Chapter 67: You knew!

June 12, 1991, Chicago, Illinois

“You knew!” I spluttered when Kara and I met Jessica at the ER.

“Let’s talk at home, Tiger. Please.”

I nodded and we turned to walk home. I’d purposefully avoided Kara’s questions on the way to the ER from the office, and I’d flat out refused to talk to Elyse about lunch before I talked to Jessica. I was able to use her recusal to get past her insistence that I talk to her. No other words were said before we arrived home.

“Dinner in ten minutes,” Abbie said.

“We may be late,” I said. “Go ahead and feed the kids, please.”

“Is everything OK?”

“It’ll be fine,” I said. “I just need to talk with Jessica and Kara.”

Elyse shot me a look, but I shook my head slightly to warn her off. My wives and I went to the ‘Indian’ room. I shut and locked the door, then turned on some music.

“You knew!” I hissed. “You set me up!”

“Tiger, relax,” she pleaded.

“Think it through, Steve,” Kara pleaded. “We could never tell you! Only Fawn could tell you that very personal thing!”

“It still feels like a setup!”

“Why?” Jessica asked in a soft, non-confrontational voice. “We didn’t tell her that you would do it, just that I couldn’t give permission because of my situation with Doctor Barton.”

“So you could feign innocence in the matter?” I said. “Seriously?”

“Steve,” Kara said. “Stop and think. Wouldn’t you do everything and anything necessary to protect Jessica?”

“Yes, of course.”

“So why demand that she put herself directly in the line of fire?”

I sighed, “You’re right. I’m sorry, Jess. Now I have to ask, when did she talk to you about this?”

“The first time?” Jessica smirked. “Or the most recent?”

“That night she danced with me?” I asked.

“Oh, she asked again then. But it was right around her sixteenth birthday when she got wind of your freedom in this area. It was an innocent question at first, or so I thought. She just asked why I let you have sex with other girls. Well, besides Kara. She kind of understood the three-way marriage, but not completely. We talked about that, too.”

“And what did you tell her?”

“The same thing every time. When she turned eighteen she could ask you if she wanted to.”

“Not seventeen?” I asked.

“I wanted to delay it for as long as possible. She’s going to Juilliard and probably won’t even be home for the summer for the next four years. If it was going to happen, this is when it had to happen.”

“And the rules about nobody you work with?”

“We talked about you and Tara, and your logic there.”

“Yes, but in this case, Al is a close friend.”

“And she’s eighteen. It really is up to her.”

“But I have to sit across from Al at lunch, and be at his house, and have him here. I’m not sure I can handle that.”

“Then you’ve decided to tell her ‘no’?” Jessica asked.

“I don’t know which end is up right now,” I said.

“How did you leave it with her?”

“After I choked on my San Pellegrino, and I managed to breathe properly, I told her I needed to talk to you about it before I answered.”

“Was she upset?”

“No, I don’t think so. I assume you made sure she knew the rules.”

Jessica smiled, “We talked about them in detail. She had her STD test already.”

“Which is what you implied about things she’d done that you didn’t want to say.”

“Yes. She also started taking birth control pills.”

“Was that before or after she broke up with her boyfriend?” I asked.

“I don’t know the timing, for sure.”

“Do you know why they broke up?”

“You’ll have to ask her,” Jessica replied.

“I think you know. And you won’t say for the same reason you wouldn’t tell me that she talked to you or that she’s still a virgin. And I’m not sure that’s a reasonable question for me to ask her.”

“He’s right, Jessica,” Kara said. “I think you should tell him.”

Jessica paused for a moment, then answered.

“He wanted to take things to the next level and she said ‘no’.”

A light went on in my head.

“Because she wanted it to be me?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“That puts an entirely new spin on this, you know? Don’t you think that was a vital piece of information? I’m really worried about her mental and emotional state now.”

“Because she wants you to be her first? Like Jacquelyn?”

“I wasn’t in my right mind,” I said.

“No, I think you were completely in your right mind,” Kara said.

“Jacqui played me like a violin!” I protested.

“Did she? I think she acted perfectly reasonably and so did you. She decided she wanted you, and did what she needed to do to make it happen. I don’t think she manipulated you, she just acted like a girl who wanted a guy to notice her enough to want to go to bed with her.”

I chuckled, “And that doesn’t take much, does it?”

“No, it usually doesn’t!” Kara laughed.

“And the two of you think this is the same thing? What about the crush?”

“Don’t you think that’s how it started with Jacqui?”

“I hadn’t thought about it, but at this point, I suspect you’re right.”

“The issue of the crush is a risk that you have to evaluate,” Jessica said. “Weigh everything involved and make your decision. I think you understand why we can’t help you.”

I nodded, “Because I need to be completely responsible for what happens, good or bad.”

“Exactly,” Kara said.

“I’m not sure I agree with your methods, but I think I understand why you had to handle it this way.”

“Do you know what you’re going to do?” Jessica asked.

“No. Not yet. I want to think about it, and then I want to talk to her again. And, to be honest, I want to hear what Doctor Bradford has to say on Friday.”

June 14, 1991, Chicago, Illinois

“Let’s discuss your formative years, specifically your very first sexual thought,” Doctor Bradford said after we exchanged brief pleasantries.

“I’m not sure I remember,” I said. “I do recall my mom giving me a set of books on puberty, sex, and stuff when I was nine, I think. I sort of had an idea about sex before that, you know, that boys and girls were different and that the parts somehow went together. I can’t say for sure when I figured that out, but it was before then. The books had clear drawings, though it was all stylized outline drawings, not realistic.”

“And what did you think?”

“Not much, really. It was clinical and I wasn’t really having any feelings at that point.”

“When was the first time you masturbated?”

“I would guess when I was twelve. But not very often. I didn’t have the urge regularly.”

“What gave you the urge?”

“Thinking about certain actresses or looking at a friend’s dad’s Playboy magazines. But I really didn’t have many opportunities to see those.”

“What about your first girlfriend?”

I chuckled, “I was three! To be honest, from my earliest memories, there was always a special girl, except for brief periods, usually after we moved. The first one I kissed with an idea of what it really meant was a girl named Michelle Benz when I was twelve. It never went beyond a couple of kisses.”

“Did you think about her when you masturbated?”

“No, I didn’t. That happened when I was dating Susan Pollard. We did a lot of kissing, some petting, and I asked her to have sex with me. She broke up with me right after that.”

“Because you asked her to have sex?”

“Yes. That was the summer after seventh grade.”

“And in eighth grade you met the exchange student who later died.”

“Yes.”

“But before you could be with her, you were with the older woman?”

“Yes. You know the story from here. We talked about it during our first full meeting after I was released from the hospital.”

Doctor Bradford consulted his notes, then looked up again.

“You had two separate encounters with the older woman, and then a single encounter with the Swedish girl. After that, you were with the girl she stayed with, who, for lack of a better word, pimped you out to her friends and relatives.”

I chuckled, “I’m not sure Melanie would like that term, but yes, that’s accurate.”

“Were you able, ever, after that, to be faithful to one girl, with no exceptions?”

“No. I tried, and failed miserably. That was with Kara.”

“Which was after your trip to Europe? And after your friend moved to Seattle?”

“Yes to both. Jennifer more or less took over Melanie’s role of, as you called it, ‘pimping me out’, when Melanie started dating the man who is now her husband.”

“In Sweden, was there anyone like that?”

I shook my head, “No. I had several girls there, but mostly it was two steady girls. What are you looking for?”

“Just trying to connect the dots between your hyper-sexuality, your syncope, and your mood swings. It’s a 2500 piece puzzle and I think we’re still missing some pieces of the puzzle.”

“We talked about my mom, about the girls, about my mood swings, and about my syncope.”

He nodded, “Yes, that should be enough. But something is missing. And I think it’s something big. You may not even know what it is.”

Oh, I sure as hell knew what it was, but there was no way in this life, or any other, that I was going to tell him, or any other person who would have to report it. The problem was, I didn’t know if I could resolve my issues without talking about it. And that was a serious problem.

“Repressing a memory?” I asked, to prevent an awkward silence.

“You believe that can happen. You told me that’s what you think is going on with the woman who claimed to be the mother of your child.”

“If she’s not lying, then that’s the only possible answer, isn’t it?”

“Short of something neither of us believe in? Yes.”

“She did at one point suggest ‘virgin birth’ as the only other possibility. As for whether or not I believe that happened 2000 years ago, the jury is still out.”

“Then let’s say that neither of us is convinced it actually happened.”

“Fair enough.”

“The whole topic of ‘repressed memory’ is pretty controversial. I’m not sure I buy it, though I could see events that occurred very early in childhood being vague, or perhaps missing. And our memories are tricky things. Even eyewitnesses confuse or misremember things which occurred just a short time earlier. In your case, your first sexual memory seems a bit later than usual.”

“You’re talking about possible sexual abuse?” I asked. “And that’s why you asked about my first sexual feelings!”

“Yes on both counts.”

“And given everything I’ve told you about my family history, you think that I might be repressing a memory?”

“It’s possible. Or your memory is clouded. The other possibility is that you’re a very, very good liar. I haven’t detected any signs of evasion, misdirection, or stumbling over stories which often gives that away to someone trained. May I be completely frank with you?”

“You have been since we started talking in the hospital. Go on.”

“The laws in Illinois requiring me to report anything I discover are unambiguous. That said, you grew up in Ohio, and I have no idea what the laws or statute of limitations might be. If I could promise that nothing you said would be reported, under any circumstances, would you be willing to let me try to get to the bottom of this?”

I wondered if this was some kind of ‘trap’. Not in the sense of trying to trick me, but trying to find out if I was being truthful with him. The problem was, I knew exactly what he would find. And I knew that Illinois’ statute of limitations hadn’t run out, and wouldn’t until my sister was 28, which was still four years in the future. And even then, could I risk an investigation? If I said ‘no’, then it would look like I was refusing to cooperate with my treatment. If I said ‘yes’, then he would probe even harder for whatever it was that was ‘hidden’, either intentionally or unintentionally.

All of those thoughts had flashed through my mind, so there was only a split second before I answered.

“Yes,” I said.

“Good. Let me make some phone calls. I have a few colleagues in Ohio who I can speak to.”

I nodded, as I needed to make the same kind of calls as well. I was going to talk to Bethany and see what she had to say. The worst-case scenario in my mind was that I simply continue to hide the situation. And given my brother’s criminal record and my mom’s pattern of what amounted to psychological abuse, I felt I could do that. And I probably would, even if he could promise me that there would be no report made of anything I revealed.

“OK.”

“One last thing before we wrap up. Do you go hunting for new sex partners?”

I shook my head, “No, I don’t. In all honesty, I never really have. Back in High School, the girls brought them to me. In Sweden, and here in Chicago, they came to me in one fashion or another. I’m not Ted Bundy!”

Doctor Bradford laughed, “I didn’t think you were! Your sex partners are all still alive!”

“Except Birgit and Stephie,” I sighed.

“Well, yes, but you didn’t kill them.”

“True, though I’ve always felt a tiny bit of responsibility for what happened with Birgit. That somehow I could have done something differently.”

“That’s a common feeling when a loved-one dies in a tragic accident. We talked briefly about you having survivor’s guilt, and wondering whether you could have prevented it goes hand-in-hand with that. But it doesn’t seem to weigh you down at this point.”

“No. I’ve come to terms with it. I had been working through their deaths. It was Nick’s death that gave me the final push.”

“At some point I’ll want to talk about your daughters,” he said.

“You aren’t the first person to find it odd that we named them after my two girlfriends who died.”

“Steve, again, to be frank, I could make a career out of your life if I chose to!”

“You also aren’t the first person to say THAT, either!” I chuckled.

Bethany actually HAD made a career out of one part of my life. The part I was hiding from Doctor Bradford. Our time was up, so we shook hands, he asked me to come back next Friday at the same time, and I headed back to the office.

“Steve, Kara called while you were out and asked that you call her right away,” Keri said when I walked in.

I thanked her and went straight to my office. Penny greeted me with an arched eyebrow.

“He decided that I’m a psychopath, but the only people truly at risk are blonde girls who have had an exactly one-year-long sexual relationships with me from age fifteen to sixteen.”

Penny laughed, “Yes, please!”

“You are so bad, Penny!” I said with a laugh.

“And whose fault is that?”