Chapter 9: A Battery of Tests / a.k.a. “Don’t Hold the Mayo”

October 9, 1993, Chicago, Illinois

On Saturday morning, Kara, Michelle, and I were sitting in the ‘Indian’ room. Kara had come down, as we’d agreed, to continue our conversation from the previous night. We’d decided to stay in and talk, and we had, before I had gone with Michelle to her room to spend our scheduled Friday night together.

“Michelle, do you remember our conversation about my relationship with Steve?” Kara asked.

“Which one? We’ve had so many!”

Kara smiled, “True! I was referring to the one where I said I felt something was lacking since Jessica left us.”

“Sure.”

“And that I had a need for a very close, very intimate female friend to share everything with?”

Michelle nodded, but asked, “Haven’t we been doing that?”

“We have,” Kara said with a smile. “I like the closeness, and I know Steve likes the closeness with you. And you with each of us.”

Michelle smiled, “Very much.”

“The three of us need to be close like that, together,” Kara said.

“You mean like this more often?”

“Yes, but more than this. We want you to spend the night with us on Sunday nights.”

“Uh, spend the night? You mean...”

“Cuddling together. Sleeping together. Wearing pajamas. Nothing more than that.”

Michelle wore pajamas to bed every night, except Friday nights when I slept in her room. I’d let Kara know that, and we’d decided it might make things easier for Michelle if we did that as well. At least at first.

“Steve?” Michelle asked.

I smiled and softly said, “This one you have to answer for yourself.”

“It’s about consent,” Kara added. “Nobody can make decisions about things like this for you except you.”

“I’ll do whatever Steve wants,” Michelle said quietly.

Kara nodded with her head that I should leave them alone, so I got up and left the room, closing the door behind me. I went to the sunroom where I was mobbed by little girls who wanted my attention. I managed to get Birgit, Stephie, and Ashley into the lounge chair with me and the four of us cuddled together.

“Where’s Mommy?” Birgit asked.

“Talking to Michelle. How was school this week?”

“Fun! Tiffany is my best friend!”

“What are you learning?”

“I know my letters and numbers! Mommy already taught me everything!”

That was the same ‘problem’ that Jesse and Matthew had when they started school, but now that they had moved up, Jesse to second grade and Matthew to first, they were starting to learn some things they hadn’t learned at home. It was going to be a real struggle to keep them interested until they got to advanced subjects. That’s why I was happy that they had each made some friends at school. The social interaction was very important in my mind, as well as the discipline, or at least what passed for discipline, in schools.

“Good!”

“I saw Rachel at lunch,” Birgit said. “She looks sad all the time.”

I was sure she did. Carla was doing that poor girl a grave disservice, and there was literally nothing I could do to change that. I wasn’t her father, and couldn’t BE her father. It wasn’t just because of Jessica, but because I felt Rachel needed to know the truth. The problem was, Carla was so convinced that she knew the truth, that nothing was going to change. I’d given up on my quest to find evidence, and wondered if I might try again. But I didn’t know what else I could do.

The one remaining approach was to make a plea to Carla to get access to Dustin’s photographs, the one final place I felt we might find some clues. At some point, though, Rachel would be old enough to understand both physiology and DNA testing. And if SHE put the pressure on Carla, that might do the trick. The problem was that she was only in third grade, which meant probably six-to-eight years before an approach like that could be tried.

“I know, Pumpkin. It’s her mom who is making her sad.”

“Like Mommy makes Ashley sad?” Birgit asked.

“Something like that,” I said.

“I want Mommy to come home!” Ashley declared with more than a tinge of sadness.

“Me, too, Princess,” I sighed. “Me, too.”

Kara came to the door of the sunroom and saw me cuddled with the girls, and turned and left. I knew we could talk after karate, before I went to lunch with Ailea. I stayed in the lounge chair until it was time to dress for karate, when the girls very reluctantly allowed me to get up.

Kara and I did have our chance to talk once we arrived back home to shower.

“She’ll come to bed with us tomorrow,” Kara said. “She wasn’t reluctant; she just wanted you to tell her to do it.”

“Something I could never do,” I said.

“Exactly. We talked about that, and I reminded her of all the conversations about consent that we’ve had at the Rap Sessions as well as the conversations she had with Bethany and her other counselor after she was attacked. I’m curious, how did you handle things like this with Anala?”

“I didn’t have the same fully-formed concept of consent as I do now, and I was still pretty submissive myself. Anala had to more or less lead me to what she wanted me to do. Not like Prajesh, who just came by it naturally. I could never be like him.”

“From what you’ve said, what I’ve read, and the interactions I had with Anala, she and Michelle have somewhat different personalities, despite being completely submissive.”

“Anala was only submissive in her private relationship with her partner. She’d never give up her architecture career, for example. Michelle, on the other hand, would drop out of school and become my personal slave if I asked her to. That’s what concerns me. Elyse is certain that Michelle’s desire for children will eventually force the issue, but even in that, she’d submit to me. And that means I need to be very, very careful. Like I was this morning. The other difference is, Anala was never, ever lost. Michelle is. The innate contradictions have her somewhat adrift, and she’s looking for an anchor. I’m that anchor. At least for now.”

“So she’s not a permanent third?” Kara asked.

“After talking to Elyse, I don’t think so. I mean, it’s possible Elyse is wrong, but I don’t think so. Maybe Michelle decides to adopt a baby or two instead of having biological children. But I think, in the end, like you, she needs to get pregnant and fully experience motherhood. But this is all idle speculation. We don’t know for sure what will happen in the future. Would you change your mind about inviting her to bed with us if she’s not permanent?”

“No,” Kara said shaking her head slowly, “I don’t think so. But I don’t want to repeat this process every few years.”

“I’m not sure how we avoid this problem in the future,” I said. “If I hadn’t had a vasectomy, then we could easily solve it. I suppose a woman our age would be in a better position to make that kind of commitment.”

“I think it would be a problem if she already had kids,” Kara said. “I wouldn’t want to try to blend families at this point, and there’s always the issue of the dad. That could be a real mess. But as you say, younger girls will probably eventually want kids. Even Abbie changed her mind on that!”

I laughed, “Exactly.”

When we’d dressed, I kissed Kara goodbye, and headed to Ailea’s house for lunch.

As she’d said would be the case, her parents were gone and we had a nice lunch together, and a very good conversation. I reproved myself for the thoughts I’d had and the fact that I’d completely misread her intentions.

We agreed to have lunch again in November, and after a quick, platonic hug, I hurried home so that I could go to Jesse’s hockey game.

The game was better than the purely instructional league he’d been in the previous year. Jesse did well, and his team won 8-5. I’d gotten used to the crazy number of goals that could be scored, a far cry from the usual four or five total goals scored in a typical NHL game.

One thing was certain, Birgit’s comment about ‘stinky boys’ was absolutely spot on when it came to hockey players. Jesse positively reeked when he got into Josie’s car. His gear, equally smelly, was in the trunk. Even airing it out and spraying it with deodorizer didn’t make much difference.

“How can one kid stink so much?” Jennifer laughed.

I grinned, “We did agree that there wasn’t much on this earth that smelled worse than hockey locker rooms! Even the rink has that odor when you walk in!”

“I say we bring Birgit to the next game,” Josie said.

“Ugh! No girls!” Jesse said.

“And that little girl on your team?” I asked. “The one who scored three goals?”

He made a face, “She’s OK.”

“So your problem is not ‘girls’ it’s ‘sisters’,” I countered.

Jesse laughed, “Yes!”

“You know she loves you, right?”

Jesse sighed, “Yes, and I love her. But she’s annoying!”

“She thinks the same thing about you!” Josie teased.

“Why did I have to have a sister?”

“You have three!” Jennifer said.

“Why did I have to have THREE sisters?” he said, correcting his complaint.

“Because your dad loves Aunt Kara and Aunt Jessica.”

“I want to see Aunt Chess,” Jesse said. “I miss her.”

“You could ask Jorge to go along to visit next Saturday morning if you wanted,” I said.

“Yes!”

When we arrived home, I lugged in the goalie pads and gear, and helped Josie put everything on the drying rack to air out. The unfinished basement of the coach house was perfect for that. We’d discussed finishing it at some point, but it had never been a priority.

October 10, 1993, Chicago, Illinois

It had been a relatively quiet Sunday. We’d joined Abbie and Jason to watch the NASCAR race that was held in Charlotte, North Carolina. Bill Elliott had finished tenth, though he was two laps down. Geoff Bodine, who had, to our mutual disgust, displaced Jimmy Hensley, finished thirteenth. Bill was ninth in points for the season, too far back to catch Dale Earnhardt or Rusty Wallace who had the only realistic chances of winning the Winston Cup with only four races to go. All in all, it was a crappy season.

On the news, we heard a report about a South Korean ferry that capsized off Pusan, leading to at least 280 deaths. Elyse noted that at least we were seeing fewer large airplane crashes, but that was, I was sure, little solace to the dead and their loved ones.

After dinner, we’d played with the kids, and after we put them to bed, Kara, Michelle, and I spent time together in the ‘Indian’ room. When it was time for bed, we went upstairs, with Michelle going to her room to put on her pajamas. She knocked on the door and came in when I called out. She came in, and shut the door behind her, looking very nervous.

“It’ll be fine, Michelle,” I said. “We’ve all been naked together in the sauna a bunch of times.”

“I know,” she said quietly. “But it’s a bed.”

I suppressed a laugh, “You can have sex other places than in bed!”

She giggled nervously, “I suppose so! But I never have!”

That was technically true - she’d given me a blowjob in my study, but we hadn’t had ‘sex’, as she meant it.

“Come over and get in bed with us,” I said, taking her hand.

Kara and I had discussed the best approach, and we’d agreed that Michelle would sleep on my right, and Kara on my left. Physical contact between the girls had been limited to hugs, and we didn’t want to push Michelle into something she was uncomfortable with. Kara got into bed, I got in next to her, and drew Michelle in after me. Kara moved automatically into her usual cuddling position, and I encouraged Michelle to do the same. She sighed deeply.

“You OK?” I asked.

“More than OK,” she sighed. “I love cuddling with you.”

“You’ve learned why I call him Snuggle Bear!” Kara said softly.

“I think I might like this,” Michelle sighed, snuggling close.

“We hope so,” I replied. “We really hope so.”

October 14, 1993, en route from Chicago, Illinois to Rochester, Minnesota

“I appreciate the lift,” I grinned.

“I figured that driving to Rochester from Chicago might be too much stress,” Samantha said. “Doctor Barton agreed.”

“What is it with all of you girls?” I sighed.

“Hey, you encouraged me to become friends with Kara, Elyse, Bethany, and Jennifer!” she laughed.

“I did,” I laughed. “Whatever was I thinking?”

“That you wanted me to learn to be a caring, loving, compassionate adult.”

“I suppose so. And I think it’s worked out pretty well.”

“We’ll come back to get you late tomorrow afternoon,” she said. “Just call me if something changes and they decide to keep you longer.”

“I doubt it. They’ll do all the neurological tests tomorrow morning, then I have two separate psychological screenings, a cognitive abilities test, a cardiac stress test, and a complete physical. The results won’t come for a week or two, at the earliest.”

“I checked up on this Doctor Ross. He’s one of the top neuro guys in the country.”

“Do you think Al Barton would send me anywhere else?” I asked with a grin.

“No. Before I forget, is it OK to invite the girls who went to St. Martin with us for New Year’s?”

“Sure. You’re welcome to invite anyone you want, within reason. That goes for all the parties - Fourth of July, Halloween, New Year’s, Labor Day, and Memorial Day. You’re part of the family!”

“Thanks! I’ll probably have some of the girls over during Christmas break, too. Liz, especially, wants to see you.”

“She’s a sweet girl, but she really does need to find a guy closer to her age who can commit to her.”

“She knows. But I also know EXACTLY what she’s thinking about!” Samantha giggled.

“Those are NOT daughterly thoughts!” I said, trying to sound stern but failing.

“We can’t undo what happened, and neither of us wants to! I had no complaints. Did you?”

“No,” I grinned. “Don’t make any promises.”

“I won’t. I didn’t in St. Martin, remember?”

“True. How are things with Brian?”

Samantha laughed, “I swear to God you ask me that nearly every day! I think I’m just going to have him fuck my brains out so I can tell you we did it and get it out of the way!”

“That is NOT what I was talking about,” I protested.

“Sure it is. You’re being protective. Just as you should be. And I’m pushing back, just like I should do. That’s the way it will be with Stephie and Ashley. Birgit is a whole different story!”

“Tell me about it,” I chuckled.

October 15, 1993, Mayo Clinic, Rochester, Minnesota

“Good morning, Mr. Adams, I’m Doctor Ross.”

“Good morning.”

I was sitting in a small exam room, wearing one of those useless hospital-style gowns that my wives and lovers had quickly discarded during their labor and delivery. Doctor Ross, a silver-haired man of about sixty, had come into the room with a nurse who looked like she wasn’t a day over eighteen, though I knew she had to be at least 22 or 23.

“We’ll do a quick check of your vitals, and then we’ll have an orderly take you to the MRI lab. A technician will get you prepared and I’ll supervise the test. Did you have any questions?”