Abuse: The Complete Trilogy (23 page)

It’s that moment
when you recognize and accept the
beautiful perfection
of your
own
imperfections
and you want to weep from the joy of it.

I’m NOT a
monster. I’m NOT a pervert.

Once I felt lost
and lonely. I believed I was doomed to live a loveless life, alone and immersed
in self-hatred. Now, I know better. I deserve happiness.

“I love you,” I
tell Renata fearlessly, even though I have no idea what I really mean by those
three words.

Is this joy I
feel inside love? And if this feeling isn’t love, what is?

It doesn’t even
matter.

Nothing matters
right now, except this boundless joy—this goodness I’ve discovered buried
within me. For once, I actually
like
who I am. I’m in harmony with
myself.

Light
can
vanquish darkness.

Truth
can
set
you free.

For how can evil
possibly compete with love?

“Until you
make the unconscious conscious, it will direct your life and you will call it
fate.”

― C.G.
Jung

~~~

Grant
Wilkinson

The world
seems
the same, at least on the surface. Nothing
looks
as if it’s changed, yet
everything’s different now.

I’ve
never
felt so carefree.

“I love you,
too,” Renata says to me.

I hold perfectly
quiet and still while I process her words. This is a love I’ve never known. When
she says “I love you” she isn’t saying she wants to marry me. There are no
conditions—no strings attached. This isn’t sex. It isn’t ownership. By saying
she loves me, she doesn’t mean that from now on I need to act a certain way, or
do certain things.

Renata’s saying
she knows who I am. She’s saying she cares
for me.
The
real me.
The person I truly am.

Renata said
she loves me.

Impulsively, I
grab Renata by the waist and raise her up. She shrieks and laughs as she gazes
down at me. I’m laughing too. I swing her around high in the air, around and
around, before finally putting her back down.

I’m buzzed and
lighthearted. Both grinning, both happy, we look at each other with wonder in
our eyes. The sun is shining. It’s a
beautiful
day. All shadows have been
banished. There’s not a cloud in our hearts, or in the sky.

This wonderful
woman makes me feel so glad to be alive.

All people
require food, water and sleep for their body—but for the mind, the heart and
soul? Everyone
needs
to be loved.

When I bring
Renata back to her apartment, she’ll probably offer to make love, this time on
her bed with her cat, Mitten, watching us. As much as I ache to take her into
my arms, I know it’s too soon for me. That’s sixth-floor level when I’m barely
in the front door. Small steps forward… hopefully very few steps back.

Today, I’ve come
so far.

I long to bury
myself inside of her again, but I know I’d be uncomfortable afterwards. I
always feel ashamed, guilty and awkward after sex and I don’t want to risk losing
this rare, upbeat mood I’m in. I want to enjoy feeling
loved.
My cock is
long, hard and ready, but you know what?
I don’t care.

This isn’t about
sex.

Right now, I’m
happy. Really, truly happy.

It’s so
incredibly rare. I want to savor that feeling. I just want to stand here and
soak it in.

“There is some
self-interest behind every friendship. There is no friendship without
self-interests. This is a bitter truth.”

— Chanakya

~~~

Stan Huber

The District
Attorney was a big man, tall with short, dark brown hair and bushy eyebrows. He
sat behind a big wooden desk with a computer on it. The DA’s Office had one big
window that faced the staff parking area, a couple of filing cabinets and an
oil painting of cowboys watching another cowboy ride a bucking bronco.

“Did any
admission of homicidal intent occur previously?” the DA asked.

“No. Never. You
have to understand,” Stan Huber said. “The guy was drunk. Really wasted. I
didn’t think anything of it. He was just venting, you know?”

The District Attorney,
the Assistant District Attorney, Stan Huber, his father and his attorney, were
meeting in the DA’s office. Stan was speaking earnestly with an honest
expression in his round face and appeasing helpfulness in his green eyes.

Chester
Wilkinson’s exhumed body had tested positive for an over-the-counter drug
called scopolamine.

Scopolamine, used
for motion sickness, had an unfortunate side effect of making an individual
highly suggestible. Conceivably, Mr. Wilkinson’s murderer may have simply
suggested he walk onto the balcony and lean over, where he could’ve easily been
pushed off.

“What did this
man say?” the DA asked.

“He told me
everyone loved the guy, but his dad was a real bastard,” Stan said. “He said he
hated him and often dreamed of killing him. He knew exactly how he’d do it and
get away with it. Then, he went into detail about scopolamine. He said he got
the idea from a TV show. It may have been on CSI or something.”

“This was at your
home?” the DA asked.

“No. It was at
the Country Club.”

“Any witnesses?”

“No.”

“Who told you
this?”

Stan glanced up
at his Attorney, who pushed his steel-rimmed glasses back on his nose and
nodded. “I get full immunity?” he asked.

“Yes.” His lawyer
said. “All you have to do is testify at the trial.”

“Counseling, Narcotics
Anonymous and probation for three years, right?” Stan said, confirming the
pre-negotiated agreement.

“That’s right.”

Stan took a deep
breath. “OK, then.” He looked at all three men, who looked back at him
expectantly. “The man who killed Chester Wilkinson was his son, Grant
Wilkinson.”

“No memory is
ever alone; it's at the end of a trail of memories, a dozen trails that each
have their own associations.”

— Louis
L'Amour

~~~

Grant
Wilkinson

My cell phone vibrates
in my pocket and I frown. I’ve had it on silent because I’m on vacation and
want a break.

No one
ever
calls me unless there’s trouble at the shooting range. But I have good staff,
so I doubt they’d call anyway.

I put Renata
down, put my hand in my front pocket and pull out my cell. There are a
ridiculous number of missed calls and messages from my mother and my sister.
They only phone when they want something—but they know I’m away. So why call?

My brother's name
shows up on caller ID. Some kids are playing softball nearby, clapping and
calling out loudly.

“Let’s get away
from this racket,” I say to Renata. Together, we start walking down the path to
escape the background noise as I answer my phone.

“Grant?”

“Hey, Alex,
what’s up?”

“I’m in trouble,
man. You’re the first person I thought of. You’re the only one I can trust to
go the distance, you know?” he says in an unusually rapid-fire voice.

I stop, stand up
straight and pay attention. “What do you need?”

My little
brother’s always so laid back; he never takes life seriously. Except right now,
he sounds breathless and anxious.

“Sky and I have
been arrested for child endangerment. It’s a long story involving a car
accident and cocaine, but I’m using my one phone call to call you and I can’t
talk long.”

“Tell me you’re
not being busted for trafficking.”

Alex laughs
without humor. “No, it’s not like that. This afternoon, I had a fender bender—it
wasn’t even my fault. Sky and I were driving along and some asshole pulled out right
in front of us. We had the right of way. The cops were right there. We were
coming back from a lunchtime party where we did a few lines of coke; you know
how it is. Our stash was in plain sight, only an ounce or so—for personal use. I
don’t sell it anymore. Anyway, the cops figured it out and I was sent to the
hospital with a concussion. I’m OK, but we were both under the influence…” He
pauses for a moment and then adds, “Briley was in the car.”

Blitzed on
coke, with a baby in the car.

“Briley’s OK?”

“He’s fine.”

Alex and his wife
are ‘coke heads’—and they have a baby. How screwed up is that? They’ll probably
receive a court order to attend Narcotics Anonymous. Maybe this disaster will
help them realize they need to change their lifestyle.

“Grant, you gotta
talk to our attorney,” Alex says. “Tell him to get down here to Northwest
Dallas Police department. Also, I need you to get Briley out of social
services. Don’t let mother get involved, not that she’d want to be. They’ll
only let a relative “of good character” have him. You have a Purple Heart, for
Christ’s sake. No one will doubt you. Hire some nice woman who’s good with
babies. I need you to look after him until we can get him back.”

Alex pauses and I
hear a shaky intake of breath. Waiting, I say nothing. I just wish I’d been a
better brother to him.

“You gotta get
Briley, man. He’s gonna be so scared.”

“Of course,” I
assure him. “He can stay with me as long as it takes.”

“I owe ya, bro.”

“No, you don’t.
I’ll take care of everything. I’ll call our lawyer right now.” With nothing
more to say, I hang up. Our family attorney’s one of the few numbers I have on
speed dial.

“Morrow, Finch
and Easley, Attorneys at Law,” a cheerful feminine voice answers.

“Grant Wilkinson
for Dwight Marrow, please.”

“I’m sorry, he’s
on another line. Will you hold?”

“Yes.”

Tedious elevator
music plays while I wait. My brother’s in trouble, and all I can think about is
that my time with Renata will be cut short. It’s a selfish thought, but I can’t
help it. We were getting somewhere. Hell, we were getting
everywhere.

I sigh deeply. As
I listen for my attorney’s voice, I quietly update Renata on the family crisis.
As I explain the details, I’m startled by her sudden input.

“Sounds like
they’ll both be formally charged and released,” she says. “Their child will be
in protective custody with Social Services. They’ll need to place him with a
family, so you’ll have plenty of time to recover him before then.”

“How long until
my brother and his wife get Briley back?”

Renata shrugs.
“They’ve lost custody. They’ll have visitation rights under the care of a
qualified court appointee, which—if they have money—they’ll have to pay for.
It’s hard to say. Could be as much as six months.”

“No way!”

“Oh, yes. Best
case scenario? Two to three months minimum, I’d guess.”

“You seem to know
a lot about it.”

“I was a ward of
the state, remember?”

I cock my head
and study her for a moment. Who’d have guessed? So pretty. So confident. So
normal.
André trusts her. I trust her too. André saved her. He saved me, too.

It’s something
else we have in common.

“Do you know
anything about the care of six month old baby boys?” I ask.

To my great
surprise, Renata suddenly pales as the blood leaves her face.
What the fuck?
There’s panic or perhaps horror in her eyes as I take her arm. I’m concerned
she may pass out or something.

“Renata, what’s
wrong? I say anxiously.

Unsteady and
trembling, she says nothing. Just then, my attorney comes on the line “Mr.
Wilkinson, what can I do for you?” Mr. Marrow asks.

“Hello, Mr.
Marrow,” I say. I can’t find out what’s going on now. Breathing deeply, Renata
shakes me off, making “I’m OK” motions with one white hand.

With my eyes
fixed on her, I quickly fill my attorney in on the details. I instruct him to immediately
go spring my brother and his wife from Northwest Police lock up. I explain I’m
out of state, but I’ll fly back to Dallas immediately. I tell him to put my
name down as the relative who will take custody of Briley. We arrange to meet
when I arrive home.

As soon as I end
the conversation, I slip my phone back into my pocket and take Renata’s hands.
They’re ice cold. What just happened? What’s wrong with her? First, a crying
jag at the memory of Jamie, and now she’s in shock.

With my hand on
her lower back, I escort her to a nearby bench in the shade and sit down with
her.

“What is it,
darlin’?” I ask her.

“I won’t go into
it right now,” she says, sounding calm, but not quite herself.

I shake my head
in instinctive disagreement. I'm worried about her; she doesn’t look well. I
hate seeing her so out of sorts, especially when I have no clue why.

“Seriously, Grant,”
she says in a determined tone. “I promise I’ll tell you all about it another
time. You’ve had a good day. You’ve made great inroads. I'm not going to bring
you down with my shit.”

I frown heavily,
feeling powerless. I want her to talk to me, but I can’t make her. I see that
shadow of darkness creeping over her again and can only sympathize. What
terrible moment in her past have I accidentally touched upon?

She smiles and I watch
as she forces her mood away. “It can wait. You have stuff to do for your
brother—this isn’t me just speaking as a counselor, either. I honestly want to
focus on you. You’re so happy right now. That makes me happy. Something important
happened to you today. When you’re ready, I want to hear all about it.”

“You sure you’re
alright?”

The playfulness
is back in her eyes. “Yes. I’m fine. It’s an old memory, a
very
old
memory I’ll tell you sometime. I just… I… well, it just surprised me. No big
deal. Besides, we made a pact to tell each other our stories, remember? We
sealed that agreement with a kiss.”

“So we did,” I
say, smiling.

“Grant, I’m
really good with babies,” she says. “I’ve had lots of experience and I love
them to bits. If you want, Mitten and I can come stay with you. I’ll help you
look after the baby until your brother and his wife are awarded custody.”

The joy that
slams into me takes my breath away. Renata—staying with me
in my house?
Renata, around
all the time?
It’s too good to be true. It’s better than
I could ever ask or even wish for.