Deeper Illusions (18 page)

I looked at Polly. “How could I do that? Thank god Nick came by on time. To think what would've happened to them if Ryan hadn't have called him, though. I don't think that I could've lived with myself if something had happened to them because of my stupidity.”

Then Jamie stood on the other side of Polly's nose, and stroked the horse's ear gently. “At some point, Iris, you have to stop beating yourself up. Maybe you can make amends to your animals by treating Polly here extra special.”

I found myself crying, leaning my head into Polly's. “I'm so sorry, Max, Brut, Maddy. I'm so very sorry. I'll never do that again,” I said, over and over again, while I sobbed. Jamie put her hand on my shoulder and squeezed a little. I clutched Polly's neck and stroked her mane.

When I got back to the room after seeing Polly, I called Ryan.

“Beautiful,” he said. “I'm so glad you called.”

“Where are you?”

“Just sitting here in my hotel room, watching a little television. How are you doing?”

“Good. I, uh, wanted to thank you for all you're doing for me to help me get better. I haven't been very kind to you lately, and, for that, I'm sorry.”

“Hey, that's not a problem. You haven't gotten to the making amends part of the program yet, so why are you skipping ahead?” he asked, with a joking tone to his voice. “Kidding, of course. Really, beautiful, you haven't offended me. I know that you are going through a lot. I just want to know the best way to help you through it.”

“You've helped a ton, just by getting me here. It's really like a resort more than a rehab facility.” I tried to sound cheerful, even though I was dead inside. “We had talked about going to a resort for Christmas, so I guess that this is the next best thing, huh?”

Ryan was quiet for a few seconds. “You don't have to put on a brave face,” he said. “Not with me.”

“I know.” I didn't really have any other words. I wasn't quite ready to invite him to come and visit me, even though it was visiting hours.

“So....are you lonely there?” That was his way of asking if I wanted him to keep me company.

“I'm pretty tired, actually,” I said. “Maybe you can come and visit tomorrow.”

“Sure, honey, whatever you need.”

“Well, I just wanted to call and thank you for everything you are doing.”

“Of course. I love you.”

“I love you, too.” It took me a long time to ever say those words, and they were, once again, difficult to say. I did love him, more than he could ever know. I think that I loved him from the first time I saw him in my office, waiting for me after our first encounter, which was a rather sleazy one-night stand. Since then, it had been a roller-coaster, and it seemed that we were on the down-slope at the moment.

We hung up the phone, and I lay in my bed, staring at the walls. Willing my mind to be a total blank, before I fell asleep.

The next day was regimented, as promised. I made my bed at 7 AM, then went down for my breakfast of scrambled cage-free eggs with spinach, organic strawberries and a homemade bran muffin. I hung my head, hoping that nobody would try to talk to me and make friends with me. It seemed that everybody was in a clique, anyhow, and nobody noticed me.

Kinda like in high school.

In our group therapy, I didn't contribute much, choosing to pass when it was my turn to speak. I saw at least one person staring at me like she knew me, which might have been possible. The media attention on my case had died down quite a bit, but I found that, on occasion, people still came up to me to ask me about what was going on with Rochelle. I knew that if the case goes to trial, the publicity would gear up again. I hoped that it wouldn't be televised. But, for now, it seemed that my fifteen minutes of fame were over, thankfully.

In my meeting with the psychiatrist, Dr. Knight, things didn't go much better.

“So, Iris, how are you feeling today?”

“Fine, thanks.”

“Fine. Meaning?”

“Fine,” I said with a shrug. “Everything's great. My husband's great. This place is beautiful. Those grounds are so manicured, and that reflecting pool – I've never seen anything like it. I'm scheduled for a massage and acupuncture treatment this week, too. What could be bad?”

“Tell me about your husband. How are you really feeling about him?”

“Ryan? Oh, he's the most magnificent guy in the entire world. He's so kind, gentle and funny. He's my best friend. We're best friends,” I said, as I twirled my hair, not looking the psychiatrist in the eye. “So, that's it, can I go now?”

“You're angry with him. Tell me about that.”

“Angry with him? What makes you say that?” I asked, piling my hair on top of my hea
d, and patting my legs, which were bouncing up and down a mile a minute. Then I started biting my nails.

“Your body language. Tell me about your marriage.”

“Our marriage is fine. He's the love of my life.” That last part actually was true.

The doctor tried a different tact. “Why are you in this place?”

“I don't know.”

“You were addicted to drugs. Why did you turn to the drugs?”

“I don't know.” This session was becoming a waste of time. “Listen, doc, everything's fine. I don't really know why I need to talk to you. Everything's fine.”

“Our sessions are two hours long. Now, I need for you to write in your journal tonight about why you turned to drugs and lived in a drug house for two weeks.”

The doctor was becoming more aggressive, and soon would be pinning me down about my feelings about Andrew. It was time to cut the shrink part of the session short. “I know that I am supposed to talk to you for two hours, but maybe we can talk about other things.”

“What would you like to talk about?”

“My honeymoon,” I said, bringing out my iPhone. “Let me show you some pictures.” So, for the remainder of the time with Dr. Knight, I showed her pictures from our honeymoon - Ryan's yacht, Nick's house, Ryan's winery, Lake Como, the locals, the Vatican, and the ruins in Rome. “And here's where we took our scooters over to the Trevi Fountain and made wishes. Here's where we went to the Roman Colosseum ruins, and this is where we visited The Pantheon,” I said, showing the pictures as a slide show. Dr. Knight nodded along, but didn't really say much.

The session was finally over after about an hour and half of my show and tell about our wonderful honeymoon.

I went back to my room, and I was eager to see Polly. To tell the truth, Polly was all that was on my mind all day long. The beautiful horse with the soulful brown eyes. Abused, abandoned Polly, who was my kindred spirit. I longed to see her and begin my first session with her.

So, I called the golf cart driver, Max, to come and get me and take me to the stables. I knew that Jamie wouldn't be able to meet me for our actual therapy session until around 5, so I could have a couple of hours just to commune with beautiful Polly. I went to the cafeteria to pick up several apples and carrots, and carefully put them into a bag as a treat for her.

Max pulled up in front of the facility, a skinny young 20-something with a mop of unruly brown hair, and teeth like an Osmond or a Kennedy. “Hello, Mrs. Gallagher,” Max greeted me.

“Hi, Max. Thanks for picking me up.”

“Not a problem,” he said, as I got into the front seat with him. I tamped down the anxiety that was welling up in my throat about being alone with a strange guy, as we sped along the road that led to the stables.
Stop being paranoid, Iris. This guy is harmless.
Still, I found myself gripping the iron bars of the golf cart as Max zipped along. I could feel myself shaking.

“Is there anything wrong, Mrs. Gallagher?”

“No, no. I'm fine. Call me Iris.” 'Fine' appeared to be my word of the day.

We finally arrived at the stables, and Max dropped me off. I told him that he wouldn't need to come back for me, as Jamie would be bringing me back.

I got to the stable where my Polly was housed. I couldn't do much with her, yet, as I had not yet learned how to lead her or anything else. I longed to have a brush for her, and get in the stable and groom her. But that was also a lesson that was reserved for later. All I could really do was stroke her nose, and pet her mane, while she whinnied softly in my ear.

“Sweet Polly, girl,” I said, giving her an apple. “You're a beautiful girl.” She neighed, bobbing her head up and down, and stomping her hooves in her stall. She nuzzled my ear. “So, Polly, you were abused and abandoned. Looks like we have a lot in common.”

I continued stroked her mane as I said “I have to bring my husband out here. He'll love you too. He loves me, you know, Polly. He loves me more than anyone ever has.” I put my arm around her nozzle, and stroked her.

“He loves me, Polly. So why do I hate him?”

Chapter Twenty-Six

I
admitted to Polly what I couldn't admit to anybody else. That I hated my beautiful, sweet husband. “I'm really screwed up, Polly. He has never been anything but kind to me. Good to me. Yet, I feel that my life has just become so fucked up because of my association with him. Rochelle, the media, Andrew, all of that is associated with him. Not that my life was so great before him, but I at least had my sanity. Now, I'm not so sure.”

Polly snorted in my ear. “Polly, you know, girl, I never wanted to face my past. Now, I'm forced to. I'm forced to face it, while dealing with horrible stuff that is happening right now. It's only a matter of time before people find out what
happened to me when I was a seventh-grader. I'm surprised that the media never picked up on it. It's stuff that I can't tell anyone, not Dr. Knight, not Ryan, not my parents, not my friends, nobody. Just you, Polly. Just you, 'cause I know that you won't tell anyone.”

I looked into the distance, and saw the figure of Jamie walking towards the stable. I looked at Polly. “Well, for now, Polly, we'll just leave it at that,” I said, waving to the lanky figure that was heading my way.

We went through our first lesson with me and the horse. Jamie taught me first how to lead Polly, demonstrating, then letting me take the reins. I led her around the dirt road that was directly outside of the stable, Polly prancing behind me, whinnying and snorting the whole way. After I led her around for a little while, Jamie told me that it was time to put her back in her stable. Then she gave me a brush, and showed me how to groom her.

“That's our lesson for the day,” Jamie said. “Tomorrow, you'll get to bridle her, and maybe ride her if you're up for it.”

I nodded my head, looking forward to the next lesson already. Then the two of us headed back to the main facility.

I decided to call Ryan and see if he would come and visit me.

“Of course, beautiful, I can't wait to see you,” Ryan said, eagerness in his voice.

He was over in record time. I imagined that he flew over here, like George Jetson. “I got lucky and didn't hit any red lights,” he said, as he met me at the receptionist's desk, slightly out of breath. He leaned down to hug me, and I could feel myself stiffening up. I immediately felt bad for my reaction to his touch.

What was wrong with me?

Ryan, for his part, appeared not be ruffled by my obvious rejection. Still, he looked uncomfortable and unsure of what to do. “What would you like to do, beautiful?” he asked.

“Maybe walk on the grounds,” I said. “Wait here, I'll be back with my coat.” The sun was going down, so I knew that I would need some kind of warmth if we were going to be outside for a spell.

I got back, and the two of us walked along the grounds, onto a little nature trail. He didn't try to hold my hand, and I really didn't want him to, so that was ok. “So, how are things going so far?” he asked.

“Fine,” was all I said.

We walked along in the uncomfortable silence. I knew that he was trying to open me up, but I wasn't ready. I was still struggling with my irrational feelings of loathing for this beautiful and kind man.

But I couldn't tell him that.

“Have you thought any more about us doing counseling together?”
he asked.

I nodded. “Maybe next week. I'm still trying to get adjusted here.”

“Sure, beautiful. Anything you like. You're the boss.”

“Yeah. I wish I was the boss when I told you I didn't want a bodyguard,” I blurted out.

Ryan said nothing. I didn't look at him, but I could imagine that he looked stricken.

We got to a little stream, and both of us sat on the ground on the banks. “I wish I knew what to say to you,” Ryan said. “I want to help you. How do I do that?”

I just shook my head and said nothing. Then “We better go back. It's getting really dark.”

Then we headed back in silence.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

The days flew by. Make bed, eat breakfast, go to group therapy, see the shrink, then see Polly. I was starting to talk a little bit in group, but about nothing important. I only talked because the counselor was starting to get impatient about my passing every time. So, I made stuff up to satisfy them.

“I'm really fucked up because I'm a part of the Phelps family. You know, God Hates Fags and all of that,” I said to the group one day.

The rest of the group nodded, then some guy said “What a wack job, huh. Are you a grandkid to that Fred Phelps guy?”

“Sure,” I said. “So, now I'm a fugitive from there.”

“Bullshit,” said Candace, a recovering meth user. She was the one who was looking at me with a funny expression when I first got into the group. “I didn't want to say anything, but you're that girl who's married to that hot rich guy. The hot bisexual rich guy. Goddamn, if you don't want him, give him to me. I'll share him with my boyfriend anytime he wants.”

“Candace,” the leader said. “That's against the rules, calling people out like that. We're supposed to remain anonymous in here.”

“Sorry, but she can't go around saying that she's part of an anti-gay cult when she's married to a guy who swings both ways.”

At that, the group started to getting into a heated argument about me, my life, and how much of my life was supposed to be brought up to the group. I really didn't care. Ironically, the argument took the focus off of me, as everybody was arguing about me, without paying much attention to any input that I wanted to add.

But, now that my cover was blown, I knew that I couldn't get away with anymore lies about my past. So, I just resorted to shutting up and not talking, much to my group leader's chagrin.

Fuck him, he can't make me talk if I don't want to.

I only looked forward to every evening, when I could see Polly. I was riding her now, and, every evening, Jamie and I took her out. I bridled her, led her, then rode her along with Jamie, out into the woods. I was very tentative at first, never having ridden a horse, with the exception of the very slow horse rides that were offered at Benjamin Stables in Kansas City. But I soon got used to her, and she to me, and we galloped for miles through the woods. One evening we ended up on one of the beaches, galloping through the sand and surf.

I also visited her whenever I could, because she was the only company that I really wanted during this time. After the awkward evening with Ryan, where we walked along in silence, I started putting him off, and making excuses for why he couldn't come and visit me. I would tell him I was tired, or had a headache, or was nauseated.

Actually, the nauseated excuses were often true. I was often extremely sick to my stomach, and found myself throwing up. I didn't tell anybody, though, because I didn't want to have to undergo any medical tests
. I wasn't detoxing anymore, so I surmised that there was something wrong with me. And I had too many blows for there to be one more, so I kept quiet. I was in denial, I knew, but what else was new?

But I was never too tired for Polly. I talked to her for hours.

Then, one night, I finally let her in on my secret. The secret that I had been keeping for 22 years.