Nine Lives (10 page)

Chapter Eleven

Fall From Grace

Tom

I can barely stand and that’s not a safe situation around here. I have no idea how I made it back to my cell. I just finished a visit with Heather. Normally, her visits are like fuel to get me through another week. Not this one. Heather told me, with her wet eyes, that Laina is up to more of her games. Two weeks ago, Laina had a therapy appointment. Heather dropped her off and ran out to get a few things for Jeremiah. She told Laina to text her when the appointment was over and that she’d be right along to pick her up and take her home. Instead of texting her, Laina walked home. The probation office just happened to show up while Laina was home alone. This sounds like no big deal, right? Wrong.

According to the terms of Laina’s probation, Laina is not allowed to be left alone unsupervised. She’s almost seventeen years old and can’t be trusted not to spend time with that sicko “boyfriend”—man—of hers, Tyler. I love how the state thinks I should be in here when I never touched anybody. But he’s allowed to go after my daughter. And that other one, Slash, the guy who took our Sadie away, is allowed to hit on Faith? What is wrong with this country? Faith is fourteen years old! I just don’t get it.

Anyway, the state’s pressing charges against Heather for neglect. They say that leaving Laina alone means she has violated the terms of Laina’s probation for not being responsible for her twenty-four hours a day. I can tell you, from experience, that it’s impossible to be responsible for Laina twenty-four hours a day. The girl is constantly sneaking out. I did everything I could to keep her and her sister Sadie in the house for years. Look where it got me.

I changed the locks, slept on the couch, even set up alarms and little traps that would make noise if the girls tried to sneak out. I took off doors, put on doors, added locks, removed locks. There was nothing that could be done to keep those girls in the house with me there. How do they expect Heather, all 120 pounds of her, to do anything about those girls?

It’s bad in here, locked up, but Heather’s the one out there dealing with all of this alone. She’s trying her best to parent Jeremiah and Mary. They aren’t easy in their own ways. Jeremiah is hyper and Mary is five. She still needs help with a lot of things. How’s Heather supposed to chase teenagers around who refuse to listen to her? How’s she supposed to punish girls who can scream abuse every time they don’t get their way? It’s ridiculous. Evil, even. And there’s nothing I can do. You can imprison a man, but you can’t contain his head. It’s a curse, really. I wish I could shut my head off.

I hate feeling helpless. I sit in here all day, trying to get these morons to have a goal or even pick up a darn Bible. I’m getting fed up. I want to be out there, helping Heather. I’m terrified of what Mary and Jeremiah will turn into if I’m in here much longer. Jeremiah has no example of what it is to be a man. Joseph and the others are too busy raising their own families and doing their own thing—the way it should be. All Mary sees is these two wild sisters, able to do whatever they want and her mother not being able to do a thing to stop them.

Heather went to church last week and the women from the choir wouldn’t speak to her. These new charges aren’t going to help. The church is pretty much the only support system she has left. I’d like to see how those church ladies would fare if they had a fall from grace. This is just so unfair. I have never seen my wife look so beaten, shaken, and hopeless.

All I can think about is Slash and Faith. If that pig touches her, I swear I’ll break out of here and kill him myself. I might as well be in here for a real reason. I may be angry with her, but she’s still my daughter. I keep telling Heather we’ve got to get Faith and Laina out of there. They need a new start. I wish they’d consider the convent. I know they aren’t into the faith like we’d like them to be, but at least they’d be safe.

We have friends willing to take the girls in. Good, God-fearing people that we have known for years and trust. But DCYF says that if Heather goes that route, she’ll have another neglect charge. You can’t just “throw away” your kids, they told her. “Just because you don’t believe them or don’t like what they have to say about your husband.” When are they going to get that—no, we don’t like what they’ve done—we love them unconditionally despite it. They’d be so much happier, safer, with fresh starts. The state of New York won’t hear anything of it.

Heather was so close to getting the state out of her life. With me in here, they were just about to close the case. Now, with Laina’s probation officers filing new charges, the case will be open for at least another six months. I can’t help but think Laina set this up on purpose. Such a silly move too. Heather and I had considered giving in and allowing her to leave home at seventeen, after she earned her GED. Now, my wife is going to have to juggle all these caseworkers and other people for at least another year and hope she can finally make them see the truth. I feel so blessed she has that one worker, Juliet, who is the only one who seems to know what’s really going on.

I keep trying to believe there’s a bigger reason. I mean, there’s got to be a reason why my daughters would want to pour battery acid on my soul, right? God has his plans. Just yesterday, Nick—my cellmate—introduced me to Todd McNeill. Todd is the father of a girl my girls were friends with, Harley. He’s in here for sexual assault against Harley. When Nick first introduced us, it took everything I had in me not to hit him. His pasty skin, soulless eyes, that smirk. “Hey, Bud. You too?” he asked. He thinks we are the same, and it makes me sick. I knew it was a test I’ll eventually make sense of. I shook his hand and walked away. I didn’t let myself wash my hands.

Harley’s a good kid, rough around the edges, but she has a great heart. Lives with her grandmother now. She’s not friends with the girls anymore, and I’m not sure why. I’d think she’d want to help them, assuming she, like everyone else, believes them. Either way, I did some thinking about Todd. Maybe it’s God’s plan that I help him. Maybe I’m supposed to get him to write a letter or reach out, or in some way help Harley to heal. I’ll have to remember to ask Heather if she’s heard anything about her lately. It might be better if I stay out of it. It’s a small world but time moves slowly in this joint. I figure if I can help someone, it will make time move faster.

There’s no way I’ll sleep tonight. I haven’t slept right since I got here anyway. Tonight will be worse than usual. All I can think about is Heather’s tears when she told me they asked her to stop coming to choir practices. She has the voice of an angel. I love hearing her sing in the shower. I try not to think that I may never hear that again. I cannot explain the frustration I feel in not being able to hug her when she cries now. I’m only allowed to touch her when she first arrives and when she leaves—a quick kiss hello and goodbye. Hugging for less than five seconds. I hate that I actually count, so as not to piss off the corrections officers. We take pictures, as many as we can, just for an excuse to stand close to one another.

If people knew Heather the way I do, they would never treat her this way. I thought church people would be the most forgiving. We spent all those years giving everything to the church. I know she still has the priest, Father Patrick, and some of the sisters. She says it’s not the same. She says they pity her. They used to respect her. A woman who stood up for what she believed. It takes guts to stand up every weekend, no matter what people are shouting at you, and hold signs urging people to save God’s unborn children.

How can anyone believe that a woman who would put all her time and energy into trying to save children would intentionally hurt her own? If Heather thought even for a second that I’d done those things to Laina and Faith, she would have been long gone. My wife is loyal, but there are a few things she would not stand for.

Heather’s visit came with even more sad news. Hope has lost her unborn child—would have been our twelfth grandchild, if you can believe it. Still is, I guess. I hate that I can’t fly out there and help. I miss my grandchildren the way I miss my own. I wanted to go visit them before I got convicted. I wasn’t allowed to leave the state. I haven’t seen Hope’s kids in six months, maybe more. I wonder if her youngest even remembers me. This isn’t how we planned our lives. I have never felt so helpless or useless in all my days. How would you feel?

I think of all the things I’m going to miss. I want to be there to walk Noelle and Mary down the aisle. I doubt Sadie, Faith or Laina would ever want me to do that for them. I try not to let it get to me. The rest of my daughters love me. I pray for them—all nine—every night. Of course, Heather too. I remind myself of stories like the prodigal son. Cain. Abel. Judas. I think of forgiveness and that none of us are perfect. I focus on happier times. I do whatever I can to keep my faith and keep Heather’s spirits up, but there’s only so much I can do from behind bars.

I sense she’s pulling away from me. I can understand that. Her nails are too short and gray hair has seeped in, despite her obvious pharmacy dye job. I love her even more for trying to hide her pain from me. To protect us both. But so much is unsaid and it scares me. I understand that she needs to put up walls. She’s forty-eight years old and looking at being married to a man who won’t leave prison until his eightieth birthday. What will we possibly have in common by then? I do everything I can to stay out of trouble. If I’m good, I could maybe be out by my seventieth. It makes me physically sick that, even when I do get out, I’ll have to register as a sex offender. I’ll never be able to vote. I’ll be a felon forever. It’s a nightmare I can’t wake up from with no end in sight. None of those things scare me, though, not as much as the idea of losing Heather.

Sometimes, I feel selfish. I feel like I should tell her to go, to do what the state wants and divorce me. To lie to them and say she believes I did it. To let them think she’s siding with Faith and Laina. To do anything it takes to make hers and the kids’ lives easier. I get tempted to ask her to forget about me all together. But I’m human, flawed. I’m hollow without her and the kids and the life we built. I’m just not ready to let go yet. I close my eyes, pretending my bunk has a curtain on it and a priest behind it. “Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. It’s been a day since my last confession. Can you hear me?” My words fade.

Chapter Twelve

Forbidden Fruit

Harley

Faith called me with big news today. It’s bringing everything back, and I’m not sure I’m ready for it. I’m trying to make this about her and not me. But that’s always a challenge with the Nelsons. The first time I met the Nelson family was at an anti-abortion rally. I can’t really blame Faith for being afraid to tell her mother she’s pregnant. Heather Nelson was holding a huge black sign and standing in the center of town the day I met her. She’s not a large woman. The sign was bigger than half her body—a full piece of foam poster board. On it was a picture of a baby in utero. It said something about saving lives. She was yelling about fetal development in a voice too big to come from such a small body.

I wasn’t supposed to meet her. It just sorta happened. My grandmother’s car broke down, and Tom Nelson—Laina’s dad—had to give us a ride. I remember staring at his big arms and folds of muscle at the back of his neck, like my own father’s, as he drove. Oddly, I never felt unsafe with him though. Maybe I didn’t spend enough time with him or something. It was Mrs. Nelson who seemed weird to me. Anyway, instead of taking us straight home, Mr. Nelson drove to the center of town to pick Mrs. Nelson up. Apparently, she spent two days every week down there with her youngest, Mary. I’d seen the picketers before, of course, but never realized one of them was Laina’s mother. I guess I hadn’t looked closely enough. And well, that sign. It was really all you could see when you looked at her. Just because I don’t agree with her views doesn’t mean I don’t admire her courage, even now, fighting for what she believes in. Still.

I don’t know what I expected, really. Laina and I had been friends for months. It was odd that I hadn’t been to her house. I tried not to ask questions. I had secrets of my own. She was always making up excuses why we could only hang out at my grandmother’s place. I understand, now, that she didn’t want me near her house. I get why. Or maybe it’s just that she wanted some time away from her own problems. Maybe Grandma’s was as much of an escape for her as it has been for me. This, of course, was before all the lies.

This whole thing is so messed up. The last thing I want to do is get involved with that family again. I’m finally beginning to heal. Laina has no idea what she put me through, believing her until she finally confessed. The idea of her using my abuse, my story, my life, to punish her parents still sickens me. And Faith’s no better. But everything I’ve been through has taught me so much about love, forgiveness, and even how to be a better person. What kind of person would I be if I left Faith on her own to deal with this? She’s not exactly a stable person. I’m worried about what she might do. I know what it feels like to be alone.

I don’t know if I believe Faith about Slash. Would she really have the kid if it was conceived through rape? Do people actually do that? Let’s face it, she and her sister are like the boy who cried wolf. That’s why I hate what they did. They make it harder for people to believe that this can even happen. People like Faith and Laina make it harder for kids like me to get adults to listen. Still, they are my friends—or were, anyway. I can’t imagine what Faith’s going through. If Slash really did this, and the baby isn’t Hunter’s, she’s in an even worse situation.

When Mrs. Nelson finds out, there’s no way she’ll help her get an abortion. Instead, Faith will have to go nine months carrying the baby of her perpetrator. I’m not okay with that. I can’t even think about what would have happened if I’d gotten pregnant. For these reasons, I have to find a way to help her. Fast. I’ve heard it’s easier to get an abortion now than ever. You can take a pill. Or maybe it’s two. I think you take a pill then take another one the next day, and then it’s over. Something easy like that. A lot easier than dealing with having your rapist’s baby.

I told Faith I’ll help her. I think she’s leaning toward having this kid though. I can’t really understand that, and it makes me doubt her story. Maybe the kid is Hunter’s and she’s scared. Why not lie, she figures? It worked last time. Mr. Nelson was arrested and the rules in the house became non-existent, with Mrs. Nelson freaked out that—at any time—she or Laina could make up another story and get Mary and Jeremiah taken away.

I still see Mrs. Nelson from time to time. Last time, she didn’t recognize me and handed me some flier on God’s Word for an unplanned pregnancy or something like that and a bookmark with tiny fetus footprints on it. Maybe Faith’s just brainwashed or feels too guilty to disappoint her family any more than she and Laina already have?

I can’t help her if I can’t see her. One big problem I’m going to have there is to figure out how to deal with Grandma. Grandma doesn’t want me anywhere near the Nelson sisters. She, like me, thinks what they did to their father is unforgivable. The difference between me and Grandma is the Great Depression and a two-generation gap. She simply doesn’t have time for bullshit. I, on the other hand, seem to have nothing but time these days. Let’s face it, I don’t have friends. Trust is too hard.

We can’t go to my house. We can’t go to Faith’s house. The good news is Laina can’t go anywhere because of her house arrest. I’m definitely not ready to forgive her. She’s the mastermind. When you know Laina like I do, you can be sure of it. At least I won’t have to deal with Laina and can concentrate on Faith. God knows, that girl needs some logical problem-solving help right about now. I’m getting my license in a few weeks. Maybe we can go to a park or something, somewhere far away from Mrs. Nelson and her town square picket posts.

Faith seems to think that some voodoo curse will cure all her problems. Imagine Mrs. Nelson finding out about that? Faith went to Hunter’s house wearing blue jeans looser than the current fashion and a shame-colored face to steal some witchcraft book from Mrs. Rounds just last week. I’ve tried to tell her that carving a pentagram on her shoulder and casting spells from plants in her garden probably isn’t the quickest and most reliable of fixes. But she doesn’t listen. It worries me that her plan A is the voodoo thing and plan B is to “trust the Goddess” and “just believe it’s Hunter’s and everything will be okay.” I don’t claim to know much about Paganism, but I do know they value living things. She’d probably be surprised to learn how much Wicca has in common with the very religion she’s so desperately trying to escape from. No matter what anyone does or doesn’t believe about a higher power, I think Faith’s missing the point that she can’t just wish a pregnancy away—not with prayer, not with witchcraft. No. You need a doctor for that. I wish she’d tell Jada. Faith talks to her, sometimes. Jada is at least old enough to know what to do and a heck of a lot more practical than Faith. But Jada talks with Mrs. Nelson, so Faith’s not about to take that chance.

Faith said she’s torn. She could blame Hunter and say the baby’s his. Then, he’d have “to do the right thing,” she said. She told me he’d marry her. Marrying a kid is the “right thing?” Sometimes, she makes me want to scream. She’s more like her mother than she realizes. I can’t be sure, but I doubt the state of New York would even let a fourteen-year-old kid get married. Dumb idea. Or, she could come clean and blame Slash. She’s convinced he’s the actual father—timing of things and stuff—but, sad for her, who would really believe it? I’ve tried to tell her to tell the truth. Apparently, she doesn’t learn lessons well. I would bet twenty bucks to anyone willing that she won’t. More lies. More pain. More secrets. More “Harley, can I trust you” questions that don’t deserve answers.

Trust is a funny thing. My therapist tells me I’ll always struggle with trust. I like to think she’s wrong. I doubt that she is. I never thought my father or brother would hurt me. I had no idea what they were doing was even wrong until I got older. Telling my mother wasn’t an option. I knew she’d take their sides. My brother always was her favorite. I wonder, sometimes, if Faith and Laina’s dad—Mr. Nelson—knows them now. I’ve heard they all live in the same unit—the place where people who hurt kids go. It’s for their own protection. Other inmates don’t tolerate sex offenders, they say. Great. Lucky them. I wonder why no one was there to protect me. I worry about who’s protecting Mr. Nelson now. He did nothing wrong. I’m curious who he trusts.

It’s true, the Nelsons were strict. Can you really blame them? After Sadie left with Slash, all hell broke loose; they were worried Laina and Faith would turn out just like her. They probably should have worried more. At one point, Laina told me they tried to get her into a monastery. It makes me laugh, thinking of Laina as a nun. I can’t imagine how she’d alter her habit and all the flirting she’d do with the boys in training to be priests or other servants of God. Laina would never survive in a convent. Faith might have had a chance. Not now though. I guess their only hope for a nun or a priest will have to be in Jeremiah and Mary now.

I try to put myself in Laina and Faith’s shoes. Is it possible that I could carry out such a lie? I turn red when Grandma asks me if I did my homework. I get nervous, talk too fast, and forget to finish my sentences. I doubt it could pull it off. I’m a terrible liar.

They told me it was Sadie’s idea. According to Laina, Sadie came up with the idea when she went to her, complaining that her father wouldn’t allow her to date Tyler. Faith agreed to help Laina because she had nothing better to do. She knew she’d be in her sister’s shoes soon enough and was fed up with living in a house ruled by prayer and prayer alone. I feel stupid for believing them.

I understand why most people still believe them. Even now. For starters, the only one they’ve admitted anything outright to is me. With everyone else, they stick with their story. The social workers, DCYF, the judge, probation officers, therapists, people in the church, people in town; they all believe. The headlines didn’t help:

Local Businessman Found Guilty on 38 Counts of Sexual Assault on Two Minors.

I remember reading those, thinking justice had been served. It wasn’t until a few months later when Laina and Faith finally came clean. They were sleeping over, and Faith brought a Ouija board. We were trying to communicate with my dead mother. I wanted answers to why she didn’t know what was happening with me. I think it made them feel guilty. I think they needed someone to tell. I slept in another room that night and pretended to be sleeping when Mrs. Nelson came to pick them up in the morning.

I was relieved when Laina got caught with Tyler and went on probation and house arrest for breaking curfew and being out until all hours of the night. It made it easier to forget about her. There was no way I could be friends with a person who would do that to an innocent person—especially her own father. I still haven’t touched my guitar since I found out. I hated those lessons anyway. The teacher looked at me funny—the way my father did. I’m sure he had a crush on Laina too. Gross. Are all men this way?

I do understand why they wanted to get away. With Sadie lost, Mr. Nelson figured he had to work harder to make sure Laina and Faith would be okay. He cut off anything they cared about. No boys. No Internet. No iPods or even television. They had nothing to do but read and hang out with each other. It took them months to let Laina visit me. He was so worried they’d meet a boy and eat the forbidden fruit. That the boy—man—would brainwash them and take them away, like with Sadie and Slash. I know why they wanted him gone. I really do. Still, you have to be pretty sick to make up a lie like that. I would give anything for my story to not be true. I would give anything to have my mother back and to rewind to a time where I was innocent. I’d even join a convent. Who needs men anyway?