack then told me it was actually my grandfather who wielded his wealth and significant power and influence, as soon as he found out about the threats against me, (and Mack), and suddenly everything stopped. There were no more threats from Dr. Simmons, (not that Mack or the Police could prove that) and there were no more threats from the wealthy Country Club set of Chicago proper. Everything just stopped.
Later Mack admitted he does still pay someone to watch me if and when he and I leave the hospital on our day trips… just in case. The police agree with him, and apparently my grandfather insists upon this security measure, as a provision in my inheritance.
And that was it. The end. Mack hasn’t left me since, no matter what I’ve said or done. Mack always comes back, and acts like it’s perfectly normal for me to cry, scream, and fight him and his help at every turn.
But now that I’m awake I need to apologize again. I didn’t mean to hurt him, or to make him into a bad man, like the other men were. I didn’t mean to make him and Kayla bad, or to make their new relationship ugly.
This time I really need to apologize. This time, for whatever reason, I attacked him personally. And it is so wrong; I can hardly breathe for wanting to beg his forgiveness.
I don’t know what happened earlier, but it’s like my sleep washed away all the upset and desperation. I barely feel what I felt earlier. I hate how quick and violently those feelings come on, and I hate how quick and violently I react to those feelings. Strangely, I’m embarrassed when the feelings leave me just as quickly, because it’s so hard to explain to Mack just how intense, and how strongly I had felt them at the time, when mere hours later I feel totally calm again.
==========
Rising from my bed, I first notice that all my vomit has been cleaned up, and second that all my new clothes are folded on the chair. Did Mack fold my clothes? If so, he is honestly going for sainthood.
In my bathroom, I brush my nasty teeth, and take another quick ‘rinse-off’ shower. I’m still not allowed a razor, but who cares if my legs are shaved? It’s not like anyone touches me there. Actually, with the exception of Mack’s hugs, no one touches me at all.
I remember the first time I saw ‘Chicago Kayla’ after I was admitted. Apparently, New York Kayla broke hospital policy by telling Chicago Kayla what I had done; and how badly I was actually deteriorating. This Kayla was even brought up by the Hospital Disciplinary Committee, when one of the other nurses reported her.
This Kayla fought it, and then Chicago Kayla denied it, and both Kaylas walked away relatively unharmed. I remember apologizing to New York Kayla for her involvement with me, and she just laughed and said, “Do you really think this is my first time in trouble? Pu-lease…” And that was that.
Chicago Kayla walked into my room, began a fifteen minute tirade about Marcus, the men, my life, and then she winded down with a very heart-felt apology with tears and everything. Finally she took me into a huge hug. At the time, I still cringed from physical contact, but after a few seconds in her arms, I just exhaled, and grabbed her tight.
I cried a lot that day while Mack stayed in the room and monitored me from the corner. Chicago Kayla was awesome, and very easy to be with. I had forgotten in my anger and hurt just how awesome Kayla actually was. She asked many questions I couldn’t or wasn’t ready to answer. And she forgave me when she received no answers. She said she didn’t care what she knew or didn’t know, what I could or couldn’t tell her, she said she just wanted back in my life… in any way I would have her.
When she left later that evening, I was really sad to see her go. Forgiving Kayla, when honestly, she didn’t know she had done anything wrong, sleeping with Marcus at the time… was easy. I was glad to strike her off the very long list of people to hate.
A few days later, both Kaylas asked me if I was okay with them talking to each other, and I agreed. Looking back on it now, I was pretty drugged up at the time, so they kinda pulled one over on me, but there it is anyway.
My two Kaylas are friends, and they talk on the phone, and though I know I’m more often than not, the center of their conversations, which I hate, they actually get along fabulously.
The last time Chicago Kayla visited, a few weeks ago, she even stayed at This Kayla’s apartment. The following morning when they walked in, they talked about their night, and even joked that they didn’t throttle each other, or even really feel like it. It turns out Chicago Kayla also knew another Kayla, and she hated her guts too. Both Kaylas said “It’s got to be the name.”
I remember feeling a momentary bang of jealousy that they got on so well, but then they each turned their attention on me, and I realized it was because they cared for me that they were friends. Both my Kaylas. ‘This Kayla’ and ‘That Kayla’. Fairly confusing for Mack some days I know, but kind of funny as well.
Chicago Kayla and I talk on the phone every second night now. She has even called me while on a boring date. She still has her sexploits, I can tell, but thankfully, she doesn’t discuss them with me. I’m not too sure if she knew not to, or if Mack, or maybe even This Kayla explained not to, but for whatever reason, Kayla mentions going out with men, but she no longer gags me with all the sexual specifics.
Chicago Kayla even fixed my hair for me. Well, it’s not like I had much choice in the matter, she just walked in with a bunch of hair paraphernalia and began. When I attempted to protest, Kayla gave me her damn pout, and before I knew it she had called New York Kayla and I was done. There was no fight, just a kind of resigned submission to the insanity that is ‘My Two Kaylas’.
When it was over, like an hour later, Chicago Kayla had created this kind of swept-over, fluttery bang which covers the scar and lack of hair on the front of my skull. I actually really like the look. The bangs are adorable with my hair up, and even on the rare occasions when my hair is down, the bangs still work.
When New York Kayla saw the final look, she was totally awed by Chicago Kayla’s work. Beaming, she yelled, “Yeah! Total Farrah Fawcett ‘Fuck-Me Flips!’” And then the room went dead silent.
I didn’t know where to look. Chicago Kayla just gasped and stared. The long pause that followed was so comical, I nearly died with laughter. New York Kayla actually stammered- She had nothing. I think for the first time in her life, she was completely and utterly wordless. Chicago Kayla stared like she too had no idea what to say. Finally, I let her off the hook.
“How about, Farrah Fawcett, ‘DON’T Fuck-Me Flips’… will that do?”
Thankfully, New York Kayla recovered herself quickly, wrapped me into a tight hug, whispered she was so sorry, then agreed, “Don’t ‘fuck-me flips’ more than works.”
Crisis avoided. Amazingly, I kept it together the whole time and I actually kept my two Kaylas reasonably relaxed through the whole funny, but potentially devastating ordeal.
I really like having two friends. God, I hope I didn’t kill my friendship with This Kayla this afternoon. Shit. I probably did. How can sh
e forgive me for being so rude and disgusting toward Mack and her budding relationship? Shit! This might be really bad.
I need to figure out what I’m going to say to her. I love having This Kayla in my life. All the other nurses are afraid of her; therefore, they stay the hell away from me. I really, really like having this Kayla. She has been so kind to me, for months now. No matter how bad I got, she always came to my room to visit me. She always made a point of talking to me, even when I could hardly talk myself. And she always just tried to be here whenever she could, and I will always be grateful to her for that.
==========
Twenty minutes later all my new clothes are hung up in my tiny, cramped little closet. Mack even somehow managed to wheel in a ‘rolling bureau’ as he called it, but it’s still not enough space.
Both Kaylas seem to just always stumble upon some sale or other, and they just had to pick up whatever was on sale for me. Originally, I refused and fought them, but again, I just became tired, because quite frankly there is NO use fighting two Kaylas. Inevitably, they have filled my two spaces to capacity with the most amazing clothes.
Argh… where the hell is Mack? Okay, I’ve stalled long enough, I have to call him.
Dialing, I’m quite nervous. I hope he isn’t too mad at me this time. I know I really pushed it today, and though it wasn’t my intention to go after Kayla and him, I did anyway. Mack is usually so forgiving, but today I think I crossed over a very dark line.
Okay, now I’m really nervous. He isn’t answering, which is an absolute first. Four rings in, I go total meltdown. Oh. My. God. I have ruined it. Jesus Christ! I can’t lose Mack! I just can’t! FUCK!
When his voicemail picks up, I’m done. I know it. I can’t have this. Not now. I am so close.
“Mack! MACK!! Please pick up! Please call me back. Please! I’m Sorry…” Shit. I think I’m screaming. “…MACK! Please don’t hate me! PLEASE!”