17
HER VISION WAS BADLY distorted and she began to choke, no longer able to swallow her food. She was becoming light-and-sound sensitive. I rushed to pay the bill and escorted her to the car. These distortions extended to her mental processing abilities. She complained of being unable to understand what I was saying to her.
"Erik, I feel like I'm going to pass out. Do something, please!" a panicked Lauren pleaded.
"Let's get to the car and I'll take you home before things get any worse."
"What was that, you're getting worse?" Lauren questioned in a confused state of mind.
While driving, she became unconscious momentarily, then began to choke again. I was near a hospital so just to be safe I parked in the back of their visitor's lot. The choking became more intense. Lauren seemed to be reacting to some substance in her mouth and some constricting thing around and or in her throat. She gagged and retched then desperately tried to wipe something off of her face, eyes, ears, and nose.
Some disgusting substance was in her mouth and she forcefully attempted to expel the vile memory matter. A motionless moment of silence, then a childlike voice began speaking.
"Mommy, why did you leave me without your nightgown? Why Mommy . . . why?"
I instinctively took her mother's place.
“This is only a memory. You’re safe now and I will never leave you any more,” adding a reassuring hug to my hopeful words.
"Mommy, don't leave me with uncle, please Mommy. You know my birthday is coming and I want to wear my pink dress but, Mommy, I don't want the dress to show my legs because then he looks at me."
The adult child struggling for sanity before me yawned, curled up in the car seat and pretended to be asleep suckling her thumb while in the fetal position. Then she whispered something.
"Be quiet, he's going to hear you. If you're very still, he might not come."
A few moments of stillness and silence before she began to choke again.
Gagging, retching, and wiping her face nose and eyes to get rid of something that was horribly irritating. After a brief reprieve, she screamed, "Stop the purple room from spinning . . . stop it . . . please stop it!"
During the next few seconds this grown woman somehow forced her body into three 360-degree vertical rotations in the front seat of the car. It was an unbelievable thing to witness, as if some inhuman power took control of her body, defying space, time, and gravity limitations. Like a scene from, The Exorcist, demonic-level forces seemed to maneuver her body into impossible positions.
The contortions were over quickly, but the effects were devastating. Another moment of silence and stillness and she began a slow, continuously building searing scream. At the apex of the outburst, the terrorized child pushed her hand down to cover her vagina.
She was being sexually assaulted during this vivid memory of molestation. The biological projectile was not entering easily. Tissue was being torn by the mismatched organ. The vocal outburst and accompanying crime lasted for an eternity of two minutes. Finally, the silence was deafening. A weak, scared, exhausted child's voice managed to speak.
"Let me go now . . . I've got to go to my safe place, to my closet, let me go . . . let me go."
To get to this closet in her home she had to stretch through a crawl space much too small for any adult to follow. This was the one place in the home where her uncle could not get to her.
During the flashback I continually spoke words of reassurance to the child in crisis.
"Mommy, why didn't you stop him, why mommy, why? I don't want those pills and I'm not sick! You should have been there to stop him, Mommy," her child's voice sobbed over and over.
ALTHOUGH LAUREN’S mother was not directly involved in any overt abuse, she was a coconspirator in the sense that whenever she was forced to become involved in the aftermath of a molestation event, she helped cover up what had happened by trying to make Lauren believe that it really didn't happen. She even went as far as to tranquilize the child to calm her into unconsciousness. Her mother always denied having knowledge of any abuse going on in her household.
How was Lauren going to react to the conformation of her claim that her uncle raped her while her mother covered up the abhorrent act.
Lauren always spoke so highly of her mother. The thought that her mother could have abandoned her to a lifetime of painful suffering may be more than Lauren could cope with.
The monstrous memory was released and when Lauren, the adult, regained consciousness she was still in the ethereal echo of the intense mind quake.
"My god," she said with disgust, "I can taste semen in my mouth."
She also felt blood flowing near her vagina, and probing with her hand found actual blood and torn, sore labial tissue. Her body began to ache from the gymnastic-like contortions that took place in the car during the flashback. Her vision was still distorted and she was near collapse.
Somehow the memory lingered into the present for the first time. Lauren continued to taste and smell the semen, and feel vaginal pain and soreness as if she had just been violently raped. When I attempted to explain to her in graphic detail what had happened and its significance, her perception began to break up.
Like a radio signal full of static, her instinctive repression mechanisms took over, but the block was breaking down. The flashbacks were proof of that, but the solar storm of psychic activity was short-circuiting her fragile mind.
Certain drugs were able to open a channel into the subconscious, making it easier for repressed memories to escape. Lauren had recently been prescribed a migraine medication which seemed to be in this class of medications that affect memory storage and processing.
HOME NOW AND RESTED, Lauren gathered what little strength she had left in order to continue preparations for New Year's Eve. The gown was being altered, various accessories were needed, and how was she going to wear her hair. She called an old friend who worked with her professionally when she was in her prime as a supermodel.
"Simon, hello darling!"
"Lauren my dear, how are you?"
"I'm back from Canada and in need of your unparalleled artistic touch."
"What can I do for you . . . anything . . . you come in tomorrow afternoon."
He was hairdresser to the rich and famous. He couldn't have been happier to hear from Lauren, having wondered many times what happened to her when she disappeared from the modeling scene in the Midwest several years ago. Holiday-pressed for time, he nevertheless gave her an appointment the following day.
As always, but that day in particular, Lauren looked like an angel, dressed in white, from whipping cream-colored leather boots to white tight-knit leg wear and an oversized ivory wool sweater, scarf and hat. This former supermodel had recreated the high-fashion look that used to project her rising-star status.
As we entered the hairdresser's workspace, the room lit up with the cheerful greetings of long-lost friends. This master of his craft happened to be gay, but that only deepened the bond between them. They cared for each other without the complication of come-on pressures. After a few minutes of catching up, he got to work.
Lauren was gifted with beautiful thick, long chestnut hair. Simon recently acquired a new mechanical means to temporarily imprint waves and curls into long hair. That was all she needed to hear. With her usual faith in his styling ideas she said, "Let your imagination run wild!"
Two hours later the transformation was complete. The sculpted result revealed a one-of-a-kind rendering of a lavish look that was created specifically for Lauren and inspired by Lauren's matchless beauty.
I sensed the pleasure he was feeling while manipulating Lauren's flowing mane. If a person is fortunate they find a means to make a living that involves working with things or people they love to be around. Being able to enhance a woman's natural beauty meant much to this conductor of the coiffure.
Lauren left beaming, being so pleased with the result she could hardly contain herself. She also experienced several recollections of her past days of glory as a supermodel, and it felt good to be treated that way again—like an important person, like a celebrity.
IT WAS NEW YEAR’S EVE DAY and there were a number of important preparations yet to make. We toured a mall looking for gloves and jewelry to complete the upcoming evening's outfit. After picking up the gown from the tailor, I brought Lauren home for some much-needed rest. Her expectations were perhaps unrealistically high—to win back Kurt. If not that, she was positioning herself for a clear closure with Kurt and her lingering feelings for him.
By the time this night was over, she would either bury Kurt in her problematic past or revive their once-smoldering love.
Understandably, Lauren needed to resolve things with Kurt even though her relationship with Nick was not at all promising. She summoned the strength necessary to embrace the evening's responsibilities and opportunities.
ALL OF THE PIECES were positioned and one by one assembled until the finished canvas captured the vision of Lauren's natural beauty surrounded by the accoutrements of crushed velvet gown, enthralling coiffure, and the vibrant colors added to enhance her eyes, face, and lips. I was proud to have this stunning woman on my arm as I escorted her into a restaurant to begin the first item on our evening's itinerary.
The elegant diner's name, appropriate for the goal of the special evening, was Valentyne's. The entrance was a time portal back to the turn of the century. With antique furniture throughout, old murals and cracked-frame paintings hung on red-patterned velvet wall paper. A black Baldwin grand piano greeted guests with seasonal melodies.
We had cappuccino at the bar while waiting for our table. Much of the mirrored and columned back bar was impressively taken up by a meticulously restored antique massive copper-and-brass cappuccino and espresso maker. The hissing sounds of escaping steam tantalized our senses as we sipped gourmet coffee dashed with premium dark chocolate shavings and cinnamon.
Hoping to make my own impression on Lauren, I sat down at the now empty piano and played a rendering of the melody I composed as an expression of my feelings for her during many a night missing her. Normally, I would never have done something so bold in public, but I was compelled to try anything to get this extraordinary creature to turn her desperate heart in my direction.
The aroma of fine cooked cuisine wafted through the restaurant. We were led to an isolated corner where a romantic candlelit table awaited. There was an undertone of melancholy projecting from both of us. I was with Lauren, but our relationship was not and might never be consummated.
Lauren was still fixated on Kurt, and yet couldn't be with him. The events of the evening might shake up this depressing stalemate. After dining on Caesar salad and a medium-rare fillet, we made our way to the rock club where Kurt was performing.
WE CLEARLY HEARD the band's blaring sounds as we walked toward the club entrance. Kurt was performing on the lower level of a two-tiered auditorium. As we negotiated the stairway, many familiar faces passed by—people I'd seen so often and recognized as loyal followers of this band.
I'm not sure any of them ever noticed me before, but tonight every head was turned to get a second look at who was on my arm. When Lauren made her entrance, the attention of the gathering shifted briefly from the performers on stage to the former celebrity walking toward a front-table seat. Some of the old crowd was there—the loyal groupies who religiously followed Kurt's band.
Many of them recognized and were pleased to see Lauren again. She hadn't been to a gig in months and no one really knew why because Kurt never discussed their secret affair. They went out of their way to move some chairs around so we could all sit together, just like we used to do a year ago. Kurt was on stage downing a beer and getting the crowd crazy, as might be expected on New Year's Eve.
Several songs went by and Kurt didn't seem to notice Lauren, which was both impossible and irritating. She looked spectacular, that wasn't the problem. She decided she better get out on the dance floor if she really wanted him to see her.
It had been months since she had any kind of physical exercise. The terrible toll on her mind and body of all the drugs she was taking and the draining flashbacks left her nearly an invalid. One of Lauren's most amazing traits, however, was her ability to rise to the demands of any occasion by selecting just the right personality to carry on despite the challenges of any situation.
"Well, it's now or never," Lauren declared, concerned but somewhat detached over what was going to happen next.
"Come on Lauren, get out here with us," her friends encouraged, almost in unison. She downed another shot, picked herself up off the chair, and strutted out onto the dance floor.
Lauren was shaky and unsure of herself but bolstered by her friends, the old group that used to tear up the dance floor together, she was soon reacting to the resounding rhythms with precision and her distinctive style.
It was wonderful to see the old Lauren back in form, proud of her appearance, and dancing again. Her kind of quality and talent was meant to be nurtured and respected, not compromised by the dark demons that were constantly knocking her back.
Dancing to a couple of songs used up her energy reserves and she rejoined me at the table.
"You sure looked great out there," I said, trying to reassure Lauren that she was still an intimidating presence.
"Why thank you Erik, it felt like old times," Lauren remarked while remembering the reality of those past days of glory and storybook romance.
THE BAND WAS ABOUT to take a break and Lauren was now confident Kurt would come by and spend some time with her. What she didn't know was that Kurt's new girlfriend was there and had been told all about Lauren. She was the jealous, possessive type, critical of Lauren and didn't want Kurt to have anything to do with her. Lauren stole Kurt from her months ago and this was her chance to get even.
"Kurt, if you go over to Lauren I'll scratch her eyes out, I swear," she threatened.
"Just control yourself. You know I don't want to get back with her. I'm just going to say hello right before the next set starts," Kurt explained trying desperately to avoid a scene.
We suspected Kurt might have been seeing someone else, but he always denied it when Lauren questioned him about that possibility. Kurt’s solution, he kept his distance from both women so as not to provoke a confrontation.
Kurt wasn't really committed to either of them and wanted to keep it that way. He couldn't handle the demands of any relationship, certainly not with Lauren, and needed the space to clear his head of the fallout from his unsettling involvement with Lauren.
To be a part of Kurt's life, a woman would have to fit into his interpretation, based on family modeling, of what a woman should be like—someone who would not only tolerate certain kinds of abusive and chauvinistic behaviors, but thrive on such treatment. Lauren just wouldn't, couldn't cope with the abusive nature of Kurt's expression of what a husband should be like.
The inevitable break between sets was on schedule, but Kurt did not come right over to Lauren's table. At first she was mildly irritated, then angry, then despondent.
"I just don't understand it. Where is he? Why hasn't he come over to see me?" Lauren lamented with a look of regret that was building into an emotional outburst.
The break lasted 20 minutes. Finally, with about two minutes left before the band had to begin playing again, Kurt stopped by.
"Lauren, you look wonderful. It's great to see you out dancing again," came Kurt's polite but reserved remarks.
"So, you finally noticed me. Here, sit down, I want to talk to you for a minute. Where have you been?" Lauren questioned judgmentally.
"I'd like to but we've got to start the second set. Have a good time now," were Kurt's guarded comments, hoping that he’d managed to avoid a major mess with both of the impossibly demanding women in his life.
Despite her spectacular appearance, Kurt was not moved to rekindle their once smoldering relationship. The band began to generate enthusiasm for the moment of transition from the old to the new year. That moment came and went with Kurt nowhere near Lauren's lonely lips.
"Erik, get me out of here, I can’t bear this anymore," were her retching words, full of the feeling of being desperately abandoned.
LAUREN HAD PLACED a tremendous strain on herself during the entire day and this rejection was more than she could bear. She had been drinking and alcohol always opened internal mind channels with unpredictable and uncontrollable outcomes.
I was concerned about what might happen next. As we passed by a restaurant, Lauren asked if we could stop in to get something to eat. She ordered coffee and picked at the food on her plate. I began to notice her eyes closing as if she were fighting off sleep. She almost fainted several times while sitting in the booth.
"I'm not feeling well. You better take me home."
"Certainly Lauren, let's get going. I'll pay the bill. Gather your things," I said trying to organize a quick departure.
She got as far as the exit doors, then collapsed and cowered in the corner rocking in the fetal position, sobbing and holding her abdominal area as if in great pain.
"Do you want me to call 911," the manager asked after noticing Lauren's collapse.
"I don't think that will be necessary. Just help me get her to the car."
Curled up, moaning in misery, Lauren pleaded, "Lance please stop hitting me, please, I'll do anything you say, anything."
LANCE WAS LAUREN’S first significant boyfriend. Unfortunately, he was a man modeled after the selfish, abusive ways of her uncle. Lauren was 11; Lance was 14. During their courtship Lance was loving, tender, and romantic. Although Lance was not yet displaying his abusive ways, their puppy love affair was promptly halted by her mother who sent Lauren away for the summer.
With fall came school and Lauren's relationship with Lance was rekindled. Again, orders from her mother to break things off led to a physical confrontation between Lance and Lauren's brother, who was determined to keep the two of them apart.
Her brother was injured in the fight. With her brother cut on the face and possibly scarred for life, Lauren's mother was furious and locked Lauren in her room for five days.
An alter named Julie initially fell in love with Lance. Later, as a result of the punishment by her mother, a tougher, more determined alter named Samantha emerged to deal with the anguish. Two years passed with Samantha in control.
Now 13, Lauren began getting anonymous notes from an admirer asking to meet her in a park outside their town.
When Lauren arrived at the appointed place, Lance presented himself as the author of the notes. Julie returned to control the body and her love for Lance revived.
This time she was able to get her mother's permission to spend time with Lance, strictly as a friend. Initially, while pursuing Lauren, Lance did not exhibit any of his almost demonically destructive personality traits.
SHREDS OF A LIFE
Glimpses of hell thus I see
the shreds of a life of a child in me.
Pain and suffering, no laughter, no joy
the flesh of the innocent pawned as a toy.
Blood and tears, sweat and shame
the guilt of a girl born to be blamed.
Overpowered, overthrown,
I exist in the temple that was never my own.