Zan
Olivia came back, bright and early, looking for all the world like she had when we first met. She came over to the bed, sat on the edge, and took my hand. I could see her examining my face with her beautiful dark eyes. I’d done a little washing up and makeup repair. “I made an effort to look a little more presentable for you.”
“You must realize, mi amor, that you do not have to do anything of the sort—for me or for anyone. You are a beautiful woman—inside and out. None of your efforts to change your looks are necessary.”
“Well, Olivia, in my world—”
“That is what I want you to please talk about. Can you tell me what it is in your world that led to this?”
I had no idea where to start. She could see that I was thinking about it, and I knew she’d never let me get away with a lie—not anymore. Besides it was time. “Okay, about the rape.”
“You told us about that…”
“Not the whole truth.” I paused and swallowed. “I deserved it.”
“Zan, please.” She stood up, walked a few steps, then turned, arms crossed over her chest. “No one deserves—”
“Just listen.” I patted the bed beside me, and she moved closer and dropped her arms but didn’t sit back down. “I never told anyone else this. He was—well, he had Paul Newman eyes and a shy smile. Looked like a Boy Scout all grown up. I was a mess, right? Coming home from a day of training. And he says, ‘Well, aren’t you beautiful?’ Trevor never says that.” I took a sip of water.
She perched at the edge of the bed. “Trevor is—”
I held up my hand to stop her from excusing my stupidity. “The guy carries my groceries in, then says something about how glad he is that not everyone in this world is suspicious. He calls the power company, or pretends to. Convinces me, anyway. I want to be convinced. I offer him some water. I guess I wasn’t anxious for him to leave. When I give the glass to him, he takes my hand, turns it over, and kisses my palm. Tender and soft. I wanted—”
“You must not blame yourself,” Olivia said. She looked so indignant and beautiful. I felt lucky she was on my side.
“How can I not?” I protested. “I was so … naïve. It happened so fast. He was so charming. Then he wasn’t.” I drank more water. I could see tears pooling in Olivia’s eyes while mine were dry. “I’ll never forget how his face distorted into the ugliest … and the things he said, the names he called me.” I shuddered with the memory, and Olivia squeezed my hand.
“For two years I kept hearing his voice, kept looking for him, even though I knew he was in prison. Kept waking up feeling as if someone was leaning over me, breathing on me.”
The curtain pushed back, and the nurse came in with a tray—mid-morning snack, I guessed. Or an early lunch. Breakfast, which happened before the sun came up, had been mush. This was hot tea, apple sauce, milk, a container of what looked like soup, and crackers. I guessed the orders were for my tender stomach to be pampered, but I wasn’t hungry anyway. Olivia insisted I drink some hot tea, and I got her to eat the crackers and soup before it got cold. She had fed the dogs but not herself before she left my house.
After we finished, I told her about Trevor, how he’d reacted at Mindy’s office. “What in the world allowed me to think my husband would be supportive? How’d I let myself get talked into telling him, even in my therapist’s ‘safe space’? He couldn’t’ve been any less compassionate. In fact, he was visibly sickened. It was obvious.”
“I feel some responsibility here, Zan. We all thought—”
“Well, Olivia, it made sense. You all saw that I wasn’t dealing with it, even after two years passed. Any normal person would think a husband’s support would be needed. But none of you knew him, and neither did Mindy. He looked at me as if he was disgusted with the sight of me.”
“He is not worthy to kiss your feet,” Olivia said. She was so passionate about it, while I felt nothing. “Is this ridiculous man the reason you—”
“No, he’s not. But, listen. Trevor leaves for the airport, probably never to be seen again, which is best, I know that, and I’m conflicted, right? He’s—well, I don’t want him back, but I’m afraid of being alone. I’m not suicidal over it, but I’m still afraid. Never been very long without a man to … assure me that I’m … I don’t know. Anyway, all new territory for me.”
“But you are so capable. You have skills. You do not need—”
“Don’t be an H.R. Director. Let me finish.”
“Yes, yes, I am sorry.” She made a zipping motion over her mouth.
“And then, in that frame of mind, I remember neither of us had gotten the mail in several days, and I think, ‘I should get the mail’. No idea why it even mattered. So, I walk to the mailbox. And then I open the letter. It’s freezing and I don’t feel it. Because my long-ago, given-up-for-adoption-at-birth baby daughter—the one I never told you or anyone about—has been looking for me, wants to meet me.”
“Oh, Zan, how wonderful. Such a gift. Why would you not want—?”
“Olivia, I can’t let her. In her world, I’d be a slut. I can’t even tell her who her father is. What do I say to her when she asks? Do I tell her I slept around, did too many drugs to remember? Oh, and do I tell her about my pedophile grandfather? The sexual abuse? My mother’s—her grandmother’s—complicity? What in God’s name could I say to her that would give her confidence in her genetic heritage? How can I excuse all my horrible choices, especially the one to abandon her?”
“You were young, Zannie. And—not in a good place. First you gave her life and then you gave her a chance at a better one than you could give her. That is such an unselfish thing. You didn’t leave her in a dumpster, for heaven’s sake. You found a good home for her. She is alive and free to pursue her dreams because of your generosity.”
“I sold her, Olivia. Same thing as. I got money for her.”
“Does that matter so much? Did you not ensure a more successful future by finding for her a family with means?”
“Whatever. All I knew is that they were ‘professionals’, married eight years trying to conceive with no success. Wanted to adopt rather than keep making themselves crazy.”
“They sound wise,” she said.
“Anyway, in my head, whenever I pictured her—Anne is her name now—which was a lot more often than I wanted to, she was still an infant. A baby or a toddler at the oldest. Couldn’t imagine her all grown up. But, she’s so—her letter was eloquent, long and full of details, a couple of words I had to look up! She made her life into a story—for me.”
“Oh, Zan, I’m so happy for you.”
I wished I could make her see why knowing my daughter might meet me made me want to not be here any longer. “She’s engaged, and they’re talking about children. That led her to look for me. Olivia, she said both of her parents approved of the man she was betrothed to—that was the way she put it, ‘betrothed’. Who talks like that?”
“What does that matter? Did her parents support her search for you?”
“Yes, in Anne’s letter she said they did.”
“Then, they could not have thought so poorly of you—”
“They remembered nearly nothing about me. They only met me once. In the attorney’s office. Just that I was ‘pretty’ they told her, curvy, and blonde. She said she, too, was petite and blonde. And busty.”
“You, too—”
“Mine are artificial, Olivia. I thought you knew that.” She tried not to smile, but the look on her face was priceless. I chuckled, and then we both laughed. It felt good to laugh.
“I am sorry, Zan,” Olivia said. “That was unkind.”
“If you think that was unkind, honey, you’ve definitely led a sheltered life.”
“This is true. But I am still so confused. You have a daughter, Zan. Why did this news not fill you with joy?”
“Don’t get mad, okay? But here’s why: I’m—I’m such a phony. I am. Shh. Don’t protest. There’s Ruby, admitting to her guilt about the tragedy of Callie drowning. Practically opening her veins for us as she confesses. I was in awe of her. And then Margo, revealing that Ron’s gay and being ashamed she didn’t know it. Taking some of the blame. So self-aware. And you—so worried about your niece and nephew, willing to be honest about anger at your sister. If I remember right, you admitted you didn’t like her. Granted you loved her, but you didn’t like her. Am I right?”
“This is true.”
“Okay, so all of you, so unafraid to reveal your true selves, your flaws, your real fears and doubts. And then there’s me. Keeping everything to myself. So afraid to expose my … inner self, I guess. I’m such a fraud. Not an authentic bone in my body. I’ve never told the truth in my life if a lie wouldn’t serve as well. It was easier for me to not tell Trevor about being raped.”
“I don’t remember it being easy for you.”
“Maybe not, but my instincts were spot on, weren’t they? Once he knew the truth, he couldn’t take it.”
“Ruby would say—”
“I know. She would have some colorful names for him. But that doesn’t stop me from believing—”
“That you don’t deserve happiness? That is such nonsense.”
“You know at some level, way down deep, there’s a tiny voice that tells me you’re right. It is nonsense. You know why? Because of those silly dogs. They love me. They do. And their love makes me feel–worthy.” My throat closed up and I felt a sharp stab in the gut my gut with the truth of that statement.
“Then you must learn to listen to that voice.”
“But I don’t trust it! I’ve never believed—”
About that time, the curtain pulled all the way back and there they were—Margo and Ruby, grinning wildly. Ruby had a huge white stuffed dog in her arms and Margo a gorgeous bouquet of Calla lilies.
“Ta da!” Margo said. “Here we are. Like bad pennies–we keep turning up.” She paused. “What does that even mean?”
They brought fresh, floral air into the room and hugged me and then Olivia and then each other. Seeing them made me cry again, and then we all cried—and then laughed.
“How much did you hear?” I asked.
“Nothing, love,” Ruby said. She looked away.
“Enough,” Margo said. “We caught the gist of the plot. Let’s sing. Seems like music is in order.”
Ruby groaned. I was still wondering how much they heard of what I said to Olivia. If so, it didn’t feel as bad as I might’ve thought it would. In fact, I was glad.
“When can we break you out?” Ruby asked. “I hear you have a much posher residence than this dump.”
~~~
It wasn’t that easy. We found out that in Maryland attempted suicide is a common law crime. A person trying to take her own life in this state is—or can be—punished.
“Who knew you decided to move back to the thirteenth century when you came here?” Margo said.
“It’s a law in Virginia, too,” Ruby offered, checking her phone for details. “And here in Maryland, a former police officer suffering from PTSD was sentenced to two years’ probation and a suspended three-year prison sentence. That’s fucked up.”
It got quiet as my friends looked at each other and absorbed the seriousness of what I had done. I could go to jail, I thought. What will happen to the dogs, was all I could think of. And who will tell Zoe? Would she even understand? Who would take her to craft fairs? All of a sudden I knew I needed to be alive. There were people and animals who needed me. What had I done?
Then Ruby cleared her throat. “Blimey, how did we not see it? Clearly this here?” She indicated my hospital bed. “It’s a bloody mistake. Am I right? A real doozy?”
We all stared in confusion as Ruby went on, “You’re not barmy.” I figured that meant crazy. “A little dim—” I frowned, but nodded. When she was right, she was right.
She went on, “But you. Naturally, you never meant to off yourself. Fuck no. What rubbish.” She smiled at her own cleverness.
“Of course,” Margo said. It looked like she caught on to what Ruby was saying.
“You would never do anything like that. It would scare the bejesus out of your friends, wouldn’t it?”
“It definitely would do that,” Olivia said.
I had begun shaking my head ‘no’, and now nodded ‘yes.’ We all were. We looked like puppets.
“You would never leave the care of those ponies to some dodgy character. Or, worse yet, to fend for themselves.”
With those words, she tapped into my fear about them, and I started to cry, but Ruby kept on, “You were upset, sure. After all, it was Christmas. Who doesn’t hate Christmas? Brings out the worst in everyone. And then your husband—the arsehole—had just left to go back to who the hell knows. You didn’t even know where he was. That’s what you told the EMTs right? And you hadn’t been sleeping well. Needing meds to get to sleep at all. You drank some wine to settle your nerves. You took your normal dose of sleeping pills, but then you forgot you took ‘em.”
Now I could see where she was going. I was nodding harder.
“Lucky for you,” Ruby went on, “the dogs started making a racket and luckier still, the neighbors had a key. They panicked is all. Daft, weren’t they? Didn’t know what else to do but call 911, and that’s how you ended up here. A huge fuck-up, wasn’t it? Some black coffee would’ve been just the ticket. There was no blooming need for all this.” She waved her arm to include the room, the hospital, maybe the universe. With Ruby, who knew?
And that was what we sold to the doctor. Of course, he was aware of the law, and he wanted to be sold. My neighbors helped. Olivia called them, and they talked to the doc. Marlene said nobody was more stable than I was. No one less likely to attempt suicide. “So grounded in reality,” she said. Not that she knew me that well at all, but she’d been prompted by Ruby.
Mindy was a huge help. She spoke with the doctor, apparently let him know she would be there for me. She had a price, shameless shrink that she is. She made me sign a contract with her that I’d not only see her twice a week, but also that I’d keep up my survivor’s support group. She showed it to the doctor, all signed and witnessed by my friends.
It was a lot to get done in one day, but they did it. Then Margo and Olivia left for the airport. Both of them had pressing issues going on at home. Olivia with her custody issue and Margo had left her son’s fiancée for Ron to entertain. Ruby stayed. She slept in the reclining chair when she wasn’t wandering the halls striking up conversations with whoever she found awake.
In the end, the doctor agreed to call my trip to the emergency room an accidental overdose. Probably without the suicide law, he wouldn’t have. “You should get help, not be charged with a crime,” he said.
I’m not sure if it’s true or not, but he even told me that the dose in my stomach was borderline lethal, after all. I’d fallen into a deep sleep and couldn’t be roused. Left alone, I might have woke up. Might.
I’d never be sure what cinched the final decision, but I was told I’d been released—to Ruby, of all people. She told them she was my cousin. She had definitely made her presence felt. I was pretty sure they wanted her gone by any means possible. I was happy to oblige. My puppies needed me.
Pat Ponders Life 