Heroine: California Dreamin' (3 page)

I was much less nervous now than early this morning, but I was still restless. Still feeling uneasy I drove to the shopping center shortly thereafter. Outside of the center they had coin operated phones. I inserted a couple of quarters and dialed the number of the storage hall in San Jose. It continued to ring. Nobody picked up. I calmed down and strolled through the extensive building for a while. As to reward myself I bought a pair of shoes. After all, Eric’s payments were still coming in. He was always reliable. I also purchased some groceries in a supermarket. When I passed by a shelf with wine a bottle of Spanish red wine smiled at me; I remembered its label from my time with Erich. The price was exorbitantly high. But I bought it. Daniel and I were to celebrate my rescue this evening. I saw no need to share with him the reason but since he was my husband he was entitled to have some fun with me.

Back at home I turned the TV on again, increased the volume and then placed myself in the kitchen to prepare and serve a really good meal for a change. I listened half-heartedly to the TV when some news from a local station let me run into the living room as if electrified.

A distinguished looking gentleman read the news. In the background I saw cops leading a skinny older man with grown together eye brows out of the expensive hotel in San Francisco I was supposed to go there on Tuesday. The newsman explained that this man allegedly belonged to an international sex trafficker ring. He was arrested for interrogation and only seen as a witness … blah-blah-blah … whatever they always say in such a case.

“There you are, you scumbag. I hope you’ll share a cell with a gay pimp”, I snarled through gnashing teeth. My imagination envisioned one of those two meter tough guys with hanging schnauzers, tattoos and bandana – as shown in some murder mysteries on TV.

“But nowadays pimps are mostly wearing tailored suits”, I thought in resignation. The news anchor then released an excessively exaggerated story in which a courageous journalist of the TV station had done some undercover research and finally discovered some traces with the help of the Russian police.

“Kiev is in the Ukraine not in Russia, you idiot,” I grinned arrogantly.

“The information led to a motel in San Jose where the Russian contact, a certain Rasputin V … “

“Belarusian”, I said out loud, rolling my eyes. Igor was from Minsk!

“… tried to meet with the man behind the whole action who is not yet known.” A camera cut back to the dirty motel and the poor receptionist. He gestured with hand and feet and told some stories to the reporter. A young woman with sun glasses was not part of the story.

I had the right assumptions when I placed my message on the cops’ website. That was proven now by the anchor when he continued. Only persistent questioning of the courageous journalist drew the attention of the police in San Francisco to the fact that something illegal was happening right before their eyes. The news was continued with the common outrage of the anchor that the tax payer is entitled to protection … etcetera. The newscast ended with a short discussion between the reporter and a colleague who looked rather concerned. She probably had studied her gestures in front of a mirror for a long time; it was too obvious. They talked about the subject whether gang related crimes would now swamp the Bay Area and whether the world comes to an end with it.

“As long as I am here, organized crime will remain on a continuous high level”, I talked back to the television set,

Subsequently there was some more news all but telling us that a bicyclist had been sighted in Santa Clara. Or something like that. Nothing about a murder of a cop. Well, that would have been top-news.

Apparently it had taken several days until they had translated my messages and until they had found somebody who could talk to the police in Kiev.

Steam coming from the kitchen told me that the fresh vegetables had cooked for too long. So this evening we’d only have steak and salad followed by a mousse accompanied by some red wine. And afterwards – I would be Daniel’s real dessert. When Daniel’s car drove into the garage I was in the bathroom and got ready. A black, tight and small dress that showed more than it was hiding, high-heel shoes and red lipstick. Quite daring. I couldn’t help it. My husband looked at me aghast when he saw me dolled up as I was.

“Does somebody have a birthday and I’ve missed it?” was his all so romantic comment.

“Yes, both of it. Today I’ve been gone from Cologne for exactly six months and that is a reason to celebrate”. If the number was right I didn’t know but it was a sufficient reason for this evening. Or should I explain to him in detail that I had been forced to have sex with two men during the last two weeks and that I almost ended up as a prostitute?

His eyes shined. Not from sadness but from joy as I noticed after the bottle of red wine. His desires were reason enough to celebrate. Here was the man I really wanted. And after the alcohol for dinner it was me who had most desires. I gave him a big hug and kissed him tenderly. He kissed me back. Then I whispered into his ear:

“Tonight you may wish for something. You can do with me anything you want.” My center of lust was already on fire. Daniel looked at me with eyes wide open and then asked back:

“Anything?” I nodded and looked deep into his eyes. “Really. Anything.” Because I trusted my husband.

Sometime later we were stretched out on the bed, cuddling close to one another. Daniel was exhausted but I still didn’t have enough - thanks to the red wine. He signaled ‘surrender’ when I started to caress him again.

“I can’t any more. It was beautiful but I have no strength left. Please, let’s leave it at that”, he groaned.

“Okay, but we do not fall asleep right now”, I insisted. I wanted to talk, I wanted to caress him and I didn’t want to be alone. If he falls asleep now it would be the same as if he would leave.

“Oh well. What do you wonna talk about?” he asked.

“Well, for example what kind of sexual fantasies do you have,” I gave back. I wanted to make a new attempt. I managed to get him telling me some fantasies which mostly involved him watching me having sex with men. When it was my turn, I dreamily told him my fantasies. Only at the end it dawned to me that I’d told him what had happened to me in the storage hall in San Jose. My husband liked the story.

At night I had a dream that many guys approached me and caressed me. I thought I recognized the faces in the crowd - Tom, Bruce, Ron and Pete.

Beside my slowly increasing edginess the only thing worth mentioning about Friday was a phone call from Irene which I answered while watching TV on the couch. She sounded a bit uncertain.

“Darling, how are you? I hope you are alright. Is everything OK?” I told her that I felt fine, better than in weeks.

Daniel had gone to work with dark rings under his eyes but in an excellent mood. After that I sat down on the couch wearing my bathrobe. I didn’t feel so threatened any longer and somewhat more liberated. And furthermore I had the impression that alcohol wasn’t the big turn-on it once was, its effect didn’t last as long as it used to.

“What are your plans for this weekend? What I mean is, can I leave you alone or do you need some help?” she asked. She was such a good person, I was touched!

“Daniel and I wanted to spend the weekend together. Did you want to come over? We can do that”, I replied. Irene cleared her throat.

“Darling-angel, Charles went to Palm Springs this morning to go to a tennis tournament. He’ll be back late Sunday night. I told him that I want to have fun too. I want to do something with Stanley. We want to spend the whole weekend together.” I thought I didn’t hear right.

“Did I understand you correctly that you’ve told your husband that you have an affair with Stanley?” I asked dumbfounded.

“Well yes, I did tell him. Charles has affairs all the time and therefore I want to have some fun in my life too. He hasn’t touched me in years. Darling, I will explain that to you at another time. But would you mind if I went on a trip with Stanley for the weekend? We’d like to go to Sonoma Valley. Charles had insisted that I don’t bring Stanley back to the house. Because of the neighbors.”

“Irene, it makes me happy to see you happy. You sound like you have just fallen in love.”

“Well, you guessed right. Right now I am in love at the same time with the two most beautiful people in the world. I want to enjoy that as long as it lasts. But you do understand that I can’t take you along?” As if I wouldn’t understand! Stanley would disregard Irene completely if I came along. So it was out of the question to accompany her at all. She should have a loving weekend with her lover. That is what I told Irene. I was going to keep watch in front of the television set. That was what I didn’t tell Irene, I kept it to myself. She promised to call me right after she returned from her trip.

Until Daniel came back from work nothing new was reported on the news. I had driven to the shopping center three times but the pay phone called the storage hall in vain, each time.

On Saturday my cheerfulness had vanished. I was feisty and hissed at Daniel when he asked me if we should go on a joy ride.

“Forget it. I have a belly ache and I will not leave the house. Why don’t you leave me alone and do something with your friends?” I immediately felt sorry for him and I hugged him when I saw his alarmed face.

“I am sorry. Today I just need my peace and quiet. Please leave me alone, otherwise I will only get on your nerves.” Daniel nodded understandingly and later he called Ingvar and Ben in order to do something together with them. Sometimes having your period can have its merits.

I stayed by myself, sat on the couch with drawn-up knees and focused on the television. Angst crept slowly up my neck and I just sat there. But why? What was I afraid of? There were no traces. Or perhaps?

For a moment I considered having a drink or two. But then I decided to master this situation without drugs. A police siren howled close by and I cowered in panic. Here they come! But the sound passed by and disappeared. Confusion sprawled out in my head like dark fog. I hardly dared to go to the bathroom or get something to drink. Until noon I knew of all news from all local TV stations, and even national news.

Judy told me last week that she would never enter the storage hall before eleven because the filming didn’t really start until afternoon. Just now I remembered what Paolo had said. They wanted to film in the woods today. They didn’t even go to the storage hall!

Like a maniac I ran through the living room around the couch and tried to sort my thoughts about what I should do. To call police anonymously and give them a clue about the dead body?

‘Well, have you completely lost your mind now? Then they come and get you immediately’
! Inform the media secretly? I could go to the shopping center to the Internet café and repeat the game from last week.

‘Somebody has to learn about Robert’s whereabouts. He can’t … for the rest of his life …’

Did I just think ‘life’? Robert is dead! I had killed him and the memory of that gave me a feeling of satisfaction.

Why was I so obsessed with the thought that police ought to know about his fate? Why did I give it so much thought that Robert needs to be found? Why was that so important to me? Why do I still call him Robert?

From my past student life I faintly remembered some sentences from a psychopathology seminar that I had enrolled in before I left Germany – something that sounded like ‘symbiotic offender-victim relation’?! My belly ache seemed to confirm that.

I was
linked
to Robert as long as his fate has not been clarified. Even though it had been a forced relationship shaped by brutal violence: it was a relation based on a deep existential level. I had felt totally dependent on him in a life and death situation. Like a nurturing baby whose existence solely depends on the intentions of its environment. How small did I feel when I was exposed to Robert’s possessive brutality? I started trembling again.

This insight made me sweat like a pig. Could I ever escape this nightmare? And if yes what would remain? The physician, who gave this lecture then, told us that rape will leave your soul and consciousness damaged forever – victims will develop feelings of guilt.

The program on TV changed suddenly. The commercials disappeared and a reporter with a microphone stood in front of a storage hall in San Jose which I knew quite well. Breaking news. They’ve found him. I breathed a sigh of relief and fell back on the couch, crying.

I sat in front of the television set until the early evening when Daniel returned. I had watched every channel that reported on the death at the storage hall. Like a maniac I zapped through the channels during commercials until I found the next channel that reported on it. At about three o’clock in the afternoon Judy appeared before a reporter’s microphone. Her pretty face was tear-stained, her makeup all smeared.

The rags she wore – in lack of a better word – gave her the appearance of a hooker; no doubt about it. When interviewed by the reporter you could see her face but also what she wore under the tight T-shirt. It was cut off right under her large breasts and hardly covered her nipples.

She came to the storage hall ready only to pick up the cameras ready for filming. Paolo was
expected to be there as well, he was supposed to pick up the lights.

“What do they want with lights in the woods?” I asked myself out loud. Not that it mattered. I kept on listening.

Judy had come up to the ramp where she was ‘met’ by some horrible stench. Below she saw the SUV which she identified as Robert’s. On the hood of the car lay a body all mangled.

In between those interviews I caught myself sitting there with an opened bag of potato chips stuffing them in my face. The crumbs were all over my dress and the couch. It didn’t matter. The news on TV was more important.

Judy had called out for help and police was on site shortly thereafter. They closed off the ‘crime scene’. The reporters who had gathered around Judy in herds really wanted to know about the movies that were filmed at the storage hall. Judy had made comments regarding sex films. She probably was still in shock then. So ‘sex’ was suddenly the top subject. It was obvious that the reporters found it more interesting than the death of a cop. The scandal was that movies were made in the Bay Area that clearly contradicted the high moral standards of the United States. At least that was the pompous opinion of one reporter with grayish hair and certainly false teeth.

I felt sorry for Judy. I saw Paolo’s bald head briefly in the background as he was transferred into a police car. With relief I noticed that the boys did not appear. When the novelty of the news died down Daniel finally released me from the torturous situation shortly before it got dark.

“Sweetheart, you don’t look good.”

“
Thank you Daniel. That is what a totally devastated wife wants to hear from her husband
”, I thought and gave him a big hug. Later on, he vacuum-cleaned the crumbs from the living room, dissolved two aspirin and Novalgin in water and put me into bed because I felt feverish. Perhaps there was a summer flu approaching.

I first learned that he had mixed the Novalgin with the bubbly water when I woke up in the middle of the night. My body’s reactions told me that something had activated the RSD, or at least what was left of it.

“Darling, did you put something else into the glass I had tonight, beside aspirin”, I asked with a tone of voice that was calm but only on the outside.

“Yes, something against fever. Why?” he hummed from underneath his blanket.

“There you go. Too bad for you. That stuff made me horny because I have an allergic reaction to it. And that drives up my hormone level”, I told him.

“Another time I might feel sorry for you but now you have to step up to the plate again. I can’t release you from your marital duties until the effect has subsided. If you have problems with my condition just use a rubber.”

My husband looked disbelievingly over his shoulder but didn’t reject me. He didn’t know this tone of voice from me, my behavior was unusual – however, he was ready to bear the consequences. He then performed the holy acts of matrimony with joy and aptness for a while; however I remained in a state that suggested that such medication had a stronger effect than alcohol. At least Robert didn’t manage to rob me of my sarcasm; the most he got was a part of my soul.

I spent Sunday also by myself after I made it clear to Daniel that I was still in a bad mood. Daniel didn’t take my remarks about the effect of the medication seriously; the proof was: he didn’t talk about it. I needed to explain it to him once more. But now I wanted to focus on the news. So he left and mumbled something about a ‘baseball game’. That was even better because those games take a long time.

Despite all the problems I had during the last few weeks I never missed calling my mom on Sunday mornings. Every time I called she reacted surprised when I told her that it was only nine o’clock in the morning in California while she had already prepared her dinner. This Sunday was no exception. I took my obligations as oldest daughter seriously, called her and we exchanged some news; on her part they normally referred to some gossip from back home. Same today. We had already come to our ‘say good bye’ ritual when she remembered something.

“Just imagine, child, last week an old friend of yours had called here. Unfortunately I’ve forgotten his name. He asked about you and how you are. He went to school with you. As an exchange student. A nice young man. He wanted to know where you are and I told him that you’re living in America. There is nobody in our town here with a daughter who made it to America. I am so proud of you.” I felt somehow uneasy about that.

“Mom, who was that? I don’t know any exchange student.”

“But you surely know him. He came from a Russian school. I noticed his accent right away. Actually we spoke in Russian for a while. You remember that we had to learn Russian in school back then in Romania. I still master it quite well …”

“What did you tell him?” I screamed into the phone.

“But dearest, why are you getting so excited? I gave him your new phone number. He wanted to come to America. He finds it very exciting. Well, maybe you can meet somewhere. Oh well, if it is okay with Daniel. How is he, by the way? I told your father time and ago that it won’t work out between the two of you …” I sat there for a while with my mouth open and listened to her blabbering. My surroundings disappeared from my eyes: the garden, porch - everything turned into some gray color.

“What did you do, mom? You gave him my phone number? Possibly also my address? Tell me, did you tell him where I live? Com’ on, tell me!” I kept yelling.

“No, not exactly, I only told him that you are in Los Angeles. That’s where you are, isn’t it?”

I remembered that I had never given her my exact address because I assumed that she would be standing before our door one day, without prior warning. So in this way she would have to announce her coming. She had never done anything of that kind before but I didn’t trust her in that regard. Or to be downright honest: I didn’t want to welcome her in our house. I calmed down a bit.

“Mom, please listen to me. The guy who had called you is not an exchange student. We had no exchange program with any school.” I thought about it briefly. I couldn’t tell her the truth so I had to find a suitable made-up story.

“There is a guy who lived in the house in Cologne or is still living where Daniel and I used to live. He stalked me even then and when Daniel was gone he became really intrusive. The bastard is almost as old as you!”

That got to her. At the other end of the phone there was silence.

“But sweetie, I only meant well. I couldn’t anticipate that he sold me such a story. But is that really true what you’ve just told me? I don’t believe you; you had some rich imagination even as a child. I could never believe you anything. If I tell all that to your dad …”