Diamond in the Rough: Chapter 69

"Lynnette says she will bring me, if you still want to meet at the movies," Jenna said.  

Jack, laying on his back in his old room at La Boulaie, tossed a Nerf football into the air.  "Sure.  What time?"  He let his phone rest on his chest and used the speaker.

"I don't know, have you checked what's playing?"

"No."

She laughed.  "You called me and asked me on a date, you know."   

"I know that," he said.  "You pick.  I'll see whatever you want to see."

"Let's meet at the ice cream place next door to the theater at seven.  Is that all right?"  she offered.

"Yeah, sure," he said, starting to think how he would get there without embarrassing himself.  "See yah."

"Yep," she said, "see ya."  The phone went dead, and he put it into his pocket.  

He continued to throw the Nerfball, and said aloud, "I can't show up in a limo.  Now what?"

***

"I've decided to up the dosage of the medication, and if that does not work, there's really only one other choice," Ray Martino said.  

Dr. Levin, calling from St. Anne's, said, "Electroshock therapy."

"Yes, but I would prefer to never have to resort to something like that.  It would take a lot to convince me."

"It works.  It has worked here, on several occasions."

"I understand.  I plan to continue to consult with you, and I'll let you know in a few weeks how the drug protocol fares."

"Fine, thanks, Ray," Dr. Levin said.

"You're welcome.  Take it easy."

The phone call ended, and Ray found himself questioning his professionalism yet again.  It was not as if he had done something unethical or illegal, but he felt a slight uncomfortable pang in his stomach as he thought of electroshock therapy.  All he could think of, as unrelated as it was, was Todd, in the chair, his arms fastened by metal clamps.  He had seen the chair himself.  He had seen the place that Todd was held.  And, he flashed on the idea that it was not his first time being held in a room against his will.  Then, he remembered the burns along Todd's wrists and the weeks it took in therapy to face his torment and how deeply it went.  He never got to the very core.  He never got to the things she's told me.  Does that mean I failed him?

Gathering himself together, Ray made notes in his journal, and turned the light off, deciding to head for home.

***

"I'll drop ya, and pick ya back up," Timothy said.  "I'll meet ya out here when the movie is over.  Just text me, I think ya call it?"

"Okay, I will."  Jack said, closing the door.  He made his way to the ice cream shop, and could see her through the glass.  Something about her made his hands feel clammy.  He stepped inside and made his way to her table.  "Hey."

"Hey,"  she said.  She was texting a friend.

He said, "You been here long?"

"No.  Just got here."  She smiled.  "I like your jacket, Jack."

"Thanks. Keeps me warm."  He waited a moment, and then in the awkward silence, he said, "Want something to eat?"

She said, "Not really.  You?"

"Yeah, I'm hungry."  He took a menu from the side holder, and read.  "Hmm.  Burger and fries, that's my kinda meal."

"I'll have a fry or two."

"Sure."

He ordered, and they began to look at each others' phones, and scan through pictures and talk.  Her pictures were less in number than his; and her family was quite a bit smaller.  It was her and Lynnette and of course, their mom.  Jack said, "Nice picture."

"That's Mom.  She's . . . I forget what she sounds like."

"That must be hard.  My Dad has the police on it.  He's trying to help find her."

"I know, and we appreciate it.  Lynnie really liked you.  Said you seem nice.  That means Mom probably would."

"Good," he said, picking up a fry.  She took two and dipped them in ketchup.  He said, "You already saw my parents and the rest."

"Yes.  They're away, right?"

"Yeah," he said, and he didn't know why, but he was uncomfortable talking about them.

She said, "They are a beautiful couple."

He nodded.

She said, "Jack, you know you can tell me anything.  If you want."

"Yeah.  That's why I like being around you."

"Me too, around you, I mean.  You want to tell me why you look all antsy every time I ask about your parents?"

"They're different.  They're . . . not like any other couple, and I am not just saying that.  It's true."

"That's sweet."

"Not really," he said, poking into his soda with a straw.  "It's been . . . a tough ride for them."

"I'm sorry, then," she said, drinking her milkshake.  "Are they on vacation?"

"Yeah.  They went back to where he grew up.  Trying to find information about my grandmother and my dad's past."

"Sounds ominous.  Mysterious.  Like a novel or film."

"More like a soap opera.  At every turn, the two of them have to face some kind of problem."

"I'm sorry.  Really."

"It's okay.  It's just . . . hard watching some of it."  He looked away.

"Well, why do they need this information?"

He stumbled.  All she needs to hear is that Dad is close to a breakdown or Grandma Bitsy is nuts.  "I don't know.  They didn't say much about what it is about."

"Oh."

"You're easy to talk to."

"Thanks."

"What about you?  Your father?"

"My Dad, he overdosed on heroin.  I was like two.  My mom, well you know that story."

Jack wasn't sure what to say to this, but looked at the girl's face.  Her skin was so clear, and her eyes were bright and greenish, almost like his mother's.  He said, "I'm sorry about it."

"Thank you.  But it happened."

"So how did you get into the group?"

"I started drinking.  It was stupid.  I started drinking because I couldn't handle the stress of losing something I never even had.  When my mother left, I realized I'd probably lost something that could never be fixed and become right, you know?"  She paused.  "She used to call us, and write, and those times were few and far between.  I somehow got the idea to start drinking small sips of this green stuff my grandmother, Mommy, had in her liquor cabinet, and soon, I couldn't stop.  It took the edge off, and I just kept going.  It was dumb, I know, but it's what I did.  I just . . . felt like someday, she would come home and actually have a relationship with me, and then she stopped talking to us.  What about you?"

He knew the "green stuff" well.  He swallowed his last bite of food.  "What do you mean?"

"Why did you start to drink?  I mean really.  In group, everyone says they're 'stressed out.'  What happened?"

He sat back a bit.  "My . . . my life's weird.  Complicated.  And the story is very long."

"Well," she folded her hands, "I'm here.  We don't have to waste $12 on the movie.  You could tell me, and we could just talk, if you wanted to."  She reached across the table and took his hand.

For a moment, he forgot where he was, just looking into her eyes, and he said, "It's a long one, but it sort of started, I guess, when my father delivered me in Mexico . . ."

***

Todd slept with Blair draped over his side, her head against his chest.  In the quiet of the night, she felt him move beneath her, and struggled to wake herself, worried what had brought him out of sleep.  She sat up, and with her eyes still half closed, she saw him, turned on his side.  She turned toward him, and put her hand on his back.  "Todd?"

He said, "Yeah."

"What happened?"

"A dream.  I'm fine.  Go to sleep, Blair."

"No,"  she held him from the back.  "No, my love.  Not until you do."

"I will."

"Do you want to tell me about the dream?"

"No."

"Was it a dream, Todd, or a nightmare?"  He didn't answer.  She ran her hand up under his arm and across his chest and felt him move back toward her and sigh.  "It's over.  Just a dream."

"Right.  Just a dream."

"I won't push you, Todd.  God knows, it's different than the nightmares you used to have.  You're resigned, you're in control.  Maybe it's best . . ."

Surpisingly, he interrupted.  "He brought people there,"  he blurted. She stopped, because her breath had caught in her alarm.  Before she could react, he said, "I just know we weren't the only people, Momma and me, who spent time in that  room.  I remember . . ."  He sat up, and she did, and she turned on the light.  He looked tired, haggard, and strained.  "Whoever didn't please him, I think.  Whoever . . . I don't know."

"Who?"

"A woman.  I think.  Maybe two different ones.  I don't know.  What if there's more?"

She put her hand on his shoulder, and said, "I don't know.  I'd say it's in the past, but who am I kidding?  It's horrible, Todd.  I want it to end for you."

"It will.  It's got to, sometime.  Right?"  he looked to her for reassurance.

"Yeah, right.  Has to end sometime, and it's soon.  I know it is.  We'll get the answers we need, help Bitsy, get the goods on Mitch, and then it will finally be over."

His mind was somewhere else.  "I wonder when he figured out he could put me there, too?  What did he say to himself, 'Too short for the closet treatment, but he can stare at his dead cat for a few days?'"

She jumped inside, remembering the cadaver of the cat in the corner, and found the ceiling with her eyes.

He put his hand on the side of her head, and gently shushed.  "Don't, Blair, it's not worth it to keep thinking about this shit.  It's my fault.  I told myself I wasn't going to bring it up again."  

She widened her eyes at him, "No, that's not how this works.  You don't hide this from me.  We are going at this, together.  No secrets.  And I want to share your life, and that means your whole life.  I can't throw out the bad stuff, until you can."

"Wish you could," he said, leaning back onto the pillows.  "I'm getting so tired."  He sounded mournful; her heart broke.

"I know you are," she said.  

"But Momma,"  He sighed, putting his hand through his hair, "I want to do this, for her.  I couldn't help her back then."

"I understand," she nodded, wishing someone had saved him from the whole thing years ago.  But it was too late for that, and she knew it all too well.  "Tomorrow, we open that box.  Maybe it will lead to something."

"Yeah.  And then, I get a haircut.  I think it's time."

She rolled her eyes, and through tears, she let out a small laugh, "You're something else, Mr. Manning."

"I love you, Mrs. Manning.  You know that?  If I didn't have you . . ."

"Don't think about that, ever again," she interrupted and said, putting her head back onto his chest.  He reached up and shut the light.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***
Your comments are 'payment' for the work of the authors. Our writers like to hear your feedback. Please leave a comment when you read.