Deeper Illusions (19 page)

Chapter
Twenty-Eight

It was an unseasonably warm evening, about three weeks after
I arrived at this place, when I finally decided to let Polly in on what was going on with me. “Polly,” I began. “I told you when I first came here that I had a secret about what happened to me in the seventh grade. Well, now you deserve to know,” I said, as I brushed her, and stroked her ears. “There was a gym teacher. A very handsome gym teacher. The girls were googly-eyes about him, including me. I was 12. I had crushes on all types of boys, and men, too. He noticed me, Polly. He noticed me.”

T
hen I looked at my hands on her neck and mane. They were shaking uncontrollably. “I miscarried his baby, Polly. He and I had sex behind the bushes in the fields behind the school. It was only the one time, but I know that I miscarried his baby. I passed clots, huge clots, when I got my period after we did it. I never told anybody about this.”

It was then that I finally figured out the source of my self-loathing. The gym teacher, of course, kinda forgot about me after that incident in the bushes. There were rumors that he was doing the same thing to a lot of other girls. Then he was transferred out of the school for mysterious reasons, a few years after the incident between us.

I put my head into Polly's neck and mane, and wept uncontrollably. I ended up spending the night in the stable with her, laying down in the hay, not caring that I was probably laying on horse pee. The horse poop was dug out of the stall, so that wasn't a problem.

I couldn't move. I just lay down on the hay, and cried myself to sleep.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

After I had my cathartic experience with Polly, I was finally ready to have Ryan come with me to some therapy sessions. Our first session was scheduled for that Monday, with Dr. Bryan, a forty-something woman with corkscrew blonde hair and thick black Elvis Costello glasses.

Ryan seemed more than eager for this session. I dreaded it, but I knew that it had to happen. I had to get past my animosity for Ryan. I had to know that we weren't broken, just bent, like the song said. The only way to do that would be through these therapy sessions.

Ryan met me in Dr. Bryan’s office that Monday.
My breath caught a little when he walked through the door. It was like I was seeing him for the first time. His dark, wavy hair. His perfectly chiseled face. His long, incredibly thick eyelashes, and his beautiful green eyes. His sensuous mouth, and perfect teeth. His rock-hard body.

I sighed, feeling giddy, like a schoolgirl.

Did this mean that I was falling in love with him all over again?

I hoped so.

He sat down next to me, and I took his hand. Those beautiful green eyes got huge at my gesture, then he broke into an enormous smile. Tentatively, he put his hand in my hair, gauging my reaction to his touch. I smiled big, then he stroked my cheek and kissed my forehead. The words were unspoken, but we both knew.

We were going to be ok.

I was finally ready to open up.

Dr. Brown observed us for a few minutes then addressed me “Mrs. Gallagher. Can I call you Iris?”

I nodded, smiling.

“Iris. I notice that the two of you seem to have come to some new kind of understanding of each other just now. It seems like there was a degree of tension when Mr. Gallagher came into the room, now that tension seems to have passed. Could you tell me what you are feeling right now?”

“I love my husband. I really, really, love my husband.”

“Ok,” she said. “And, is that different than the feelings you felt before?”

I hesitated, looking at Ryan. He was still watching me, those beautiful green eyes full of passion and love. Then I looked back at Dr. Brown. “Yes. I have felt....contempt, and irrational hatred for him.”

“I see,” she said. “Mr. Gallagher, do you know why your wife would have felt this way about you?”

He nodded.

“Why, Mr. Gallagher, do you feel that your wife hated you?”

“Please, call me Ryan,” he said, then squeezed my hand. Then he hesitated for a few minutes, looking at me, then said, quietly, with his head down “It was my fault that she was raped.”

“Why do you feel that way, Ryan?” asked Dr. Brown.

“I was trying to protect her. I was going away on a business trip, and, even while I was in town, I was going to be working long hours in the office. I'm a bank president, and I had taken an extended leave of absence that was ending. And Iris was being threatened by a woman from my past. So I wanted to protect her while I was gone.” Then he broke down a little. “I wanted to protect her. Instead, she was raped. If I didn't hire that guy, she wouldn't have been raped.”

“Is that true?” Dr. Brown asked me.

“Yes, that's true,” I said. “I've been journaling about it since I've been here, and I have this horse that has really helped me. I wasn't ready to face my rage about what happened to me. I wasn't ready to admit it to myself that such a thing even happened at all. So, I think that I channeled my rage at Ryan, instead of where it should be.”

“Have you talked about this to Dr. Knight?”

“No. I just kinda had an epiphany last night when I talked to my horse. I've been punishing Ryan not only for Andrew, but also Rochelle, and...Mr. Green.” I changed the name of the gym teacher. I was still afraid of getting him into trouble.

“Who is Rochelle, and who is Mr. Green?”

At that, I told her about Rochelle's attack. “Rochelle is a woman from Ryan’s past. She kidnapped me from my office a little under a year ago. Then she tortured me and shot me up with black tar heroin, enough to kill me. I was in a coma for about two months because of it.”

Dr. Brown nodded, scribbling notes in her pad.

Then it was time to talk about Mr. Green.

I saw Ryan looking at me with a very interested and worried expression.

I took a deep breath and said “Mr. Green was my first, uh, sexual experience. When I was 12. He was a very handsome and flirtatious gym teacher. He used to come up to me when I was standing on my head, and rub his hands up and down my leg. I had to admit that I had quite the crush.”

“Ok,” said Dr. Brown. “So, he touched you inappropriately while you were in class.”

“Yeah. You know, we used to have to do headstands and that, and he would rub the back of my legs while I was standing on my head. And I used to fantasize about him. Everybody did.”

“You said that he was your first sexual experience. Tell me about that.”

“Excuse me,” I said. “I have to use your bathroom.” At that, I ran into her bathroom, and hurled.

Ryan was immediately by my side, rubbing my back. He helped me up, and gently ran some water, and got a cool rag to put on my face. “Sorry about that,” I said to Ryan. “Guess this story is making me really anxious.”

I didn't want to tell him that my puking was still a daily event, sometimes an hourly one.

I came back out. “Yes. Uh, he used to ask me to stay late after school. To help him put stuff away – jump ropes, balls, hula hoops, that sort of thing. I told my mother that I was at band practice, because I knew that she would never let me stay after school
if I she knew that I was helping a man all alone,” I said, shaking my head ruefully. “Mothers always do know best after all.”

Dr. Brown nodded. “Go on.”

“Well, he and I were in the closet one day, the apparatus closet, where they keep all the gym stuff. And he kissed me. The next day, in the same closet, he kissed me again, and he unzipped his pants and made me give him oral. Pretty soon, this was a daily event. I started to think that he loved me, and that we would end up getting married after I became an adult.”

Now Ryan was looking at me with his best poker face. I could tell that he was covering up what he was really feeling as I told this story.

I went on. “We had intercourse one day after school. He asked me to meet him in this clearing behind the school, so I did. Then he had sex with me behind the bushes.”

Ryan was trying to cover up shock and rage, but he was having a hard time of it. I saw him clench his fist, then pound it on the arm of the chair.

I continued. “After that, he never asked me to help him after school again. He never paid any attention to me at all. I was crushed – I thought that he was going to be my husband one day. I kept asking him if I could help out after school, but he always said no after that. He started having a different girl help him out after school. I was so jealous of her, I couldn't stand it.”

Dr. Brown was noticing Ryan's reaction to my story. “Ryan, I see your face. Tell me what is going through your mind.”

He shook his head. “You don't want to know,” was all he said. His fists were still balled up tight, then one of his hands involuntarily went through his hair. Then he hung his head, both of his hands on his neck. “Finish your story, beautiful,” he said.

“Well, I think I had a miscarriage that year. I had just started my period, and it was always super-light. Kinda like it is now. But, one month, it was super, super heavy. And clotty. I've never had a period like that before or since.”

Ryan couldn’t hide his reaction to this particular revelation. He just looked stunned, and I saw, in the depths of those eyes, rage. Not at me, of course, but at Mr. Green. Ryan was still so protective of me, which is one of the reasons why I loved him so.

I took a deep breath
and continued. “Uh, what happened with Andrew made me realize that what happened to me with that gym teacher was also a rape. I never thought of it that way. I always thought that it was some kind of love affair gone bad. Now, I realize that I was violated then. So, the Andrew thing is cumulative on top of that, and on top of what happened with Rochelle last year.” I looked at Ryan, who had a stress ball in his hand, and was squeezing the life out of it. “I've come to realize that I don't have Mr. Green, Andrew or Rochelle handy to take out my rage, so I took it out on my husband.”

Dr. Brown looked at Ryan. “What would you like to say to this?” he asked.

Ryan took a few minutes to compose himself, then took my hand, and rubbed it thoughtfully. Looking me in the eye, he said “I want to apologize, from the deepest part of me, about Andrew. I feel totally responsible for what happened. But, at the same time, I can't apologize for wanting to make sure that you're safe. You're my world, beautiful. That's why I forced you to have a bodyguard. So, I have mixed emotions about it.”

I nodded. “I know. You couldn't have known what was going to happen with Andrew. I've come to terms with that. And I love you more than I ever thought I could love anybody. You're my world, too.”

That night, Ryan came and spent the night with me. We didn't make love. He knew that I wasn't ready for that. But he held me close, both of us under the covers, fully clothed in our pajamas, ready for bed. Then he said “we missed Christmas together.”

I didn't realize that Christmas had come and gone. How I managed to
miss Christmas altogether, I didn’t know. Christmas was always a very special time for me – not because of the gifts, but, rather, because of the gaiety of the season. The childhood memories for me were always very strong around this season, whether it was my delight in discovering Rudolph, the anticipation of presents, or the memories of family gatherings. Yet, this year, I managed to avoid it altogether.

“Anyhow,” he said, “I’ve been thinking about it. I know how much you are in love with Polly, your horse. And, you know how I was thinking about buying some land and
creating an animal sanctuary?”

I nodded eagerly, knowing where this was going.

“I’ve made arrangements to buy Polly when we get our sanctuary open. That way, you can see her whenever you want. I feel like that would be the best present for you that I could give.”

I felt tears coming to my eyes. How could I have ever hated this man? How could I have ever felt rage towards him? He was the one really great thing in my life, besid
es my family and friends. He had been the only man who had ever treated me with love and kindness, instead of anger and disrespect.

He smile
d when he saw my tears. He knew me so well by then, so he knew when my tears were happy or sad, and he knew that these were very, very happy tears. I smiled and nodded mutely at him. “I love you,” I said.

“I know that this is late, but Merry Christmas, beautiful.”

We lay in the bed, fully clothed, and I put my head on his chest. This was more intimacy than I had been able to manage with him since the rape, and, although I was sorry that we couldn’t do more, lying there with him was as comforting as anything that I could’ve possibly imagined.

Chapter
Thirty

I stayed at the resort, I mean facility, for another month after my breakthrough with Dr. Bryan and Polly. I was much more open with Dr. Knight, so I was able to tell her more about my feelings about what happened to me. She was able to understand that I not only had i
ssues with Rochelle and Andrew, but that I also had severe issues from my past that resulted in my overall feeling of low self-esteem. So, in addition to the talk therapy, she also put me through a regimen of cognitive behavioral therapy, aimed at eliminating negative self-talk. The goal was to change my thought process through changing my behavior.

The CBT process involved helping me to reconceptualize negative situations, because I automatically tend
ed to think the worst of any given situation. Skills acquisition was the next phase, and this was where I was taught to catch my negative thoughts and replace them with positive ones. I was required to keep a journal and jot down any negative thoughts that I had throughout the day, then, the next day, I was taught about how to replace these specific negative thoughts with specific positive ones.             

I was also given a course of treatment called eye movement desensitization and reprocessing. This was for
my specific traumatic issues regarding Rochelle, Mr. Green, and Andrew. In this treatment, I was asked to recall what happened to me while the psychiatrist asked me to focus on their hand gestures. I followed these hand gestures with my eyes. I was also asked for positive thoughts, and the therapist did the same thing with the gestures. The goal, as was explained, was for my brain to process the memories of what happened to me differently. The treatment was somewhat controversial, as it had evidence that showed that it worked, and also evidence that showed that it didn’t work, but I was willing to try anything to overcome my traumatic incidents.

I
also continued my therapy with Polly and my group therapy for four hours a day. Acupuncture treatments were daily, as were massages. The acupuncture was geared specifically for my drug addiction. I didn’t particularly feel that I needed drug addiction treatment, as I really didn’t feel like I was addicted. I had severe trauma, two severe traumas within a period of nine months, so I went ape-shit. That was really all there was to it, so I felt that the psychotherapy was effective. I felt that the therapy aimed at my drug addiction to be superfluous.

Nevertheless, I found both the acupuncture and the massage therapy to be incredibly relaxing, so I looked forward to these sessions.

Ryan and I continued with our couple’s therapy, as well. We were becoming closer through the therapy, as I was able to express my feelings about my life being turned upside down after meeting him, and I was helped with processing these emotions and feelings.

By the end of the two months, I was feeling myself again. Better than myself. I had the tools to help myself whenever negative thoughts crept into my head, and I felt that I had a handle on all that had happened to me with Rochelle, Andrew and Mr. Green. Ryan and I were closer than we had ever been. We still were not making love, of course. I still wasn’t ready for that, but I hoped that I would be, with time.

I also hoped that I would stop being so afraid of strange men.

Ryan, for his part, got me set up with a psychotherapist, Dr. Brammell, in Kansas City, so that I could c
ontinue regular therapy.

The only issue that we were having was the matter of pressing charges against Andrew. Ryan was adamant that I needed to call the police and tell them what happened. I was just as adamant that this would never happen.

“Not doing it, Ryan.”

“Listen, beautiful, I know that you’re scared – “

“Scared is not the word. He threatened to kill me, and I believe that he will. Or, worse yet, maybe he’ll come after you. If anything happens to you, I might as well be killed as well. I couldn’t survive it.”

“But, beautiful, he might do it to others.”

“I know that, and, trust me, that weighs heavily on my mind. But I just can’t do it. I’m sorry, it may seem selfish to you, but I have to keep you safe. And, I admit, I’m thinking of my own safety as well. No, no, no. I won’t do it. Please don’t make me.”

Ryan didn’t push.

Aside from that issue, though, Ryan and I were doing better than we ever had. I had high hopes that the worst was behind us. I lived through trauma and drug addiction. He lived through seeing his father, and making amends with him.

But the worst was not past us. Not by a long shot.

And the next blow would be, by far, the most devastating of all.