Invisible – By Samantha

Slowly he moves inside me, savoring the moment. Silently I lay beneath him, eyes tightly closed trying to erase the memory of his touch from my mind. Later I know I’ll wash all traces of him off of me and act like nothing happened. But for now I’ll put up a brave front and act as if nothing is wrong, as if this is nothing more than casual accidental sex between friends.

“Come on baby.” He slurs his words in my ear, the scent of alcohol hot and heavy on his breath. I try not to breathe, try not to smell the scent of him. Holding my breath I calculate how long I have until my body betrays me and I involuntarily breathe. The scent of his arousal and drunkenness is almost more than I can take, but I refuse to give him the pleasure of knowing that this, that he, bothers me. Silently I suffer praying that he comes quickly.

“I love the feel of you,” he whispers as he tries to flip my body over. Fighting him I lay on my back refusing to give him any more power over me. He’s taken more from me tonight that he even knows is possible.

Everything about this situation is wrong.

Faster and faster he pumps himself into me as his fat fingers needle my breasts. A couple more minutes and it will be over I tell myself over and over. A couple more minutes.

I hold my breath and will myself not to react to this, to him. A couple more minutes and it will be over.

I feel the sweat from his forehead as it drips down and lands on my bare chest. This is really happening to me as much as I tell myself that its not. He’s really doing this.

I tell myself that I’m strong and that this will be over soon. I concentrate on memorizing the pattern of the tiles on the ceiling, anything to get my mind off what he is doing.

With a final push I feel his body as he involuntarily shudders and I know that he’s emptied himself into me. I can’t stop my tears as they betray my fear and pain. He’s to far gone to even notice that I was never a willing participant and that he took something that wasn’t his to take.

“Maybe we can do this again,” he murmurs as he tries to hold me in his arms. I know that there will never be another time, that this will never happen again.

I wait for what seems like forever for him to pass out so that I can escape him, escape this. Slowly I extricate myself from his arms and gather what’s left of my clothes. There can never be another time, this will never happen again and if I’m lucky my pain will remain invisible.

XXXXX

Doc, is that you?” John asks as I enter the penthouse. What am I supposed to say to him? What is my response supposed to be? With a heavy heart and a mind
preoccupied, I close and lock the wooden door.

“Yes.” I summon my most cheerful voice and try to act like things are perfect, that I’m fine. I foolishly tell myself that I’m safe here, that nothing happened.

“What took so long? I expected you home hours ago.” The richness of his voice carries through the house and provides me with some comfort. I know that I’m safe here.

John, oh John, such a trusting man. How do I break his heart and tell him what happened? I can’t and I won’t. The pain is mine to bear alone. I’ve already put him through so much this past year and what happened tonight is an unnecessary burden. “I ran into someone I know.” I wouldn’t call them a friend, not after tonight. After tonight I will do all that is in my power to avoid him and never give him the opportunity to do what he did to me again.

“Anyone I know.”

“No one important.” It’s easier to lie to him than to face the truth of what happened to me.

“I missed you baby,” he admits as he finally enters the room. I can tell by the look in his eyes, the way that he’s staring at me curiously, that something is wrong.

“What’s wrong?” I ask him as I finally approach him. I feel the smooth silk of my shirt as it moves against my chest leaving me with a feeling of iciness. I need to change. I need to get these clothes off me and destroy them. I need to erase all traces of him off of me. Then I’ll be okay.

“Nothing, I was worried about you….that’s all.” What did I ever do to deserve this man? I’m the one that’s three hours late and he’s not mad at me, only concerned.

“That’s sweet John.”

Curiously he looks me at and I know what he’s thinking. Why am I not touching him? Why am I not rushing into his arms? Why am I still standing in the entrance way to the penthouse, unable to move more than a few feet into the safety of my own house? Looking anywhere but at him I try to summon my best game face and push down the thousand different thoughts that run through my head, thoughts that should be of him but aren’t. Growing up my mama used to tell me that time healed all wounds and I know that she’s right but at this very moment in time I’m feeling so uncomfortable in my own skin, lost in a way.

“Marlena.” It’s those damn eyes of his, eyes that I’ve never been able to lie to or hide from. Some of my patients will tell me that they have something in their life that acts as a moral compass for them, whether it be a cross on the wall, a statue of Buddha, or a Star of David pendant around their necks. They have some connection and reminder of what is right in the world, what is moral. I’m a practicing catholic but I never felt that Catholic guilt or the need to confess. But for some reason John is my talisman and always has been. One look into his eyes and I know what course I need to take, what’s right. It’s killing me inside to look into his eyes and see how wrong I am, see my guilt, see the pain that I am incapable of stopping.

“Marlena,” he repeats again when he doesn’t get an answer. I can’t look at him, I can’t.

What just happened is a deal breaker in our marriage. I know that and he knows that. I can rationalize in my own mind the details of how it happened, but it doesn’t change the facts.

“Talk to me,” he whispers in a low tone as he cups my chin with him nimble fingers and tries to look into my eyes.

I can’t.

“Honey, you’re scaring me.”

I can’t look at him and his touch is more than I can bear. Backing away from him quickly, I feel the hardness of the door as it slams into my back. Flashbacks of what happened earlier flash through my mind as hard as I try to prevent it. I feel the sweat as it forms on my forehead and I’m aware that my heart rate has increased. As the blood flows quickly, it feels like my heart is slamming itself against the wall of my chest and I have to look down to see if what I feel is visible. I’m a doctor, why can’t I control my bodies’ reaction?

“What’s wrong?” he asks with that damn look in his eye and he once again approaches me. I want nothing more for him to take me into his arms and make everything alright again, make me alright, but I’m scared of him. I’m scared of his touch. I’m scared that he’s going to find out what happened and judge me for it. Either see me as a helpless victim or blame me.

“I’m fine, just a little tired.” This much is true. My lies haven’t started yet.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’d like to go up and take a shower and change,” I tell him as I try to put as much distance between us and walk towards the balcony. “Would you mind making me some tea?”

“Sure.” He follows me into the living room and stands behind me, placing his strong hands on my shoulders. He starts to kneed the tense and knotted muscles, my body’s visible betrayal of my secret.

Why is this so hard?

I stand tense before him, hating the feel of his hands on me. Maybe later I’ll feel differently, but right now I want to crawl into my own skin and hide. But I know that I need to be strong and keep up the pretense, keep up the illusion.

“Doc, you are so tense baby.” His hands slowly reach down to my chest and I can’t help my reaction as I tense up and move back against him. “You’re on fire baby,” he whispers, taking my response as one of arousal.

I can’t do this. I can’t do this.

I feel his fingers and they move the shirt off my shoulders, baring even more skin. “Do you know how horny you make me? God, I want you all the time.” Praying to a God that I’m not sure I even believe in anymore I wish that he’d stop touching me. It’s too soon, but how can I deny my husband something that he’s come to expect on a regular basis?

Silently I stand and try to suppress my emotions and remind myself that this is John, that I’m safe. I refuse to cry, clenching my eyes as tightly as I can to ward off the tears. As his hands travel down my bare arms removing my shirt I feel his fat fingers doing the same thing. I can’t do this. I can’t do this to John. John loves me and would never hurt me. He is not John.

I allow John to undress me as I detach myself from what’s happening. I feel each piece of clothing as it’s removed and the cold air chills my skin. John is breathing heavily into my ear as he describes in detail what he wants to do to me. I don’t really care; I just want it to be over and done with.

Quickly he picks me and carries me up the stairs to our bedroom. He’s done this a thousand times. I tell myself that tonight will be no different. I can do this. I am strong enough. My pain will remain invisible.

Page 2 of 27
Have you ever done something that you didn’t want to do just because it was the right thing to do at the time? Have you ever willingly ignored that voice of your subconscious telling you not to do it? I had to do that and so much more today and I hate myself for it. I’m doing everything that I’ve told patients I counsel not to do. I should be in the hospital being examined; I should be giving a report to the police about my attacker. He should be arrested and in jail, but he’s not. No, he’s safe at home with his wife and family living their perfect life of domestic bliss. And I’m in this goddamn shower trying to wash all traces of him off of me.

I feel like a whore in a novel. In the span of three hours two different men have laid claim to my body. First him and then John. What kind of woman does that? What was I thinking? Why didn’t I just tell John what happened?

I’m going to make myself crazy if I keep thinking about it.

Spotting the masculine body wash that John always uses, I open the cap and breathe in deeply. I’ve always loved the smell and tonight is no different. Squeezing a generous amount in my hands I rub them together until white foam forms. Placing my leg against the wall, I reach down and rub up and down until the body wash covers my leg, covers me.

Slowly I scrub, trying to wash away the memories. I can do it, I foolishly tell myself. I can replace the memories of him with memories of John. What happened tonight doesn’t have to matter and shouldn’t.

Grabbing my wrist he tells me to stop flirting with him, that I’m a tease. I slam my eyes closed and try to push the memory of how it all started out of my mind.

Harder I scrub, trying to erase his touch. I see him as he places my hands above my head and holds them in place. “Come on,” I joke with him, not thinking that he’s going to take this any further.

I can’t do this. I don’t want to remember. How it started doesn’t matter. How it ended doesn’t matter. All that matters to me now is that John never finds out.

“You want this Marlena….you’ve always wanted me.” He’s slurring his words and I can smell the alcohol that has permeated his shirt. She told me earlier that he was having problems and would I be a good friend and talk to him. Talking wasn’t what he had in mind.

“Why did I do it?” I ask myself. Why?

Faster and faster I scrub the memory away of him sliding his filthy disgusting cock into me. Until that point I didn’t think he was going to do it. I really didn’t. I begged and pleaded with him not to, to think about all that he would lose. He crudely pointed out the unmistakable obvious to me; I had much more to lose. He was an out of control alcoholic, but I was a medical professional with a reputation, a career, and a jealous husband.

“I bet Johnny boy loves how tight you are,” he laughed as thrust into me over and over. I tried to ignore him, ignore what he was doing, but he was making it impossible.

I feel myself starting to heave and have to stop myself. I need to be as quiet as possible so John won’t know something is wrong. I think about how he’s waiting outside in our bed for me to finish so that we can cuddle before we go to sleep. I can’t allow myself to deviate from our routine. I lean into the cold marble of the shower. I can’t think about him. I need to think about John. Running my fingers against the cool surface, I tell myself that I can do this. I can replace my memories of him with John.

John. John. John. John. I need to think about John.

It takes but seconds for me to remember the intense pleasure I felt under his nimble fingers tonight. Does that make me a whore, the fact that I came multiple times at my husbands urging?

“John,” I moan as I hold his head firmly in place between my legs. The feeling of his tongue and it moves up and down is incredible. I feel like every nerve ending is alive and overheated, like its going to explode. Gasping, I’m unable to do anything but lay helpless after wave after wave of pleasure overtakes my body. In all my life, no one and I mean no one, has ever come close to pleasuring me the way that John does. All of my past lovers were always so concerned about their own pleasure that they ignored mine. John is different. In addition to being the first person ever to orally pleasure me, he always makes sure that I’m satisfied before he is. Roman always had an excuse and never wanted to, but not John. And tonight was no different.

Holding on tightly to the 500 thread count Egyptian cotton sheets, I give into the sensation of John’s tongue exploring me, licking me, slowly thrusting in and out.

“Come for me Doc,” he urges me as he takes a moment to look up. The sight of his blue eyes between my milky thighs is mesmerizing. God I love this man.

John’s face is replaced by his. I see his dark eyes as they stare at me, demanding compliance, demanding my control. “Fuck you,” I spit in his face. Grabbing me by the hair, he holds on tightly. I can feel nothing but the painful sensation of each hair follicle being stretched tightly across my scalp. God does it hurt. He has me in a position where can’t look anywhere but up at him. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you Marlena.”

I can’t do this. Was it something that I did?


The water runs off my head in droplets, collecting in a pool and running in a uniform line down the drain. As much shampoo and bodywash that I use I can’t wash away the pain and guilt that I feel. I can’t wash away the memory of what happened earlier with someone whom I trusted, someone that was my friend. And John, oh my precious John. How do I tell him what happened with his friend? This man is like a brother to him; he’s been to our house countless times, to our children’s birthday parties, to Christmas dinner.

I know that I can’t say anything, I can’t destroy a life no matter what he did to me. He was drunk and didn’t mean to do it. Did I inadvertently send him signals that I wanted him, that it wanted it? Was it something I said? Something I did? Something I wore? Why did he do this to me?

Should I have fought harder?

John. My sweet John.

Slowly he moves inside me, savoring the moment. We’ve done this a thousand different times in a thousand different places and each time has been different and tonight is no exception. As his hand moves along my jaw with the lightest of touches I tell myself that this is John and I’m safe. As his hand moves down my bare arm I can’t help but panic. He touched me like that tonight. Grabbing my hand he takes it and places it above my head like he did.

John’s doing things to my body that he’s done a thousand times, things that I normally love and cherish but right now I feel like I’m just going through the motions. I can’t enjoy what he’s doing to me, I won’t enjoy it.

“Come on baby,” he whispers in my ear. Does he sense my hesitation? Does he know that I’d rather be anywhere in the world right now, but right here, right now?

I feel him as he gently enters me, picking up on my body’s signals that this is what I need. I’m grateful in a way that he can read me like no other. For an instant I panic, hoping that he didn’t pick up on my hesitation, my fear. This is John, I tell myself over and over. Closing my eyes I allow myself to relax enough to enjoy the moment, enjoy the inevitable.

His breathing is hot and heavy, the smell a mixture of his aftershave and mouthwash. These scents bring me comfort and make me feel safe. I know these scents, I know this man. Faster and faster he pumps into me as I try to enjoy myself. Running my hands along the well-defined muscles of his back I try to create a new memory to replace the old one.

“Fuck Doc,” John moans loudly, as I squeeze my vaginal muscles around him tighter trying to speed up his release.

“Sooooooo good.”

“I bet every man wants this, if they only knew how good you were.” I bite my lip to keep from crying out at the veracity of his statement. Faster and faster he pumps into me as he plays with my breasts. My body comes alive under his ministrations, my nipples aching from the sheer pleasure that only John can bring them. I want this man.

Over and over he slams into me as he adjusts my body so that my feet are over his shoulder. “Deeper,” I beg him as I feel his skin slapping against mine. This is good and this is right.

“Doc,” he yells as I feel his release deep inside of me. “Doc,” he moans as he collapses on top of me exhausted by his actions. I stroke his hair as he lies on me; his body still joined to mine. I feel safe and loved.

The cold water of the shower brings me out of my reverie, shocking all my senses. I deserve to be cold and miserable I tell myself. John would die if he knew that when ejaculated with love into me, another man had already done the same. I know that I can’t think about that or I’ll make myself sick, but I can’t help it. I was wrong and I shouldn’t have tainted him like that. I was the one that deserved to be hurt, not John.

Turning off the water, I grab my towel and wrap it around me before I exit into the confines of my bedroom. I tell myself that I need to be strong, I need for my pain to remain invisible.

Page 3 of 27
Distant and moody are two words that pretty much sum up how Doc has been acting for the last month. She’s still the person that I married, just different. Something is off and I can’t put my finger on it. I was talking to Bo and Roman at the cop shop the other day about her and they think I’m paranoid. They both think I’m reading too much into her behavior and that she’s just probably busy at work and not to take it personally. How can I not though? For the past several mornings I’ve woken up and she’s already left for work. Never in our marriage was she ever early for work and now all of a sudden it becomes such a big priority. She already has tenure; who is she trying to impress?

Looking over at her empty side, sheets long since cold, I trace my fingers over her pillow wishing that she was still lying beside me. I miss her. Maybe I’ve been too rough and demanding with her. Maybe I haven’t been understanding. Maybe she’s just tired and exhausted. Maybe what Bo and Abe said is true and I’m reading too much into her behavior. Maybe it’s just me.

Finding my cell phone underneath the pile of magazines that cover the bedside table I flip it open and smile at the picture on the screen, Doc in a red lacy bra lying on the bed blonde hair everywhere. We were fooling around months ago when I picked up my phone and took the picture and swore to her that I destroyed it. She’s too naïve and trusting. Yeah, a man gets a picture of his hot wife like that and he’s going to destroy it? Fat chance. She bought it though and it’s been my secret pleasure when I’m stressed at work. I just flip open the phone and look at all that I have forward to waiting for me at home.

Pressing speed dial #1 it takes but seconds for her to answer.

“Hey pretty lady.”

“Hi honey,” she tells me in a cheerful voice.

“So what cha doing?” I ask her as I grab her pillow and bring it to my chest. I can still smell her on it. I imagine her sitting at her desk all prim and proper, cup of coffee in one hand and the phone in the other.

“Work.”

“Anything interesting?” I don’t really care, I just like hearing the sound and her voice and knowing that she’s there.

“Nothing that would interest you,” she jokes, knowing me all too well.

“What no nut jobs you’re trying to save the world from?” My attempt at humor is lost on her.

“John, you know I don’t appreciate when you joke around about people with mental illness.” I’m tempted to mock her and the way that she just said that and have to hold myself back.

“I know,” I tell her in my little boy that’s been scolded by his mother voice, “I’ll try to respect the wacko’s of society.”

“You are sooooo bad John.” For an instant I hear a glimpse of my Marlena, not this seemingly distant one.

“So is the doctor so, so, so, so, so, so busy today or does she have time for lunch with her exceedingly handsome and dashing husband?”

My question elicits a laugh for her. God do I love hearing her laugh. “Actually I have a lunch date.”

“With who?” Is my immediate response and honestly I didn’t mean for it to come out that way.

“With one of my friends,” she states defensively.

“Which one?” God I’m such an ass, the question is out of my mouth before I can stop it.

“Does it matter?”

“Yes.” I don’t know why I’m making this into a bigger deal than it should be, but I can’t help myself. For the last month, ever since she came home three hours late and wouldn’t tell me where she was, its been like this; every conversation we have ends in an argument or with one of us mad, me usually being the one.

“Why should it?” Her tone is so fucking coy that I’m tempted to drive over to the hospital and personally inspect what crawled up her ass and died.

I feel my blood pressure beginning to rise and know that I need to calm down before I start yelling into the phone at her. “I want you to cancel it. I want to take my wife out for lunch….Can’t a guy do that?” I ask in my most charming voice.

She seems to have calmed down a bit. “Well yes, and I appreciate you wanting to do that…how about another day this week?” she offers up. I can tell by the hint of iciness in her voice that she’s still on the defensive and pissed at me.

“How about tomorrow?”

“I’m busy.”

“With what?”

“John, I don’t owe you an explanation of who I’m going out to lunch with and why?”

“I didn’t ask you for one. Why are you so defensive?”

“I’m not.”

“Yes you are.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You act like you’re hiding something from me….that’s what it is isn’t it.” It just dawns on me that she’s up to something. Everything makes perfect fucking sense now. The early mornings, the late nights, her never wanting to be intimate with me anymore unless I’m the instigator and force the issue. My fucking wife is having an affair.

“I’m not,” she snaps at me a little too quickly.

“What’s his name?”

“What?”

“You heard me,” I blurt out at her audacity. “What. Is. His. Name?”

“I’m not even going to dignify that with a response John.” She’s beyond annoyed and defensive as hell, but I don’t give a damn. We’re going to get to the bottom of this and now.

“Admit it, you’re having an affair.”

“What?”

“I didn’t hear you deny it.”

“Why should I?”

“You’re fucking cheating on me.”

“Grow up John…If you’re going to be like this then I’m ending the conversation.” She doesn’t hang up and I can hear that she’s waiting for my response.

Several long and painful seconds pass before I respond. “I’m sorry Doc. I just love you so much and you know I get paranoid and possessive about you.”

“I know,” she whispers and I feel bad because I’ve made her cry. She only whispers when she cries. I’m a fucking royal class A jerk.

“We can do lunch another day when it’s good for you….you just let me know. Any day is fine. If I have a meeting I’ll cancel it.”

“You don’t have to do that.” I can hear by the nasally tone of her voice that she’s still crying. I deserve to be shot for accusing her of such a thing.

“I do…I was a jerk to you and I’d like to make it up.”

“You don’t need to John….Really. My first appointment will be here in ten minutes and I need to clean myself up a little. You know, make myself presentable for the wackos of the world,” she jokes trying to bring levity into the conversation. I appreciate her forgiving tone.

“I’m sorry Doc for accusing you of sleeping with another man.”

“It’s okay.”

“No its not….It was wrong of me…I know that you’d never do that to me, you’d never be with another man regardless of the circumstances.” What I tell her is true, after the hell that we went through with Kate, Roman and Alex there is no way that either of us would ever sleep with another person on earth regardless of the situation. No fucking way. Too much pain, hurt ego’s and distrust lingering in the depths of our souls for years because of both of our infidelity. Much has been learned and conquered.

“I don’t want to talk about this.” It’s obvious that this is still a sensitive topic to her. I thought that after months of counseling we’d moved past our Kate and Roman sensitivities. I know I have. If I ever see Roman Brady ever looking at my wife like he wants to do anything more than talk I’ll fucking kill the man. End of story. And Kate? Marlena has nothing to be jealous of. I’ve told her countless time that Kate was nothing more than a good fuck on a cold night. I know that she didn’t want to hear that, that she’s convinced that there are “emotions involved in intimacy.” Whatever. Sometimes I wish that she wasn’t a shrink and didn’t always spew her psychobabble at me. To a man, a fuck is a fuck. End of story. It doesn’t always mean something. When I masturbate I’m not having thoughts and feelings for my hand and seeing roses and stars. Fuck no. I’m thinking about my wife spread eagle in front of me. She thinks I’m too crass at times. I’d rather be crass than a pussy whipped wimp like Roman.

“Okay fine….change of topic. Since I won’t see you at lunch because of your mysterious lunch date, I’ll see you at 4 then.”

“4?” she asks.

“Remember we have the appointment at 4 with the doctor.” I can’t believe that she forgot. Is it just me or did she just exhale deeply into the phone.

“Doc?”

“I’m here.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing…I’m just really busy today and totally forgot that we had the appointment scheduled.”

“You’ll be there right?”

Her hesitation is a little too long. I wait for what seems like eternity for her to answer.

“Doc?”

“I’m here.”

“You’ll be there, right?”

“I think I can make it….I might have to rearrange my schedule.”

“Please try baby.” I put on my charm, knowing how much having a baby means to both of us. This may be the last chance that we have to conceive another child and every missed appointment means a missed opportunity.

“I’ll be there,” she says hurriedly into the phone before she ends to the call.

I throw the phone onto the bed beside me as I place her pillow neatly back on her side of the bed. I know that I need to get ready for work, but can’t help myself as I pick the phone back up and look at Marlena’s sexy image.

Page 4 of 27
Paranoid, tedious and obsessive are three words that pretty much describe how John’s been acting as of late. I can’t do or say anything without him going off on me and today is no different. I’m tired of fighting with him and being on the defensive never knowing when his mood will strike. I know that I’m late to the appointment and he’s probably mad and making more out of the situation in his mind than he should. I wish for once that he’d trust me and not try to analyze everything that I do or say.

Turning the corner, I see him in the waiting room, hands shoved into his black dress pants pockets, pacing back and forth in front of the receptionists window and I know its because of me. He thinks I won’t show, but I’ll prove him wrong. God, I sound like a vindictive bitch and wonder when our relationship became so acrimonious.

“John.” He turns towards the sound of my voice and all signs of frustration are gone and for just a few brief seconds it’s as if nothing happened and we are happy again like before.

“Doc,” he says as he approaches and embraces me, squeezing just a little too hard. The contact is sudden and overwhelming. I have to remind myself that this is John and I’m safe with him. My thoughts turn towards him, and I know its wrong but I can’t help it. I wonder if he’s with his wife and kids right now, maybe playing baseball in the backyard while I continue to suffer this life sentence that he subjected me to. He gets to be normal and happy and I get to be afraid of my own husband and ever other man, wondering what their intentions towards me are. Real fucking fair if you ask me. John’s been out with him several times for drinks at the Brady pub since it happened and a little part of me wishes that he would be man enough and tell John what he did, but a larger part of me is grateful that he never does.

“Sorry I’m late…my meeting ran over,” I tell him as I brush my hair out of my eyes, needing to give him an excuse for why I wasn’t here on time. I’m more than thirty minutes late but how can I ever tell him that for the last thirty minutes I’ve been hiding in the bathroom stall dreading this appointment? He’d never understand my reasoning and would ration in his own mind that it was because I loved him a little less and didn’t want to have his baby.

“Not a problem.” He finally lets go of me and takes both of my hands in his. The warmth of his hands and the softness of his fingers is comforting and gives me the confidence that I can do this, I can go through with this appointment. “I figured as much. Don’t worry though, I talked to the receptionist and she said that it wasn’t a problem.”

Even at his worst, John is a thoughtful and considerate man and today is no exception. “Good,” I manage to mutter through clenched teeth hoping that he didn’t notice. What is wrong with me? Wasn’t this what I wanted?

“I can’t wait until the day the doctor tells us we’re pregnant,” John says with love as he bends down to kiss me. Unable to do anything else I open my mouth slightly and close my eyes. After everything that I’ve been though this is the one constant, the one thing I’m not afraid of. He never kissed me, only John. Lips parted, I wait in anticipation for him and he does not disappointment. With the slightest of pressure I feel his silky lips touch mine and his tongue slowly enter my mouth. With a skill level few men possess John parts my lips further and claims my mouth as his. Over and over his tongue strokes mine dueling for control. I feel myself losing control as my nipples harden and I feel an aching in my womanhood. God I want this man and I want him now.

“Think we have time for a quickie?” he finally asks when he hears the receptionist clear her throat loudly. As he places his forehead against mine I revel in our closeness and want it to last forever.

“No,” I joke as I look over to the receptionist who is trying very hard to act like she wasn’t just staring at us. How could she not be? John is a handsome man and I know that there are a million women out there that would love to take my place. Just ask Kate. I don’t know why I can’t let that go and be over her and John but the images of them making love are still too fresh in my mind.

“What’s wrong Doc.” Shit, how the hell could he know what I was thinking?

“Nothing.” I try to cover knowing that any discussion of Kate with him is futile and will just lead to an argument.

“Are you sure?” he asks as he places his hand on my forehead in a paternalistic manner, “You seem a little tense.”

“Positive,” I say too quickly and with too much cheer in my voice as I see the wheels in his head start to turn. He’s going to overanalyze my response. Here we go again, fight 299 of the week.

“You’d tell me if something was wrong, wouldn’t you?” How can I be mad at him when he has that look of concern on his face?

“It depends.” Once the answer left my mouth I knew from the expression on his face that it was the wrong one. Why didn’t I just make it easier on myself and lie to him? One little lie wouldn’t have hurt.

With a raise of his eyebrow he asks,” What do you mean by that?”

“It depends on what it is.” I’ve dug myself a hole I’m not sure I can get out of.

“Our relationship is built on trust and honesty Doc,” he says, his voice full of suspicion. “If you can’t trust me….”

I interrupt him before he goes down this self-righteous and accusatory path, “This isn’t about trust John.” I want to yell and scream at him and shake some sense into him. Everything to him centers on trust and right and wrong. Well I’m sorry that he lives in a fairly tale world unfit for occupancy. I’m in a no win situation and regardless of my argument he’s going to tear holes into it or read more into it than he should.

“Then why won’t you tell me?

I can’t help myself, my Scottish heritage getting the best of me, “God, you’re infuriating sometimes.” I jerk my hands out of his and break all contact. “Look, I don’t owe you or anyone else an explanation for what’s bothering me at all times John.”

“You are hiding something from me,” he asks as he moves closer to me and invades my personal space. “What are you hiding? What aren’t you telling me?” Finger to his lips he’s deep in thought and staring at me. Two can play this game and I stare back until the silence gets the best of me.

“Just leave it alone.”

“No, I want to know what my wife, whom I love and trust more than anything in the world is hiding from me.”

“Drop it,” I mutter to him sternly as I gesture with my eyes towards the crowd of people that have stopped in the hallway and are watching us. “Look I don’t want to have this discussion here.”

“Why? This place is as good as any,” he yells loudly as he stretches out his arms and turns around toward the crowd. “I’m sure they want to know as much as I do what the brilliant and perfect Doctor Marlena Evans is hiding….Don’t you?” Thankfully the people that were watching were as embarrassed by his behavior as I am and the crowd dissipates.

I cannot believe his audacity and it takes every ounce of self-control that I have not to walk out of the hospital, walk out on him. Is this what we’ve been reduced to? Man and wife who can’t coexist in a space for more than a couple of minutes? Is this how he sees me, really sees me? I’m something less than human? He just validated every reason I had for not telling him about what happened; he’s not emotionally mature enough to handle it.

“Not here,” I warn him again.

“You won’t talk to me on the phone, you won’t talk to me at home…why not now? You’re here, I’m here, let’s just get this issue out on the table.”

“You know why,” I mutter under my breath as I wonder why I’m still standing here. “I’m tired of fighting with you John.” Sitting down in the chair I signal to him that this conversation is over. “Lets just get this appointment over with.”

“What the fuck Marlena?” He asks in a disgusted tone as he flops down into the chair next to mine. “Let’s just get this over with?” I can’t help but look at him and see the hurt reflected in his eyes and once again I feel guilty for my choice of words. As I hard as I try I can’t stop myself from hurting him and I know that its something that he doesn’t deserve. I can’t blame him for how he’s acting when I created this mess and made him this way.

“Please John.”

“No….this is a child Marlena. A child we both desperately want, at least I do….Did you change your mind? Is that what this is about? You’re afraid to tell me that you don’t want to have our baby?”

“No..John…No.” Why can’t he see that I desperately want more than anything to give him another child, a son to carry on his name. A son to make everything right in the world for me; an heir that would cement my place as his wife.

“Then don’t dismiss me, don’t dismiss this,” I can barely hear him as he’s learning forward in the chair with his face in his hands. “God I hate when you do that.” I hate when I do it to and I don’t mean to, I really don’t,

“Look, I’m sorry that I’m human John….I don’t want to fight with you so if you don’t mind I’m just going to read this magazine.” I pick up the nearest magazine and start flipping through the pages, not really looking at anything but needing the distraction. Out of the corner of my eye I notice that John is watching me intently.

“Mr. and Mrs. Black,” the receptionist calls loudly in the window. “The doctor is ready to see you now.”

********

Lying on the table bathed in a sheet of white she looks like an angel to me and I feel guilty for ever doubting her. Marlena is everything that is good and right in the world and I don’t know what I would ever do if I lost her.

“Are you nervous,” I ask her, noting that her eyes are closed and her hands are gripping the sides of the exam table.

“No….I’m just tired….its been a long day.” She looks like she’s napping on the table and I wonder what’s going through her mind. What wasn’t she telling me earlier, what was she hiding?

“Hopefully the good doc will be able to come in and give us some good news,” I tell her imagining my progeny of black haired and blue eyed boys running wild around the house. These children don’t even exist and here I am giving them life, loving them.

“Hopefully,” she whispers, her voice full of anything but. Something is bothering her and its killing me that I don’t know what. I can’t but help but replay every conversation that we’ve had for the last month in my mind. Added to that is the fact that I know she wasn’t at work earlier or in a meeting. When I stopped by her office at 3:30 to see if she wanted to go to the appointment with me her secretary said that she left the office at noon for a lunch date and told her she’d be gone the rest of the day. Where the hell was she and more importantly who was she with? Another man? .I want to question her about where she was but know that from her outburst earlier that this isn’t the time or place.

“Mr. Black,” Dr. Adams says as he walks into the room and shakes my hand. “Mrs. Black,” he says nodding towards Marlena who has finally opened her eyes. She nods back at him and I know that this whole process has to be uncomfortable. The tests done on my sperm count validated that I had great swimmers. Everything since then has revolved around her. I feel bad for all the tests and procedures that she’s gone through but she’s been adamant all along that she wanted another baby. I was fine with adopting, but she has some fantasy about giving me a son.

“So Marlena, I see from your chart that you’ve been taking the pills as instructed? Are you experiencing any side effects?” Does bitchiness count as a side effect I wonder? Hopefully these fertility drugs that are intended to increase her ovulation do the trick because I don’t know how much more of her moodiness I can take.

“Yes,” she tells him, “I’ve noticed an increase in tenderness in my breasts. Is this a normal side effect?”

The doctor proceeds to respond in technical jargon that I don’t understand and don’t want to. I haven’t moved past the fact that my wife is discussing her breasts with another man. Dr. Adams didn’t need to know that about her.

“Lie back on the table and place your feet in the stir-ups,” the doctor tells Marlena. “You know the drill….”Mr. Black, would you mind supporting your wife’s head while I do the exam?” Um no. I really want to see the exam but I know that the doctor won’t allow it. He wants to make the exam all technical, but to me any chance to see my wife’s cooch is a good one. Like I’m going to pass up an opportunity to view me some pussy? Hell no.

Like a dutiful gay husband I assume my place behind Marlena while the good doctor gets to dive between her legs. Where the hell is the justice in that?

“Ouch,” Marlena blurts out loudly and I look down to see what Dr. Adams is doing. He has some contraption out that he’s trying to shove up her hole. I’d cry out too. So glad I’m not a woman.

“I’m sorry Mrs. Black.” His voice is so soothing and reassuring. He probably gets lots of chicks with his bedside manner. He probably says “I’m sorry” and their clothes fly off left and right, no foreplay needed. I should have been a fucking doctor. I look down at Marlena face and she’s fucking smiling at the man. If I’d have done that she would have slapped me.

“Does this hurt?” he asks says as he does something, his contraption making a clicking sound.

Marlena says nothing but her eyes are closed tightly and her knuckles are white from where she’s been holding onto the side of the examination table.

“I’m not sure if you’re aware of this, but you have several small tears in your vagina.”

“What?” I ask the doctor as I go around the table to take a look. The doctor tries to cover her somewhat, giving her some modesty. “I’ve seen it all long before you,” I tell the doctor as I try to get a better look.

“Stop,” Marlena says suddenly as she tries to sit up. She can’t sit up far because of that metal thing that Dr. Adams shoved up her cunt. That had to hurt. “I’m not a piece of meat,” she says as she looks at me. Okay fine, I get her point, I’ll be good.

“Marlena, when is the last time you had sexual intercourse?” the doctor asks. I wait with baited breath crossing my fingers and hoping it was the last time we had sex. It damn well better be.

“A month ago.” So maybe she’s not having an affair.

“Tears like the ones you have can be quite painful, but easily treatable and shouldn’t prevent you from trying to conceive. I’d just advise that the next time you make love you be a little less rough Mr. Black,” the doctor joked. I wasn’t rough with her the last time we made love. “Normally I’d do a more thorough examination to see if you’ve conceived however due to the tears and the fact that there are bleeding and I don’t want to make them worse so if its alright with you both I’ll put off the full exam until your next appointment.

“Thank you Dr. Adams,” Marlena says as she lays back down and spreads her legs. With a couple clicks the device is out of her and its only then do I notice that Marlena is shivering on the table.

“Marlena honey, are you cold?” I ask as I take off my jacket and place it over her.

“Yes,” she says as her teeth chatter uncontrollably.

“Are you almost done down there Doctor Adams?” I ask.

“Just a couple more minutes,” the doctor says, “I need to do one more thing….Wait,” suddenly the doctor stops what he’s doing and gets a really odd look on his face. “John I need to speak to Marlena alone.”

“No,” Marlena blurts out as she covers herself with my jacket, bring it up to her face.

“It will just take a couple of minutes Marlena….It’s important.”

“No,” she repeats again as she looks up at me for help. I’ve seen the look before; she’s scared.

“If my wife says no, the answer is no,” I tell the doctor as I help Marlena sit up. She immediately clings to me for support and a part of me wonders why. Why does the doctor want to talk to her?

Quickly she gets off the table and I see what may be the cause of the doctors concern. Small specks of blood line the paper that covered the table. Without a second thought Marlena grabs her underwear and pants from the chair and puts them on. I look over at the doctor and he appears to be watching Marlena intently, a concerned look on his face.

“I don’t think I can do this John,” she tells me as she buttons her shirt and turns around. Tears are running down her face. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t think I want to have another baby,” she blurts out as she grabs her purse and runs from the room leaving me stunned. What the hell is going on with her?

Page 5 of 27
As time is measured by grains of sand passing slowly through an hourglass, misunderstandings are measured by resentment and heartache. Eight long weeks of nights spent alone, dinners on the go and never ending work and social commitments only served to put more distance between John and Marlena. The incident in the doctor’s office should have been the catalyst for Marlena telling John about her rape, but wasn’t. With each passing day she found yet another reason of why she couldn’t tell him and he found more evidence of her betrayal.

. *****

For once I’m happy that he‘s gone and that I have the house to myself. I can’t take his stares and silence anymore. He always has that look on his face that he wants to ask me something, yet never does. When he’s not staring at me and giving me the silent treatment he’s yelling at me or accusing me of doing something that I didn’t. In a way his silence has become a comforting friend to me.

Why can’t I be honest with him? Why can’t I be honest with myself?

Taking off my jacket, I place it neatly on the back of the chair and place my quilted Chanel purse on the top of the desk. John hates messes and I know that I should move them both up to the bedroom but I’m too tired. More than anything I just want to lay down and think about nothing for a while.

I barely make it to the couch when I feel a sharp pain, like someone pushed a hot poker into my side and is twisting it around. Mother of god it hurts. It takes every ounce of effort I have to make it to the couch were I collapse and roll to my side, rubbing the spot where it hurts. What the hell is wrong with me?

I’ve felt awful for the last couple of weeks, but don’t have the will or the energy to see my primary care physician. I know what Doctor Petroff will say and I don’t want to hear it. It’s all in my head and that if I was honest with those around me I wouldn’t be feeling this way. As a psychiatrist I know that but for the life of me can’t stop it. I can’t stop the way I’m feeling and the fact that I’m supposed to have all the answers pisses me off. I should be able to heal myself and move on. I’ve been through this before with Kellam Chandler, and I know the stages of recovery almost too well. I need to find a way to cope with what he did to me before this eats me up inside. Maybe that’s why I feel this way, maybe I’ve given myself an ulcer. That would be poetic justice in a way.

Looking at my watch I see that its nearly nine o’clock and John is nowhere to be found. It dawns on me that I don’t even care if he’s at the office working late or at a business meeting; I’m just glad that he’s gone and I can have some time alone.

How did we become this way? He used to be my best friend; I could tell him anything and now I look for excuses to avoid him. The marriage I thought I had, the indescribable soul mate connection with John has proven to be nothing more than a mirage. My vow to love, honor and cherish John was never real, how could it be? I wanted that ideal; I needed for this marriage to work to prove to everyone that ever doubted our commitment that what we had was real and lasting. John in retrospect just wanted to confirm to Roman that he’d won. Why couldn’t I see that at the time? Was I so blinded by my need to be good enough that I settled for something less than I deserved? Or do I foolishly tell myself that so I’ll feel better?

The pain has subsided enough that I can sit up. Everywhere I look in the apartment are reminders of us. So much of me has been tied to an identity that co-exists with him and I know nothing else. I should be drawing my strength from John right now and he should be in jail.

“God,” I scream loudly as I put my hands over my face and rub my eyes. I’m hoping that he’ll hear me and help me but know the chance of that happening is infinitesimal. I’m on my own with this one. I have to stop this, I have to stop obsessing and worrying about the past and concentrate on the future. My marriage is unraveling one thread at a time and I’m desperately hanging onto the ends of the last two threads. And he doesn’t seem to give a damn. My decision not to have his child was obviously the right one. I know that I hurt him deeply when I lied to him and told him that I never wanted to have his child. He called me some choice names and disappeared for three days. For three fucking days I layed on the couch, phone in hand waiting for him to call, only for him to return home like nothing had happened. When I asked where he was he matter of factly told me that I wasn’t his keeper and he could do as he wanted. It was a couple days later when I ran into his wife that she told me that John had spent that time with them and had heard all about our problems. I literally wanted to curl up and die at that moment. I was laying on the couch and crying myself to sleep each night while he was having a slumber party with the man that raped me?

How is it possible to love and hate someone so much at the same time? I need John here with me; I long for a reassuring hug telling me that everything is going to be okay. I have enough sense to recognize that I can’t do this alone, but I don’t know how to fix this. It’s too late for me to confess my secret and tell him what happened. Too much time and too many fights have rendered that choice obsolete. Silently I suffer and pray for the courage to find a way to let him go.

*****

I see her as I enter the penthouse, lying on the couch. Even at this late hour my defenses are up. I just want to go upstairs and take a shower and go to bed, but she sees me first.

“John,” her voice breaks though the darkness of the room.

“Yes.” I set my keys down on the desk and reach towards my belt to unhook my Blackberry phone. The gentle vibration of the device notifies me that I have another email.

“Nothing,” she finally says, the coldness in her voice ever present. I’m afraid to say anything more because I don’t want to fight with her. I just want to figure out what’s going on so that we can move on and I’m hopeful that one of the emails I just received is from the private detective I hired to follow her.

Bingo. My thumb quickly moves the trackwheel as I open the email that hopefully will tell me who Marlena is having an affair with. Is it one of the doctors at the hospital? Is it someone she met at the gym? Before I read it I glance at my wife, hoping to god that I don’t find evidence of her betrayal. I want to be wrong; I don’t want to know that she’s done this to us.

If she’s not having an affair then fine, I’ll find a way to get to the bottom of what seems to be eating her alive. She hasn’t been taking care of herself and frankly for a lack of a better term, looks like shit. She’s not sleeping well, is hardly ever affectionate and is skittish when I make any physical contact. Sex is out of the question and has been for almost twelve weeks. Thank god for my hand or I’d have blue balls most of the time. Marlena used to be a little nympho, wanting to go at it at all times day and night and now she avoids it. Is it me or is she getting it somewhere else? I should probably see my doctor to make sure she’s hasn’t given me a STD like herpes. I’ll hurt her bad if she has, I really will. But my god if I find that she’s been cheating on me I’ll fucking kill them both.

“John,” the email starts, “The log of Mrs. Black’s activities for the day are as follows: 0600 – left the penthouse, 0615 – breakfast with Dr. Craig Wesley in the hospital cafeteria, 0645 – returned to office. 0800 – 1200 hours – saw various patients. One patient in particular, a handsome male of approximately 40 years of age was in her office for approximately an hour. 6 foot 5, blond hair, blue eyes, athletic build, drives a Lexus. 1215 – left office and drove around in her car until 1400 hours. 1400 hours – returned to office. 1430 – 1800 hours – saw patients and had several male doctor visitors. 1800 – left office in a hurry and seemed to be upset. I lost track of her in the hospital and didn’t see her again until she got into her car at 1930 hours. During the block of time that is unaccounted for she was in the hospital. The attached file contains pictures of all the visitors to the office as well as what she looked like when she left. I’ve enlarged the picture, so it may look kind of blurry. The picture speaks for itself. She put something in her purse before she unlocked her car, which may be a clue to your wife’s infidelity. My assessment is that she is most likely having an affair with someone at the hospital; find the evidence in her purse if at all possible and let me know if you have a new lead you want up to check up on. Dave.”

I feel my blood pressure begin to rise and can’t believe that she’s fucking done this to me. I gave her everything that I could and it apparently wasn’t enough. Here she is lounging on the sofa that I bought in this fancy penthouse that I bought. Every fucking thing she’s wearing from shoes to her earrings were bought with my money. Even the Mercedes parked in the garage was bought with my money and she has the nerve to do this to me. Wasn’t I enough?

“John, why are you just standing there?” she finally asks, I guess the silence became too much for her.

“I’m reading an important email.” Can she tell that with one click and a picture that our relationship may change in an instant and that she’d better run and hide from me?

“I think I’ll make myself some tea. Would you like any?” She asks as she gets up from the couch and walks towards me. God, she’s stunning even when she’s a mess. I have to resist the allure to run my fingers though her long blond hair and kiss the side of her neck. She’s apparently already used sex in this battle and I can’t let her use it with me.

“No thank you.” I just need for her to be in the kitchen when I open the picture because I really, really, really don’t want to hurt her and far away from me is the safest place.

Time seems to pass in slow motion as I watch her leave the room and open the picture. Right there in two inch glory is a picture of Marlena that I know quite well; hair messed up, lipstick smudged, clothes disheveled. She looks like she was just fucked and hadn’t had time to straighten her clothes. I’m going to kill her, kill her.

Spotting her purse on the desk I immediately go over to it and open it, grabbing it by the sides and dumping the contents out on the desk. Fuck me color lipstick, tissue, pens, receipts, business cards, and some makeup crap that I don’t know what its called, her key ring and her wallet. A key to the Salem Inn is lying next to her wallet. Salem Inn? Is that where she’s been fucking him? Is that where she’s been spreading her legs and putting out to any man that looks her way because it sure as hell hasn’t been here.

Picking up the stack of business cards I go through them quickly trying to figure out which of these men is her lover, or maybe there’s more than one.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing.”

“What does it look like?” My back is to her and I know that I’m not ready to look at her yet, this is all too fresh for me.

“It looks like you’re going through my purse.” I know that tone and she’s about to go off. Good, it’s about time we faced the real issue. She’s the one that created this mess, not me. She grabs her empty purse off the desk and starts putting her stuff into it.

“What’s his name Marlena?”

“What?”

“You heard me? What is your lovers name?”

“Are you accusing me of having an affair?” She looks dumbfounded for a moment but I know that’s just because she’s been caught. She grabs the business cards out of my hand and tries to shove them into her purse.

“Damn straight, but I don’t hear you denying it.”

“I don’t like your tone of voice and I can’t believe that you are accusing me of cheating on you.”

“Deny it then, tell me I’m crazy and wrong and there’s some other reason you’ve been a major bitch for the last 3 months…..Tell me Marlena.” I’m yelling at her now, but she’s not backing down. She knows that I’m right and she’s been caught.

“I don’t have to tell you anything John,” she screams back at me with a look on her face that I rarely ever see. “Don’t you ever go through my personal stuff again.”

“I’m your husband, I have a right to see what you’re hiding from me.”

“I’m not hiding anything.”

“Then let me see all those business cards… Which one of those men are you fucking Marlena?”

“Stop this John,” she demands as she turns from me and rubs her side. Good, I’m finally getting to her and maybe for once she’ll be honest with me.

“No, I’m not going to stop this…I deserve answers. I’ve been more than patient and understanding of all your goddamn mood swings. I haven’t been laid in three months. Would you like for me to continue?”

“No, you’ve said enough.” She won’t look up at me, further evidence of her guilt. If I was accused of doing something that I didn’t do I’d deny it until the cows came home.

“So where did you fuck him Marlena? Was it in the Salem Inn? Was it in the hospital? You like fucking on hard surfaces don’t you? Did you try out another conference room table?”

“Don’t you ever try to minimize what we had John. Don’t.” She’s screaming at me again and I see tears forming in her eyes. I feel awful that I’m making her cry but I don’t know how else to get the truth out of her.

I need to push her or else I may never get the answers I need, “Look Marlena, we both know that you haven’t been faithful in any marriage that you’ve been in….”

“Don’t John,” she puts her hand up as if to shield herself from me, but how can she deny the truth; she cheated on Roman and had an affair with me, she cheated on me with Roman. Fidelity doesn’t exactly run in her blood.

“Is it hard to hear the truth? Just tell me who you’re fucking…I want his name, that’s all.”

“You’re already convinced that I’m having an affair and there is nothing I can do or say to convince you otherwise.”

“I don’t hear you denying it.”

“A marriage is built on trust John, if you can’t trust my word than there is nothing I can do or say that will otherwise change your mind,”

“Deny it then.” I don’t mean to grab her by the arms, but I do.

“Let go of me.”

“No….you either deny it or tell me his name?”

She jerks her arm out of my grasp and picks up the pile of business cards out of her purse and starts flipping through them. Finally she’s going to tell me the truth. “If you think you’re so smart, take your pick of which one I’m fucking.” She throws the stack of cards at me and walks towards the stairs. “It’s over John….I can’t live like this anymore.”

Hell no, she’s not walking away from this and me. She’s the one that cheated and needs to be held accountable for destroying our marriage. “Run to your lover Marlena,” I taunt her, beyond hurt.

“My attorney will be sending you the divorce papers,” she tells me as she descends the staircase. “I want out of this marriage.”

“Fine, whatever you want, but as the adulterer in this marriage don’t think you’re taking half of my money.” She has yet to deny that she’s having an affair.

“I don’t want your money John,” she screams from the top of the staircase. “I just want out. I’m tired of living like this.”

“Always the coward huh. You’re the one that cheated on me and now you’re trying to play the victim and make me feel bad? My friends warned me about you and how you are with men. I can’t believe I’ve been such a fool…. Everything you ever said about yours and Roman’s relationship in the castle was a lie. You never loved me, you never wanted to have my baby…you just stayed with me out of a sense of obligation because that’s what Dr. Evans does…”

“That’s not true,” she interrupts as the tears stream down her face. She’s clutching her side again and appears to be in pain. Good, I hope she’s being eaten up inside for what she’s done to us.

“It is true Marlena, my friends were right, I’d have been better off with Kate.”

I shouldn’t have said that and as the words left my mouth I knew that I’d crossed the line and stabbed her in the gut with her own insecurities. I don’t have time to apologize to her as she runs down the stairs, grabs her purse and leaves the house, not even bothering to close the door behind her.

What the hell just happened?

Page 6 of 27
He’s an asshole, the biggest asshole I’ve ever met and for the life of me I don’t know what I ever saw in him. I risked everything to be with him and this is how he repays me?

Gripping the steering wheel of my car, I drive aimlessly down darkened alleys with no destination in mind. My conversation with John, every word and every accusation replays in a continuous loop in my head. I’m too mad to cry, every fiber of my being hating him right now. How dare he accuse me of cheating? How dare he use sex against me? How dare he go through my purse? How dare he not love and trust me enough to believe me.

“John, why don’t you believe me?” I ask outloud, my voice providing the only comfort I’ll find tonight. Goddamn him!

How did things go from bad to worse in a span of twenty minutes and more importantly how did I miss all the signs that were pointing in that direction? “I’m your husband, I have a right to see what you’re hiding from me,” I repeat outloud what he said to me, mocking his voice. “That’s where you’re wrong Black, you don’t have the right to see anything, you have the privilege and you lost it when you became an obsessive asshole.”

“Fuck,” I scream at the top of my lungs, surprising even myself. In the span of ten minutes I have probably said more cuss words than in the last two years and it’s all because of him. It’s like he’s driving me to become something that I don’t want to be. Why can’t he be loving and supportive? Why does he have to always be paranoid and possessive?

He really thinks that he’d better off with Kate, well he can have her now because I certainly don’t want him anymore. How could he do this, how could he say those things to me? That’s not love.

As I drive a little too fast without direction I realize that I have nowhere to go. Somewhere along the way John became my life, my universe. We’ve existed as a pair for more than twenty years. It’s always been John and Marlena, never just John or just Marlena. Every person that we know, knows us as a couple, not as two separate individuals with different wants and desires. Even he knows us that way, at least until that night. Why am I so mad at John? When it comes down to it, this is his fault.

Why did he have to rape me? Was I an easy target? Was it something I said to him? Some signal? Did he think I wanted it? “Why?” I scream. Screaming at him and at John keeps me focused on the road and is the only thing at this point that’s keeping me from the dark decent of depression. I hate him, I really do. I hate everything about him and I mean everything. Every time I see him, after I get over the fear, I want to hurt him as much as he hurt me. I want to destroy his perfect family like he destroyed mine.

“Fuck,” I scream again into the air, liking the sound of the word that so adequately describes what I’ve done to my life.

Why didn’t I just tell John the truth months ago? What’s wrong with me that I couldn’t? Did I subconsciously think that my marriage was so fragile that the truth would destroy the tattered threads holding it together? Isn’t love supposed to conquer everything?

What do I do now? Where do I go from here? Do I really want to end what has been the most amazing experience of my life because of my own pride?

I need to talk to someone, have human contact of some sort before I drive myself crazy with all these thoughts of self doubt. How I wish Laura still lived in Salem; she’d be the voice of reason and tell me that walking out on John was the right thing to do. Then she’d tell me that John was the best thing that ever happened to me and that I needed to pick my pride up off the curb and work through things with him. Rationally I know that’s what I need to do; work things out. But right now I’m too fucking mad at him and his damn ego. Why does everything have to be about sex with him? Couldn’t he see beyond that to see that this damn secret is eating me up inside?

No, my husband thinks I’m a whore and he’d rather be with his mistress. That makes me feel so good about myself, I tell you.

“I’m not going to cry, I’m not,” I tell myself over and over when crying is all I really want to do. I want his strong arms to provide me with the comfort, reassurance and safety that I no longer have. I want his strong shoulder to lean on. I want for him to be strong for me because as my life seemingly spirals out of control I don’t feel that I have the strength to be strong for myself. Most of all I want him to love me because right now I don’t love myself.

“John,” I whisper as my tears start to flow in a never-ending deluge, “Why couldn’t you just love me?”

*****

What the hell is wrong with me? Why the hell did I just say that to Marlena? Why did I tell her I should have stayed with Kate? The look in her eyes when I said that about killed me. It was as if the flame behind those pretty eyes was suddenly extinguished.

“Fuck,” I yell loudly, knowing that Marlena hates the use of the word.

Why do I let my pride get in the way of things? Why can’t I keep my fucking mouth shut? Do I always have to be right? I didn’t mean to hurt her like that, I really didn’t, but after everything that we’ve been through that was the final straw. I knew that she was capable of doing a lot of things, but cheating on me was never one of them. After everything that we had to overcome to be together, Roman, the Dimera’s, Kristen, her being possessed, I never thought that she would be so cavalier about our relationship. Did she expect me to be okay with her fucking another man? Did she think I wouldn’t care or does she just think that she’s so smart and clever that I’d never find out?

Closing the door that she left open, I open it again and slam it as hard as I can. “Fuck,” I scream again not caring who can hear me. I want to break things. I want to hurt someone. I want to hurt her for hurting me.

Spying our wedding picture on the bureau I pick it up and slowly trace my index finger along the fine features of her face. “Were you lying to me then Marlena?” I ask her image.

“Did you marry me because that’s what the good Dr. Evans does? Did you? Did you really love me like you claimed? Were you lying then?”

The alcohol is in easy reach as I take the lid of the decanter and set it down on the bureau. “How could you do this to us?” I yell at her image. “How could you?” Picking up the decanter’s crystal lid, I throw it as hard as I can across the room where it hits the wall and shatters into a thousand pieces.

“How could you do this to me?” I yell again at her image as I do the same to the frame, throwing it harder than I’ve ever thrown anything in my life. Glass flies everywhere as the frame explodes against the wall. “I hate you… I hate you….I hate you….I hate you.” I don’t know who I’m yelling at, only that it makes me feel better to release some of the rage I feel.

Picking up the bourbon decanter I bring it to my lips not bothering to use a glass. This is my fucking house and I don’t have to use manners if I don’t want to. Fuck Marlena and her Emily Post manners complex. I’ll drink out of the fucking milk carton too if I want. Fuck her. This is all her fault, not mine. She’s the one having an affair and when I find out who it is I’m going to beat the shit out of him for touching what’s mine. Marlena is plain and simple mine and the fact that another man has touched her makes me want to kill him.

Wasn’t I enough for her?

Taking a large swig, the bourbon burns my throat as it goes down and the pain is great. I’ll drink this whole thing if I want to and there’s not a damn thing that she can do to stop me. She’s probably run to her lover, whoever he is. I imagine her embracing him, seeking comfort in his arms, telling him what an awful man I am. He’s probably drying her tears and telling that it will be all right. She’s probably telling him all the things I said to her in anger and he’s using it against me to get into her head, heart and bed.

One or two swigs isn’t enough to drown my pain.

He’s probably fucking her right now.

Another swig and my pain seems to lessen somewhat, if that’s possible. She should be the one that’s hurting, not me.

*******

I’ve never felt so lost in my life. My marriage is ending and there’s no real reason behind it, only misunderstandings and lies of omission. I slowly open the door to the Brady pub hoping that he’s here. It’s almost midnight and I have nowhere to go.

I immediately see him across the room and I know that I must look like a fool standing here in the middle of the pub at midnight wearing a business suit and high heeled shoes and no coat while a blizzard rages on outside.

I’m visibly trembling not from the cold but from the pain I feel inside.

“Doc, what’s wrong?” Roman asks me as he approaches me. I see the concern in his eyes and I’m overcome with all the emotions of the evening. I’m unable to say anything and I know I look like a fool just standing in front of him crying.

My cries give way to sobs as he tenderly takes me into his arms and holds onto me tightly, stroking my back up and down. It’s been almost six weeks since John hugged me and I never realized how much I missed that until now. I want John to hold me, not Roman. I want and need John’s touch right now. What have I done to us?

“Talk me Doc,” Roman says, but I’m unable to. All the pain that I’ve been holding inside for the last three months is spilling over and I no longer have the willpower to stop it. I can’t stop sobbing; I can’t stop thinking about John. I love him and don’t want to live a life without him in it. My heart is breaking and its all my fault. Why didn’t I tell him the truth?

“Did something happen to John?” Roman finally asks, misunderstanding the reason for my state.

“What?” I ask as I pull out of his arms.

“Is John okay?” Roman restates his question as he takes his handkerchief out of his pocket and hands it to me to wipe my face.

I furiously wipe the tears from my eyes and blow my nose before I respond. “I can’t talk about him,” I whisper, not able to say his name. If I say his name it will only validate what I’ve done. I lied to him and I left him. I’ve done to this us, not him.

“Something’s happened Doc….did he hurt you?” Roman finally asks me, as he tilts my chin up to look into my eyes. I can’t control the quiver of my chin and I can’t answer his question. Yes John hurt me, but not in the way that he thinks. I don’t want to talk; I just need to be held.

I continue to cry, unable to do anything but. What I feel now in this instant is the unmistakable and undeniable loss of my best friend and soulmate. I’m not strong enough to do this without him. I still need him so much.

“If he hurt you, I’m going to kill him,” Roman vows as he takes me into his arms again. Somehow after all this time he knows that it always comes back to John, everything always seems to come back to John.

*******

The vibration of my blackberry on my chest wakes me from my drunken state. My shirt and the couch is still wet from where I spilled I spilled a bottle of whiskey earlier. I don’t know how long I’ve been out and I don’t really care. All I care about is that she feels as miserable as I do. I hope she’s happy that she destroyed our marriage.

God, I miss her and I still want her even though I hate her right now. Maybe I was too hard on her. Does this really have to be the end?

Moving the trackwheel with my thumb I notice that my private investigator has sent a new email. Opening the email from Dave I prepare myself mentally to see the name of her lover, concrete evidence that she really did this to us.

“John,” the email starts, “After Mrs. Black left your house she drove around Salem for an hour or so. I’m not sure if she was drinking before she left, but the person following her states that she was driving erratically and at unsafe speeds. She arrived at the Brady pub around 2400 hours and has been talking to a man ever since. I’m writing this email from outside the pub as I don’t want to be spotted and the pub is somewhat deserted at this hour. Based on the amount of physical contact between Mrs. Black and the unknown subject, this may be the man you suspect she’s having an affair with. Dave.”

“Fuck,” I scream at the Blackberry and at Dave. I wanted to ignore that this was real, I wanted to imagine that after all the evidence that this was all a huge misunderstanding. I wanted to imagine that my wife still loved me and was faithful.

I hold my breath as I click open the picture, only to see my wife in the arms of her ex-husband. Marlena is fucking Roman again?

“I’m going to fucking kill you both,” I scream as I throw my Blackberry against the wall and everything that I can find within reach.

*****

“Marlena, you need to talk about it,” Roman says with concern as he holds my hand. He’s sitting next to me in the booth and I can tell he has a million questions on his mind that he wants to ask. I’m tired of talking, I’m tired of arguing, I’m tired of hurting. I just want to sit like this with my head on his shoulder and his hand in mine and be alone with my thoughts.

“Come on Doc,” he pleads.

“I can’t,” I whisper. Talking leads to crying and I’ve done enough of that in the last hour.

“You always used to say I was a good listener when we were married.”

“You were Roman, you are.” I squeeze his hand tightly, letting him know that his presence is appreciated. “I can’t talk about it right now.”

“I won’t pressure you, but you know that I’m here for you when you feel ready to talk.”

“I appreciate that….I do.” I can’t stop crying as my tears start again. “Oh Roman, what am I going to do?” I sob into his arms. Every memory of what he did to me that night, every touch, every smell, every taste replays in my mind over and over and feels like it’s happening to me again. I want to tell Roman, I really do. I want to tell someone, anyone that this happened to me. I want to stop this hurt that I feel. I want to stop being afraid and questioning my actions, and myself but I can’t. I can’t tell Roman that I was raped. John would never forgive me if he found out that I told Roman before him. I honestly don’t know why I still care what John thinks. He’s an ass and deserves a divorce, but who am I kidding? That’s not what I want.

“Tell me what happened.”

Its such a simple question, but one that I can’t answer.

“John,” I whisper into Roman’s coat as he holds me tightly, giving me the strength to continue. “He…”

“Get the fuck away from my wife Brady,” John interrupts me as he pulls Roman out of the booth by his jacket collar. “Are you fucking my wife?” he screams into Roman’s face. I can’t look at the scene unfolding in front of me, I can’t do this. I move to get out of the booth, but John blocks me.

“You aren’t going anywhere Marlena,” he yells at me.

“John,” Caroline Brady screams as she rushes towards us and places her hand on John’s forearm. “Calm down John.” I see Shawn Brady rushing towards us along with several other patrons. John has a look on his face that I’ve only seen a couple times before, mainly when he was under Stefano’s control. For the first time in years I’m afraid of my own husband, knowing what he’s capable of.

“Don’t ever talk to Marlena in that tone,” Roman warns John. Wrong thing to say as it only further enrages John.

“You just couldn’t wait, could you? Just waiting for a moment to get back into between Marlena’s legs, huh.” John pulls Roman even closer to him and I’m afraid that John’s going to cross the line and really hurt him.

“Stop John,” I plead with him as I move to step between them. “Come on John, “ Caroline validates what I’ve just said. John is breathing deeply and I know that he’s struggling internally with what to do. I can smell the alcohol on his breath and clothing and wonder how much he’s had to drink.

“Lets talk about this pal,” Roman tells him, trying to calm him down.

“Don’t you pal me…You’ve been waiting years for your chance to get back at me for taking Doc away from you… How long have you been fucking each other?” he asks, the disgust evident in his voice, as he lets Roman go and pushes him back, knocking me back down into the booth.

“How long have you been fucking Roman, you whore?” he yells at me. “What are you shocked that I’d actually say that?” he asks me. He must have seen the look of horror on my face at his public accusation. “Does the truth hurt Marlena?”

“I’m not doing this,” I tell him as I get out of the booth and walk past him towards the door.

“You’re not going anywhere.” His words are slightly slurred by the alcohol. He grabs me and pulls me towards him and I can hear Caroline gasp in the background. Our very private problems have become very public ones. “You belong to me,” he tells me as he grabs my face roughly. I feel anything but love.

“Let her go John,” Roman orders John. “Now.”

“Don’t you fucking tell me what to do Brady…. Marlena is my wife and I’ll do with her as I please.”

“Stop this John,’ I whisper, trying to give him an out before he goes to far and embarrasses himself even further. I try to connect with his eyes but he won’t look at me. Did I hurt him so much that he can’t even stand the sight of me? Is he only here, not because he cares, but because he can’t stand the thought of me with Roman?

“No, How could you fuck Roman of all people? How could you? How could you fuck him again?”

My world as I know it is spiraling out of control and there’s not a damn thing I can do to stop it. There’s nothing that I can say that’s going to change his mind. He’s already decided that I’m a whore as he so eloquently stated earlier and has written me off. Why did I foolishly think that we had something worth fighting for, that this was worth fighting for?

“I’m not sleeping with Roman,” I tell him as I pull my hand out of his grasp. My side hurts like hell and I need to lay down but I know that this night is long from over.

“Are you finally telling me the truth or are you lying once again?”

After everything, he still doesn’t trust me and probably never will. “Please John, stop…You’re drunk.”

“No Marlena,” he screams loud enough for everyone in the pub to hear as if by chance they’ve missed the show up until now. “I’m tired of your lies…Tell me who you’re fucking now if its not Roman. TELL ME.”

“John, you’re drunk… Marlena is a lady, don’t talk to her like that,” Roman interceded and I could tell by the tone of his voice that he is livid. This is all too much for me, my emotions are all over the place. I don’t know whether I should hit John, laugh at the absurdity of the situation or cry.

“Fuck you Brady,” John says as he cocks his hand back and decks Roman clear across the jaw sending him stumbling into an empty table. “You ever touch my wife again I’ll kill you….I’LL KILL YOU.”

Page 7 of 27
“Fuck you Brady,” I yell at Roman, cocking my hand back and decking him as hard as I can right into the jaw. He stumbles backward like the pussy he is into a table and falls to the ground. “You ever touch my wife again I’ll kill you….I’LL KILL YOU.” If he thinks I don’t mean it, let this be his lesson. “Don’t you ever touch her again.”

My knuckles hurts like hell, but damn that felt good. I’ve wanted to do that for ages but never really had a good reason and now I have the mother of all reasons. He’s lucky I don’t pound his pathetic ass into the ground. Really, what the hell does Marlena see in him? I’ve got more money in the bank than he’ll ever make as police commissioner. And I’ve seen his tiny dick so I know it’s not that. Does she think that he’s better looking than I am? Maybe she just prefers to cheat on me with lame, small dicked, pussy whipped guys. Or maybe I’m just too much man for her to handle.

“I don’t know what the hell has gotten into you John,” Roman grumbles pathetically as he gets up from the ground and comes toward me. I see the look in his eyes and the way that he’s clenching his fists that he wants to hit me. “Bring it on Brady,” I taunt him.

He swings at me and misses, but it gives me the prefect opportunity to hit him again and how I want to pulverize his face for ever thinking that he could take away what’s mine. “She’s mine,” I scream into his face as I grab him by his jacket and hit him over and over. He’s taking various swings at me; some connect, but it’s as if I feel nothing. I’m sure once the booze wears off I’m going to hurt like hell, but for this one moment I don’t care. Vengeance is mine says John Black.

“Stop it John,” Caroline Brady demands as she grabs my arm and holds onto it trying to prevent me from hitting her son. “Stop,” she screams. I have nothing to lose anymore and really no reason to stop.

“Let go Caroline, before you get hurt.” It’s what I consider a fair warning. This is between Roman and I and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let anyone get in the way. I jerk my arm out of her grasp and watch as she stumbles backwards and into Bo. I continue to pound Romans smug mug with my fist, taking a few moments here and there to appreciate my handiwork. It’s going to be a long time before the asshole gets laid and it sure as hell will never be with my wife.

“John,” Marlena yells as she tries to pull me off Roman. I ignore her as I move toward Roman once again. She falls to the ground and crawls away from us. I want to help her up and make sure that she’s okay but I’m too damn mad right now, at her and at me.

“Stop son,” Shawn Brady yells from somewhere in the vicinity. I don’t see him; only hear him and what he said makes me what to hit Roman even more. I’m not his son and never was. Every single person in this room has tried to take away my life in one form or another.

“Stop John,” Marlena screams at me, “Stop.” Her plea only makes me want to hit him more. Roman has stopped struggling, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing really matters at this point, I’ve lost everything; I’ve lost Marlena.

“John,” she screams again. I see her out of the corner of my eye, a beautiful mess. Just looking at her reminds me of all that I’ve lost and that it’s her fault. The rage I feel right now is more than I’ve ever felt before. I want to hurt both of them as much as they hurt me.

“Calm down Black,” Bo orders as he decks me right across the face, splitting my lip. I can feel the skin tear and taste the coppery taste of my own blood. Goddamn that hurt, good.

“Out of the way Bo,” I order him as I wipe my swelling lip with my index finger and inspect the dollop of blood that is quickly drying on my hand. Roman is cowering on the floor moaning and trying to protect his head. Good. “This is between Roman and I, not you…so get the hell out of my way before you get hurt too,” I tell him as I move to pick up his cretin of a brother off the ground for another ass beating.

He grabs me from the back, putting my neck into a chokehold. “Give it up John,” Bo demands. Furiously I kick my right leg connecting with Roman’s stomach. Over and over I kick him, no longer caring. He tries to choke me harder, naively thinking I’ll stop. I have a hell of a lot more stamina than anyone in this room realizes. If they foolishly want to fight me; then bring it on. Bring it on. Nobody messes with what’s John Black’s and gets away with it, including Marlena.

“You did this,” I scream at Marlena. “You cheated on me…. You cheated…. Cheated.” As if on queue, each time I tell her that she cheated, I kick Roman. Marlena has the tragic heroine look on her face; guilt, tears and desperation, and how can she not? Everything that’s happening right now predicated around her infidelity. Did she think that she would be able to hide what she’s done, that it would remain invisible? Wasn’t I enough for her?

“Stop,” she screams at both of us. “Please stop.” She clutching her side and sobbing. “Let him go Bo,” she demands as she looks directly at me. For an instant I can see her, see the real Marlena that she’s been hiding for these last couple of months. “NOW,” she screams at him and as quickly as I saw who she was, it’s gone.

He lets me go and shoves me away from his brother and towards Marlena. Caroline immediately kneels next to Roman on the floor and I feel bad that I’ve made her cry. “How could you do this to Roman?” she asks me over and over. “How could you?”

“It was rather easy….he slept with Marlena so therefore I kicked his ass.”

“I’m not sleeping with Roman,” Marlena cries as she wipes her face with a handkerchief that’s not mine. More evidence of her betrayal.

“Then tell me who you’re sleeping with?” I no longer care if he’s sleeping with Marlena or not, right now beating the shit out of Roman was just what I needed. “Please tell me,” I whisper to her so that only she can hear.

“Not here, John, not here,” she says as she takes my hand in hers and holds on tightly. She looks like she’s aged ten years in the last two months, the dark circles under her eyes and the paleness of her skin unhealthy looking.

“I’m afraid that I’m going to have to arrest John,” Bo tells Marlena as he takes his handcuffs out of his back pocket and holds them up for all to see.

“No,” she begs him, “No.”

“I have no choice Marlena, he assaulted Roman…”

“It wasn’t his fault,” she interrupts him. Her hand is shaking as she holds onto my hand tighter. I don’t know what the hell has gotten into her, but I’m glad that for once she’s coming to my defense. “He’s drunk…. Let me take him home and he’ll sleep it off, okay?” Tears are streaming down her face and she looks more like she’s scared.

“It’s okay,” Roman says as he finally stands up with the assistance of Shawn Brady and I finally get to see my handiwork as does Marlena. She gasps when she sees Roman’s face and tries to let go of my hand to go to him, but I won’t let her. “No,” I tell her as I hold onto her in more ways than one.

“You want to play big man and beat people up…. At least do it when you’re sober and know why your fighting,” Roman warns me. I step towards him, but Marlena pulls me back.

“You want me to beat your ass again?” I ask him.

“You want to go to jail?” Roman threatens me.

******

Twenty minutes of silence is enough punishment.

“John,” I finally speak to him, looking over at him out of the corner of my eye. The ride from the pub to our house is usually no more than ten minutes but due to the frequent stops I’ve had to make its taking forever. With each stop of the car, he runs to the nearest object he can hide behind and vomits. When he returns to the car, its always the same, “I’m so sorry baby….will you forgive me?” Up until now I’ve said nothing. What can I say? I’m hurt? I’m angry? I’m embarrassed? I’m mad as hell? I’m disappointed? None of these words adequately describe what I’m feeling right now. A mad devastation is the closest that I can come to naming my feelings.

“I’m sorry Doc,” he apologizes again and I can tell by the look in his eyes that he’s sincere. He wants me to tell him that it’s okay, but its not and never will be. It’s not okay that my own husband called me the one name I never thought he’d call me. I am not and never have been a whore and how dare he accuse me of being one in such a public setting?

“Talk to me baby…. You’re scaring me.” He’s still slurring his words and I know its not the real John I’m talking to but his inebriated out of control macho man self.

“There’s nothing really to say,” I tell him as I concentrate on navigating the snow-strewn roads. The last thing I need tonight is to get into an accident. Besides, I’m not really ready to forgive or to make nice with him.

“I love you Doc….love you,” he tells me as he places his hand over mine on the steering wheel and squeezes. Regardless of how sweet and tender he is right now I can’t allow his kind words and apologies to overshadow what he did tonight. He not only accused me of being unfaithful and called me awful names, he attacked Roman. He’s lucky that Roman isn’t pressing charges and his ass is not in jail, because it should be. What the hell am I going to do with him?

“I didn’t mean to call you a whore Marlena.”

“Well you did.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You think saying sorry makes it alright? Do you know how that makes me feel inside that you would actually say that?”

“No, but you know how it is with me Doc….I go crazy when I think of you being with another man. I can’t help it. Call it foolish if you want, but you know how I am…possessive of you.”

“Why would you even think that I was cheating on you?”

“You never talk to me….We don’t make love anymore….it’s just not the same.”

“And the automatic response to that is that I’m having an affair….You know John, I could ask the same thing of you.”

“I’d never cheat on you Doc…I love you too much…I love you baby and I’m sorry.”

“You can’t go around town making accusations and beating people up because of your own insecurities John.” I don’t know why I’m so calm right now, when I want to do nothing more than to yell at him and let him know how I really feel, but two wrongs don’t make a right.

“What can I do to make it up to you? You know I’m sorry.”

“I don’t know John….all I know is that the John that I saw back there in the pub is not the man that I married and is not someone I even like.”

“I guess I deserve that.”

“You do and a whole lot more…. but you know what? You’re lucky that I’m too mad to think of what I want to say to you.” I abruptly pull the car over to the side of the deserted road and put the car in park before I remove my seat belt and turn to face him. “Do you even understand how I feel right now? Do you? I’m so mad at you right now. I could deal with what you said to me at our house…your groundless accusations, but when you took it to a public forum.”

He has the wounded look on his face, like I hurt him. “Don’t,” I warn him. “Don’t. You are not the victim here.”

“I’m sorry that I lost control.”

“You did…that you did.”

“What can I do to make it better?”

“Nothing John…nothing. You said what you did and now thanks to your little antics any problems that we’ve been having are now very public knowledge.”

“Who gives a damn what other people think?” His voice is raised and I know that he’s once again on the defensive and looking for some excuse for his actions, some out.

“I do John,” I raise my voice and then lower it. Yelling at him may make me feel better but it doesn’t get us any closer to working through this great barrier that exists between us and is growing wider by the day. “We have to live and work in this town. That man that you tried to kill is the father of two of my children. Like it or not John.”

“Why did you go to him Doc,” John asks, his voice barely above a whisper. His mood has suddenly changed and he’s looking out the window. So that’s what this is about? His ever lingering insecurity regarding Roman. Everything makes sense to me now and I don’t know why I didn’t see it before. It’s not the fact the he thinks I cheated, it’s the fact that I went to Roman.

“John, do you really think that I’d have an affair with Roman?” I look at him directly in the eyes hoping for his honest answer, not the answer I so desperately want to see. This is not about Roman and never has been.

“No,” he whispers and I can see him quickly wipe a tear out of his eye. “I hope that you wouldn’t do that to me.” My heart melts at his sudden fallibility and vulnerability. “The thought of losing you is more than I can take.” His voice cracks a tiny bit and I know that he’s on the verge of crying. “Things have been pretty bad between us for the last couple months and I guess I was looking for a reason for it.”

“I wouldn’t do that to you…you have to know that…I have to admit that the fact that you don’t know that, and that you don’t trust me, hurts me.”

“I trust you, I do.”

“The way you acted back there is not the way that a trusting person acts.”

“I know, but I can’t lose you Marlena…I can’t…. You’re everything to me…everything…please don’t leave me.” I don’t know at this point if it’s the real John or the drunk John that’s suddenly remorseful and sobbing in front of me, but at this point I’ll take either one of them.

“I’m not John,” I tell him as I wipe his tears with the sleeve of my jacket. I love John more than I’ve ever loved another person on this earth and what we have is too good to end over a simple misunderstanding. When we get home I’m going to tell him about my rape and pray that he’ll forgive me.

“I love you….” He tells me over and over again as I hold his face in my hands. Kissing his forehead my lips linger on his clammy flesh. My whole world is wrapped up in this one amazing person. When we took our marriage vows, I promised to love and cherish him for better or for worse and I’ll be dammed if I let our pride destroy the best thing that happened to either one of us.

Page 8 of 27
It’s been one month since what I call the incident at the pub. In some ways I feel more violated with what John said and did than what He did to me that night almost four months ago. How time can change things by healing old wounds and opening new ones. Things between John and I have more or less gotten back to normal. He’s been his same old attentive self; nursing me through this last bug I’ve gotten and can’t seem to get over. I’m still shocked by the harshness of his words, wondering why he so easily jumped to see the worst in me. But I guess in a way that I’m partially to blame, if I’d have been honest with him from the beginning and told him what happened we’d never be in this predicament. It’s funny how you do things you think are protecting people and in the end it ends up hurting them.

I wanted to tell John the truth once we got home from the pub, however when I saw what he did to our house I knew it wasn’t the time or the place. Whatever was going on inside John was far more than I could handle. His jealousy and rage was disconcerting to say the least. After all these years together losing me was not something John could accept and has made him somewhat paranoid. With so much of his past missing I have no idea if this was an isolated event or if I’m seeing parts of his personality long dormant. Carefully I watch, looking for signs of a stranger taking up occupancy in the man that I love. Although I have yet to see any signs of personality pathology, as a professional I’m hesitant not to dismiss his behavior as the consequence of emotional stress.

Facing the very real possibility that something is wrong with him, I struggle with my decision to remain silent all this time. When I was raped I felt like my world was going to end. Something deep inside of me hurt so bad and I couldn’t make it stop, no matter how hard I tried. Night after night, long after John was asleep in bed beside me, I’d run the sequence of events that night through my head looking for a reason why it happened. Logically, I needed to know as a woman, not as a psychiatrist, why this happened to me. Four months later and I’m still without an answer and each passing day is in a way harder. I so desperately want to be the survivor and not the victim and as I stand upon the precipice of that I know that the one thing that’s preventing me from being a survivor is the truth. I need to tell John what happened to me and can’t worry about what his response will be.

Telling John is the hardest and most terrifying emotional thing I’ve ever faced. For four long months I’ve kept this painful secret thinking that with time I’d forget. Time has made it worse. Every time I see Him at church or at the pub I’m reminded of what he did to me and I wonder if he’s feeling any regret. I feel guilty for letting this happen to me twice. The first time I can excuse because I had no idea that Kellam Chandler would do that. But a second time? What kind of psychiatrist, what kind of woman am I if I let that happen to me twice? I feel guilty for going to talk to him. I feel guilty for wearing what I did; John’s favorite dress. I feel guilty for accepting a drink from him. I feel guilty for not stopping him when he first started to come onto him. I feel guilty for not screaming and fighting him off harder. But most of all I feel guilty as hell and unable to forgive myself for not reporting what he did because he used to be my friend.

Guilt isn’t what prevents me from speaking out about what happened, shame is. I feel like I’m less of a woman because of this. I fear that John will look at me or see me differently if he knows that another man touched me. I know that he won’t love me or care about me any less; he’s not that kind of person. But I fear that somehow when he looks at me, he’ll always see the actual violation. I’m scared that he will come between us; come between what John and I have. I fear the hushed silences, the averting of eyes, the avoidance of me, the denial of what happened. I’m not afraid of John doing that, it’s the rest of society. I went through it before and I know now it will be no different. Worst of all, no one will believe that He did it.

“Penny for your thoughts,” John whispers into my ear as he slowly moves an errant hair out of my face.

“Just thinking.” I turn my head towards him, our faces mere inches from each other. I’m immediately drawn into the depth of blue eyes, knowing that this person before me is my soulmate and the one that I trust with my whole heart.

“About what?” He’s running his fingers along the sides of my face ever so tenderly. God I love this man.

“Us.”

“My favorite topic…do tell.” His breath is warm and soft and I smell a hint of wintergreen.

“Just about the past couple months and how hard it’s been.”

“But that’s all water under the bridge,” he says as he lays on his side and takes my hand in his. “We’re back to our old selves again.”

“Are we?” I don’t mean to be negative and question where things stand between us; I really need to know. I so desperately I want the answer to be yes that I don’t realize that I’m holding my breath waiting for his answer until he kisses me gently on the lips and whispers, “breathe Doc.”

“Sorry….”

“You my lady have nothing to be sorry for….”

“But I do,” I tell him trying to build up my courage and not let the perfect moment pass me by.

“About what? If anyone should be sorry, it’s me.”

“I’m just sorry about the way that I’ve been so distant…I’ve just had a lot on my mind and maybe I could have communicated what I was feeling a little more than to shut you out and let you assume the worst.”

“Your job is very demanding Doc…it’s understandable…you probably hear a lot of awful things that people have done to other people and experienced all day long…it’s no wonder that you don’t want to talk about it. I should have realized that.”

“That’s true, but it’s still no excuse.”

“Hey you’re human….don’t worry about it,” he says as he squeezes my hand and then brings it up to his lips and slowly kisses it. “I love the smell of your skin…”

“John,” I laugh at his candidness as I pull my hand out of his grasp and roll over onto my side so that I’m facing him.

“Well it’s true…have I ever told you that?”

“No….not about the smell of my hands.” Slowly I run my fingers through his thick dark hair, loving the softness of it.

I continue touching him as he talks to me, closing my eyes so that I only feel the softness that is him and the soothing sound of his voice. “There are so many things that make you uniquely you that I love and so many other things I’ve yet to discover….”

“Like what John…we’ve been together for almost twenty years in some form or another…there isn’t a lot about me that you don’t already know.’ I open my tired eyes and wait for his quick retort.

“Oh but there is Dr. Evans….I’d love to see what deep dark secrets you’re hiding from me,” he jokes as he rolls on top of me and stares directly into my eyes, “Tell me your secrets.” I struggle to remain calm and not reveal my shame.

“What do you want to know?” I challenge him.

He rolls off me and places his head on my shoulder. “Are you serious? I can ask you anything?”

“Sure….why not, but it’s a two way street. You ask me a question and I ask you one….deal?”

“Deal…me first,” he says excitedly and then is suddenly silent as he thinks up his question. I wait patiently wondering where his mind is going to take him and hoping that his questions shed some light on his psyche. “Okay Doc…what is it like being a psychiatrist? Why do you like your job?”

“That’s your question?”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“Well nothing….it’s just not what I expected you to ask.”

“What did you expect me to ask?”

“Like I’d tell you that John and give you ideas…. My lips are sealed. “ I slowly massage his scalp with the tips of my fingernails as I formulate my response.

“Answer the question Dr. Evans…”

“Okay fine… I love my job, I really do and it’s really quite rewarding to be able to help people through their problems. When there is a positive outcome and someone’s life is changed for the better its extremely rewarding for me.”

“Okay…your turn.”

“Okay…If you could live anywhere in the world other than Salem where would it be?”

“That’s easy…Venice. I’d hire a gondolier and he’d sing songs to us all day while navigating the waterways.”

“Oh John, that sounds incredibly romantic.” I can picture in my mind his arms wrapped around me protectively as I lean back into him, the gentle movement of the boat, the deep baritone of the gondolier as he sings in his native Italian.

“Yep, that’s me… John Black, romantic man….my turn.”

“Ask away romantic man.”

“You know it baby,” he states in a low tone full of sexual innuendoes. “If you weren’t a psychiatrist what would you be?”

“Why all these questions about my career?”

“Answer the question Dr. Evans and stop stalling.” He’s snuggling deeper into my neck and I wonder how long it’ll be before we both fall asleep even though its only two in the afternoon.

“Fine…there’s no other career because this is always what I knew I would do. However, if I had to pick another career maybe I’d be a chef.”

“You have got to be kidding me,” John says as he looks up at me and rolls his eyes.

“Gotcha Black.” I grab his side and pinch him which elicits a laugh, “Maybe I’d be a teacher or something like that.”

“I could see that…much more realistic Doc.” He lays back down besides me and shares my down pillow, both of our heads sinking into the softness.

“My turn… lets see, my chance to ask you something that would never come up in a normal conversation….how about, who is the first girl you ever loved.”

“That’s an easy one Doc…you.” Leaning over he slowly captures my lips in his. I part my lips and wait in anticipation for the sweet taste of his tongue and I’m not disappointed. No matter how many times he’s kissed me in the past, each time is a first time for me.

“My turn,” he mumbles into my mouth as he pulls out of the kiss. “If you could have my baby, would you?”

“That’s not a deep dark secret John,” I jokingly remind him. “I would love nothing more than to give you a child, no matter what I said before….I would love to be pregnant with your baby.” I’ve imagined for the last month that all the sickness I’ve felt, the tenderness in my breasts, my mood swings, and the constant pain in my side are a sign of pregnancy and that somehow we’ve been given a miracle, but I know that there’s no chance of that. John and I have worked with the fertility doctor for over a year trying to get pregnant to no avail. I just need to face that I’ve given myself an ulcer and get medical treatment before it gets much worse.

“It warms my heart to hear you say that.”

“Well its true.”

“What would we name our baby?” He’s running his hand over my stomach and I wonder if he’s imagining a child that would lie loved deep within my womb.

“John, that’s not a secret either.”

“Indulge me in a little dream, would you?”

“How about John Jr.?”

“No,” he interrupts me. “That’s as almost as bad as naming the baby Forrest.”

“Hey, I happen to like both names because they’re a part of you.”

“Let’s leave the part of me to the genes, not the name.”

“I don’t know…names are hard to think of…maybe something normal and simple…Joshua?”

“Joshua? That doesn’t sound too bad…What if it’s a girl?” The look on his face is priceless. John actually looks like he knows that these children look like.

“This child doesn’t exist yet John.”

“It exists in my heart Marlena,” he whispers as he continues to tenderly rub my stomach. The gentle movement of his hand, along with my general state of malaise is making me incredibly tired.

Putting my hand up to my mouth to cover a yawn I tell him, “I picked out the boys name, you chose the girls name.”

“Let me think about it and I’ll get back to you…back to the questions….”

“It’s my turn John,” I interrupt him. With a heavy heart I know its time for me to tell him the truth but I need a way to transition the conversation. “If you had a secret that would affect the whole world and it meant life and death if you told anyone, would you?”

“Yes, unless it meant your death and then to hell with mankind.” His answer is so quick that it seems to me like he’s thought about this very issue before.

“Seriously John?”

“I’ve never been more serious.” Moving his hands up from my stomach to my face he gently cups my cheeks. “You mean the world to me Doc….I know I’ve told you a thousand times and I’ll tell you a thousand more, a life without you is not a life worth living.”

“Awwww….That’s so sweet.”

“What can I say? John Black, romantic man at your service.” He continues to hold my face in his hands, but his look suddenly becomes serious. His nearness and the intensity of his stare overwhelm me. I feel like he’s looking into my soul and can tell what’s wrong and sees that I’m broken. Finally he asks his question, “What’s the darkest secret that you’ve held that you’ve never told anyone?”

I turn my head away from him, even though he continues to hold my face in his hands. I’m unable to stop my tears from flowing and not sure I have the courage to tell him.

“Marlena, it’s okay,” he whispers as he climbs over me and lays on the other side, pressing his head against mine. “Whatever you tell me, it’s okay…. Please talk to me and tell me what’s wrong.”

“I want to tell you…I do,” I cry as I bury my head into his shoulder. I can’t hold my emotions in check and its as if the bandages on the wound that I so carefully tried to cover that night four months have been ripped off and exposed to the air. I can’t stop sobbing and I can’t compose myself enough to end my silence.

“Tell me,” he whispers. “You can tell me anything, and I mean anything and it won’t change how I feel about you….you have to know that….please tell me Marlena.” He’s rubbing my back up and down and the sheer honesty of his words gives me the confidence to confess what I’ve been keeping from him.

I can do this. I can do this. This is it, the moment that that I wanted and dreaded.

Ding-dong. Ding-dong. Ding-dong. Ding-dong. Ding-dong. The frantic ringing of the doorbell interrupts the moment. “Ignore it,” John whispers as he wipes my tears away with the pads of his fingertips.

I close my eyes content to be held in his arms, to feel the beating of his heart, to know that right now things are okay and the way that they should be. Maybe I don’t have to tell him the truth. “What if its Sami or Belle?”

Ding-dong. Ding-dong. Ding-dong. Ding-dong

“Damn, “John says in disappointment as he gets up off the bed. As if on cue his cell phone starts ringing, “I have to take this,” he tells me as he flips open the phone and answers it. “John Black.”

Ding-dong. Ding-dong. Ding-dong. Ding-dong

“I’ll get the door.” Slowly I pull myself off of the bed and furiously wipe my face on the sleeve of my shirt. The last thing I need is my children seeing me like this. They have enough of their own problems to deal with and don’t need to worry about me.

Ding-dong. Ding-dong. Ding-dong. Ding-dong. “I’m coming,” I yell loudly as I walk down the stairs hoping that whoever is on the other side of the door hears me.

Ding-dong. Ding-dong. Ding-dong. Ding-dong.

“What?” I ask somewhat in anger as I open the heavy wooden door.

“Marlena, I need to talk to you,” He tells me as he stands on the other side of my door, outside of my house. The panic and the fear; everything inside of me that I fought so hard to control and repress comes rushing back to me in one instant. I can’t do this. I can’t allow him in my home. I can’t do this.

“Marlena,” is the last thing I hear as I feel myself losing consciousness.

Page 9 of 27
“Marlena.” The voice is but a whisper in the corner of my mind. I turn toward the voice but cannot see or feel anything, only nothingness. Every bone in my body, every pore is unable to respond as I give into the overwhelming desire to sleep.

“Marlena….”

No.” I shake my head and tell the person, only my body won’t move and neither will my mouth. “No,” I tell the voice again, as I turn my head to the side and once again close my eyes. Let me sleep. Let me be at peace.

“Marlena.”

“No,” I find myself barely being able to moan before I give in and feel and hear nothing once again.

“Marlena.” I can feel someone trying to open my upper eyelids with their fingers and I feel the sensation of light and heat. I fight the urge to go to them, but am unable to. I’m so tired and just want to sleep. I move my head wanting them to stop.

“Marlena.” Another voice joins the first, invading my serene world. I try hard to resist the urge to be coaxed from this place where its safe and warm. I have no idea where I am and don’t really care. I just want to be left alone but they don’t seem to want to let me go.

“Doc.” I feel John before I hear him. “John,” I call out towards him and try to touch him only he’s not there. I need John and want him. With all the strength I can conjure, I move towards the sound and feeling of him. Suddenly a symphony of sounds and sensations invades my reality. I feel John more and more, his hand on mine, his breath against my skin.

“Hi sweetheart,” he whispers to me as I open my eyes and see his blue ones staring into mine. “You had us scared there for a little while.”

“Waaa….What?” I ask him as I try to sit up. Clutching the sheet that covers my chest, I recognize the smell of antiseptic and cleaning supplies and know that I’m in the hospital, but have no idea how I got here. The last thing I remember was answering the door. He was on the other side. Did he do something to me? Is that why I’m here. “Why am I here?” I ask John as I try not to panic.

“You passed out at home,” John tells me as he sits down on the bed and faces me, taking my hand in his. “I was so worried about you Doc.” He’s slowly drawing circles on the palm of my hand and I know from his actions that worried doesn’t begin to describe his emotions.

“How long have I been here?” I ask him, noting that I’m in the emergency room, not a private room. I feel sick to my stomach and really tired and in a way I’m glad that I’m here.

“You’ve been out of it for about five hours.” Over and over he draws small circles, occasionally breaking the path to look up at me.

“Five hours? “ What other details is he leaving out? I don’t want to know the answers as I don’t want to change my reality, my safety, my comfort zone, but I need to know what happened. How did I get here? Did He tell John what he did to me? Does John know He was at the house?

“Five hours,” John reiterates and I feel all his worry by the way that he says it. I slowly raise my eyes to his and can finally see how tired he looks.

“What time is it?”

“Almost ten p.m.”

“How did I get here?” Please let it be John or an ambulance and not Him. Please. Please. Please.

“I brought you here, rather than wait for the ambulance,” John tells me as I try to hide my relief. “I couldn’t take the chance that in the time it would take for them to get to the house that something would happen to you.” He takes both of my hands in his and brings them up to his lips where he tenderly kisses my knuckles. “Doc, you don’t know how worried I was about you…I kept thinking on the way over here that if anything happened to you I wouldn’t know what I would do.”

“I’m sure I’m fine….I’ve just be so tired lately,” I tell him as a stifle a yawn and lay back in the bed and close my eyes.

“I know and I’m sure that’s partially my fault. All my paranoia and obsessiveness probably contributed to your condition.”

“You can’t blame yourself John.” I’m content to listen to the sound of his voice and the feel of him as he intertwines his fingers with mine.

“But I do…if anything ever happened to you….”

“Nothing is going to happen to me…I just probably have an ulcer, that’s all.” John’s need to talk supercedes my desire to sleep. I try to sit up in the bed but John prevents me as he places one hand on my shoulder and pins me to the bed. “Rest,” he whispers then continues, “I hope that’s all that it is Doc…. Everyone is outside waiting to see that you’re okay.”

“Everyone?” Damn. The last thing I wanted was anyone other than John to know that I’d been sick.

“Half of Salem,” he jokes.

“Seriously John?”

“Seriously…you know how word spreads in this town. Belle and Sami have been worried sick and Eric, Carrie and Brady are trying to catch the first flights they can….”

“Isn’t that a little overkill?” I ask as I interrupt him. “I just have an ulcer.”

“If you haven’t figured it out before Marlena…you are loved and adored more than you realize….”

“They don’t have to fly home.”

“They want to fly home.”

“That’s sweet of them.” I’m beyond stunned that Eric, Brady and Carrie would take time out of their very busy lives to come and visit me.

“They love their mother, what can I say?”

John’s words of endearment mean more to me than he knows. All I’ve ever wanted was to raise happy and healthy kids, not caring that two out of the five were not mine biologically. I tell myself that I’m not going to cry. “So Belle and Sami are out in the waiting room? Send them in….I’d love to see them.”

“Sami and Belle are here. The doctor said that no one could be in the room with you until you woke up. So they’ve been in the waiting room along with several other people…”

“Other people?”

“You know how word spreads in Salem…Shawn and Claire are out there as are Lucas and Will, Shawn and Caroline, Bo and Hope, Mickey and Maggie, Steve and Kayla, Victor and Kate and of course Abe and Roman. Several of your work colleagues have also been stopping by to see how you are.”

The realization that he’s less than 500 feet away from me in the waiting room along with the rest of my family and friends is unsettling. What the hell am I going to do? Why is he out there?

“Doc are you okay?” John asks. He must have seen the look of panic on my face.

“I’m fine,” I tell him as I feel anything but. I try to rearm my emotions and put on my mask of calm indifference. He couldn’t have told John, otherwise John wouldn’t be with me here; he’d be in jail charged with murder.

“I’ve been really worried about you lately. You’ve been sick an awful lot and seem rather pale. Maybe it is a good thing that you collapsed because we need to know what’s going inside in that pretty little body of yours.”

I need to get out of this bed and out of this hospital and back to my home where it’s safe again, somewhere far away from Him. “I know what’s going on John…I have an ulcer, probably stressed induced. My guess is that I’ve been bleeding because of it and have a low iron count….” I don’t mean to snap at him; I’m guess I’m just a little on edge right now.

“You are partially correct Marlena,” Doctor Simpson says as he enter the room and faces me. Great, it’s the last doctor in this hospital that I’d ever want treating me and here his is before me, his grumpy curmudgeon analytical self. I feel like I’m in a personal nightmare; unable to wake up and escape. I’ve got my rapist in the waiting room and my husband by my bedside and for a doctor the one person in this hospital with doesn’t seem to know what the word confidentiality means. Great. “The nurse said that you were awake….you’ve given a lot of people here quite the scare.”

I smile weakly at the doctor, not really sure what else to say.

“So what’s the verdict?” John finally asks him, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

“Actually that’s something that I’d like to talk to Marlena about alone.” The way that he’s looking at me leads me to believe that there is so much more that he’s not telling me; something is very wrong. I know that I’m breathing much deeper and I’m trying not to panic as I try to calculate all the possibilities for my symptoms in my head.

“No…there’s nothing you can’t say in front of my husband.” I can’t do this alone. I can’t be with him alone. I need John beside me if I’m going to be given a diagnosis of cancer.

“Very well,” Dr. Simpson says as he sits down in the chair next to the bed. John moves closer to me and takes both of my hands in his, trying to be strong and supportive. “When you were brought in by your husband this afternoon you were unresponsive despite numerous attempts to wake you. Additionally there was some vaginal bleeding….” The look on John’s face tells me that this is the first time he’s heard this information. Squeezing his hand I will him to look up at me so that he can see my eyes and know that its okay. “I had a full panel run on your blood this afternoon. In addition to having a dangerously low iron count and the flu, Marlena you’re pregnant.”

“What?” John and I ask at the same time and then stop as we look at each other and start smiling. ”That’s not possible,” I tell him. John has this look of amazement on his face, like he doesn’t believe the doctor.

“Test results don’t lie. So I take it that this was not a planned pregnancy?” I’m slightly annoyed by the tone that the doctor uses, but am too shocked by the revelation to respond. I’m pregnant. We’re having a baby. I’ve been given a second chance by God.

“This was a planned pregnancy,” John responds before I can. I see the anger in his eyes that this baby was not planned and therefore not wanted. “We’ve been seeing a fertility doctor but have always known that our chances are slim to none.” I follow-up not wanting John’s anger to ruin this moment.

“Is the baby alright?” John asks as he reaches out a hand towards my stomach. I can see that he wants to touch me, wants to connect with his child, but is afraid to.

“The baby is strong and healthy, but due to your age there are risks as I assume you are aware of. I’d like to do some further tests and an ultrasound, just to make sure that everything is okay.”

John nods as he finally touches my stomach and the look on his face is so sweet. His eyes are closed and he has a slight smile on his lips. “Baby,” he whispers and I’m not sure its intended for me or the baby. “We’re going to have another baby.”

A baby. I close my eyes and lean back in the bed trying to comprehend this news in my head. It’s almost too much to grasp, having resigned myself to a diagnosis of an ulcer or at worst, cancer. How can I be pregnant? Surely it’s a mistake as John and I haven’t made love in months. “I can’t be pregnant,” I blurt out my innermost thoughts before I realize it.

John stops and looks up at me quizzically before I see the wheels in his mind start spinning and I know he has to be thinking the same thing I am.

“It’s not possible,” John tells the doctor, but everything his hands are doing say otherwise. His hands are still on my belly as they refuse to give up hope that there is a life growing within.

“Dr. Evans, based on preliminary tests I’d guess that are about four months pregnant.”

“What?” John asks. “Four months.”

“No, it has to be a mistake….how can I be pregnant and not know it? I didn’t have any symptoms. I haven’t missed that many periods….”

“It happens all the time Dr. Evans. Have you been under a lot of stress lately?”

“Yes,” John tells the doctor as his fingers trace tiny circles on my belly. He’s not looking up at me and I know somewhere in his brain he’s blaming himself for my stress and wondering if its hurt the baby.

“What kind of doctor am I not to know I’m pregnant.”

“A human one,” Dr. Simpson says. “I know that you probably have a lot of questions and concerns about the baby…The heartbeat is steady and strong and there are no indications that anything is wrong with this child. Now that you’re awake I’ll have the ultrasound machine brought in so that we can take a look at the little one.”

“You’re having my baby, our baby.” John tenderly captures my lips with his, the excitement in contagious. I’ve been given a second chance with this baby, a way to right so many wrongs.

“You’re beaming Doc,” John laughs as he kisses me again.

“This is real, its true….I’m having a baby.” Moving my hands to my stomach I try to feel signs of the small life within.

“Our baby…our baby.”

“Our baby.

“God is giving us a second chance, me a second chance. After all the awful things I said and did, things are going to be different now…I promise you that Doc…I promise you…As I’ve told you before and I’ll tell you again, you are my past, my present and my always.”

Page 10 of 27
“So, let’s take a look at this baby,” Dr. Bader says as she adjusts the sheet around Marlena’s waist and lifts up her gown tucking it in just below her breasts. I patiently wait as she generously squeezes a gel onto Marlena’s stomach and then flips the switch on the machine. “I know that the gel is cold and I’m sorry about that…but once I start moving the transducer around it will warm up.” Marlena nods as she stares at the machine and I wonder what’s going through her head.

I feel my heart pounding as I wait patiently for the first glimpse of our baby. I never thought we’d been given another chance; an opportunity to be parents from the beginning the way we should have been to Belle. But despite all odds, thriving deep within Marlena is a child we created.

“Ready,” she asks as she places the transducer paddle to Marlena’s stomach and moves it around. I watch the screen as our baby comes into view. The images are black and white and grainy as hell and I honestly have no idea what I’m looking at other than a blob that’s moving around. “Look Marlena, its sucking its thumb,” Dr. Bader tells Marlena. I pull my eyes away from the screen long enough to sneak a peek at Marlena. She’s staring at the machine in wonderment, tears streaming down her pale face.

“That’s our baby…ours,” she tells me as she looks up at me. “Ours.”

Standing next to her with my hands on her shoulder, I watch as Dr. Bader points to different parts of the baby and reassures us that the brain and heart look good and all the internal organs are developing as they should be.

“Would you like to know the gender of this baby?” she asks Marlena. Marlena nods as she looks up at me. “Yes, sure….of course.” I really don’t care what sex the baby is as long as it’s healthy at this point. I’m still trying to grasp the “you’re pregnant” part of the conversation.

“See this,” she says as she enlarges parts of the picture and types on a keyboard, which projects different things onto the screen. She’s moving her hands so quickly that its hard to keep tracking of what she’s doing and what she’s looking for. “This tells me that you’re having a little boy.”

“Oh John,” Marlena cries out as she grabs onto my hand. I’m going to have a boy, a little boy with Doc. I’m speechless. This morning I was laying in bed with my beautiful wife joking about baby names and six hours later I find out that not only is my wife pregnant, but the baby will be here in less than 6 months. Life doesn’t get much better than this.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive John,” Dr. Bader laughs.

“Little Forest Joshua Black,” Marlena says as she places her hands on her slick belly and gently pushes her fingers in.

“Marlena, we are not calling the baby that….” I start to tell her and them am amazed by what I see on the screen. Each time Marlena presses in on her stomach we’re rewarded with a flurry of activity on the screen. “Do it again.”

“Little baby Forest, can you kick for your daddy?” she asks the baby as she takes my hand and places it on her stomach and pushes in. The baby moves back and forth on the screen but is still to small for me to feel its movement.

“Wow.”

“I’ve take it that you’ve never done that before?”

“No,” I tell Dr. Bader as I continue watching the screen and lightly pressing in on Marlena’s stomach. “Marlena and I weren’t together when she was pregnant with Belle….I never got to experience this with her.”

“What about with Isabella?” Marlena asks me which prompts me to search the recesses of my mind and memories about her. I honestly don’t remember if I did attend any OB/GYN appointments with her when an ultrasound was done. I’d like to think that I wouldn’t forget something like that, but it seems more and more my memories from long ago, my memories of her, are slowly fading. “I don’t remember.”

“If you think this is impressive wait until you come to my office for a regular appointment. We have special 4D ultrasound machines that allow you to see all the features of the baby’s face.”

“Wow.” I don’t want to wait for another appointment, I want to see the baby now. I just met this child and now I have the overwhelming desire to know all about it.

“I’m going to check for gestational age now….I’m guessing that Marlena is four months along based on the positive pregnancy test and your recollection of when sexual intercourse last occurred between the two of you.” Quickly her fingers move simultaneously on the keyboard and the transducer on Marlena’s stomach. “I’m measuring overall length and anterior-posterior thigh diameter which should tell us how old this little one is.”

Marlena is silent as she watches the screen and I’m unable to read her emotions, which make me wonder what’s she thinking. Is she mad that I discussed our sex life with Dr. Bader, providing such intimate details? Is she happy about having another baby? Is she worried that the baby may have problems because of her age?

“Are you happy about this?” I know that I shouldn’t ask her this in front of the doctor but I can’t help myself. I need to know if she wants this baby, my baby. It’s one thing to talk about having a baby and trying to have one and a whole other matter to actually be pregnant.

“Of course John, I can’t believe you’d ask me that.” She’s clutching her stomach as she responds to me but I can see the fire and anger in her eyes. I’ve made her mad.

“You were spot on John….the baby is four months along,” Dr. Bader informs me as she tries to navigate through the thick tension in the room. She quietly works and I know that she’s trying to hurry up so that we can be alone and talk.

“I need to know Marlena, I need to know.” What if she’s not happy and doesn’t want this child. The alternative is too much for me to think about.

“Of course I’m happy John, this is our child….our child.” She says that she’s happy but looks anything but.

“John, would you mind giving me a couple a minutes alone with Marlena?” Dr. Bader finally asks me. She keeps looking down at Marlena, but Marlena refuses to look up at her.

“Something isn’t wrong with the baby?” I ask her as I start to panic.

“No John,” Dr. Bader says as she places her hand on my forearm. “The baby is fine…perfectly healthy with ten fingers and ten toes…I’d just like to talk to Marlena for a minute.”

******

“How’s mom?” Belle asks as she runs up to me with Sami close behind. I enclose her in my arms and smell the strawberry scent of her shampoo.

“She’s fine,” I finally tell her as I let her go and walk with her into the waiting room. Looks of relief pass around the room. I know that everyone was worried about what was wrong with Marlena and they’re probably glad to know that she’s okay. “Your mom is fine,” I tell them again as I try to grasp the truth of her condition in my mind.

“John, why are you smiling?” Sami finally asks me.

I didn’t even realize that I was smiling. “Your mom is pregnant…we’re going to have a baby.”

“What?” Belle and Sami ask in unison. “Mom is pregnant?” Sami asks me and it’s obvious that she, along with several other people in the room, is having a hard time with this news. I’m having a hard time grasping the fact myself; never dreaming that this day would come.

“Four months…it’s a boy.”

“A boy? Congratulations John,” Roman says as he approaches me and shakes my hand. ”That’s great news.” I feel for him for just a moment, knowing how much he still loves Marlena and if their child had survived her fall down the stairs it would have been almost two. In a way I’m glad that the child doesn’t exist as another reminder of Roman and Marlena. This is my second chance with Doc and to hell with anyone that thinks they’re going to ruin it.

“I’m going to have a little brother?” Belle asks and I already can see her mind at work. She always wanted a little brother or sister and now she’s getting one, albeit twenty years too late. “Bet you mom is going to want to name it something frilly,” Belle suggests. She doesn’t know the half of it. Marlena likes the name Forest but I don’t want my child to be stuck with that moniker.

“Yep squirt, you’re going to be a big sister.” Two children with Doc. Wow. My world has changed for the better and the more I talk about it, the more real it is. Doc and I are going to have a little baby boy in six months. I’m going to be a father again.

“Claire and Will are going to love that they’re older than their uncle,” Sami jokes and I can tell that although she may never say it to me, she’s happy for us.

“This is such good news John…I’m happy for you,” Hope says as she hugs me and Bo shakes my hand. “Congrats buddy…. you’ve got a whole lot of sleepless nights and dirty diapers ahead of you.”

“Don’t remind me Bo…I’m still getting used to the fact that we’re having a baby and don’t want to think about the mechanics of it yet.”

*****

“Marlena, I wanted to talk to you alone, without John in the room and I think you know why?” Karen says as she tentatively approaches the bed and sits down next to me. She looks like she has a lot on her mind; the happy persona she put up when John was is the room is suddenly gone.

“I have no idea,” I lie as I look down at my hands and notice for the first time that my wedding ring and the rest of my jewelry has been removed.

“When Doctor Simpson ran the blood panels and they came back positive he pulled your chart and saw a notation that you’d been seen by Dr. Adams.” I wish that she’d just ask what she wants to ask rather than tip-toe around the issue. “Just ask me,” I want to yell at her, “ask me if I’ve been raped.” I really don’t want her to ask me, I just want her to be honest about what she’s thinking.

“Lots of people see Dr. Adams.” I’m internally crossing my fingers and hoping that she’s not going to go where I think she is. I look over at the ultrasound machine where the last picture of my baby is frozen in place on the screen, a close-up of the head.

“True, he’s is a terrific fertility doctor and University is lucky to have him. I did pull your records to help determine a conception date for this little one,” she says as she places her hand on my bare stomach. I know what she’s doing and she’s good. She’s trying to slowly invade my personal space and hope that I’ll lower my defenses enough to talk to her. Well its too damn bad, I’m not going to talk to her or anyone about what happened to me.

Seeing that I’m not going to open up she proceeds. “He’s been treating you for almost a year, however the last time you saw him was three months ago.”

“So.”

“Marlena, did you know that you were pregnant then? Is that why you stopped going?”

“What?” I ask her as I think about what she’s really asking. “No…No…No…I had no idea I was pregnant.”

“Why did you stop going?”

“I really don’t see why that’s any of your business and what that has to do with my baby or my health.” I grab some tissue from beside the bed and wipe the cold gel off my stomach.

“It doesn’t,” she starts and then stops as she looks at the screen. “It doesn’t and maybe you feel that its not right for me to ask you about something like that….as a doctor I wouldn’t, but as your friend I would….I’m concerned about you Marlena.”

“You shouldn’t be,” I tell her as I pull down my gown over my stomach and raise the blanket as far as it will go. With her sitting on the bed I’m not able to cover as much of me as I’d like. Suddenly the room seems rather cold to me.

“I am…would you like to know the notation he made in your chart at your last visit?”

“No…and its really no business of yours what it says anyway….What’s in that chart is between me and him, not between us….got that? If someone came into the emergency room and had a head trauma and was acting off would you pull my records of treatment with them to see if they had psychiatric issues?” I’m mad at this invasion of privacy and the unmitigated impudence that she’d had to personally read medical records about me, especially such personal records. It’s none of her damn business, friend or not.

“No….”

“Then what right do you think you have to read my records Karen,” I interrupt her. “What right do you have?” I know that I shouldn’t be yelling at her but I can’t help it, all the anger I feel towards Him and this situation is billowing out.

“We needed to know for diagnosis and treatment.”

“That’s not true and you know it….you could’ve gotten the information you needed without violating so many hospital privacy policies.”

“No policies were violated, John signed a consent form.”

“John?”

“John, the baby’s father and your husband.”

This is all too much for me to take, the truth much to close. “Does he know what’s in the chart?” I ask her, no longer able to look at her. I don’t want to know the answer. I want to live the illusion a little longer. I want desperately to be pregnant with John’s baby. Anything else in inconceivable to me.

“No, I didn’t let him see it although he asked for it.”

“He asked for it?”

“Yes, John loves you Marlena, that much is clear to everyone here. When he brought you in he was frantic and insistent that we immediately find out what was wrong with you and that we make you better….It was so sweet in a way.”

“That’s John.”

“Based on Dr. Adams records, tell me if I’m wrong…”

“No,” I tell her as I move to get out of the bed. “No.”

“Marlena, you need to talk about this.”

“No.” I pull the intravenous line out of my arm and I can see the shock and concern on Karen’s face. She knows the truth and feels sorry for me, seeing me as a victim.

“I know that talking about it may be something more than you can handle right now Marlena….but you need to talk to someone.”

“No I don’t….I can handle this.” Who am I trying to convince, her or me? My silence is the only thing keeping me sane right now. I’m so afraid that if I talk about what happened I’ll validate it and open a door in my soul that I’ll never be able to close.

“You don’t need to handle this alone….have you told John?”

“NO….no….no….no…John can never know.” I don’t want to be here with her having this discussion. I don’t want to be here pregnant with a baby that may be his when he’s sitting 500 feet away from me in the waiting room.

“Marlena.” I feel her standing behind me. I Don’t want to talk, I don’t want to be questioned, I don’t want her to look at me like she’s sorry. I just want to go home with John and be alone with him and our baby.

“Don’t,” I warn her. “Please don’t.”

“Is there a chance that this baby is not John’s?”

I can’t answer her, I don’t want to answer her. I cannot acknowledge in any way that this baby isn’t John’s. It has to be. It has to be. God wouldn’t be so cruel as to allow Him to rape me and then give me his baby. Would he? “I don’t want to talk about this.”

“I know Marlena, I know.” She places her soft hands on my shoulders and squeezes as I fight back my tears and hope and pray to God that this baby is John’s.

“I can’t do this,” I whisper as I feel my throat swell making it difficult to talk and breathe. I want to be invisible.

“You don’t need to go through this alone.”

“I’m not alone…I have John.” I can’t stop my tears and they slowly roll one by one down my cheeks. I’m ashamed that I can’t control my emotions in front of her that I’m no longer able to maintain my bravado.

“You do, what you and John have is something special, something that I wish I had…But as a woman, I also know how it can be….I don’t want to pressure you Marlena…I really don’t….If you don’t want to talk to me, I’m not going to force you to…but please promise me that you’ll talk to someone. I’ve seen what keeping secrets can do to a person…I don’t want that to happen to you.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“You’re not fine Marlena….You’re not fine….you’re underweight and have a low iron count, not the best home for a baby right now….this is more than you, you have a baby to think about now.”

“I don’t want to hurt anyone,” I tell her not knowing or caring if she understands what I mean. I don’t want to hurt my baby or John and telling will only ruin my family and his.

“Remaining silent only hurts yourself, you of all people know that.”

“This is my life, my secret and I’ll keep it as long as I want.”

“Psychiatrists always make the worst patients.”

“So do OB/GYN’s.”

“Touché….so what’s your plan of action? Are you going to ignore what happened? Pretend that it didn’t?”

“Where are my clothes?” I’m done with this conversation and her line of questioning. This didn’t happen to her and there is no way despite what she says that she could ever understand.

“You aren’t being released tonight Marlena so you may as well get back into bed and make yourself comfortable.” By the tone of her voice I know that my behavior angers her, but I can’t allow what she thinks to cloud my judgement. I need to get out of here.

“I don’t care….Where are my clothes?” Looking around the room I don’t see any sign of them.

“Get in bed.”

“Stop acting like my mother.”

“Someone needs to….look Marlena, I know that I’ve upset you. I’m concerned though.”

“Don’t be. I’m fine.”

“Is that what you tell yourself late at night when you’re all alone with your thoughts and memories of what he did to you….”

“Don’t talk about my life,” I turn around and scream at her. How dare she try to make me talk about what he did, to try and make me remember.

“Millions of women are raped…”

“No,” I scream as I cover my ears not wanting to hear what she has to say. “Give me my goddamn clothes now.” I demand. Fuck that, I’ll leave the hospital in this gown if I have to. There is no way on this earth that I’m going to sit here and listen to Karen tell me that what I’m feeling is normal and that I need to talk about it.

“Marlena, calm down.”

“No, don’t tell me what to do.” Grabbing the blanket off the bed I wrap it around myself. “Where are my discharge papers?”

“No one here is going to discharge you tonight.” She has her hand on her hip and a know it all attitude that’s infuriating me. She’s mad that I wouldn’t confide my deep dark secrets to her. Too bad. This is not like it was when I was pregnant with Roman’s baby. As my ex-husband that situation was at least somewhat explainable, this is not. If I can’t even understand it myself there is no way she or anyone else could.

“Then I’ll leave….”

“You leave, then you leave AMA,” she warns me.

“Screw against medical advice…I’ll be fine.”

“Marlena….”

“No, I’m leaving…and I want my wedding ring back now.”

“I’ll have a nurse get it.”

“Thank you.”

“Won’t you reconsider? Please, for the sake of your baby.”

“My baby is the reason I need to get out of here…. Please try and understand that…I know that you want to help me, and I appreciate that Karen, but you can’t. No one can.”

“When you’re ready to talk I’m here and I care about you.”

“I appreciate you trying to help, but really there is nothing wrong…I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine Marlena and stop trying to play the heroine…”

“Don’t…don’t lecture me,” I warn her as I back out of the room into the hallway. The floor is ice-cold on my bare feet and I feel a draft against my legs.

“Marlena, please,” she pleads as she walks towards me. My world becomes smaller and smaller as she gets closer to me.

I feel his presence before I collide into him, “Hey Doc, where do you think you’re going?”

“John,” I sob as I turn around and bury myself in his muscular arms. “I need to get out of here now… I’m suffocating here….please take me home. “

Page 11 of 27
“Doc, would you like me to make you some tea or something?” John asks me as he shuts and locks the door to the penthouse behind me. He’s been trying hard to engage me in a conversation since my confrontation with Karen and I know he wants to know what we were talking about, but its not something I’m ready to.

I was so close to telling John until He ruined the moment, but everything’s changed. John’s ecstatic that I’m pregnant and having his baby. How can I ruin that for him? How can I take away the one thing that he’s been hoping and dreaming for so long? I’ve resigned myself to the fact that I need to tell him about being raped, but now I can’t. How can I tell him with me being pregnant? He’s going to wonder if it’s his baby and anything else is unimaginable to me.

“Tea sounds good.” I take his hand and squeeze it tightly as I smile up at him, thankful that he is here for me, here with me. Letting go of my hand, he disappears into the kitchen and I’m glad for the moment alone. So many thoughts and questions are running through my head right now, things that I have no answers for.

I’m so angry with myself for not noticing all the signs that were pointing to my being pregnant, not having an ulcer. How could I not know? And four months? My god, what kind of doctor am I? If only I’d have known I could have done something about it before this ruins my marriage.

Ironically history seems to have a way of repeating itself. It’s as if the lessons I was supposed to learn before I never did. Twenty some odd years ago I was married to a man that I loved and yet was unable to deny my carnal lust for John and wound up pregnant. I denied myself the possibility that anyone other than my husband could’ve been the father and even contemplated terminating the pregnancy to save my marriage. When I think of my world without John and Isabella in it, I no longer recognize the woman that I once was, the woman that almost made that choice. But here I am in the same kind of situation. The only difference being that this child may have been conceived not in love, but in violence. Who am I to try and play God?

With a heavy heart, I slowly sit down on the couch that John and I have made love on countless times. Gathering the hospital blanket tighter around myself I try to make sense of all this. Would time really have made a difference? If I had known earlier would I have had an abortion? My mind tells me yes, but my heart tells me no. I made love to my husband hours after he violated me, hours. There is a fifty-fifty chance that this baby that lies deep within my womb is John’s. Could I take the chance and abort a baby that was Johns? Never. Never. Never.

But if it’s not John by some cruel fate and its his, could I look at that child and raise it knowing that it was born out of a hideous and cruel act?

“One hot tea for my lady,” John says as cheerfully with a fake British accent as he places the tray down in front of me. In addition to the tea, he’s also made me toast with honey. “As much as I think that look is sexy on you, you really should change into your own clothes,” John jokes as he fingers the neckline of the light green hospital gown that I’m still wearing. I left the hospital in such a hurry, leaving my clothes and jewelry behind. John called Belle on the way home and asked her to pick up my clothing and personal items, but I really only want my wedding ring back. The rest is a reminder of Him and this horrible situation.

“You don’t like this look?” I ask him as I try to look emotionally wounded by his comment. “I thought I looked pretty good.” I’m trying to take my mind off all the decisions that I have to make and to do that I’m going to have to concentrate on one conversation at a time rather than obsessing over the past.

“Very hot Dr. Evans,” John whispers as he sits down next to me and nuzzles my neck with his nose. “I especially love the scent of antiseptic…very hot.”

“John.”

“It’s true…I never knew it could be such a pheromone.” He’s gone beyond nuzzling as I feel his lips and warm breath against my neck. My defenses are lowered as my need to be loved and comforted takes precedent above all else.

“Not here,” I try to whisper into his mouth before he claims mine as his own. I give into the moment and open my mouth as he sweetly devours me with his tongue.

“Here,” he moans as he lowers me on the couch and then lays down on top of me. His hands and my hands become a tangled mess and he tries to ply the blanket off of me. My hospital gown is hiked up above my waist and I feel John trying to lower my panties. Suddenly he stops and looks down at what he’s doing. “Doc, those are the ugliest and coarsest underwear I have ever seen, so not sexy. Please promise me that you’ll never wear them again,” he jokes as he removes my hospital issued underwear and throws them across the room where they land on the carpet.

“John,” I moan as I lower my gown and try to cover myself. I want to give into him and recklessly make love but the rational and responsible part of me says no, this is not the time or the place. I need to tell John the truth rather than run from it.

Misreading my actions, he pulls himself off of me and says, “I’m sorry Doc. You just got out of the hospital…I should have been more sensitive to your needs rather than assume that you’d want to make love….it’s just being this close to you drives me wild.”

I smile at his admission, “It’s not your fault John, it’s mine.” He has absolutely nothing to feel sorry for, I’m the one that ruined the moment and may just ruin our lives. On top of all that I’m feeling, making him feel guilty for being a man is the worst possible thing I could do. “Making love to you is one of my favorite things in the world, you know that. I’d like nothing more than to go upstairs with you, but honestly I’m feeling kind of tired right now.”

“Totally understandable and you don’t have to explain yourself. I want to be a good supportive husband to my wonderfully pregnant wife. If you’re not in the mood, let me know cause you know me, I always find you sexy and desirable,” John says as he moves over me on the couch and sits behind me, pulling me into his arms. Slowly he massages the muscles in my shoulders. “What can I do for you?”

John’s words of support make me feel even guiltier than I already do. In some ways I wish that we were still having problems and he was still being an ass. It would be so much easier if I didn’t have to break his heart. I should be beyond ecstatic but here I am dreading this pregnancy and this baby. What am I going to do if this baby looks like Him?

“Penny for your thoughts,” John asks me as presses his thumbs into my shoulders. I’m so tense that its painful, but in a good way. John’s touch feels so good and so right.

“Just thinking.”

“About this baby?” He asks as his hands move lower, down my breasts, towards where they rest possessively on my stomach.

“Yes.”

“You are happy about this aren’t you?” He asks me in a tentative child like way, like he honestly doesn’t know and is hanging on my every word.

Before I have the chance to answer him and tell him no, that I’m not happy, we’re interrupted by the ringing of the house phone. John leans over and picks up the portable phone off the coffee table. “John Black,” he says quickly into the phone. I’ve always loved how masculine he sounds when he says his name. John Black. God, do I love that name and the man behind it.

“Hey pal…How’s it going?” John answers, giving me no clue as to who he’s talking to.

“Yeah, we I was worried about her too.” His hands have moved from stomach back up to my shoulders to my hair where he’s absentmindedly swirling a stand around his fingers as he listens to whatever the caller on the other end is saying.

“Yeah, its hard to believe that she’s pregnant after trying so long….I know it….it will be funny….Sure, let me put her on.”

“Phone’s for you,” he tells me as he hands me the phone.

“Hello,” I cheerfully answer into the phone wondering what well meaning friend or family member is calling to see how I am.

“I just wanted to see how you were doing,” He tells me as I feel a crushing weight on my chest. The room is spinning and time seems to slow down as I feel each beat of my heart. Thump thump. Thump thump. I can’t do this. I can’t.

“Are you alright?” John asks me as he learns forward and tries to see my face. I lower my head in shame as my hand protectively goes to my stomach. I can do this. I need to do this. I need to pretend that everything is fine, that I’m fine.

I cover the mouthpiece to the phone so that He can’t hear. “I’m fine,” I lie to John as I look up and smile at him. “I just suddenly felt a little sick.” Does he feel how my heart is beating out of control? Did he buy my little white lie? More importantly, how in the hell am I going to get off this phone call without alerting John that’s something is very wrong?

“What?” I ask into the phone, trying to sound as cordial as I can to a rapist.

“I need to talk to you.”

“No.” I don’t want to talk to him but can’t hang up the phone without John getting suspicious.

“Marlena please.”

“No.”

“Is John in the room.”

“Yes,” I admit through gritted teeth, hoping that John isn’t picking up on how tense I am.

“Can you meet me somewhere where we can talk?” He suggests.

“NO,” I yell into the phone and then realize that John is looking at me strangely. “No,” I say somewhat nicer and then try to laugh as if he’s said something funny and that we are just having a friendly little chat.

“Please Marlena.”

“No.” I’m more adamant with him this time. I can’t talk to him and have no desire to be anywhere near him. Flashes of what he did to me go through my mind in slow motion. I see him kissing me, I see him trying to remove me clothes, I feel him roughly enter me.

“We need to talk.”

“I have nothing to say to you,” I tell him as I get up off the couch and walk towards the bathroom. I think I’m going to be sick.

“I need to know what happened that night.”

“You know what happened,” I whisper meanly into the phone as I shut the bathroom door and lock it behind me, lowering the toilet lid and sitting down on it, placing my head in my hands. My world is closing in around me by the second.

“No I don’t,” he tells me, sounding sincere for once.

“Don’t even try to give me that line of bullshit….Don’t.” Standing up I look at myself in the mirror, seeing lines that weren’t there yesterday. How things can change in an instant.

“I honestly have no idea”

”You know what you did,” I tell him in disbelief, my blood beginning to boil. How dare he call my house and act like he doesn’t know what he did.

“Look, I don’t…. Most of that night is really hazy for me.” He almost sounds apologetic if it weren’t for the small fact that he raped me.

“Don’t even try to use that line of bullshit on me, don’t. I can’t do this…I can’t be talking to you.”

“Why? We used to be so close…I’d do anything for you. You know that I care about you Mar and only want the best for you. If you have a problem with me I want to work through it with you.”

“Oh my god,” I tell him as I throw one hand up in the air. “Don’t use our past as an excuse. I’ll talk you in public but that’s it. Do not ever call my house or stop by here again. You are not welcome…”

“Marlena,” he interrupts me.

“Don’t Marlena me…this conversation is over.”

“Wait…please wait. I really need to know what happened that night. I remember bits and pieces but was hoping that you could fill in the blanks.”

“You raped me,” I tell him loudly, “What else do you need to know.” This is the first time I’ve admitted outloud to anyone that I was raped and I thought it would make me feel better but it hasn’t. I still feel empty inside.

“I didn’t rape you,” he yells at me. “I’ve never raped a woman in my life and you know it. You wanted me as much as I wanted you.”

“Bullshit,” I scream into the phone, no longer caring if John can hear. “You raped me.”

“No I didn’t…Tell yourself whatever you want…look I feel as guilty as you do for cheating on my wife.”

“I didn’t cheat on John…I’d never cheat on him…”

“You cheated on him with Roman,” he interrupts me as he cheaply uses my past against me.

“Don’t even bring Roman into this…if he knew what you did he’d kill you and you know it.”

“Look I’m sorry,” he says somewhat in a softer tone.

“Sorry doesn’t even begin to cover it.” I don’t know what to say to him to make this all go away, to make it right. In a way I’m desperately looking for answers from him for what he did and a larger part of me wants him to say he’s sorry.

“I didn’t rape you…I wouldn’t do that.”

“What part of no didn’t you understand that night?” Suddenly I feel empowered, my anger providing much moxie.

“I don’t remember you telling me no.” He pauses for several seconds before continuing. “Look I was drunk, I don’t remember a lot of what happened.”

“Rather convenient of you if you ask me,” I blurt out and then have to stop myself as I feel my emotions starting to control me. “I don’t want to talk with you about this.”

”Well you really don’t have a choice now that you’re having a baby…”

“Don’t you mention my baby,” I scream into the phone at him. “Don’t you ever mention my child again.”

“Is it mine?” The way he asks sends chills down my spine, the thought of us sharing a child more than I can take right now.

“It’s John’s baby,” I tell him with 100 percent certainty. How dare he suggest otherwise?

“Are you sure? John said that you were four months along which coincides with when we made love.”

“Making love is something I do with John,” I start to tell him and then stop, not wanting to cheapen what I have with John in any way. The fact that he is even suggesting that what he did to me is making love nauseates me. “What you did to me is rape plain and simple,” I mutter under my breath, no longer able to look at myself in the mirror. When I look at myself I see a victim, a woman who allowed another man to violate her.

“I didn’t rape you Marlena….you wanted me as much as I wanted you,” he yells into the phone at me. I wonder if he’s hiding from his wife this very minute much as I am from John. Logically I know that I did nothing wrong but I feel nothing but shame and guilt.

“I despise you and what you did to me. I hate you. I do. You took something from me that you had no right to. So what that you were drunk? That’s not an excuse.” I have to pause for a minute and gather my thoughts. I want to tell him every gory detail of how I feel inside because of him, but I can’t. He doesn’t deserve to know how much he’s damaged me.

“I don’t remember,” he says softly into the phone and I wonder if he’s feeling remorse now. Does he really not remember or is that just his excuse?

“Why did you do it? Why didn’t you listen to me when I told you no?” My strong defense is slowly crumbling as the reality of the situation is obvious as I feel my baby move for the first time. This child is real and my rape was real. Clutching my stomach protectively I’m unable to stop crying.

“I don’t know what to say….” He starts and then is suddenly quiet. I can hear him breathing into the phone and know that he’s at a loss for words. “Are you alright?” he asks me. “Please say something.”

“I’ll never be alright…never,” I manage to get out between sobs. I don’t know why I’m still on the phone talking to him when I should have hung up at hello.

“If you think that I’m a big bad rapist why haven’t you told John?” Suddenly he’s in denial again and the man that raped me is back, not my friend.

“How do you know that I haven’t?” I retort as I try to calm my nerves and my emotions. He’s doesn’t deserve to hear my tears. Two can play this game.

“Because we both know he would have tried to kill me….”

“You’re lucky that I haven’t…”

“Cause you know it’s not true…. I’d never rape you Marlena…. You have to know that.”

“I can’t discuss this with you now,” I tell him honestly. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t have all these thoughts of self-hated running through my head. I need to be strong and protect my baby.

“Then meet me somewhere and we can talk and resolve this issue.”

“There is nothing to resolve…I don’t want to be near you,” I tell him as I lean against the door for support and close my eyes, not wanting to end the call yet. What the hell is wrong with me that I can’t hang up like a logical person would? Why am I still talking to him? Did I honestly think that he was going to come up with a valid excuse that would undo the fact that he raped me?

“What about the baby?”

“It’s John’s baby,” I scream into the phone. “Not yours you bastard.” I can’t control myself as I start to sob again. “He’s not yours.” Falling to the floor, I clutch my stomach with one hand while my other shaking hand holds the phone to my ear. “He’s not yours.”

“Marlena… Let me in,” John yells as he tries to open the door, shaking it back and forth. I’m silent as the realization sets in that I have no idea how much of the conversation John just heard.

“Is that John?” He asks me. “Marlena,” John yells as he bangs his fists on the door. “Marlena….Marlena,” he continues to yell with each pound, Helplessly I sit on the floor as my world closes in around me.

“Yes,” I finally whisper into the phone.

“You aren’t going to accuse me of rape are you?”

Unable to respond I hang up on him and throw the phone as hard as I can against the wall. The battery pops out of the phone and come to a rest in front of the door.

“Marlena, let me in or I’m going to break down the door,” John demands.

Slowly I get up and unlock the door and immediately John opens it. The look on his face is one of pure devastation.

“Is it true?” he finally asks me as he stands before me, both hands pressed against the doorframe. I don’t know how to respond, not knowing how much he’s heard. I didn’t want it to be this way, didn’t want to tell him like this.

“Doc?” he asks me as he slowly lifts my chin with his finger. I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to do this. Closing my eyes tightly I want to disappear.

“Please don’t do this….don’t shut me out….I have to know the truth…” He’s voice is so soft and understanding but full of sorrow. He heard my entire conversation.

“Do you really want to know?” I whisper softly, wishing it was another me standing in this place.

“I want to know the truth no matter what it is honey….I need to know if what you said to him on the phone was true.” He places his firm hands of my arms as I slowly move back until I’m against the wall. I don’t think I have the strength to do this or the strength not to.

“John, I don’t know how to do this…I can’t do this…I can’t tell you,” I plead with him as I finally look up at him and meet his eyes. The overwhelming sense of loss contained within his blue eyes is more than I can handle. Larger ones overtake small sobs that shake my body. I can no longer control my tightly held emotions as all my thoughts and feelings from that night so many months ago come bubbling to the surface in a really ugly way.

“Please Marlena,” he pleads with me as he reaches up and touches my face gently and tries to wipe some of my tears away. I see the tears forming in his eyes as they well up.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” I cry out as I launch myself into his arms and pray for protection for us both.

“You can’t hurt me, what you say can’t hurt me….please tell me the truth,” he whispers into my hair as I feel his warm tears as they fall onto my face and join my own.

“I was raped John,” I sob into his chest. “He raped me.”

Page 12 of 27
“He raped me,” I tell John, no longer able to keep up the charade of my perfect life. “I didn’t want you ever to know,” I honestly tell him as sobs continue to wrack my frame. This admission is incredibly painful. I’d thought I’d feel relief. I thought I’d feel safe. I thought I’d feel like things would be okay. Nothing that I feel like now is like that. I feel incredibly vulnerable and am more scared now then I’ve been in my life.

Nanoseconds turn into milliseconds, and milliseconds turn into seconds and seconds turn into minutes as John silently clutches hold of me as I cry. The front of his black T-shirt is soaking wet but I don’t care as my fingers grip onto the material as if it’s my lifeline.

“Say something,” I cry into his arms. I feel his occasional shake and know that he’s crying with me, crying for me, but his silence is frightening and not something I was prepared for. When I rehearsed in my head this conversation his reaction was always one of pure anger and hatred for Him. I could understand denial or maybe disbelief but I was never prepared for this. Minutes go by without a response from him. He’s holding onto me tighter than he ever has before. It’s as if he’s afraid that if he lets go I’ll disappear. “Please say something,” I beg him.

“I can’t,” he whispers into my hair as he starts sobbing again. “I’m so sorry….I’m so sorry.” He’s holding me so tight that I feel like I’m being suffocated. I try to pull out of his arms, but he’s too strong. He’s in another world dealing with his own pain and sorrow and I feel strangely alone.

“Let me go,” I tell him as I start to panic. The room is suddenly smaller and his presence so much bigger. I feel trapped and all the feelings that I’ve tried to repress or cope with involving that night come rushing back at one. Breathing deeply I close my eyes and try to push him away a final time. I’m not afraid of him and have never been, it’s just that his sudden nearness is suffocating.

“I’d never hurt you,” he declares as he finally lets me go. “You have to know that.” He makes no attempt to hide the fact that he was crying as he wipes his eyes and nose on the sleeve of his shirt.

Stepping back a foot I feel the textured wallpaper rubbing against my shirt. I don’t know what to do right now, what to say or where to go. I’ve never been in a situation where I’ve had to tell my husband that I was raped and all my years of practice never prepared me for this. Not knowing what else to do I protectively place my hands over my womb. John’s eyes are immediately drawn there and for the first time since I confessed my shameful secret I see anger. Anger at me? Anger at him? Anger about the situation? I have no idea and don’t really care. It’s an emotion I can understand and draw comfort from. I can handle John and his anger, it’s predictable to me. It’s when he shuts down emotionally and doesn’t communicate that’s frightening.

He swallows deeply before he raises his eyes once again and meets mine. His tears have since dissipated and are replaced by a new look. I know this look rather well; he wants answers, answers that I’m not sure I can give.

“No,” I plead with him as I place my hands on his chest, forcing distance between us. “Please,” I pray for his understanding. Telling him that I was raped was the easy part, reliving the details is not something I’m emotionally ready to do.

His look tells me that he recognizes what he is asking of me. “I don’t know what to say,” he admits as he closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose.

Everything about this conversation and our responses is awkward. For as great communication and understanding of each others body language we both have, its as if we are two different people having a conversation with strangers. I don’t know where to look or what to say and John seems to be having the same difficulty.

“Tell me that nothing has changed.”

“I can’t do that Doc,” he says as he looks down at me. “I wish to god that I could, but I’ll be honest with you… I’m having a hard time accepting this.”

“What do you mean? You don’t believe me?” Have we damaged our relationship to the point where the core of trust has been ameliorated?
“No Doc…No,” he says as he moves to take my face in his hands. “I’ve never doubted you and never would. This is a serious issue and a serious accusation and I know you better than anyone …you’d never make this accusation unless it was true.”

I find it ironic that he’s unable to use the word rape. Accusation is such a better word. I can’t say anything because I don’t know what to say.

Looking up at him I want him to be something he can’t be to me; I want him to be my savior.

“ Marlena,” John finally says as he breaks the silence. “I don’t know what to say to you.”

“I don’t know what I want you to say….I don’t know how to do this.” Burying my face in my hands I lean against the wall for support. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“Why would you lose me Doc? You have to know that you are the most important person in my life and I will go to the ends of the earth to protect you.”

“You can’t…can’t you see that you can’t….if you could he never would have raped me.” I’m unable to bear the burden of my pain alone as I break down once again. I start sliding down the wall but John catches me in his arms and picks me up. Instead of struggling I seek comfort in his arms. Supporting my back and legs he cradles me protectively against all the hurt and hate in the world. I feel him moving throughout the house but am too emotionally drained to open my eyes to see where he’s going. This is what I need, not to talk about what happened, but for John to just be there.

I feel the softness of our bed as he slowly lets me go and as I sink into the comforter and mattress. Lying next to me on the bed John’s content to just hold me as I cry. Whispering tender words of endearment and support, over and over he strokes my back and tells me that its okay, that things will be okay. Although I don’t feel like they will right now, at this moment I feel less alone in the world.

Hours we lay like this. I’m not ready to talk and John isn’t pressing the issue. He’s what I need for him to be right now; a safe harbor. The clock in the hallway chimes three am and John finally removes me from his arms with a kiss and a promise to return. I can hear him in the bathroom and walk-in closet, the randomness of every day noises providing me with a small amount of reassurance that the world is still the same. I may be different, may feel different right now, but it’s still the same world.

“Marlena,” John says as he lays down on the bed beside me, our light green king sized fleece blanket and my pajamas in hand. “I can see that you are in a lot of pain right now and I want to be here and help you…. I’m not a psychiatrist and I can’t begin to imagine what you’re feeling and going through right now…but I happen to know this really fantastic psychiatrist and I bet if I asked her what I could do to help the love of my life she’d probably tell me to make her comfortable and to just be there for her if she felt like talking.”

“John,” I mutter, my lip quivering and eyes watering due to his sensitivity. I thought all my tears we spent but here I am crying again.

“I didn’t want to make you cry,” he says as he slowly moves my hair out of my eyes.

“I’m an emotional mess…. Everything makes me cry.”

“You’re a beautiful mess, my beautiful mess,” he says tenderly as he reaches behind me and unties the course cloth tie that holds my hospital gown together. Closing my eyes I let him lower the gown and remove it as I lay bare before him. As quick as the gown is removed I feel him placing my black silk nightgown around my neck. Like a parent tending to a sick child he takes my arms and places them beneath the thin strips and them lowers the gown down the length of my body.

I feel the bed shift as he stands up. Opening my eyes, I watch him move around the room. Removing his wet T-shirt, he tosses it into the laundry hamper and then climbs in bed beside me taking the fleece blanket and covering us both.

“Are you tired?” he asks as he takes my hand in his and intertwines our fingers.

“Not really…more like I’m emotionally drained,” I admit as I roll onto my side, my hand still connected with his.

“It’s understandable…a lot has happened in the last day.”

“I don’t know how to do this John…I don’t know what to do or say to you.”

“You don’t have to do or say anything…. When you’re ready to talk know that I’ll be here for you.”

“You really are a great guy, you know.”

“It’s easy… loving you is easy,” he says as he takes my hand and raises it to his lips and kisses it, starting my tears all over again.

“I’m so sorry,” I sob as I seek comfort in his arms. “I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he reassures me as he holds me and rubs my back. “I’m just glad that you were finally able to tell me what has been bothering you for so long… I feel guilty for not noticing the signs.”

“How could you know?”

“Your behavior for the last couple of months makes total sense and man do I feel like the biggest jerk in the world for accusing you of having an affair…”

I feel sad for the distance that has inevitably grown between us, a distance born out of the need to rationalize and explain each other’s behavior. John’s excuse is that he is jealous and possessive but a part of me doesn’t totally buy it. People just suddenly don’t become possessive. Something more is going on with John that we need to explore but with this baby on our plate now is not the time.

“You couldn’t have known,” I interrupt him, not wanting to hear or relive those moments.

“But I did,” he says convincingly. “I know you Marlena….consider me a Ph.D., an expert when it comes to you….I have a doctorate in Marlenology…I saw what I wanted to see.’

“You couldn’t have known John…. That’s just preposterous.” Pulling out of his arms I sit up in the bed Indian style, not quite sure what to do with my hands.

“Oh really?” he asks as he rolls to his side facing me.

“Really,” I tell him as I join our fingers once again. My emotions are still raw, but I feel comfortable and safe.

“I sensed things were wrong about two months ago.” I have to smile because he really has no clue. My strong knight in shining armor has no clue.

“Why are you smiling? Am I right?”

“No,” I divulge knowing full well of the implications. If he thinks my behavior changed only two months ago then he obviously thinks this child is his. Regardless of how much it hurts I can’t deceive him and make him think that the child I’m carrying is solely his. He’s as innocent as this life that I carry within. “It was longer than that.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes.” I nod as I watch his eyes for any sign of acknowledgement. If he knows he’s not visibly responding to me.

He must sense my hesitation. “Are you okay with talking about this?” he gently asks as he touches my knee.

“Yes and no,” I admit sheepishly to him. “I want to tell you, I need to tell you, but I’m afraid of your reaction.”

“I don’t want to pressure you into thinking you have to tell me something that you’re not ready to,” he confides as he pulls me loosely into his arms. I think he senses how fragile I am right now and my need to have control over the situation. “Do I want to know how it happened? Yes. Maybe it’s wrong of me to want to know, but I’m at a loss here Doc. I’ve never done this before and I don’t know what a normal reaction should be. So forgive me if I seem a little callous or a little too curious about things that as a psychiatrist you may take issue with.”

“John, you have to stop thinking of me as a psychiatrist. Maybe that’s part of our issue, you feel that because of my profession I should have the answers and I simply don’t… I don’t know how to do this either….I’m as much at a loss as you are…In a way I’m freefalling hoping that you’ll catch me.”

“Always Doc, always.”

“You say that now, but a part of me wonders if you’ll always feel the same.”

“I don’t blame you Doc, if that’s what you are thinking. I blame him and I hope to God for his sake that he’s on the run because when I find him I’m going to kill him…I promise you that much.” The amount of hate in his voice is frightening to me and something I try to push out of my mind and ignore.

“I know you don’t blame me….That’s not what I was suggesting. I’m just hesitant to tell you more because my greatest fear is that you won’t look at me the same anymore.” I told myself that I was done crying and that there were no more tears to shed but miraculously a new ocean seems to have formed in my tear ducts.

“Baby, I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“You didn’t John….He did.” This whole conversation has taken a weird turn in directions I never anticipated and I’m too emotionally spent to redirect him. I hide my face in my hands and I try to get my emotions under control once again

My tears seem to set John off again. “I’m going to kill him…I’m seriously going to kill him….What kind of death do you want me to inflict?” He is totally serious and the tone of his voice tell me that if I asked him to go and find and castrate Him John would bring me back his balls. This is not my John; this is someone I don’t recognize. I pull myself out of his arms and sit up against the headboard adjusting the green blanket so that it covers most of me.

“I want you to leave him alone,” I cry out between my hands. I can’t look at him and his plan for revenge is the last thing I want to deal with tonight. Violence only begets more violence and is not the answer to anything.

“No,” he says in disbelief as he shakes his head. “I’ll be supportive in any way but do not ask that of me.”

“This isn’t about you John, this is about me…”

“No,” he interrupts me, “This is about us and our baby and if you think I’m going to let the man that raped my wife walk free on the streets that’s not happening.”

“So killing him is the answer?”

“It’s an answer…I’m assuming you never reported this to the police?”

“You know that I can’t.” He nods and I can see that he understands how complicated this situation really is. “Really I just wanted to forget it happened and go on with my life.”

“Even though it was eating you up inside?” I know that he doesn’t understand my reasons for silence and never will.

“Hey, I never claimed to make logical choices all the time. I honestly don’t know what I want right now… but I do know that I need you now more than I ever have and if you’re in jail on murder charges you won’t be of any help.”

“There are ways I could do it and get away with it…”

“John,” I interrupt him, “We aren’t going to have a conversation about you killing someone, hypothetically or not.”

“He needs to pay Marlena…he needs to pay.” John is bunching up the blanket in his fist and I can see the deep concentration on his face. He’s mentally planning revenge and if I don’t stop him more than one life is going to be destroyed.

“I need to figure out how I’m comfortable handling this John….right now I don’t know….please respect that.” Placing my hand against his cheek I feel the coarseness of his stubble.

“I respect you….I do….but you can’t ask me to let him in my house or near you….I can’t do that…I won’t do that…I won’t pretend that everything’s okay.”

“I’m not asking you to….I don’t want anything to do with him either.” We seem to have reached a stalemate where neither wants to compromise. Minutes tick by before I ask, “How did life become so complicated?”

“Love,” his whispers. “Love complicates everything.” He pauses and then breathes deeply before he continues. “I want to be supportive of you Marlena, but I’m not sure that I can live here in Salem with him down the street.”

“Just give me time John, that’s all I ask of you.”

“You want to wait until our baby is born?”

“No, I don’t think we have that much time,” I swallow hard and I try to summon all the courage within me. “When He called earlier he wanted to know if the baby was his?”

“Fucking lowlife,” John yells. “I should seriously kill him.” John has a look on his face like he wants to hit something but I can tell he’s trying as hard as he can to control his temper.

“Please John.” I place my hand on his knee and squeeze. “We need to figure out together how we’re going to handle this…I can’t do this alone.”

“Is there a chance that this baby is his?”

“You know the answer to that.” I know that its killing him inside that he even has to consider that as an option but I can’t undo the past and make this conversation easier for him. We should be rejoicing about my pregnancy and planning for the future not questioning paternity.

“Is there a test you can take to tell who the father is?”

“Yes, but I don’t want it done.”

“Why not?”

“Because of my age, the risk of having a miscarriage after an amniocentesis is high….I can’t take that chance and hurt my baby.” Protectively I place my hands over my stomach. With all this talk about me and my feelings and John and his we’ve really neglected the third party that’s been in the room with us who has no voice.

“What if its his?”

“What if its yours?”

“I guess it doesn’t matter anyway because it’s a part of you…I hate the fact that he could be the father of something he doesn’t deserve but I’d never love any child of yours any less. Look at Sami and Eric, they aren’t mine but I’ve always felt like I was their father.”

“Thank you,” I whisper as I crawl into his lap and kiss him. His words mean more to me than I could ever have imagined.

“So we wait until the baby is born and then do a blood test?”

“I don’t want to have a blood test done John…”

“We need to know…”

“No we don’t…would it change the outcome any? Would you love the child any less?”

“No, but psychologically I’d want to know.” He kisses the top of my head as he continues to hold me. I feel so guilty for putting him through this once again. This is my third pregnancy in the time I’ve known him and each one has been difficult to say the least.

“I know you do, but I don’t. In my heart this child belongs to you, not him. God wouldn’t be so cruel as to allow him to rape me and then give me his child….He just wouldn’t.”

“I appreciate your optimism but we need to be realistic Marlena….what if he demands a blood test?”

“Surely he wouldn’t.” The possibility makes my stomach turn and I feel queasy. In my reality he wouldn’t want anyone to know what he did and wouldn’t push for a blood test, evidence of his crime.

John’s deep in thought once again. I can feel the slight vibrations against the top of my head as he grinds his teeth. I want to scream at him “Just ask me.” The silence is driving me crazy and the prospect that he’s editing his thoughts and questions to protect me is somewhat infuriating. After minutes of teeth grinding silence he asks me, “I know that this is something you don’t want to talk about, but I need to know….what did he say to you on the phone?”

“You really want to know?”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.”

“He says that he doesn’t remember what happened but that it was consensual.” Telling him wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be. “He asked if I told you and I said no….he then went on and asked if I was going to accuse him of rape.”

“What did you say?”

“I hung up on him.”

John laughs as he hugs me tighter, “That’s my girl…that’s my girl.”

“I was too much in shock that he called….I didn’t know what to say.”

“You know he was at the hospital right?”

“Yes, and he’s part of the reason that I wanted to leave.”

“Dr. Bader being the other one?”

“How did you know?”

“Body language between the two of you…Care to tell me what happened?”

“She wanted me to open up to her and I wouldn’t.”

“So she knows what happened?” I sense that John is confused that I told someone else what happened before I told him.

“No..No…No, its not like that John,” I reassure him. “She was guessing from looking at my medical chart…she didn’t know and I wouldn’t confirm or talk with her about it.”

“Maybe you should…maybe it would help to talk to a female or a professional about this…”

He’s right, talking to someone about what I went though without having to worry about them committing murder on my behalf would probably be much healthier and productive than the conversation I’m having right now. However, my need for John to know, accept and understand supercedes all else. It’s not exactly healthy and I know that, but its what I know to be true and what I’m comfortable with. “As long as I have your support I’ll be okay eventually.”

“Are you embarrassed?”

“Sort of…”

“It’s not your fault…no one is going to blame you.” What did I ever do to deserve this great guy? For as paranoid and controlling as he can be, when all his facades are torn down underneath it all he’s a loving, compassionate all around terrific man who would do anything for me.

“I know that, but feeling that is another thing.” A million thoughts are running randomly through my head. Although I know that I did nothing wrong, I’m unable to overcome my feelings of deep guilt and I know my continued silence is a result of that. “I’m not ready to share what I went through with anyone, including Belle. John, you have to promise me that you won’t mention this to her at all. Please.”

“She’s strong like her mother and she’d be supportive of you Doc….you have to know that.”

“I do know that….I just don’t want to burden her….”

“You aren’t burdening anyone,” he interrupts me, anger evident in his voice. “You did nothing wrong…. Nothing. He’s the fucking lowlife that deserves to die. The more that I think of what he did to you the madder I get. Why the hell are you crying now worried about what people say and think when you did nothing wrong. Absolutely nothing wrong. He is the one that people should be pointing at and ostracizing, not you. He is a criminal and a low life and needs to pay for what he did to you.”

His anger is frightening me. “No John,” I tell him as I place my hand on his arm and try to connect with him and bring him back from the dark place his mind seems to have gone. “I can’t do this alone…I can’t do this without you.”

“I can’t let him get away with raping you, I can’t….And I’m sorry if that makes me a bad person. He is not going to get away with it, not if I have anything to say about it. If you don’t want me to make him pay because of some sense of obligation you seem to have to keep the peace between our families, fine, but what about our baby Marlena?”

“Don’t even bring the baby into this John,” I warn him shocked by how quickly this conversation has turned once again.

“Someone has to protect our baby from him and you can be sure as hell I will. That child you are carrying is our child, not his and there is no way I’m going to sit by and wait for him to stake a claim….no fucking way.”

“Revenge is not the answer John….do you understand what you are saying?”

“Yes, he’s going to pay….I promise you that.”

“And then what?”

“And then we live our lives free from him…”

“With me bringing the baby to visit you in prison every Saturday afternoon? That’s a real nice upbringing…”

“Well it beats bringing our child to stay with its rapist father ever other weekend…”

“You don’t know that’s what’s going to happen John, but I can tell you that you’ll be doing prison time if you resort to violence.”

“So essentially we’re fucked? Is that what you’re saying….”

“YES,” I scream at him as I start crying again. “I don’t want to do this John…I don’t want to talk about this anymore…IT’S NOT HELPING ME.”

My sudden outburst seems to have shocked him. “I don’t know how to help you Marlena. I don’t….Every pore of my body is screaming kill the bastard and I don’t know how to make it stop.”

“Please find a way…”

“I can’t baby, I can’t…I can’t and won’t let him get away with doing this to us,” he tells me as tears form in his eyes once again. He’s trying not to cry but his voice cracks with each spoken word. “Forgive me Marlena.” Before I can grab onto him he kisses me quickly on the lips and the gets off the bed.

“John?”

“I’m sorry.” I watch him grab his black leather jacket off the bed room chair and put it on. “I have to protect my family.”

“No John, no,” I plead with him as I get up off the bed and run towards him.

Holding his arms out in front he blocks me from trying to stop him. “Please John,” I unabashedly plead with him. “Don’t do this.”

“Please forgive me Marlena…I love you more than you’ll ever know.” Before I have a chance to tell him that I do, he’s gone.

Page 13 of 27
“Open up the damn door,” I yell furiously as I pound on his front door over and over again. The sounds of dogs barking in the distance on the fog-shrouded street are reminders of the early hour of this call. I don’t give a damn; he seized the opportunity to rape my wife and I’m going to seize the opportunity to make him pay. Fair is fair. “Open up now.” Kicking the door as hard as I can I hear the wood begin to splinter and split.

“What?” he asks as he opens the door just seconds before my foot kicks it in. Wearing nothing more than a pair of boxers and white athletic socks he runs his hands through his tousled hair. “What do you want now that couldn’t wait until a decent hour?”

“You know why I’m here,” I tell him through clenched teeth as I try to control myself. I want nothing more to end his life right here, right now, but I owe it to Doc not too. I can’t protect her or my baby if I’m in jail.

“I got no idea,” he remarks but I can see that he’s lying by the way that he says it and the fact that he won’t look at me. “Look my family is upstairs sleeping….could you maybe come back at a better time?” he asks as he tries to shut the door.

“I don’t think so.” Placing my foot next to the doorjamb I prevent him from closing the door on me. “Now is as good of time as any. I’m sure your wife will understand,” I start to tell him emphasizing the word wife. “After all she is one of my wife’s best friends.” His silence speaks volumes. “Funny thing about that little social call you made to my house last night.” His eyes go wide; he knows the truth. “I know that you raped her.” I thought I’d feel more upset making the accusation but instead I’m filled with a sense of anger, sadness and loss.

“Woa John,” he tells me as he backs away from me into his house. “I didn’t rape anyone,” he whispers as he looks around, making sure that no one else can hear. “Marlena has it all wrong.”

“Are you calling Marlena a liar?” Maybe deep down I was expecting him to admit it so that we could just all move on and the fact that he didn’t just complicates things further.

“Well yeah…it wasn’t rape.”

“Then tell me what it is?” I ask trying to give him the benefit of the doubt and hoping and praying that this nightmare was a huge misunderstanding and that nothing happened, that the man I consider to be my brother didn’t rape my wife. “Tell me,” I plead with him.

“I don’t know.” He turns his back to me and walks further into his house, head hung low.

“You do know and stop lying,” I demand the truth from him as I follow him to the couch. He sits down dejectedly and places his head in his hands.

“I don’t remember much…I was drunk.”

“You raped my wife,” I yell at him. “How could you not remember?”

“Please don’t yell….I don’t want to wake my family.” He continues to hold his head in his hands and won’t look up at me. Coward.

“I don’t give a shit about your family right now…I only care about mine, the one you tried to ruin…”

“She’s lying,” he interrupts me as he suddenly stands up and walks over to the fireplace.

“Tell me what happened then.”

“I don’t remember…” He place his hands on the mantle and leans against it.

“Then tell me what you remember,” I implore him. I want him to tell me that nothing happened, that there was no sexual penetration. I could accept, as hard as it may be, him kissing Marlena but nothing more. I don’t want this to have been rape.

“It was months ago John…”

“It wouldn’t matter if it was years ago,” I tell him as I approach him. “I need to understand what happened.”

“She came to see me for some reason… I don’t remember why….I really don’t…I only remember bits and pieces of that night and I’m being honest with you John….I don’t remember…god, if I did rape her there is no way I could live with myself. I love her like a sister and always will…you gotta believe me…” He picks up a picture of the three of us taken last year when we went away for the weekend. We both have our arms around a smiling Marlena. His wife took the picture and I remember with surprising clarity her efforts to get us to stop horsing around long enough to pose and smile. The three of us were having too much fun grabbing Marlena’s sides and tickling her and the resulting picture was a side of Marlena few ever see, pure unadulterated joy.

Everything about this is wrong. He’s our friend; he wouldn’t do that to her would he? But on the other hand, Marlena is clearly telling the truth. “The only person I believe is my wife,” I tell him coldly. “Tell me what happened?”

Seeing him standing before me in only his boxers the image of him violating Marlena pops into my head. I try to push out the thought but am unable to. The more I look at him, the more I see what happened in my head.

“Fuck I don’t know…I was drinking, she had a couple drinks…hell I don’t remember how many….we were talking…I remember talking to her for a long time….”

“About what?” Maybe if I knew what they were talking about I could understand his reasons for why he did it.

“Mostly about my marriage and about you.”

“About me?” I’m surprised, as I know how guarded Marlena is about our relationship, choosing carefully whom she confides to. I know that she probably tells Roman a hell of a lot more than he needs to know but I made peace with their relationship years ago.

“It’s not what you think so don’t go all paranoid on me….she was just talking about your relationship in general….hell I don’t remember….like I said, I was drunk.”

I have every right to be paranoid when it comes to the rapist standing before me but decide to take the high ground and let the matter drop. “Please help me understand here pal how you go from talking to raping my wife? Because I’m really having a hard time understanding this.”

“I told you, I didn’t rape her.” He sets the picture back down on the mantle and walks into the kitchen. “Would you like something to drink.”

“This isn’t a social visit….I want answers,” I tell him as I follow him into the kitchen.

He opens the refrigerator and grabs a beer, then turns around and faces me as he closes the heavy door. Looking at him, the enormity of the situation rears its ugly head. In one instant everything has changed. Internally I feel the loss of so much more than he can ever know. He just didn’t take away Marlena’s dignity; he betrayed both of our trust. No longer my brother or my friend, he cannot be a part of my life. A deep friendship spanning more than twenty years is gone in the blink of an eye and for what? One minute of pleasure on his part?

“Fine John…All I remember is talking and then kissing her.” He stops and pauses but doesn’t look up at me to acknowledge it. “I told you I don’t remember.”

“See that’s the part I find hard to accept. How do you rape someone and forget it?” I see him kissing her and then pounding into Marlena over again as she begs for him to stop. Did he even care that she said no?

“I didn’t rape Marlena….I swear.” He says the words, but what else is he going to say? He’s not going to admit it now for he knows that I’ll kill him. No doubt about it, I’ll kill him. With each passing minute my internal rage builds. Why am I even having this conversation? I should have just kicked down the door and beaten the shit out of him without giving him a chance to explain. There is nothing to explain. He raped my wife.

“I don’t believe you for a second…I need answers now….I need to know what happened.”

“Nothing happened,” he says as opens the top of his beer can and takes a large swig. Leaning against the counter his eyes are dark and hard to read. Doesn’t he care about Marlena and the internal turmoil she now experiences on a daily basis? Doesn’t he care that he’s ruined our friendship?

“Nothing happened?” I yell at him as I jab my finger into his chest. “Nothing happened? You either fucked my wife or you raped her.”

“That’s not what happened John,” he says as he steps away from me and rubs his chest, picks up his can and takes another drink.

“Then tell me what did?”

“I was drunk, she had too much to drink, we kissed and then you know…”

“No I don’t….You tell me.”

“Look man, she wanted me just as much as I wanted her.”

“You asshole,” I yell at him as I loose my temper and deck him hard right across the face, splitting his lip in two. “You mother fucking asshole…Don’t try to make it even sound like she wanted anything to do with you. “ I swing again and this time hit him in the eye.

“Don’t accuse me of raping her,” he warns me as he wipes his lip and steps back from me. “She’s not the innocent party here.”

“What are you saying? You calling my wife a slut?”

“You did,” he says snidely. “On more than one occasion, you let most of Salem know what you thought of her.”

“Fuck you.” My fist connects with his eye again and I watch as he falls backwards onto the kitchen table. “Get up and fight like a man.”

“I don’t want to fight you.”

“You don’t have a choice…. consider this payback for what you did to my family.”

“Like you did to my family?” he yells as he comes towards me and swings, his fist connecting with my chest. I feel a rib break and it hurts like hell. “What the fuck are you suggesting?” I ask him as it hit him once again. He’s going to have a hell of a shiner tomorrow.

“You know what…you know exactly what.” He swings again and misses and I use the opportunity to undercut him in the jaw. “You better stay the fuck away from my family.”

“Or what John? What the hell are you going to do to me?” The anger in eyes and voice is evident. The man that he tries to hide under the guise of a uniform is unable to mask his true intentions. Is he suggesting that he raped Marlena to get back at me for something that I did? Because if that is in fact the truth, he’s beyond fucked up. I didn’t rape his wife, so nothing I could have done would warrant him raping mine.

“I’ll kill you if you come near them again.” I tell him simply. I have no hidden agenda, no ulterior motive. He comes near my wife or son and I’ll kill the man with my bare hands, regardless of my promise to Marlena.

“What if that’s my baby that she’s carrying?” The way that he says it sends chills down my spine. The asshole sounds like he wants this baby to be his. The hell if I ever let that happen.

“He’s mine.”

“Are you really sure about that?” he asks as we slowly circle each other, each waiting for the other to make another move. We’ve reached a stalemate and crossed the point where we can never return.

“Positive,” I gloat. The fact that she could be carrying that bastards disgusting seed beyond sickens me. “We had a test done and it showed that I was the father, not that it’s any of your business.”

“Liar, I know that she didn’t tell you at the hospital because she would have said something on the phone.” His response comes out more as a gloat than anything. “I want to see those test results because there is no way I’m letting my kid be raised in a house with you.”

“I’m a much better choice than a rapist.” I tell him as I kick his legs out from under him and he falls to the floor. “You are nothing more than a fucking low life rapist,” I inform him as I kick him hard in the stomach. He attempts to get up off the floor but I kick him back down as my foot connects with his stomach again.

“You are going to prison.” I kick him hard again and take pleasure when he moans out in pain. “You are going to lose everything.” I kick him hard again with the toe of my boot as I aim lower and connect with his groin. He screams out loudly in pain and moans. Yesterday I would have felt pity for him but now I feel nothing for him. He is nothing to me now. “You are going to lose your family.” With a final kick I connect again with his groin hoping that it’s damaged to the point where he can never rape another woman again.

Kicking his legs, he connects with my feet and knocks me over. “You aren’t going to raise my baby John….if that child is mine I’m suing for full custody,” he warns me.

“That’s never going to happen….I’ll kill you first.” Reaching behind me I feel the smooth metal of the gun where it’s carefully tucked into the waistband of my jeans.

***

“Roman what are you doing here?” I ask as I slowly open the door. He has a concerned look on his face and I know this is not a social call. It’s been almost two hours since John stormed out of the house and despite the fact that I’ve called his cell phone what must be a hundred or more times I’m unable to reach him.

“Doc, I hate to interrupt you like this,” he says as he looks beyond me into the house.

“What is it Roman? Has something happened?” He pauses just a little too long, “Just tell me,” I implore him.

“With your being pregnant and everything I’m sensitive to your condition,” he starts and then stops as he watches me from the doorway. “Can I come in?”

“Oh sure,” I answer somewhat embarrassed as I open the door further. I’ve forgotten my robe and well aware that I’m standing in front of Roman wearing nothing but the black silk nightgown that John dressed me in earlier.

“Doc,” he says as he looks away embarrassed. He shuts the door behind me and follows me to the couch. Normally he’d sit across the couch from me, but I watch him suspiciously as he sits down right next to me and tries to take my hand in his. I pull away, not wanting the contact or the news that’s likely to come with it.

“Just tell me,” I whisper as I wrap my arms around myself. “Tell me what’s happened.” The moment that John left I knew deep in my heart that something was going to give tonight and I hope beyond hope that the casualty isn’t John because I can’t do this without him.

“There’s no easy way to tell you this Doc…”

“Just tell me Roman,” I interrupt him. “Did something happen to John?” I can’t look at him; he has that all knowing sad look in his eyes once again. The look that he gets when something in my life goes very wrong. The look that says and means, if only you’d stayed with me things wouldn’t be this hard.

“Yes,” he whispers as he tries to pick up my hand once again. I try to pull my hand out of his but he won’t let me.

“Please tell me.” Turning and facing him I need to hear the truth from him; I need to accept what’s happened.

“John’s in jail for attempted murder,” Roman finally tells me with a puzzled look on his face. He wants to know why and I’m not sure I can ever tell him. “You don’t sound shocked.” My silence has given me away once again. “Please tell me that you don’t know anything about this…Doc?”

“I can’t,” I whisper as I get up from the couch and walk towards the french doors away from his prying stares. I thought I’d cry and I so desperately want to, but I can’t. In a sick way I’m happy that he is at least getting the punishment he deserves for what he did to me. I know that my thoughts aren’t healthy, sane or rational but they are all I have.

“Doc, you gotta help me understand what the hell is going on here,” Roman says as he comes up behind me and places his hands gently on my bare shoulders. Shrugging my shoulders, I lean back into him, craving his touch and the comfort it provides.

“I can’t help you,” I whisper as I close my eyes. I feel my baby move deep within me and wonder if he senses the complexity of our universe at this instant. I can’t look at Roman and see the deep disappointment in his eyes. I just can’t. Everything that I imagined happening if I revealed my secret is coming to fruition right in front of me and there’s not a damn thing I can do to stop it.

“Marlena, please,” he pleads with me as he continues to rub my shoulders.

I pull away from his touch even though I don’t want to. He’s not my husband or lover anymore and his touch is too familiar as is his line of questioning. “I need your help here.”

“I don’t want to involve you in this Roman.” I really don’t. I want him to forever remain ignorant and not see me for who I really am.

“I’m already more involved than I want to be.” I feel him pulling away from me, emotionally and mentally distancing himself. He’s choosing a side internally and its not mine, just as I feared it would be.

There is nothing I can say to make this situation any different than it is. “Is John alright?

“Aside from a broken nose, lacerations and a few broken ribs he’ll be fine.” Can he sense my relief when I breathe in deeply and place my hand on my stomach? John’s okay. That’s enough for me right now. Anymore I can’t and don’t want to handle.

“I want to see him,” I tell Roman as I turn around.

“No….In your condition…”

“Don’t Roman,” I interrupt him. “Please don’t use my pregnancy as an excuse…I need to see John.” This is so much harder than I thought it would be, I want to tell Roman and need for him to understand John’s actions but at the same time I don’t.

“I’d like to ask you some questions first,” he calmly tells me. The way that he’s looking at me, or not looking at me tells me everything. I moved from a category in his mind from ex-wife to suspect. I’ve seen him do it a thousand times with other people but never with me.

My need to protect John and my baby eclipses all else. If Roman thinks that he’s going to use me to get information on John he’s got another thing coming. John always has been and always will be my first priority. “Are they questions you’re asking as a friend or are they questions you’re asking as the police commissioner?”

“Both,” he admits as his voice softens. I can see that he’s conflicted and I feel for him. But he shouldn’t have been the one to come here in the first place. He should have sent another officer.

“I’m not answering any questions and neither will John without an attorney present,” I tell him coldly. I hate being a bitch to him after everything we’ve been through together, but I can’t let my defenses down. I need to protect my family.

“Doc, is this necessary?”

“Yes.” Turning away from him I can’t look at him. I don’t want to see the disappointment in another person’s eyes how I haven’t lived up to what they want me to be. “Please don’t ask me more questions Roman, please.”

“Doc, he shot my brother and I want to know why? Why did John shoot Bo?”

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Silently I turn away from Roman and his prying eyes and questions. He wants to know why John shot Bo, a valid question that I have the answer to but am loath to reveal. My life hangs in balance with this one secret. Everything I know and understand to be true in my universe could possibly change in an instant if anyone else knew. “Doc” he asks as he places his warm hand on my bare arm, “please help me understand.” There is nothing to understand or to be understood. The train wreck that has become my life left the station long ago without Roman as a passenger. I can’t discuss what happened with Bo right now or ever.

Shaking my head I walk away, doing the only thing I know how to do even though its killing me inside. “I have no idea,” I lie. The color of his eyes deepens as he looks at me contemplating the veracity of my statement.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“Doc.” He invades my personal space once again and touches me. I involuntarily close my eyes and wish that he’d move away before I realize that I’ve done it. My facial expression must not have been lost on his as he lets me go with a wounded look on his face. “Don’t you trust me?”

“I do,” I tell him tentatively, not entirely convinced myself.

He moves closer as he places his hand on my forearm. “We used to be so close and could talk about anything. I’d like to believe that nothing has changed.”

“Everything has changed Roman,” I tell him in an overly exasperated tone as I pull my arm out of his grasp. “Everything.” He’s too near, to close and I can’t afford to for one second let my guard down.

“But it doesn’t have to…”

“How can it not?” I interrupt him. His thinking that things could stay the same is futile, absolutely futile. “John shot Bo. Things can’t stay the same.”

“They can depending on what happened. Was it an accident?”

“Why don’t you ask him that?” I suggest to Roman a little too defensively. I need to see John and make sure that he’s okay but Roman won’t stop. I’m trying my hardest to remain aloof but its becoming increasingly difficult by the minute.

“I did, but he wouldn’t tell me anything…he insisted that he speak with his attorney first. Unfortunately the woman is in New York and won’t be here until the first flight in tomorrow so I won’t have any answers until then.” He’s staring at me waiting patiently for my response. A quick retort? Another lie? Or the truth?

I can’t do this anymore. I can’t put up that wall so quickly as I was once able to. John scaled the wall and inadvertently removed some of the mortar and pestle that was holding it precariously together. I feel my baby move inside and wonder if he senses the predicament that I am now in. Turning and facing Roman in almost a whisper I plead with him, “Please Roman, I want to talk to John…I need to see him.”

His resolve has softened somewhat as he gently tells me, “I don’t think that’s a good idea Doc…You can see him after he’s questioned.”

“But I need to know that he’s okay.”

“He’ll be fine…It’s my brother Bo you should be worried about.” The mere mention of his name sickens me and brings back every emotion I’ve tried to suppress for four long months. This is real; my rape was real and Bo lying in a hospital in critical condition is very real. I can’t do this, I can’t allow myself to question and doubt my own inner strength and memory.

“How do you know that John shot Bo?” I ask defensively trying to turn the conversation around. Bo did rape me. It really happened and I can’t let myself think otherwise because of the guilt.

“Hope.”

“Hope? She was there? She saw John shoot Bo like you’re claiming he did?”

“Not exactly,” Roman tells me as he rubs his temples slowly. “She heard them arguing and then heard a gunshot blast. She found John standing over Bo as he dialed 911.”

Oh,” I tell him as I walk away and try to digest what he just said. In some way I’m relieved that she didn’t hear the truth of what happened. However, a larger part of me feels horrible for the pain she must be going through, pain that I inadvertently caused.

“Doc, please let me in,” he pleads as he stands behind me allowing me space. “I know you….this is not you, covering for someone else. John broke the law….please tell me what happened.”

“I don’t know,” I whisper as I lie to him once again. “I wasn’t there.”

“I think you do know the truth and are just covering for John like you always do.” His voice is raised and I can see his anger and frustration at the situation and me. I resent his loaded accusation but refuse to respond. He must have realized the tone of his voice was somewhat harsh because he asks in a much softer voice, “Yesterday afternoon at the hospital things were fine, what happened last night to change things?”

“Roman please don’t do this…please don’t ask me that…What goes on in my own home is none of your business.” I don’t want to hurt him by being rude or aloof but feel that he’s giving me no choice.

“It is….You are now part of a criminal investigation…Don’t you see that?”

“Don’t do this Roman…please don’t.” I can feel his breath against the back of my neck, as his breathing seems to deepen.

“I need to know what happened.”

“Wait a day and then talk to John with his lawyer present. Please don’t use our past to get answers. I’m begging you not to do it.” I’ve played my hand and slowly I wait as I can feel him thinking behind me. I sense small movements of his hands and wonder if he’s fighting the urge to touch me.

After several minutes pass he finally responds. “What’s happened to you? What’s happened to us? You used to tell me everything as little as two years ago, but now look at you. You’re skittish, preoccupied, distant and not trusting.”

“Don’t start Roman,” I warn him as I turn around and place my hands defensively in front of myself. “This isn’t about me Roman, this is about John.”

“No, everything about John inevitably involves you Doc and it always has.” Reaching out he grabs my hands and holds them.

“That’s not fair.” I try to slowly pull my hands free but he won’t let go.

“It’s true.”

“It’s not….lots of things about John don’t involve me.” Once again I tug, a little harder as I look at him and plead with my eyes for him to let me go.

“True, but when violence and John co-mingle you are somehow always involved.”

“I can think of several times when John got hurt and it wasn’t because of me,” I tell him defensively as I begin to question our past. Is Roman right?

“That’s not what I was suggesting Doc…I’m talking about when he intentionally hurt someone else and times before he knew you or when you were missing don’t count.”

“Fine.” Defensively I cross my arms over my chest and walk away from Roman and sit down on the sofa. I’m not going to defend John to Roman once again. Roman always seems to be looking for THE reason why I left him for John, conveniently forgetting that he was the one that left me and gave up on our marriage. “Was there something else you wanted?”

“I want,” he starts and then stops as he stares at me. He’s ehausting me and I want nothing more for him to leave so that I can see John. “I just want to talk with you and try to understand what the hell happened tonight… Doc, I’m at a loss here, a real loss here. I’m trying to grasp in my mind all the possible scenarios of why John of all people would shoot Bo. My god they are best friends….What the hell happened? Did an argument get out of hand? Was it an accident? You gotta help me here because I’m at a real loss.”

“Roman, please try and understand and not take this personally, because I know somehow that you are going to…. I don’t want to talk about any of this anymore.” Looking down at my hands I twist my wedding ring around my finger. “I don’t want to be having this conversation period.”

“Marlena, please,” he pleads as he sits down next to me on the couch using my given name which he rarely does anymore. “This is not you. Frankly I’ve been concerned about you for months.”

“You don’t need to be, I’m fine,” I tell him looking at the painting on the wall behind him. I’ve always hated it and meant to put up a piece that John and I bought during a trip to Venice but never got around to hanging.

“See that’s where I know you better than yourself…you do that little thing when you’re lying.”

“What thing?’ I ask him as I continue to stare at the picture. I can’t look at him and lie and he knows it; he’s always known it.

“That thing.”

“You’re reading too much into the situation.”

“Am I? Is that why you’re making every effort to distance yourself from me physically and emotionally?” He’s right, I have been.

“I’ve just been tired Roman that’s all. I just found out that I was pregnant… At my age it’s a pretty big adjustment.” I see the look of sorrow and loss on his face and once again feel guilty for causing someone else pain. “I’m sorry Roman.” Taking his hand in mine I slowly squeeze it before I left go. “That was insensitive of me.”

“No…. You can’t help but talk about and be happy about your baby. You should be happy…You deserve to be happy…. It’s just that its still hard hearing you talk about this baby when I think about the baby we lost Doc.”

“Regardless of what you think I did want that baby Roman.”

“I know that you did…I know that you did…So did I.”

“I still can’t believe that I’m pregnant again though…I thought I had an ulcer.”

“But you did want this baby right?”

“Of course.”

“John said earlier that you’d been seeing a fertility specialist.”

“Yes,” I whisper alarmed that John would reveal such a private and intimate matter to anyone.

“How long were you trying?”

“Two years,” I tell him unable to hide the truth. After I lost the baby and a year of my life to the hell that was Alex North, John and I immediately started seeing the specialist. Roman’s going to assume that we were trying to replace his baby that we didn’t want with ours but he’s wrong. I ‘m not even going to try to explain myself to him because it’s a moot point now. Any chance of Roman being part of my life other than my friend died with our baby.

“Two years…wow…and now you’re pregnant.” His words come out as anything but congratulatory. “I’d say that this baby was a miracle.” My baby is a miracle in more ways than he knows which is why the mere thought of this baby not being John’s is inconceivable. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat and pauses awkwardly for a moment. Neither of us know what to say to the other right now and our brief exchange about the baby was probably the most honest we’ve been with each other in a long time.

“I am sorry.” Placing my hand on his knee I slowly squeeze it trying to convey how truly sorry I am for his loss, words that I am unable and to say.

Abruptly he gets up and walks to the french doors, looking out at the city waking up below us. “I know that you don’t want to talk about it, but I’m concerned….Off the record okay Doc….Off the record. I need to know that you’re okay.”

“On or off the record it doesn’t matter Roman,” I admit to him as I stifle a yawn. “I’m fine. I’d just like to see John.” I’m beyond exhausted and just want to sleep, but sleep will have to wait until I know that John’s okay. “Frankly I don’t appreciate you interrogating me.”

“I apologize Doc,” Roman says as he continues to look out the window. Maybe it’s easier for him not having to look at me. “Off the record, you answer this and I’ll let you see John tonight for five minutes.”

I can’t believe his gall, his nerve. He can’t let go of his police instincts for a minute, nor his underlying jealousy of all that John is to me. I should be mad at him but know that I need to play his game in order to gain time with my husband, time I desperately crave. “It depends on what you ask.”

“Okay, fair….Do you know why John shot Bo?” I’m aware that he’s watching me, studying my movements, waiting to see if my eyes shift away from him.

“Yes,” I admit as I close my eyes and hope that the questioning stops. “Now take me to John.”

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“John,” she gasps as she rushes towards me in the small interrogation room. She tries to hug me but the muscled guard steps in front of her stopping her. “No contact with him while he’s in custody Mrs. Black.” He releases her left arm long enough to give her the seconds that she needs to reach out and grab me.

I can see the whisper of my name on her lips as I relish in her brief touch. As quickly as she touches me the connection is broken by the cop. “You do that again and I’ll have to remove you from the room.”

“I’m sorry,” she tells the man as she sits down across from me at the bare table. The guard assumes his quiet vigilance in the corner, hand on his gun holster.

“John,” she whispers again as she moves her hand slowly across the table towards me. Looking at the guard for permission to touch me he nods his head. “John.” I can see the tears forming in her eyes as she finally makes contact and know that this is not easy for her. My mind races with a million thoughts. What has she been told? What does she know? How much has she already said to the cops? How is she feeling? What is she thinking? How’s my baby?

“Doc,” I whisper in return as I force a smile. I’m ashamed that I was unable to control my emotions and myself when I promised her that I wouldn’t do anything. Being in jail is the last thing that she needs right now. It’s not healthy for her or the baby.

“Why?” she asks as she looks towards the guard to see if he’s listening. I motion up to the ceiling hoping that she’ll follow my gaze and see that the whole room is wired. Anything she says to me or I admit to her is going to be used by the police.

“You know why,” I cryptically tell her as I glance up at the ceiling again.

After a couple long minutes of her stroking my knuckles deep in thought she finally responds, “I needed you not to.”

“I know.” What can I say? I did everything that she begged me not to do and now a man is lying in the hospital fighting for survival. “Who told you?”

“Roman,” she admits as she glances down at her hands. The rage I feel towards the man is nothing new. Of course Roman fucking Brady swept in like the calvary to tell his precious Marlena what her big bad husband did to his innocent brother. If he only knew what his little brother did to his ex-wife, Bo wouldn’t be in the hospital, he’d be dead.

“Figures.” Pulling my hands out of hers I learn back in my chair and run my hands through my unkempt hair. I’m thankful that my black jeans and t-shirt mask Bo’s blood. The last thing Doc needs is another visible reminder of how I’ve failed her.

“I don’t know what to say to you John.” She reaches her hands across the table towards me to a point where she’s leaning on the table.

“Off the table,” the guard warns. Marlena glances over at the guard and I see a glean of hatred in her eyes towards the man.

“John, please,” she pleads as she turns her attention back to me and reaches her hands across the table once again.

I reluctantly meet her half way as she grasps onto my hands and starts crying. “I can’t do this alone…I can’t do this without you….I need you.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say Marlena….”

“That this isn’t happening…that this isn’t real.” She pulls one hand out of mine and wipes her face on my T-shirt. I recognize the shirt as the one that I was wearing earlier when she finally told me about her rape.

“I can’t lie to you….this is as real as it gets.”

She pauses for several long minutes as she tries to compose herself. Each time she looks like she’s going to say something she starts crying. I never wanted to hurt her but can’t seem to stop.

“So what happens now then?” she finally asks. “You talk to your lawyer and she bails you out tomorrow?” she asks optimistically. Even in the worst situation she has hope, something I long ago gave up on. Hope is for idealists, not realists.

“Doc, I’m facing attempted murder here…. The judge may not grant me bail…”

“Why wouldn’t he?” she interrupts.

“I assume that the District Attorney is going to push for no bail because I’d be considered a flight risk.”

“But you wouldn’t run,” she naively tells me.

“I’m not going to answer that,” I tell her as I look up at the camera positioned on the ceiling. I’ve done thousands of interrogations of suspects in this very room and know exactly where every camera and hidden microphone is in the room. I can’t afford to incriminate myself anymore.

“So if they don’t let you out what happens?”

“I sit in county jail and wait for a trial.”

“This can’t go to trial John, it can’t,” she says with a stricken look on her face. The reality of the situation finally dawns on her. We go to trial and the truth about her rape may come out.

“It won’t,” I reassure her, answering both her spoken and unspoken question.

“You can’t predict what’s going to happen.”

“I can if I plead guilty.”

“No John,” she interrupts as she pulls my hands toward her. “No.” The disappointment in her eyes is breaking my heart.

****9

The silence in the room is broken by the sound of the door opening and Abe entering. I’m just glad that Salem PD had enough common sense to stop sending Roman in to question me. It only took three tries on his part and no answers on mine for him to see that his questioning was futile. Abe’s not the most objective questioner either but it beats some of the rookies.

“John,” he states as he shakes his head and motions for the guard to leave.

“Abraham,” I greet him as he sits down at the table across from me.

“What the hell happened?” he finally asks.

“I shot Bo, end of story.” Sitting up straight in my chair I deliberately spread my fingertips along the edge of the table. I want not only my voice but also my actions to convey my truth. When the behavior analysts play the tape over and over nothing about what I say or do will betray my intent. I promised to love and protect Marlena and will do so with the last breath I take.

“We know that much…Hope saw you standing over him, gun in your hand…initial analysis of the gun has turned up a match with your prints….”

“Yada yada yada,” I interrupt him. “…and the gun belongs to me…I admit that I shot him….lets just get on with this.” His whole line of questioning is pointless and classic textbook police 101. Abe always did lack creativity as a cop and his questioning of me is no exception. I’m six steps ahead of him and don’t care to play this game of cat and mouse. I just want to sign my confession on the dotted line and start serving my sentence and let Doc be at peace. If this goes to trial all of Salem is going to know that Bo raped Marlena. Half the town thinks that the Brady boys are saints that can do no wrong and wouldn’t believe Marlena. Bastard was probably counting on that too. Those that say they’re her friends now will turn on her. Her professional career may be ruined as well as potential patients are going to naturally question the sanity and advice of a woman that wasn’t raped once but twice. And what about our family and friends? Her relationships with Hope, Roman, the Horton’s, Jack and Jennifer, Mickey and Maggie, Laura, Caroline and Shawn will awkwardly end. Hell, something like this would probably break up Shawn and Belle. How do you choose sides when you are almost forced to? What about Lucas and Sami, Carrie, Will and Eric? How do you cope with the fact that your uncle or great uncle raped your mother and grandmother? Although Marlena did nothing wrong and is the real victim here, I totally understand and support her decision to remain silent.

“How can you sit there with no emotion at all John…”

“Don’t judge me pal and try to say that I’m not showing any emotion because I’m feeling plenty of emotion right now, believe me.” My fingers remain firmly in place on the table and I watch as my nails turn white due to the pressure.

“Why did you shoot Bo?”

“Why does anyone shoot anyone?” I answer nonchalantly as I shrug my shoulders. I want him to get mad and upset and see me as an out of control asshole. Anything I can do to take the focus off Marlena. No one needs to assume that there was a reason for my supposed act of violence.

“John, this isn’t helping you…”

“Like you give a damn about me or my family…You just want answers for Roman.”

“That’s not true…”

“Oh its not? You’re trying to tell me that you really want to understand my side of the story and aren’t on some mission to prove your loyalty to Roman? Give me a fucking break. Everyone on the force knows that your loyalty starts and ends with Roman Brady. You’re just in here doing his dirty work because he can’t.”

“What’s wrong with you?” Abe asks, a hurt look on his face.

“Nothing is wrong.”

“This isn’t you.”

“Well maybe you don’t know the real me and what I’m capable of.”

“I refuse to believe that.”

“Believe what you want because I really don’t give a damn.”

“You’re going to prison for a very long time unless you start answering questions.”

“Well sign me up for Club Fed because I’m not telling you anything, not without my lawyer present.”

“You already admitted that you shot him…You’d rather go to jail than explain what happened.”

“It does appear that way, doesn’t it.”

“Was it something he said to you that set you off? Did you have a disagreement over something?”

“Let sleeping dogs lie Abraham. Sometimes its better not to ask the questions.”

“I saw Marlena in the hallway and she looks quite upset.”

“And your point would be?” I ask him with half closed eyes. The pressure of this performance is wearing on my soul and is much harder than I thought it would be. It was easy being an ass to Roman earlier; he deserved it. But Abraham, he doesn’t deserve how I’m treating him when he’s been nothing but supportive of Doc and me throughout the years. I hope in time he’ll forgive me.

“She needs you John, at home not in jail.” He pauses for a minute and breathes deeply, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Answer me this John. I get your tough guy act, seen you do it a million times before. What the hell are you going to do if Bo dies?”

“I’ll deal with it if it happens.”

“Don’t you at least feel bad for what happened?”

“I probably should wait until my attorney arrives to answer that question but I won’t…the answer is no.”

“If he dies,” Abe starts and then stops, contemplating the possibility. I can’t blame him for being sad, I would be too if I didn’t know what Bo was capable of. “John do you get that there is a real possibility of that happening here? I have no idea what was going through your mind when you pulled the trigger because you won’t explain yourself and I don’t for one second buy your little act that you’re happy about Bo’s condition. Every instinct of mine tells me that there is much more to this story…I know you John, I know you. You’d never shoot someone and try to take a life so callously for no reason. With you, you’re actions are almost always motivated by revenge which leads me to ask you again, Why? Why did you shoot Bo? What did he do to you?”

“I’m not going to answer that without my lawyer present. You’re obviously convinced that I have some dark and nefarious reason for my actions even though I tell you there is none. Accept what I’ve said and let me sign my confession on the dotted line.”

“Are you covering for someone else?” He asks, unaware of how close to the truth he really is.

“Now why would I do that Abraham? Hope saw me standing over him with the gun and I told you I shot him.” I’m trying to sound serious but realize that my response probably came out a little on the sarcastic side.

“I don’t know, but none of this makes any sense.”

“Maybe it’s not supposed to make sense.”

“You’re just willing to throw your life away like that? Willing to sign away on the dotted line your right to a fair trial?”

“Do you routinely dissuade suspects from admitting to guilt and force cases to trial in our already overcrowded legal system just because you want to make sure that the person is truly guilty? Because if so, you are every prosecutors worst nightmare and I’m sure that our district attorney would love to hear it.”

“Only when I think the suspect is lying to me.” His coal black eyes bore into my soul as they seek the truth, a truth that I can’t provide him with. If he were to ever learn the truth he’d become yet another casualty of this mess and have to choose a side. The more that I think about it, the more I’m convinced that this is the right path to take.

“DAMN,” I yell at him. “What more to do you want me to do? I’ve already confessed.”

“I want the truth John.”

“Well you already got it…I can’t help that you’re stubborn as hell and refuse to accept it. Not my problem, its yours.”

“Think about Marlena and your baby…”

“They are all I think about,” I interrupt him with a warning to drop the subject. I will not discuss Marlena or my unborn child with him or anyone.

“You have a strange way of showing it. Not that you care, but the doctors say that the next forty eight hours are critical for Bo and will determine if he makes it or not.”

I nod in understanding not knowing what else to do. If I act like I’m glad he might start in the revenge line of questioning. If I act like I’m sad, he’s going to think I’m not guilty or there is some other explanation. Any course of action is going to lead to more and more questions. I’m a smart man, I’ll hedge my bets and remain silent for the time being.

“The internal and external damage is extensive,” he continues as he watches me closely, looking for any sign of reaction. “The doctors are mystified by the bullets trajectory. For someone to do what you did intentionally they’d have to have incredible marksman ship and luck.”

“Lucky shot,” I tell him knowing it was anything but luck. When I took aim at Bo it was to ensure that he never raped another woman again. Vengeance is mine. Marlena may not subscribe to my biblical leanings of an eye for an eye, but I’d say the damage I inflicted is going to be a huge deterrent.

“I know that you didn’t mean to do it,” Abe tells me not wanting to think that I would shoot Bo in the dick at such an angle that it literally castrated him, the bullets final resting spot his gall bladder.

“I already told you I shot him, what more do you want?”

“The truth John, the truth…”

“I told you the truth Abe, you just won’t accept it.”

“You better hope that for whatever reason you shot him that he doesn’t die,” he warns me. “If he dies you aren’t facing 10 to life, you’re facing the death penalty.”

Page 16 of 27
Four long weeks have passed since John was arrested. I’d like to say that time has stood still, but I know it’s just a passing illusion. As my life is stuck in standby mode the lives of those around me go on.

Silently and invisibly I hide my pain and pretend. I pretend not to know why John shot Bo. I pretend to love this baby growing inside me. I pretend that things are fine and that I’m doing okay. Worst of all is that I pretend my rape is a thing of the past. Now more than ever it’s the first thing I think of in the morning and the last thing I think of at night. I’ve tried so hard to move past it, compartmentalize it in my mind, but am unable to. As life moves forward, I move back.

John stopped accepting my visits after he talked to his lawyer. I don’t agree with his decision but it’s somewhat hard to argue with a man that I don’t have access to anymore. I understand his reasoning even if I don’t exactly agree with it. He fears for my wellbeing and doesn’t think my seeing him behind bars is the healthiest thing. He doesn’t get that he is the reason that I’m living for. He’s become the reason why I open my eyes each morning and why I function throughout the day. I don’t have the strength to live for myself anymore. I know that. I’ve accepted it.

Two weeks ago John had a preliminary hearing that I was allowed to attend. John, through his attorney, tried to bar me from the courtroom but was unsuccessful. Stoically he sat at the defense table never glancing in my direction. I tried to internally plead with him foolishly hoping that he could read my mind and sense my need for a connection with him, but never once did he turn in my direction. I’ve chosen not to take his lack of interest in me personally, knowing it was self-preservation method on his part.

Silently watching the discord in my house and my life is Roman. I know that he has a million questions he wants to ask but doesn’t and won’t. Several times I’ve almost blurted out the truth to him in hopes of saving John but my shame keeps me silent. When it comes down to it I’m not sure who he’d believe.

Although John plead not guilty on the advice of his attorney, the presiding judge found that there was sufficient evidence to hold him over for trial. The trial date hasn’t been set and part of me wonders whether or not that’s on purpose. Are they waiting to see if Bo dies so that they can charge him with murder?

“Mom, can I get you something?” Belle interrupts my thoughts as she places her arms around me and hugs me tightly. She hasn’t said much about it but I sense that seeing her daddy in jail is more than she can handle. I know that’s she’s trying to be strong for me and I appreciate it. However a part of me doesn’t want to deny her the right to be scared and confused. She’s the only other person, aside from this baby that I carry, that has as much to lose as I do. Leaning into her I deeply inhale her fresh clean scent.

“I’m fine,” I whisper as I smile at her.

“Are you sure?” she asks as she sits down next to me on the couch.

“I’m positive…I just miss your daddy, that’s all.” I move over giving her space but she quickly occupies the void in her need to be near me, to touch me. I hold my hands still in my lap as the baby moves back and forth inside me exploring his world.

“So do I.” She pauses for several minutes as she stares at me, trying to read my eyes. I feel guilty for hiding what I feel from her but do it anyway. “What happens if he goes to jail?” Her question comes out more as a whisper and I have to strain to hear what she’s asked. I’m tempted not to answer her, to not think a negative thought, to keep up my happy charade, but its not fair to her.

“If that happens we’ll deal with it,” I try to reassure her as I take her warm hand in mine. “Your daddy is a strong man Belle.”

“Strongest man that I know,” she jokes bringing some levity into the situation. Even as a child she always has had a great outlook, focusing on the positive of the situation. How I wish that was me. “He’s our own Superman. All he needs is tights and a cape.”

“He’ll be fine,” I tell her as I smile at the imagery. “He wouldn’t want you worrying about him.” I pick at my nails as I glance over at Belle. She’s staring out the windows lost in her own world of thoughts about her dad and the way life is supposed to be, not the way life is.

“I know…It’s just hard not seeing him around here….”

“Like you said…he’s Superman….He’s been in a situation like this before,” I start to tell her thinking back to Aremid and when he almost died for something that he didn’t do. I have to stop thinking that Bo is going to die and that John will be sentenced to death. “But that’s old history….he’ll be fine, you’ll see. How are Shawn and Claire?” I ask changing the subject.

“Shawn’s at the hospital with his mom and Sami’s watching Claire right now,” she starts to tell me and then stops, looking at me with an expression of guilt and regret on her face.

“You could have brought her over here sweetie. I would have loved to see her.”

“I know mom….It’s just you’ve seemed a little stressed lately and Claire is teething again and really fussy right now and I didn’t want to add to your worries.”
“She’s not a worry, she’s my granddaughter…” It saddens me somewhat that those that I love one by one are seeing me as some fragile victim that needs to be protected. Belle doesn’t even know that I was raped and yet she’s following in the classic John Black behavioral pattern; protect first and then ask questions later. I’m going to have to do a better job of covering my true feelings if I have any chance of ever hiding what happened. I know somewhere deep down that I am stronger than all of this, I just have to find it somehow.

“I know…maybe next time…so how is my little baby brother doing in there?” she asks as she reaches over and touches my stomach. I flinch at the contact, not used to such an intimate gesture on anyone’s part. “Mom, you’re what? Five months along right now?”

I nod my head knowing where she’s going with this. I allow her to continue touching my stomach reminding myself that this is my daughter, part of John, who would never hurt me or my baby.

“Shouldn’t you be bigger?” she finally asks as she gently presses in and is rewarded with the feeling of her brother kicking her back. “Hey little guy,” she says in a sing-song voice to him.

“Dr. Bader says that the pregnancy is progressing normally, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Is the baby healthy?”

“According to the doctors it is.” I don’t disclose to her that I haven’t seen Dr. Bader or any other medical professional since the night that I learned I was pregnant. I have no desire to go near the hospital, anywhere near Bo. I never saw myself as a hateful person but the more the time goes on the more resentment I feel toward him and everything he has taken away from me.

“Would you tell me if it wasn’t?” she honestly asks me as she removes her hand from my stomach and looks me directly in the eyes.

“It depends Belle.”

“I’d tell you if something was wrong and I was pregnant….”

“That’s because I’m your mother… You’re my child and it’s different.”

“I’m not a child anymore and haven’t been for sometime…I’m a grown woman…I can handle the truth.”

“What truth would that be?” I ask unsure as to what she might bring up, but willing to take the risk to allow her the opportunity to discuss her fears. It’s unspoken how much turmoil that she must be feeling knowing that her Daddy shot Shawn’s. If ever there was a time that they should be drawing comfort from each other its now but I know that they can’t without placing blame.

“I think you and daddy are hiding something from me.”

‘Why would you think that?” I ask her trying to remain calm and objective.

“Daddy’s not a violent man mom. You know that. I know that. Hell, half most of Salem knows that. Something had to have happened to make him shoot Shawn’s dad.” I analyze her choice of words not as a mother but as a psychiatrist, noting her omission of Bo’s name. She starting to remove herself emotionally from the situation slowly and I wonder if its because doesn’t really think that it happened or she’s doing to it to protect herself and her marriage. It’s far easier for her to think and accept that her father shot a random stranger than a man she used to call uncle.

“He’s not,” I tell her as I get up from the couch and move toward the kitchen. I feel the baby move inside of me, placing an uncomfortable pressure on my bladder.

“Where are you going mom? Why won’t you answer my question?”

“I’m just getting something to eat,” I turn around to tell her only to see that she has followed me into the kitchen.

“What are you and daddy hiding?” she asks me again and she sits down on the black leather stool and watches me closely.

“Would you like something to eat?” I ask her as I open the refrigerator and notice that there really isn’t much inside that would pass for food.

“Please stop ignoring my question…”

“Stop interrogating me Isabella.” I snap at her abruptly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell at you.” The look of shock and then hurt on her face is something I wish I could erase.

“What’s happening to our family mom?” she finally asks in a whisper as she sits stoically on the stool, a reminder of the old days when she was a teenager and used to sit for hours in the kitchen watching John cook and debating current events.

“It’s nothing for you to worry about.” My back to her, I continue to search for food, closing the heavy refrigerator door and opening the pantry. The smell of stale food makes me nauseous. I move the cans of food around absentmindedly as I took for the culprit.

“I do worry…how could I not? Dad’s in jail and you’re pregnant.”

“You say that as if I’m an invalid….”

“That’s not what I meant…you’re just older now and need to take care of yourself.”

“Thank you for the lecture and I appreciate your concern but it’s not something I want you to worry about. I’m fine and your dad is fine.”

“Earth to mom…Dad’s in jail…He’s not fine.”

“Getting angry at the situation isn’t going to solve anything.” Too sick at my stomach with nausea to try to argue with her, I clutch at the pantry door as I hold onto it for support.

“No, but at least I can acknowledge that this situation is messed up and not pretend that things are perfect,” she snaps back, hopefully too lost in her own anger to notice my weakness.

Breathing deeply I try not to show my pain. “If I gave you the impression that things are perfect I didn’t mean to….things are far from perfect.” I have to force the last few words out as I feel an incredible pain deep within my abdomen. Kneeling down on the floor I clutch my stomach with one hand while I pretend to look for food with the other. I tell myself that can work through the pain. I am strong enough to pretend that things are okay for just another day.

“Then why won’t you discuss them with me?”

“There’s nothing to discuss.” The pain quickly turns into an incredible cramping feeling and I have to bite on my hand to keep out from screaming in pain.

“Dad’s in jail.”

“Uh huh,” I absentmindedly tell her as I feel a trickle of liquid between my legs. “Belle,” I whisper as I look at my blood covered hands in disbelief. “Something is wrong.”

“I know that mom and that’s what I’ve been trying to get you to tell me…I’m not a child that needs to be protected. I’m an adult that can handle the truth no matter what it may be…”

“No,” I interrupt her, barely hearing what she said.

“I know that you don’t want to talk about problems that you are daddy are having….”

I cease hearing what she’s saying to me as I struggle to turn around and look at her, my bloody fingers leaving a trail across the white formica of the cabinet. “Help,” I whisper to her as I give into the darkness that’s occluding my vision with each passing second.

“Mom…Mom….Mom,” is the last thing I hear as I give into the darkness.

Page 17 of 27
He comes to me in the deep of the night, his voice but a whisper as he touches my soul. “Marlena.”

“Leave me alone,” I tell him through clenched teeth, afraid to open my eyes and see him and all his evilness. A coldness permeates the air as the hairs on my skin stand at attention, my body knowing the danger before my mind does.

“You may try to run and hide from me but I’ll always find you.”

“Just go away, “ I try to plead with him. “I didn’t tell anyone…I swear only John knows…please go.” I can’t see him in the darkness but can hear his heavy breathing and know that he’s near.

“NO…John took something from me and you’re going to have to pay.” I feel him running his fingers down my arms, the fatness of them heavy on my skin.

“Let me go…you aren’t supposed to be here.”

“Where am I supposed to be?” he asks as he climbs into bed next to me and takes me unwillingly into his arms. “Hooked up to life support? You’d like it if I died wouldn’t you?” he laughs as he runs his hand possessively across my stomach.

“Yes,” I admit to him, hating him for what he’s become.

“I’ll never die, never…. when my baby is born I’m coming for him and I’m going to raise him and there’s not a damn thing you can do.” He grabs my growing mound possessively. “This child is mine and don’t you forget it.”

“Just go,” I tell him as I try to remove his hand but he’s much stronger than I am. The baby kicks violently knowing the impending danger to its existence.

“No…I want my son.”

“You’ll never have him.”

“I already do and you just know it…remember that Marlena.”

*^*^*^*^*^*^*^

Darkness surrounds me, invading me with every breath I take. As I struggle to understand the terms of events that seemingly define my life inevitably I retreat further into myself.

The tell me in hushed tones that I need to take better care of myself.

They tell me that I’m not doing well and neither is my baby.

They tell me that without proper medical care the baby will be premature.

I don’t care. I want to, but I don’t. Sometime within the last four weeks I’ve grown to despise the life that grows within me. How is it possible to love and to hate something that could be John’s?

I want to absolve these feelings of hatred from my soul. I want to be happy and feel alive again but I’m hopelessly stuck in a pattern of neverending despair unforgiven for my own sins. This child is unwittingly the catalyst and the barrier that stands between me and John and happiness. If not for the baby my life would be somewhat normal. John would never have been told about Bo and what he did to me. I’d handle the situation as I have done with everything else in my life, with my head held high and dignity intact.

What I want and need is impossible.

“Talk to me?” they’ve said one by one, their dour looks yet another reminder of how I’ve failed everyone.

There is nothing left to be said, nothing that anyone would understand anyway. With one visit to his boat I changed my life and the lives of everyone around me. Once again I question every action that night looking for ways that the sequence of events might have been changed. Could I have said or done something differently that would have prevented him from raping me? Did I have a chance to stop him and didn’t act on it? Is what he did partially my fault?

“Marlena,” Karen says softly as she sits down on the bed beside me.

I glance over at her, knowing that her actions are well intentioned. God I hate the look of sympathy on her face, hating that she feels sorry for me and sees me as the victim. She knows that I was raped and that I haven’t seen a doctor, at least not at this hospital since I left here with news of my pregnancy more than a month ago. I’m too tired to argue with her or anyone else for that matter.

“Please don’t do this,” she begs me as she places her hand on my arm. I can smell a hint of jasmine in her handcream and the feel the softness of her fingers as they linger a little to long on my skin.

I don’t know what to say to her and I know that she’s inevitably going to read into my silence something more than its intended to be.

“I’m worried about you.”

I know that she is and I’m sorry that I’ve burdened someone else but I never asked her to intrude on my life. I tried to get her to leave me alone and not become involved. I didn’t want it to come to this.

“Please say something.”

After several long minutes of silence I answer her knowing that she’s not going to go away until she gets an answer. “What do you want me to say?” I know that my affect is flat but I don’t have the energy to be interesting and lively.

“I don’t know…I just want to know where you’re at and that you’re okay.” Her hand is still on my arm as she shifts her body and brings one of her pantyhose clad legs up on to the bed next to me. “We’ve been colleagues and friends for so long…too many years to count….you’ve helped me through more than one personal and dating crisis…I’ve spent more time on your couch with you listening to my problems than I want to admit…I guess what I’m getting at is that it hurts me that you’re going through this ordeal and don’t feel that you can talk to anyone.” She’s not looking at me, which makes this conversation somewhat easier on my part.

“I never said that,” I tell her as I glance down at her hand that’s still resting on my arm, never noticing before how nice her nails are.

“You don’t have to Marlena…. Your actions speak volumes. I know that you’re in trouble. You may want to deny it and play the martyr role that you do so well and that’s fine. But stop denying that you’re hurting inside…please stop pretending…please let me help.”

“I’m fine.”

“Bullshit,” she yells at me as she takes her hand off my arm and covers her face breathing deeply. “I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to yell, but you are so damn frustrating sometimes.”

“It’s how you feel,” I tell her wanting her to validate her own feelings rather than following me down my spiraling path. I feel that I’m not lying or hurting anyone with my omissions, I’m dealing with the present situation the only way I know how in a manner that will allow me to preserve the core of who I am. Others may want different choices for me, or might react in a different way, but they’re not me and I’m not them. I have such a hard time being myself that the prospect of trying to be someone else scares me. Battle wounds and all I defensively cover my hurt and hope that others can’t see it.

“I know….” I start to tell her and then stop, sadness and anger battling inside of me. “Karen, I appreciate that you are here, please know that.”

“It’s not enough for me or anyone and we’d all be lying to you if we said any differently…I just want to help.”

“You are…”

“How Marlena…how is this helping you? You won’t seek medical care, you’ve checked yourself out AMA in the past when you know damn well that this is a high risk pregnancy….You are bleeding Marlena, bleeding and won’t allow the doctors to examine you or treat you….how in some sick way is my being here helping you?”

I can’t stop my tears as I know my own stupidity bars me from making logical choices. I don’t know what else to do. I have no idea what the hell I’m doing and I can’t seem to stop myself from not making a choice. Indecision is going to be the death or me and or this child.

“Do you want this baby to die because it may be Bo’s?” she finally asks.

“Please keep your voice down,” I warn her as I fidget with my hands and pray that no one overheard her in the hall. I’m thankful when I see that she must have closed the door to the room when she entered.

“Answer the question then…and don’t play ignorant or coy with me…you think it takes a Ph.D. or MD to figure out that Bo Brady was the man who raped you and the child that you are carrying may very well be his?” She closes her eyes as she asks me the question and part of me wonder if its because she doesn’t want to know the answer. Have I repulsed and alienated everyone in my life to the point where we can’t have a conversation where eye contact is made?

“This baby is John’s.”

“Bullshit…If this was in fact John Black’s baby you’d have the best medical specialists in from around the country here to make sure that you carried to baby term or as close to term as you could.” She sits and watches for my reaction before she continues. I give her nothing, holding my racing thoughts in check. “I think that this baby isn’t your husbands and that’s why you are subconsciously making choices that put your life and this baby’s life in danger.”

“If you are going to sit here and insult me and my husband you can leave.”

“No, you need to hear this Marlena….other people may tip toe around you and your feelings but I’m won’t …I may be the only true friend you have right now who is willing to tell you the truth…As long as you’re hell bent on making completely illogical and idiotic choices you’re going to listen to what I have to say to you.”

“Do I have a choice?” I ask her as I struggle to sit up in the bed. The pain in my abdomen is incredible. Involuntary I cry out in pain as I lay back down.

“No…Are you going to allow us to treat you?”

“Leave me alone,” I whisper through clenched teeth.

“As long as you are refusing treatment you’re going to lay in that bed and listen to what I have to say and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it….You want to know how I know this baby is Bo’s, at least in your mind it is, in the absence of a paternity test there is no way of telling which at least to me makes your actions even more idiotic….I know that this baby is Bo’s because if it were anyone else’s but his you’d take care of it.”

As I listen to her tirade I know that what she’s saying isn’t the truth….this is John’s baby. It can’t be Bo’s. I can’t give birth to a child that will be a constant reminder of pain and disgrace and shame.

“You’d take care of another man’s baby…hell you even went so far as to take care of Roman’s baby until you had a miscarriage.”

“Don’t bring Roman and our baby into this…this is not the same.” I warn her as the pain from that experience returns. I so wanted that baby even though it wasn’t John’s.

“What can I say to you to get you to accept medical care? Did I need to go into detail about what is physically happening inside of your body and how that baby is going to slowly suffocate as its deprived of oxygen and how you are going to bleed to death? If you want the gory details I’ll be more than happy to tell you.”

“Please just leave me alone.”

“No…I’m going to sit here all night if I have to,” she tells me as she shifts on the bed. “Do you have any idea how frustrating this is? You of all people doing this?”

I know I disappoint her. She expects more from me as most people in this town do. I’m saintly Marlena. I’m a law abiding, intelligent, religious, professional woman married to one of the pillars of the community. My life is a model of the American dream. This isn’t supposed to happen to someone like me. People like me aren’t raped by their former brother in laws. People like me aren’t supposed to have babies at this age. People like me are supposed to handle personal discord with discretion and grace. People like me are supposed to go home at the end of a days work to their perfect home and perfect family and perfect life and wake up the next day starting another perfect day.

“You are free to leave.”

“No…I’m here for the long haul…I should have visited you at home after you left the hospital last time.”

I can’t help but roll my eyes as I know where she’s going with this.

“What’s happened to you? Do you really feel so alone now that you’ve retreated into yourself.”

“How dare you try to analyze me,” I tell her coldly as I try to sit up in the bed. The burning pain in my abdomen is almost more than I can handle but I fight through my pain refusing to show Karen anymore weakness, weakness that she’ll inevitably find a way to use against me. “I’m not alone.”

“You’re not alone? Who do you have? Who are you talking to? Who is helping you deal with all these emotions and thoughts that you have to be having?”

“I have my children and my friends….”

“No you don’t,” she interrupts me. “They may be here but they haven’t been able to reach you.”

“You don’t know that,” I tell her as I think back to the pleasant conversation that Belle and I were having earlier today.

“I do know that…One by one your support network has come to me asking me to talk to you and get you to open up about what you’re feeling. I can only guess from the conversations that you haven’t told anyone about Bo raping you and I can’t say I can’t blame you.”

“You don’t understand.”

“I’m trying to understand,” she says in an overly exasperated tone. My actions have angered her. “Tell me how you’re feeling….tell me what I can do to help you through this.”

“There is nothing you can say.”

“There has to be something…you shouldn’t have to go through this alone.”

“I’m not alone.”

“Oh let me guess…John is helping you.”

“He is.”

“How? How can he help? He’s in jail and your daughter Belle tells me that he has refused your visits.”

“You had no right to talk to her about her father.”

“Why? You have a monopoly on John conversations? Is that it?”

“No, you’re trying to put words in my mouth…I don’t appreciate you using my daughter to get to me.”

“Earth to Marlena…this whole situation spreads way beyond you and your emotions don’t you get that….Your husband is in jail on attempted murder charges and won’t speak to you…Your daughter Sami won’t leave the hospital and is terrified something is going to happen to you, Eric and Carrie won’t stop calling here but they don’t want to talk to you and upset you further and Belle is caught in the middle. She has to visit not only you but her father in law that raped you, only she doesn’t know that…She’s a lot like you, she tries to be strong and a pillar of support for her siblings but she feels the pain the most….”

“Stop…please stop.” I no longer care to hide my tears from her as the realization of what I am doing to my kids hits me hard. My mess has become theirs. “Stop.”

“Not until you stop this path of self destruction Marlena. This is not you.”

“I can’t,” I yell back at her. “I can’t stop this…I don’t know how to…please just go and leave me alone…I’ll be fine,” I tell her as I proudly wipe away my tears, knowing I’ve admitted more than I should have. “LEAVE.”

“You’ll be dead,” she starts to tell me as she gets up from the bed. “My guess is by the end of tonight the baby will be dead if you don’t do something now.”

“Go now,” I tell her as I try to push her with all my strength off the bed. “LEAVE ME ALONE.” Falling back into the bed I feel a gush of blood between my bed as it soaks the sheets.

“Look what’s happening,” she tells me as she gets off the bed and points to the blood that is slowly covering the bed and has left a crimson stain on her white hospital lab coat. “Is this real enough for you?”

“Just go…I can’t do this Karen….please go.”

She must have heard the desperation in my voice as she quickly leaves the room forgetting to close the door.

“It’s okay baby Forest,” I tell him as I slowly stroke my stomach letting him know that things are going to be okay. I hear the sound of a baby crying and know that it can’t be mine. The cries grow louder and louder in my ears as my baby kicks violently against my hand as if he’s trying to stop the sound. “I know…let me close the door and things will be quiet again…You’ll see.”

Slowly I make my way across the room towards the door to the room. My gait is unsteady as I have to hold onto the bed, then the chair and finally the wall as I make my way across the room. Baby Forest has stopped his movement and is resting comfortably inside me safe from Bo.

The sharpness of the pain is unbearable and I know that’s something is very wrong with me, but I need to get out of this hospital and away from Bo. I can’t do this. I can’t and don’t want to make any decisions regarding my medical care, at least not here where he is. I’m not ready to face the sympathetic looks of doctors and nurses as they poke and prod me. I simply want to go home and lay in bed and dream of the day that John comes home to me. I don’t want to think about Bo or Hope, I don’t want to remember what he did to me, how he humiliated me, how he ruined my life. I don’t want to think about how he took my dignity from me and left with an inescapable feeling of shame.
More than anything I just want to stop feeling. I want to be alone. I want to be invisible.

Bo.

Slowly I remember fragments of my earlier dream about him. He’s coming for me and Forest and I have to stop him. I try to pick up my pace as the room starts spinning around me.

Bo.

He’s not going to take this child from me, not if I have anything to say about.

“Marlena.” Suddenly he’s in front of me reaching towards me with a look of concern on his face. “Let me help you.”

“No,” I tell him, not understanding what he’s doing here when he’s supposed to be in critical condition down the hall. I feel faint and have to struggle to move one foot in front of the other. Just another step I tell myself. “You are not going to take this child from me Bo.” I fall to the floor and feel him as he catches me in his arms lowering me to the floor.” I feel his hands as they move across my forehead as I struggle to open my eyes terrified of him and what his plans for me are. “Please don’t hurt me…please.” I cry out from the pain as it feels like my innards are being ripped out by someone’s bare hands. “Please don’t rape me again….” As I lose consciousness his face morphs into someone else’s.

Page 18 of 27
Daytime gives way to night as I stare at the bare walls that surround me. There’s a fogginess to my senses that prevents me from being fully aware of my surroundings. I know it’s the medication that I’m being sedated with but am helpless to stop the effects or stay awake long enough to object to the treatment.

Every so often I look up at the clock on the wall and see that another couple hours have passed. I have no idea how long I’ve been in this room and in this bed and I’m too tired to ask. I close my eyes and go to a happier place where I’m not alone.

My surgeon was in earlier to check his sutures and as he poked and prodded my body he explained my prognosis to Karen in technical terms he forgot I understood. Hemorrhaging, low oxygen count, placenta separation, possible brain damage, early labor, low birth weight were all words I caught and wanted to ask him about but the nurses injection of medication into my IV line prevented any coherent thought.

The pain in my abdomen is still present, but I no longer fear or worry for my child. I can feel my son move slowly inside me as he reaches out and explores his world. With John in jail I am the only one that can protect him and keep him safe and vow to do everything in my power to make sure that Bo never comes near him.

Although I’m grateful to be alive, I blame Karen though for her unmitigated gall and arrogance.

“You had no right to treat me,” I tell her angrily as she enters with a small white Dixie cup that I know contains medication. I’ve been waiting to question her for hours. If not for her own arrogance she’d have sent an intern or medical student to give me my medication. Her own sick curiosity keeps her coming back for more.

“Take these,” she tells me as she hands me the cup. Dutifully I place them one by one on the top of my tongue and swallow not bothering to take the cup of water contained in her other outstretched hand. I don’t want or need her help. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” I lie to her, not quite knowing why I can’t bring myself to be honest with her after everything. She knows things about me that I can’t even admit to myself yet here I lay and play games. My anger at her is misplaced but it’s the only true emotion that I’m feeling right now. I feel incredible rage in the pit of my stomach that scares me. I don’t know what’s driving it or where its coming from only that I want to hurt someone. She happens to be a very good target right now.

“You gave us quite a scare,” she tells me as she places the cup of water on the bedside table and then looks out the window. I can see her profile from the side, the long stands of her hair gleaming and shining in the light. I fleetingly touch my own dull and lifeless strands wishing that they were something more, wishing that I were more.

“I never asked for you to play my savior,” I tell her rudely as I drop my hand not wanting her to see what I was doing. I don’t know why I’m so angry or secretive with her when its myself I should be blaming; I refused medical treatment when I needed it the most

“I took the Hippocratic oath Marlena,” she scolds me like a child, the disbelief and annoyance in her voice evident. I’ve angered her and she doesn’t know what she should do with me.

“So…”

“So? You think I was going to let you lie there on the floor and bleed to death because of your own stupidity?” Her voice is raised and she still has yet to turn and face me. The psychiatrist in me can’t help but analyze her stance and choice of words. Classic avoidance issues that probably were learned in early adolescence. Why have I never noticed that about her before? I’ve known Karen for more than fifteen years and yet I never picked up on this particular piece of behavior. .

“Earth to Marlena,” she interrupts my analysis. “Are you even listening to what I’m saying? Did you expect me to let you die?”

“Yes,” I lie to her, knowing my every word is touching some raw nerve within her. I want her to get mad and yell at me and then go away. I don’t know what I want or expect her to say only that this wasn’t the way the conversation was supposed to go . My inner child beckons and taunts her demanding that she punish and scold me and tell me that I’m no good.

It takes her several long seconds to respond to me. “Give me a break,” she finally says as she places her hands on the window still and leans into it. “If you were in the same situation as I was you would have provided medical care.” Her voice and demeanor are somewhat softer which confuses me.

“I would have respected my patients wishes.” The medication is starting to take effect as the pain in my abdomen has lessened somewhat. It dawns on me that I never bothered to ask what she gave me, naively trusting her to do the right now.

“I promised to do no harm. To let you and your baby die would have been unconscionable.”

“That doesn’t give you permission to treat those that don’t want to be treated…”

“And allow you to keep making stupid choices? You may be angry with me now, but believe me in a couple weeks when you stop feeling so sorry for yourself and face reality you’ll be more than glad that I did something.”

“I’d respect you enough to respect your choices.” I’m truly glad that she saved me and my baby. I never wanted to lose the baby and I’m disappointed in myself that she thinks otherwise. I can see it in her face and with each movement she makes; she sees me as a victim and feels sorry for me. My base human need for love and acceptance prevents me from telling her such a simple thing as thank you and I’m sorry. Round and round I throw meaningless words and phrases at her trying to confuse her and throw her off while my self-hatred and loathing grows at an astonishing rate. I’ve become what I despise.

“What is this about?” she asks me as she finally turns and looks at me. There is a sadness to her face that’s hard to place.

“What?” I ask cluelessly as I give her my most innocent look. I want her to go away.

“This,” she asks she approaches the bed and looks down at me. “This Marlena.” Softly she takes my hand and clasps it between her warm ones. “Why are you doing this?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Cut the bullshit and be honest with yourself.” She says it so quickly and with so much anger that I don’t have time to conjure up a quick retort.

“I don’t know,” I whisper as I look at my pale hand clasped in hers. I want to stop being like this. I want to be able to trust and talk about all the conflicting emotions I feel inside but I can’t. I can’t let go of my hurt and pain long enough and it scares me more than I can admit that I’ll always feel this way.

“Finally an honest answer,” she tells me as she lets go of my hand. I feel my lip start to quiver and my legs start to shake even though it’s not cold in the room. “I think you do know Marlena,” she honestly tells me as she sits down in the light blue chair next to my bed and leans back and closes her eyes. “I understand your anger…okay maybe I don’t.”

I don’t know what to say to her and I don’t know what I want to her to say to me. I’m tired and angry and confused and scared. The moment that Bo raped me he took away a part of me that I think I’ve been subconsciously struggling to get back. The only issue is that I have no clue what I’m looking for only that I haven’t found it.

“I’m here if you need someone to talk to but I’m not going to force you to talk.”

I can only nod in understanding not knowing what else to say.

“I’m at a loss for what I can say to you to reach you….I get that you’re hurting and are scared, I really do….If I was in your situation I’d probably feel the exact same way….but I’m tired of reaching out to you only to be rebuked, yelled at or ignored.”

I can’t look at her and see the disappointment that I know is on her face. She’s supposed to get mad and yell at me, not to try and understand. It’s taking all my strength not to cry. As I try to build my inner strength I think of John and our baby. I can’t stop from shaking; my lip quiver quickly dissolves into my teeth chattering. I’m cold but I’m not.

“I’m not telling you this to hurt you Marlena….I just don’t know what else to do. The offer has always been there….when you want to talk, you know where to reach me.”

Silently she gets up from the chair and leaves the room. It’s not until after she’s gone that I allow myself the luxury to cry.

**********************************

“Doc,” Roman says with a smile as he enters my hospital room and presents me with a bouquet of sunflowers. He’s always so damn cheerful that I feel myself forcing a smile and emotions for him that aren’t genuine.

“Oh they’re beautiful Roman.” He sets them down on the bedside table before he leans into me and kisses me on the cheek. His lips are soft and breath warm against my cheek. His touch leaves me longing for John.

“You had us scared there pretty lady.” The bed creaks as he sits down beside me and instinctively takes my hand.

“I’m fine…you needn’t worry,” I try to reassure him as I remove my hand from his friendly grasp feeling like I’m betraying John. Why does it feel like everything I do when it comes to Roman is a betrayal?

“I’ll always worry about you.”

“Don’t.”

“That’s like asking me to do something as simple as to stop breathing.”

“I’m fine.” I blush uncomfortably at his overt affection towards me. His hand brushes over my legs as he leans down long enough to pick my medical chart up off the end of the bed giving me time to get my emotions back in check.

“So what did Dr. Bader say?” he finally asks as he opens my chart and starts looking though it with great interest.

“Excuse me,” I tell him as I take my records out of his hands and close them. I set the thick chart down on the other side of the bed and out of his reach.

“Sorry….old habit.” .

“Roman, we’ve been divorced for more than thirteen years. My medical history ceased being your business a long time ago.”

“But you’re not just an ex-wife of mine and I think you know that….what we have is special…” He suddenly stops his sentimental journey before I have to. I’m in no mood to rehash the past with him. “So what’s the verdict?”

“I’ll live.”

“Seriously Doc.”

“I’m serious.”

“Okay, let me ask you it this way. What happened to make you pass out? I gotta tell you…one minute I’m at the station and the next minute I get a call from Sami telling me that you’re in bad shape and undergoing surgery….”

“It wasn’t quite that dramatic.”

“That’s not what I heard from the nurses….rumor is that you refused treatment and flatlined once.” He’s looking at me with that look he gets, like he’s looking for a sign of dishonestly. It used to bug the hell of out me when we were married and divorce only made it worse.

“I guess it must be a slow day for the nurses because I can reassure that there wasn’t that much drama involved.” I feel compelled to lie to him for some reason that I can’t explain to myself. I want to make him mad and angry so that he’ll leave me alone and stop trying to psychoanalyze me. He’s honestly worse than John is in that department.

“Then tell me what happened,” he pleads, his Midwestern twang more exaggerated than normal. Looking at him it’s hard for me to see my life as it used to be, my life before John. With every word of desperation on his tongue I feel guilty that I can’t reciprocate his feelings. I don’t want to be a shallow bitch; I want to be the nice, kind and understanding Marlena that I once was. “I need to know that you are going to be okay,” he continues as I force myself to smile and listen to his heartfelt plea. “Honestly Doc I don’t know what I’d do if anything ever happened to you.” His reliance on me causes me unease. I can no longer be what he wants me to be when I can barely be myself anymore. I see the concern in his eyes along with hopeful optimism. He thinks I am more than I am.

“I’ll be fine.”

“That’s not what the doctors are saying.”

His mention of my doctors sets me off, “Oh my god Roman,” I blurt out in anger. “Please tell me that you didn’t go and violate doctor patient confidentiality with your questions.”

“Guilty as charged.” There is a smugness underlying his concern. He honestly thinks that my life is still his business.

“It’s none of your damn business…you do realize that don’t you?” My cavalier attitude quickly changes with his latest invasion of privacy.

“Someone has to look out for your own best interest because for some reason you and John seem incapable of it.”

I really want to hit him for saying that, I really do. I cannot believe his arrogance and attitude. “Don’t go there Roman…do not go there,” I warn him. He’s supposed to be the one getting mad at me and here I am the one with the anger issue.

“It’s true.”

“Don’t talk about things and make assumptions when you have absolutely no clue what you’re talking about.”

“I think I have a better grasp on what’s real and what you need right now than you do.”

“You have absolutely no idea and if the whole purpose of this visit was to piss me off then congratulations, you’ve succeeded,” I tell him in anger as I try to get out of the bed and as far away from him as possible.

“Calm down Marlena….It’s not good for the baby,” he paternalistically tells me as he grabs my arm and holds onto me.

“Why the hell do you care?” I jerk my arm out of his grasp as I swing my legs over the side of the bed hoping to connect with the floor. The coldness of the bare floor against my bare feet is a shock to my system. My instinct is to get back in bed and curl up under the warm covers but I refuse to show any sign of weakness to Roman. One slip in my armor and he’ll never leave.

“I care about you and its part of you,” he says with a little too much tenderness. Almost thirty years of history together is hard to erase, as we both seem to comfortably fall into our old roles. I’ll always be the adulterer and Roman the aggrieved innocent one. He plays his part a little too well.

“It’s not an it,” I say rudely wanting to hurt him. “It’s John’s son.”

A look of sadness quickly passes over his face, gone as soon as I delivered the blow. “Get in bed Marlena…I can tell that you’re cold and uncomfortable.”

“I’m fine,” I tell him through clenched teeth as I shuffle my feet towards the window. I feel dizzy and faint but am determined to get as far away from him as possible.

“No you’re not….Dr. Bader says that you need to find a way to decrease your stress or you’ll go into premature labor.” Another betrayal from my good friend is all I need right now. What else did she tell him? Another reminder of how all those that are supposed to protect me have failed me. John should be here with me right now, yet he’s selfishly sitting in a cell doing what he thinks is best for me. Funny thing that he never asked.

“And your point?” I ask him rudely, not wanting to have this discussion with him.

“I’m concerned about you.”

“As you’ve already stated.”

“Yes I have, but you don’t seem to be getting it….this is serious.” The man talking to me is not the man I once loved and married. This is the man that never got over losing me to another man that is finally working through his issues at an inopportune time. I want to kick him out but owe it to him to at least see this conversation to an end. He so richly deserves the closure to our relationship that he never had before. Maybe if he just had the opportunity to say what he wants to say he’ll finally let me go.

“I’m well aware of that Roman and I really don’t need a lecture from you of all people.”

“If you’d just tell me what happened between John and Bo this could all end…”

“Don’t even start Roman…Don’t,” I warn him angrily as I grab onto the window sill for support, assuming the pose that Karen took earlier.

“I just want to help you.”

“No you don’t…you want to use me to get information that will help your brother. It’s eating you up inside that you have no clue what happened and that John’s not answering your questions….if he was you wouldn’t be here….At least be man enough to admit it.”

“I do care Marlena….I’ll always care for you, you know that…Why are you being like this?

“Like what? Acting like a normal person would when their privacy is invaded and their ex-husband interrogates them?” I can’t do this to him, I can’t destroy his family and his relationship with his brother and I can’t destroy my family anymore. When is it going to be enough?

“That’s not what I was doing….”

“Oh its not? Funny, my recollection is ‘here’s some flowers Marlena, now tell me what’s wrong.”

“You’re sarcasm isn’t appreciated….what’s happened to you? “ I can hear the bed creak as he gets up off of it and walks toward me.

“Nothing.”

“No something has,” he says in a low tone as he touches my shoulders. I instinctively shirk out of his grasp. “You’ve been secretive, paranoid and argumentative for months….now that I think about it this goes back months to when John was acting all weird and accusing you of cheating on him…”

“Stop Roman…”

“No please hear me out….Doc, are you and John having marital problems and you don’t feel that you can talk to anyone about it?”

He’s touching me again and I want nothing more than to scream. I try practicing my meditative breathing techniques and imagine its John’s hands. “Don’t Roman….”

“That’s it isn’t it….I don’t know why I didn’t see it before….John thinks you cheated on him, hell he’s made a point of calling you some not so nice names in the past….”

“Don’t…”

“Only one thing would drive John to try to kill someone and that’s you…if he thought you were unfaithful he’d go after the man you were unfaithful with….when he found out that you were pregnant with my baby he attacked me…is that what happened Doc? Did John think you and Bo had an affair and that’s why he shot Bo?”

I feel faint, like my world is slowly closing in around me. Time seems to move in slow motion as I turn around and face him wanting to set the record straight. I can hear the ticking sound as the minute hand moves on the wall clock. “It’s….It’s…It’s,” I try to get out but am unable to.

“Oh my god…it’s true…you slept with my brother.”

I’m unable to respond to him and his accusation, stunned that he is putting words to the shame I feel. I want to scream and cry and yell that I was raped by his bastard of a brother but I can’t.

“You did it…John was right to call you a whore….after everything that’s happened between us I never thought you’d stoop so low as to fuck my brother.” His use of such crass language is shocking and out of character and I’m at a loss as to how to end this conversation.

I close my eyes and wish that I was invisible. Once he put the pieces that he needed to put together in his mind it was over. I was no longer the saintly ex-wife, I was the whore. This wasn’t about me; this was about him and his inadequacies as a man.

“Say something dammit,” he screams. “Defend yourself and tell me that I’m wrong and that you didn’t fuck him…..HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME?” He’s grabbing me by the shoulders and shaking me back and forth like a doll.

“I…..I….I….I.”

“Stop stuttering and tell me the truth for once in your life,” he threatens me as he lets go of me, the disdain he feels written all over his face. He sees me as a whore.

My legs start to shake uncontrollably and I know that it’s a matter of seconds before I lose my balance.

“Answer me,” he screams as I fall into his arms. “Answer me…how could you do this to me?”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper not knowing what else to say and too much in shock to set the record straight. He holding onto me tight and I feel his tears against my cheek.

“You were supposed to be only mine,” he cries into my hair, his voice but a whisper. “Only mine….how could you sleep with my little brother? Was it because of Hope and John’s affair? Is that it? A little revenge, my feelings be damned?”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper over and over as I comfort him. I’ve destroyed his world and he doesn’t even know it.

“Why Marlena, Why?”

I have no answer for him and can offer him no solace. He runs his fingers through my hair as he forces me to look at him.

“Tell me the truth please,” he says tenderly as he holds my face with one hand and wipes my tears away with the other.

I can only look at him afraid of what he’s going to ask.

“Is that baby you’re carrying Bo’s?”

Turning around I walk away from him and his questions.

“Marlena,” he says softly as he places his hand on my arm to stop me. “Please….I need to know.”

“Please leave,” I beg him. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

He’s angry with me once again. “Your silence speaks volume…When you cheated on me with John I thought I’d seen the worst in you.” Back and forth his finger moves in front on my face as his other hand grips my upper arm tightly. “This I tell you takes the cake and makes your and John’s little affair look saintly….this takes the cake…this is priceless….you my dear are a damn whore and I never thought I’d see the day where I felt hatred towards you, but surprise, surprise…I DESPISE YOU.” Drops of his spit hit my face as he screams at me but I’m too numb to react.

“Roman,” I cry out as I try to tell him the truth. I need to tell him the truth, my dignity be damned. “He….”

“I don’t give a damn,” he interrupts me. “You and John deserve each other…”

“It’s not what you think,” I interrupt him as I grab onto his hand.

“I can promise you this,” he starts to tell me as he lets go of my arm and hand, hatred and disgust in his eyes. “If that baby is Bo’s there is no way I’m going to let you raise him.”

“Roman….”

“No,” he interrupts me as he backs away from me. “I’m finished with you.” Quickly he turns around and exits the room, slamming the door behind him.

Page 19 of 27
Slowly I make my way to the bed, the sequence of events too much even for me to handle.  The rage and hatred Roman displayed towards me was uncharacteristic and frightening.

As I sit down on the bed and slowly bring my bare legs up on the mattress it’s pointingly obvious that as much as I like to think I know Roman I really don’t. Did I only see what I wanted to see all these years?  Could John say the same of me?

I’m too tired to cry.  I diagnose myself as clinically depressed but don’t have the strength to fight my feelings of despair.  Slowly I lay down and pray that sleep will take me quickly and deliver me to a place where I no longer hurt.

But God has other plans for me as sleep alludes me and I’m left with memories of what once was.  I would give anything right now for John to be holding me tightly and telling me everything is going to be okay. I miss the warmth of his fingers as they used to hold mine.  I miss his tender kisses and constant affirmations that I mean everything to him. I miss the comfortable silence between us as we used to read in bed at night. I miss my friend.  Concrete and bars separate us and if Roman has his way it will be forevermore.

I’m unable to find a comfortable place to lay in this bed and the more that I toss and  turn the more that I’m reminded of what I’ve lost. A few errant tears of frustration make their way slowly down my face.  I’m no longer the proud strong woman who would’ve done almost anything to hide my pain. Openly I weep for what I once was. Shame has a face and its mine.  The more I’ve tried to hide what I feel the more exposed I am.

Mama used to tell me when I was little that which didn’t kill us makes us stronger.  Somewhere inside of me I’ve got to find the strength to believe her. I don’t want to be weak and helpless.  I don’t want one horrible act to define me; a rape victim is not who I am.

The crisp white sheets in the bed cover my vulnerability as I lay on my side.  Trying to take my mind off of this series of almost tragic events I allow myself a moment of respite.  Slowly I stroke my swollen belly wishing my child the opportunity to grow up in a safe world, a world free from predators and danger. I’m afraid to place too much hope on my baby, not wanting to unfairly place him in the role of my savior.  But that’s what he’s become in a way, regardless of what I feel for the man that may or may not be his father.

I’m tired of feeling this way, as if my world is coming to a rapidly swirling end.  I’m tired of being minimized by others. I’m tired of my feelings coming far behind those of others.   I’ve put everyone else far in front of me; Sami, Belle, John, Caroline, Roman, Don, Samantha, Carrie, Maggie and Mickey, Hope and even Stefano and Bo.  Even Bo. Just thinking about him makes me long for John even more.
I’m angry with what he tried to destroy, but I’m even angrier at myself for not seeing the dangerous path I trapaised along for so long.  

Why do I always feel like I deserve less than everyone else?  I advised countless patients about self esteem and self worth.  When I was preaching why could I never hear my message? Why is it now at my lowest point that I have the most clarity?

Everything in my life has come to this moment and tell the story of who I am. Getting up off the bed I know what I have to do.

*************

“I needed to see you,” I whisper as I quickly glance around the room making sure that no one can see me or hear what I’m about to say.  I’m ashamed to be standing before him, the mangled mass of lines, drains and tubes crisscrossing the bed shelter him from me. He looks so fragile, so human before me, no longer the monster he is in my dreams.  

A loud beep of his monitor belies the reality of the situation.  This is not my friend before me.

I don’t know why I’m here facing my demons only that it seems the right thing to do. I stand several feet away from him, afraid to move any closer.  Whispering loudly I look around once again to make sure I’m not overheard. “I need for you to wake up.” My motivation conflicts me.

The monitor beeps louder and a cursory glance at it tells me that his blood pressure is rising.  I’m drawn to the blinking lights of the machine and the digital lines as they move up and down. It’s easier for me to watch the machine than look at him.

“I need for you to be okay,” I tell him softly.  The smell of disinfectant and antiseptic is almost overpowering.  Everything is sterile in this environment except for me.

Beep.  Beep. Beep.  170 over 90. His blood pressure seems to have steadied but I’m almost afraid to keep watching it.  Like a moth to a flame I am drawn to the monitor as if it were really him.

“I don’t care what motivation you find in your heart to wake up…whatever it takes…”  I sneak a look down at him which is a huge mistake. I have to close my eyes to prevent  sympathy and guilt from overwhelming me. He had this coming, right?

Beep.  Beep. Beep.  His heart monitor meticulously tracks the life within him.  With each beep I feel guilty that I’m here internally raging at him and wishing him dead.  I’m not God and neither is John and it isn’t my place to judge him for his actions, but why do I feel happy and sad at the same time?  I’m not supposed to have thoughts like this. I’m supposed to be the one that quietly keeps it together.

Judge not, and ye shall not be judged: condemn not, and ye shall not be condemned, forgive, and ye shall be forgiven.  The words of the father repeat over and over in a loop in my head.

I want to judge and tell him that he had this coming but a lifetime of Catholicism is hard to ignore.  “Vengeance is mine saith the lord,” I mutter to myself. Sometimes God doesn’t punish those that should be.  I have to stop this, stop seeking revenge.

“I need for you to wake up and clear John,” I tell him in a louder tone as I finally approach his bed.  I intended to yell and scream at him and tell him how I feel but I’m strangely at peace seeing him in this situation.  He can’t hurt me anymore.

He deserved what he got, right?  I’m the victim, not him, I remind myself.  I see his face as he came inside of me and it’s all the motivation I need to stop this pathetic line of thinking.  “You want me to feel sorry for you…you want me to,” I tell him. “I don’t,” I seethe at him surprised at the harshness of my tone.  “I despise you with every fiber of my being. I can’t get the smirk on his face before he passed out on top of me out of my head. I can feel his hands as the move along my body even though I know its not real.  It’s been months since he violated me but it still seems in my head that it was yesterday. As hard as I try I’m unable to let go of my anger and pain.

Beep.  Beep. Beep.  The sound echo’s off the bare walls of the room and I’m unsure if it’s actually louder or it’s just me.   I want to look at the monitor but I can’t. I don’t want to know that I’m the cause of his heart rate or blood pressure increasing.  I need to finish what I came to say so that I can leave.

“I know that you can hear me….I know that you’re in there….I just want all this to be over….I want John home…..”

“Marlena,” Hope interrupts me.  

Slowly I turn around to face her, a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.  She’s the last person that I wanted to see. I instinctively draw my gown tighter around me.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

 

“I’m fine.” I mutter as I move towards the door.  I have yet to look her in the eyes and don’t think that I have the strength to.

“Don’t go,” she says as she places her hand on my arm.  “I wanted to talk to you.”

“I really need to get back to my room.”

“Please.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” I tell her coldly, not meaning for it to come out as it did.

“No time is ever going to be a good time,” she tells me.  “I need to understand what happened between Bo and John.”

Goose bumps cover the skin on my arms as I pull my hand out of her grasp.  There’s unsteadiness in my stance as I try to internally process what I’m feeling.   A good response escapes me and I can’t do anything but shake my head no.

“You are like a sister to me Marlena…”

“Don’t Hope…please don’t ask me about it.  I can’t talk to you about this…not right now.”

“My husband is lying here in critical condition….look at him Marlena…John and Bo are best friends…I need to know what happened.”

“I wasn’t there.”

“But you know.”

“I have an idea,” I lie to her picturing in my mind exactly what happened.  Being with John for so long has in a way made me a defacto expert.

“Please Marlena….no one will tell me anything.  I don’t even know if he’s going to live or not.”

I want to tell her I’m sorry but I’m not.  I’m sorry for what she is going through but not him.  

“Say something,” she pleads with me in a softer tone, her brown eyes brimming with tears.  “Please….no one will talk to me.”

“You have Caroline and Shawn,” I tell her.

“They are my in-laws, they wouldn’t understand.”

“Roman?” I suggest.  Saying his name hurts and I have to fight back my tears.

“He doesn’t want to talk to me.  He’s so hell bent on making John pay that he hasn’t even been by to see Bo since he was brought in.”  I feel a twinge of guilt in that Roman has taken the time to see me several times yet hasn’t seen his brother.

“I’m sorry.”

Brushing her hair out of her eyes, she closes her eyes for a brief second as if she’s deep in thought.  I wait patiently not wanting to end the conversation when she is so clearly hurting but also not wanting to be a further source of her pain.  “Did you ever think we’d be in this situation?” she asks me.

“No,” I admit truthfully.  “I just want things back the way they were.”

“So do I,” she says wistfully, “So do I.”  I watch her as she walks to Bo’s bedside and tenderly brushes the side of his face.  “Is your baby alright? I heard you had quite a scare.”

“We’ll be fine,” I admit.

“What was wrong?”

“Nothing that a little bed rest and a little less stress won’t cure.”  No one needs to know the full horror of the situation and how I foolishly and stubbornly came close to losing the baby.  Dr. Bader assures me that the surgery to sew my cervix shut was successful and that as long as I take it easy I shouldn’t have a problem carrying the baby to term.  I’ve been given a second and third chance with little Forrest and am determined not to jeopardize his life.

“You had us all worried.  Roman and Caroline were frantic…”

I cut her off not wanting to hear about Roman. “We’re fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“Are they releasing you soon?”

“In a couple of days I’ll be going home.”

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?  If you’d like you could come and stay with me….” She starts to say and then stops, aware of her faux pas.  “I’m sorry.”

“No harm intended….you and I both know that it wouldn’t be the best idea.”

“Regardless of what’s happened with our husbands I don’t want to lose you as a friend.”

“We’ll see,” I tell her as I move towards the door, not wanting to promise her anything.

“Can I come and see you sometime?” she asks.

“Sure…..look, I have to go back to my room before Dr. Bader discovers I’m gone.”   
“Stay safe,” she says before she embraces me tightly.

Making my way out of the room I’m more conflicted than ever.

*****

“I owe you an apology man,” Roman says, indignation in his voice. I’m not in the mood to see Roman or anyone else but I need to know that Marlena is okay.

“For what?” I ask him as I adjust the chains that secure my wrists.  For some reason I’ve been deemed a huge threat. I know that Roman’s doing to because he can.  Maybe he thinks with the constant pressure I’ll crack and tell him what happened, but too damn bad because that’s not going to happen.

“After all this time….After all these years I thought it was you man, I thought it was you.” He sits down in the chair in front of me.  The sound of the metal chair legs scrapping against the concrete floor grate on my nerves. I haven’t had a good night of sleep in almost two months and am tiring of one judicial delay after another on the part of the Salem Police Department.

“Skip to the chase pal….skip to the chase.”

“She is a piece of work….a piece of work,” he tells me as he stretches his fingers out on the table in front of him. “She flips her perfectly styled hair or points a manicured finger in the direction of any man and like idiots we come running.”  He laughs inappropriately and I can do nothing but sit and wait for the awkwardness to end.

“Don’t Roman…this is my wife you’re talking about.”

“And my former wife….why didn’t I see her for what she was?” he asks himself.

“Has something happened?” I ask as I’m increasingly alarmed by this bizarre conversation.  Roman has always been Marlena’s greatest advocate and something must have happened to make him say these untrue and cruel things.

“Uh yeah,” he says the disgust evident on his face. “You shot my brother because of her.”

“I shot your brother,” I repeat to him, not giving him the satisfaction of knowing the true reason.

“Give it up Black…give it up…I know why you shot him.”

“You don’t know shit Roman, so stop speculating and probing.”  It’s obvious that Roman is mad at Marlena for some reason but if something was wrong he would have told me.

“I know everything John…Everything,” he screams at me as he abruptly gets up from his chair, pushing it back.  “Everything.”

“You know nothing Roman.”

“My dear ex wife has exposed herself for what she is…a woman who does what she wants without thinking about anyone else’s feeling.”

“Stop Roman,” I tell him as I attempt to get up from the chair.  I forget that my legs are shackled to the chair as well and I’m unsuccessful in my attempts to move.

“No….I’m tired of this….I’m tired of her.  It’s because of her that my brother may die and that’s something that I will never forgive either of you for.  NEVER.”

“You don’t know what you are talking about…”

“Shut-up,” he interrupts me.  “Just shut the hell up….I know more than I want to know.  I know Marlena for the whore she is.” His eyes have a glazed over look and its apparent to me that he has lost all sense of reality.  He is in the zone where testosterone is pumping through his veins at an alarming rate controlling his motivations.

“Pal…Don’t talk about my wife that way,” I warn him, the blood boiling in my skin.  I strain against the chains as they dig into my skin. No one gets away with talking about my wife that way.

“It’s true,” he says with disgust.  “I always thought that you were the one that sought her and took her away from me never realizing all along that it was her.  She was the one that went after you.”

“What?” I ask him confused by this turn of events. Why the hell is he reliving old history?

“I should have seen it but I was blinded by her beauty never believing that she had it in her.”

“What is your point Roman?” I ask him in annoyance.  “Seriously, why did you come here?”

“I wanted to see your face when I outed her for what she is. I swear to you that if that baby she is carrying belongs to Bo neither of you will be raising it, he will get his child.”  I feel the coldness of his stare but am confused as to how to respond. I want to hit him but can’t.

“The look on your face tells me everything,” he continues.  “Was it worth it? Was it worth it” he screams as he grabs my face roughly with his hand, his face now inches from mine.  Moving my hands and feet I try to move out of his grasp but the chains make it impossible. “Was it worth shooting my innocent brother just because Marlena is incapable of remaining faithful?” I close my eyes as I feel his spittle hit my face, the taste of stale coffee on his breath.   

“Yes,” I seethe as I feel the pain of his fist as it split the skin above my eye.

Page 20 of 27
Guilt follows me.  Everywhere I turn, every conversation I have inevitably comes back to me and what I allowed to happen.  

My conversation with Hope replays in my head and the more time that passes the worse I feel that I’m incapable of providing her with some bit or solace, some explanation.  

Slowly I move though my life as if nothing happened, as if I’m the same person knowing deep inside that everything about me is different.  

Slowly I fasten the top two buttons on my crème colored silk button down.  I smooth the fabric over my growing stomach as I tuck the ends into my black maternity pants.  I’m not much larger than I was a couple of months ago but Dr. Bader assures me that the baby is healthy and thriving.  I have such dreams and hopes for this baby, plans that include John in our lives and not behind bars.

It’s been almost two months since John shot Bo, one of the most trying times of my life.  I’ve struggled to understand my own reaction to the situation, contemplating when I became “weak” and “helpless”.  In retrospect my weakness is a derivative of my failure to accept what was happening to me all along. I was raped by someone that I loved and trusted implicitly.   This kind of rape isn’t supposed to happen; we weren’t out on a date and he’s not a stranger. I’m angry and embarrassed that it happened to me, but I’m also incredibly sad that in one selfish two minute act of pleasure for him he destroyed more relationships than he knows.  If he was awake I’d ask him if it was worth it. Hope said that he’s still in a coma, and honestly as a doctor I even stumped as for a medical reason why he hasn’t woken up. Perhaps it’s his own guilt from what he did that’s keeping him from facing the cold hard facts; right or wrong he brought this on himself.  

Today I’ll sit across from John in the witness stand as the defense tries to force me into testifying against John as to what happened that fateful evening.  I’ll invoke my Fifth Amendment rights and claim spousal privilege and step down from the stand giving them nothing. I’m prepared for the looks, stares and whispers of Roman and Abe and all the other people in the town that are caught between our families.  I care, but I don’t; keeping my family intact is the only thing that’s driving me. John, me and our baby. No one and nothing else can matter right now.

Slowly I’ll nod my head acknowledging them with a wistful smile while secretly hating them for not supporting me in my hour of need.  Hate is a strong word which doesn’t quite explain how I feel. I know that I’ve been difficult and aloof and not the easiest person to get along with in the last six months but how could they not have seen that something was wrong.  Did they not care enough to notice? Grabbing my brush I quickly run it through my hair before I fasten it tightly into a ponytail holder. A minimal dab of lipstick and powder on my face completes the mask that I’ll wear.

***********************************************************************************

It’s been weeks since I’ve seen her and I’m unprepared for my body’s physical reaction.    She walks into the room and it’s as if the light has suddenly been turned on for me. No matter what happens, how bad things are, there is always hope when I’m around Marlena.

She glances over at me and smiles as she walks up to the stand and takes her seat.  I’m probably smiling at her like a big goofball but it doesn’t matter; she moves me to be a better person and to rise above all the shit that’s going on around us.

“Please state your name for the record?” the uptight prosecutor demands of Marlena.  I’ve had enough of this clown. For the past two weeks I’ve had to listen to him ask idiotic questions that I’m sure he took directly from the book “Prosecution 101 for Dummies”.  She looks directly at me as she answers.

“Dr. Marlena Evans Black,” she tells him emphasizing black.  I wonder if she’s spotted Sami, Belle and Eric hiding in the back row.  Belle told me earlier that Marlena called them last night and asked that they not be here, but she felt that she needed to be here.  I know that the girls worry about their mother and for them to call Eric and ask him to come must mean that they feel that she’s in a much more fragile state than she’s letting on.

“For the record, please raise your right hand and repeat after me.”

Slowly she raises her hand with a look of annoyance on her face.  Marlena takes her integrity very seriously and to be asked to do something like swear on the record suggests otherwise.  It should be a given that you are telling the truth; you shouldn’t have to be asked to.

“Under due oath I promise to tell the truth.”

“Under due oath I promise to tell the truth,” she repeats with all seriousness.

“Where were you on the night of….”

“Objection,” my attorney yells as he stands up and throws his arms in the air.  “The prosecution knows that Dr. Black is the spouse of my client and does not have to testify.  She is here for a mere formality and will be invoking her right not to have to testify.”

“I will allow the question,” the judge replies as he adjusts his glasses. “Please answer the question Dr. Black.  If there is a question you don’t wish to respond to because you feel it may incriminate your husband or yourself you do not have to.  Do you understand?”

“Yes,” she says as she nods her head.  “I have no problem telling the truth, I was at home.”  What the hell is she doing? She’s not suppose to be answering any questions.

“Dr. Evans, please wait for the full question.  You don’t know what night I was referring to.”

“It’s a moot point.  If it’s at night, nine times out of ten I’m going to be at my house and if I’m not at my house it’s because I’m on a business trip or vacation.”

“The evening of June 24, where were you.”

“At home.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Yes.”

“Was your husband Mr. Black at home with you.”

I can see the slip in her armor and the brief look of panic on her face as she struggles to respond.  “Yes.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Yes I am.”

“May I remind the jury that Police commissioner Roman Brady previously testified that when he went over to the Black household on the night of June 24, John Black was not there.”

“You didn’t ask me if he was there all night and in the morning,” Marlena tells him matter of factly.  This directness is not uncharacteristic, just not something that she normally shows unless push comes to shove.  For the district attorney that means Marlena is pissed.

“What time did Mr. Black leave your apartment?”

“I don’t know…I honestly don’t know.”

“What was his state of mind when he left?”

“If I don’t know what time he left how am I supposed to know his state of mind?” she quickly retorts.

“Okay, let me rephrase that,” he states as he walks in front of the jury box and poses for them; chest all jutted out.  He’s trying to paint me out to be this out of control redneck from the back hills of Kentucky while he’s this well educated lawyer that would never try to convict someone that’s not guilty. “You stated earlier that Mr. Black was at home with you sometime on the night of June 24.  What were you doing that night?”

“Talking,” she tells him and then pauses as if deep in thought.  “I don’t know….doing the sorts of things normal people do.”

“Normal people don’t leave the comforts of their house in the middle of the night and attempt to kill someone else.”

“Objection,” my attorney yells, “The prosecution is speculating for the jury.”

“Mr. Barnes, please refrain from speculating.  There is a time for that and it’s in your opening and closing arguments.”

“I apologize your honor,” he says as he tries to kiss the juries ass as he shrugs sheepishly at them.  Turning his head, his beady little eyes focus on Marlena. “What is your relationship with Bo and Hope Brady?”

It takes Marlena a couple of seconds to respond and I can tell that she’s struggling to find the words that she wants to say to try to make sense of a complicated relationship.  If I could take her place on the stand I would. I feel awful that she’s having to go through this trial but after my confrontation with Roman in the jail there was no way that I was going to plead guilty and let the bastard Brady clan get away with it.  I promised Marlena that I would keep her secret regarding Bo but that’s it. Bo deserves what he had coming to him; he’s a rapist. So I shot his dick to prevent him from raping another woman? So what? I should be given a medal, not put on trial for attempted murder.  

“Hope is one of my best friends and used to be my sister in law.”

“Used to be?”

“I was formerly married to Roman Brady,” she says offering nothing more and leading the jury to make the connection between Roman and Bo.

“So Bo Brady was your brother in law?”

“Yes.”

“How many years were you married to Roman?”

“Almost ten years,” she answers as I can see her doing to math in her head.  Most of those years where when she was held in captivity by Orpheus but that is neither here nor there.

“Ten years…that’s a long time…Did you have children with Mr. Brady?”

“Roman?” she asks.

“Of course, that would be silly of me to suggest that you’d have children with your brother in law Bo Brady,” Mr. Barnes responds to Marlena’s question as he leans into the jury box and laughs.  

“I have two children with Roman,” Marlena answers with a slight quiver in her voice.  I can tell his statement has rattled her significantly only he’s too much of a pompous ass to pick up on it.  I hope.

“How lovely.  Do you have any other children?”

“Yes.”

“Could you please tell me their names and who their father is?”

“Objection your honor,” my attorney states once again.  “What is the relevance of this line of questioning? That information is public already and it doesn’t take Mr. Barnes putting my clients’ wife on the stand to ask it.  He’s fishing for information or harassing the witness….Mrs. Black; don’t answer the question if you don’t want. “

I can’t see the look on his face, but I’m concerned at the man’s proximity to Marlena.  She’s looking over at the judge for help, as Mr. Barnes places his right hand on the wooden stand in front of her.  “Judge Cortez,” Mr. Barnes tells the judge, the annoyance in his voice obvious. “I will show how this line of questioning is completely relevant in a couple minutes.”

“You’d better because I am growing weary of this….Objection overruled, answer the question Mrs. Black,” Judge Cortez tells her with nary a glance in her direction.  This whole trial is beginning to piss me off as its becoming obvious that the judge is on the side of the prosecution.

“I had a son DJ that died, his father was Don Craig and I have a daughter Isabella with John.”

“And you are pregnant now, correct?”

“Yes.”

“And who is the father of this baby?”

“You bastard,” I yell at him as I struggle to stand in my chair.  The leg irons that imprison me under my suit cafe against my skin.  If I could, I would choke the man for even insinuating that my baby is anyone else’s.

My attorney places his hand on my shoulder to keep me from struggling as he states in anger, “Objection, Mr. Barnes is badgering the witness.”

“Mr. Barnes, this is your last warning,” the judge sternly tells him. I can see Marlena struggling to keep her composure as she looks over at me; a plea for help in her eyes.  This line of questioning is too close to home for her.

“I apologize your honor, but the answer to this question is important.  The prosecution will show that Mr. Black attempted to murder Bo Brady when he found out that his wife and Mr. Brady were having an affair.”

“What?”  Marlena gasps as panic clouds her face.  Chaos erupts in the courtroom as disbelief, astonishment and scandal fill the minds of those attending.  Roman fucking Brady is behind this and he is going to pay. Looking back to my immediate right, he’s sitting smugly in a seat right behind the prosecution, a look of pure satisfaction on his face.  

“Order in the court,” the judge demands as he bangs his gavel up and down on the dais.  “Order in the court. Let me remind you that this is a court and not a circus. Mr. Barnes I don’t know what you are pulling here, but the time to have stated your theory was at the beginning of this trial not right now, not when you have the defendant’s wife on the stand. ““You do realize if you fail to prove your theory that this is grounds for a mistrial, not to mention slander on your part?”

“I can more than prove that Dr. Evans and Bo Brady had an affair,” he says as he moves away from Marlena and towards the jury.

“How are you going to prove that when Mr. Brady is in a coma?” My attorney demands.

“Medical evidence….plain and simple….medical evidence.”  He’s totally playing it up for the jury making everything seem more dramatic than it is.

“What medical evidence?” I shout out. “There is no medical evidence because it didn’t happen and you know it you bastard.  That is my child that my wife,” I tell him as I accentuate the word wife, “is carrying. No one else’s…got that pal?”

“Mr. Black,” the judge warns me, “If you continue to have outbursts like this you’ll be removed from the court.

“Stop allowing that bastard to question my wife like that then.”

“Mr. Black, this is your last warning.  One more outburst and you will be removed.  I move for a two minute recess. Mr. Barnes, I’d like to talk you for a minute.”

“My client apologizes,” my lawyer tells him and then leans down and whispers to me, “Just shut up John or you will be removed.  This is not a judge that you want to play games with.”

“I don’t care,” I whisper to him. “No one is going to talk to my wife like that.  Why is she even answering his questions? Make her stop.”

“The time for her to stop was at the beginning, like I discussed with her.  She was supposed to take the fifth then, not now. Because this is a jury trial we have to contend with the opinion of those twelve folks sitting to the left of us…they are looking for a sign that what prosecutor Barnes is saying is true, that this is some sorrid love triangle gone array…They are watching Marlena carefully for any hint of weakness.  She needs to answer as many questions as she can now so it doesn’t look like you’re hiding anything. The more honest and straightforward she comes across the better off you are.”

“I don’t like putting her though this.  Look at her man. She’s barely holding it together.”

“She’s doing great John…I promise you that I’ll stop the questioning and will get her to invoke her fifth amendment right if it looks as if she’s going to incriminate herself or  you. I have to tell you that if you’d be honest with me and tell me what happened between you and Bo Brady it would be a lot easier to represent you.”

“I appreciate it, but as I told you earlier, its between me and Bo.”

“You know that you’re making your trial harder than it has to be…I’ve known you for years John and have represented the company in numerous trials, I don’t get why you won’t tell me.”

“I have my reasons,” I tell him as I look up to see the tail end of a conversation that the judge is having with prosecutor Barnes.  I don’t know what was said, but Marlena nods her head.

“Dr. Evans,” Mr. Barnes asks her, “Who is the father of your baby?”

“My husband,” she tells him coldly, then looks over at me and smiles.

He stops for a moment and stands in front of her.  I know that the bastard wants to question her further but dares not to.  “How would you describe your marriage?”

“As a good one,” she responds without thought.

“Do you and your husband fight?”

“Of course, show me a marriage where the parties don’t fight.”

“Would you say that you fight more or less than other couples that you know?”

“I wouldn’t know, as it’s not something I discuss with my friends.”

“Why is that?”

“I believe that what goes on in a marriage should stay in that marriage.”

“Including when one party has an affair?”

“Objection,” my attorney yells, “What is the relevance of this?  If Dr. Barnes wants Dr. Black’s professional opinion on something perhaps he ought to call her as an expert witness in the area of marriage and family therapy and not as the spouse of the man on trial.”

“I agree.  Mr. Barnes, please keep your questions relevant to this trial at hand.”

“Dr. Evans, how far along are you?”

“Six months.”

“Six months?  Really?”

“Yes.”

“How old are you?”

“Why is my age relevant?”

“Please answer the question.”

“I’m fifty years old.”

“Was this baby planned?”

“Of course….what did you think that this baby was an accident?” she asks him, the anger in her voice evident.  I know that she’s trying to remain calm and collected but seems to be having a tough time doing so.

“Is it true that you refused to have a paternity test done of this child?”

“I can see from your wedding band that you are married,” Marlena tells him.

“Answer the question,” he demands as he struggles to maintain his composure.  

Ignoring his question, I watch in amusement as she continues along her train of thought. “I don’t know if you have children or not, but I’ll assume that you do.”

“Talking about me is irrelevant Dr. Evans, answer the question.”

“Mr. Barnes, would you ask your wife to take a paternity test?”

“No, but my wife isn’t on trial for attempted murder.”

“Well neither is mine,” she jokes which brings nervous laughter from the jury pool. Score another point for my girl.

“Very funny Dr. Evans….”

“It’s Mrs. Black,” she interrupts him.  

“Mrs. Black then…did you have a paternity test done on this child?”

“No…there was no need to.”

“Why is that?”

“Because this child is my husbands.”

“Are you sure of that?”

“Positive.”

“So are you telling me that you didn’t have an extra marital affair?”

“Yes.”

“Let me remind you that you are under oath Mrs. Black.  Did you have sexual relations with Mr. Bo Brady?”

Marlena sighs and looks up at the ceiling and I can tell that she’s struggling with the truth.  

“Don’t answer that question Marlena,” I blurt out as my attorney stands and approaches the bench.  “Your honor I’d like to ask for a five minute recess.”

“I see no reason why she can’t answer the question first,” Mr. Barnes suggests as he smiles at the jury.  

“Very well, please answer the question Mrs. Black,” the Judge Cortez instructs her.  

“No I didn’t,” she tells him quietly.  I can hear a quiver in her voice and know that she is close to tears.  

“Are you sure that you want to stick with that answer?”

“Yes.”

“You honor, I’d like to hold Mrs. Black in contempt of the court for perjury.  I’d like to submit written testimony from one Bo Brady stating otherwise.”

“What?” I yell out as all color drains from Marlena’s face.  I can see her hands starting to shake as she holds on to the wooden stand in front of her.

“Oh didn’t you know?” Mr. Barnes says in a know it all tone, “Mr. Bo Brady came out of his the coma yesterday afternoon….so back to you Mrs. Black.  Would you like to stick by your previous statement or would you like me to call one by one all the witnesses who heard and saw your husband Mr. Black accuse you of having an affair?”

“No,” Marlena whispers as she wipes her eyes.   I can tell that this news has thrown her and she’s not sure how to react.   I’m not sure how I should react either only that I’m glad that now the bastard is awake he can tell everyone the truth about why I justifiably shot him and I can get out of here.

“Objection,” my attorney finally says, “Mrs. Black is not the one on trial here.”

“Objection overruled.  I find the answer to the question relevant. Answer the question Mrs. Black.”

Marlena slowly looks around the room at all her family and former friends as she continues dabbing her eyes.  I wonder what’s going through her head and she looks at them, but I’m more than curious as to what she’s going to say.  I want her to tell them all that precious Bo Brady is a rapist. I want them to finally start being supportive of her and not so suspicious.  I will her the strength to let the truth set her free. Tell them I whisper to her when she finally comes full circle and looks at me.

“I love you John,” she mouths to me before she turns and looks at the prosecutor.

“Answer the question Mrs. Black.  Did you have sexual relations with Mr. Bo Brady?”

“Yes…one time,” she whispers as the crowd erupts into a low murmur. “He raped me.”

Page 21 of 27
I’m barely able to hear her above the murmur of the crowd.  Did she just say that Bo raped her? I mean I know what she said before, but a small part of me attributed it to the delusions of a stressed woman.  

Her head is in her hands, fingers covering her face and I can’t tell what she’s doing?  Is she crying? Is she hiding?

The room grows slightly warmer and more crowded as I struggle to understand what it is that I’m feeling.  Anger? Sadness? Indignity?

Is it true?  Did Bo rape her?  She wouldn’t make up something like that, would she?

“Marlena.”  John’s yell across the symphony of voices draws my attention.  “Marlena,” he yells again as he attempts to stand up. I’m drawn to the scene, unable to look away.  “Stop…You don’t have to.”

I want to tell her to stop as well.  I don’t want to hear what she has to say, truth or not it’s no one’s business.  Sweat forms on my brow as I quickly wipe it off. Last thing I need is well meaning friends and relatives huddling over me.  I honestly don’t know how
I’m supposed to react to this rather public declaration, only that everything about this situation is wrong.  This kind of revelation shouldn’t be done in such a forum, especially if it’s not true. It can’t be true. Bo Brady is not a rapist.  She must be mistaken. She has to be.

“She’s lying,” Caroline tells me, gripping my hand tightly.  “My son wouldn’t rape anyone, and certainly not Marlena. Why would she say that?”

I’m confused as hell.  I have no answers and it’s clear that they’re taking my silence for agreement.  Would he do it?

I can’t be here now.  I don’t want to be party to this.  I don’t want to know details of what supposedly happened.  I want the image of the Bo that I know and love in my head not to be replaced with a version more sinister.

“I’m sorry, I have to go,” I tell them as I stand up and make my way down the row, blindly stepping on people’s toes in my rush to get out.    

“She’s lying to protect John,” Roman tells me as he grabs onto my arm.  “You know it’s not true.”

“I can’t be here,” I tell him as I pull my hand free.  My heart is telling me that it’s not true but my mind refuses to let go of the image of Marlena hemorrhaging on the hospital floor a couple months ago thinking I was Bo and begging him not to rape her.

“He needs you here,” Roman tells me.

“He has all of you,” I tell him not bothering to glance back.  “I need some air.”

**************

“Marlena,” I yell at her again, trying to get her attention.  “Stop, you don’t have to.” My leg chains strain tightly against my calves as I struggle to get closer to her.  I want nothing more than to take her into my arms and protect her from the cruelty of the world, but due process is the enemy.

As long as I’m on trial and in custody there will be no stolen touches or sweet kisses.  Any and all communication that I have with my wife is visible for the world to see. Fuck the world.  It’s about time they all knew what Marlena and I mean to each other and accept it.

“Don’t say anything Doc….Don’t….It’s not worth it….”

She looks up at me lost, her hazel eyes brimming with tears.  “They need to know the truth John.” Her voice is but a sweet whisper against all the noise in the room.

“Order in the court,” the judge yells as he bangs his gavel on the podium.  “Order in the court.” The sound of wood hitting wood is deafening as he continues banging it over and over.

I’d been so focused on Marlena that I’d been oblivious to what was happening in the courtroom.  “She’s lying,” I hear somewhere form the back of the room.

“No she’s not,” I yell as loud as I can over the sound of the gavel.  “She’s telling the truth and you are damn fools if you believe that lowlife Brady over someone like Marlena.”

“Mister Black, one more outburst and you will be held in contempt of the court and removed….do you understand me.”  Slowly he sets the gavel down on the podium somewhat assured that order has been restored. Screw him. I understand but I don’t care.  If he thinks I’m going to sit quietly and let people insult my wife while he does nothing he got something coming to him.

“She’s a slut,” a female voice I don’t recognize yells from the back of the room.

“Say it to my face….say that to my face,” I yell back as I try to see who said it.  I want to do nothing more than to protect Marlena from these hurtful fools but am at a loss.

“Bailiff, remove Mr. Black from the courtroom and take him back to his cell,” Judge Cortez orders and he eyes me.  I see the hatred and know that he’s been waiting all day for this opportunity.

“No,” Marlena yells.  “No….please let him stay…please let him stay,” she begs of the judge.  “I need him here.”

“Why so he can help her lie?” someone yells from the back.

“Shut up you ass, you don’t know what you are talking about…”

“Remove him now,” Judge Cortez demands as he bangs his gavel.  “Order in the court. Mr. Black, when and if you decide to follow my orders you can return.”

“Do something,” I demand of my high priced attorney who until now has essentially had his head up his ass at mine and Marlena’s expense.   “Get her off that stand now,” I order him as the two courtroom bailiffs grab me by my arms and lift me from my chair. “Get her off the stand.”

This is all my fault and I’m helpless to stop it.  She’s up there testifying for me, to help me, and yet I’ve made a mess out of it all.  They all think that she’s a liar and I’m going to jail for the rest of my life. Fucking Bo Brady is probably laughing in his hospital bed thinking he got away with it.  I’m going to kill him when I get out. Should have taken care of him before.

“John,” she cries out to me as she holds one sleeve over her mouth.  “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t say anything else….they aren’t worth it Marlena,” I yell to her as I turn my head getting one lapse glimpse of the love of my life.  “They aren’t worth it.”

I can hear her sobs and know that she’s too emotionally drained at her revelation to say anything else. I’m let with the guilt that I did this to her, I made and willed her to testify and say the truth thinking it would help me.  Everything is a mess and I have no solutions.

“I love you Doc,” I shout as the doors to the courtroom close and she’s left alone with them.

**********

What do I do now?  My life just walked out the door and it’s me against them.  I see their angry stares and hear their accusations.

“Slut…whore….liar.”  I have to remind myself that they are just words and not a reflection of who I am.  But is this what it’s come to; is this what they think of me? My baby kicks furiously against my stomach with each insult.  I hide my hands as I slowly rub my stomach trying to ease the distress of my baby within.

Knowing that I’m only delaying the inevitable and not sure that I’ll have the strength to take much more of this verbal abuse, I look up at their faces, one by one.  Shawn and Caroline, Roman, Mickey and Maggie, Mike, Lucas, Shawn-Douglas. I can’t do it anymore, I can’t look at them all. I don’t want to see their stares of sympathy and disbelief, or anger and disgust.  

Baby Forrest continues to kick. It’s as if he senses what’s going on and is upset by it.  I need to get out of this room. “I don’t want to answer any more questions,” I tell the judge.  “I want to go home.”

“I’m sorry Dr. Evans, but you don’t call the shots and you’re under oath right now,” prosecutor Barnes says with contempt in his voice.

“What?” I ask him astonished at the hate he feels towards me. What did I ever do to him?

“Recess for five minutes?” John’s attorney finally says.  “I think that Dr. Black looks like she could use a break as well as the jury.”  I’d forgotten about the jury sitting there and sneak a look at them. I’d been so caught up in John’s reactions and that of my former family that I’d forgotten that John’s fate rested in the hands of those men and women.  They aren’t looking at my sympathetically, but rather with suspicion. Great. I knew it was a bad idea telling the truth about what happened. Nobody believes me.

“I agree…ten minute recess,” Judge Cortez tells the court as the bailiff leads the jury out of the courtroom. I feel their eyes as they bore into me.

“Where can I go?” I ask the judge as I step down from the box.  “I don’t want to have to deal with the Brady family right now.” Forrest is still kicking me furiously while pressing into my bladder.  I can’t deal with that and the Brady’s.

“You can go out in the hall,” he suggests.

I was hoping for something more quiet and private but the hallway will have to do.  Briskly I walk towards the double oaks doors aware that there is a silence in the room as all eyes are focused on me.

“Mom,” Sami grabs my arm right before I push open the heavy door.  “Is it true? Did Uncle Bo rape you?” I’m stunned to see her but not surprised.  I wanted to protect her from the truth and not have her find out this way. Great, another thing that Roman is going to blame me for.

“Not now Samantha,” I tell her as I push open the door.  I’d love to tell her the whole truth but I can’t, not with all of them there.

“She’s lying,” Roman yells at me.  “She had an affair with my brother and she’s trying to cover it up.”

I feel my heart breaking at Roman’s behavior and the tears welling in my eyes.  After everything I’ve been through with Roman; marriage, the twins, my disappearance, my affair with John, his leaving and return, our being trapped in the castle and the baby we lost, I never thought he’d be the first to accuse me of lying.

I can’t be here.  I need to get away.

“Mom,” Sami cries as she tries to hold onto me, protecting me from her father’s cruelty.  “I believe you….Dad, stop it….you don’t know what you are saying.”

“I do….she’d do or say anything to save her precious John including lying to a court about my brother.”

“No she wouldn’t Roman,” I hear Belle chime in from somewhere to the left side of me.   “No she wouldn’t.”

“I’m sure it’s hard for you to have to hear the truth about your mother,” Roman tells my daughters somewhat sympathetically.   

“Stop dad,” Eric says as he stands up and walks over towards me.  “Don’t make me chose between the two of you.” My heart starts racing as Eric comes towards me and gives me a hug.  This is all too much for me to process at one time. I need to get away from them all.

“Roman, this is not the place or time,” Caroline says as she places her hand on Roman’s arm trying to get him to calm down.  “Please sit down.”

“No mom….I’m standing up for my brother and will not allow his reputation to be tarnished by her.  I will not allow that to happen.”

“Tell me how my big bad brother raped you Marlena…tell me,” he taunts me.

“What?” I ask him incredulously.

“You heard me…if it was true as you claim it is you shouldn’t have any problems telling me what happened.”

“I’m not even going to dignify that with an answer.”

“It’s because it didn’t happen…..you made it up….just like you made up a lot of things.  Why don’t you tell my parents that the baby that you’re carrying is their grandchild?”

Everything that I know to be true is slowly becoming undone.  Everything that I feared would happen did? I should have kept from secret from everyone including John and all of this would never have happened.  I’d be at home with John and we’d be looking forward to the birth of our baby. But no, I had to go and open my mouth and everything is a big fat mess.

“What?” Caroline gasps.  “Is that true?”

I don’t know what to say as my carefully constructed world crumbles around me.  I’m truly at a loss for what an appropriate reaction should be. If I take the defensive it’s only going to lead to more words hurled in anger.  If I remain silent they’ll think that I’m hiding information from them and lying. This is an inexplicable no win situation that I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.

I’m aware of the seconds ticking by as I figure out what to say and do. There’s calmness in the courtroom as all eyes focus on me.  “Roman, if you think I’m going to stand here and allow you to bully me, you’re sadly mistaken,” I tell him as I push the door all the way open and exit the room.  Running down the hall I look for an exit, an escape from the situation that I’ve somehow put myself in.

I feel nauseous, dizzy and confused all at the same time.  

“Doc,” Roman yells from behind me.

I ignore his calls as I continue looking for an exit.

“Doc.”  His voice is getting closer and as hard as I try to run away, the tightness and cramping in my stomach stops me in my tracks.  Placing my hands against the wall I lean into it, taking some of the pressure off my feet.

“Doc,” he says again as he reaches out and rubs my back.

“Don’t,” I warn him though clenched teeth trying to breathe though the immense pain that I feel.

“Are you okay?”

“No…”

“Do you need anything?”

“Please just leave me alone.”

“I want to help.”

“Want to help?  You have a strange way of showing it.  Look, you made it perfectly clear back there what you thought about me.”

“I’m angry Doc about what you said about my brother.”

“I get that.  Please just go.”

“I care about you.”

“You sure have a strange way of showing it.”

“I’m angry and upset at you.”

“Don’t Roman…I’m not a child….please just leave me alone.”

“I can’t,” he tells me as he touches me again.

“Don’t touch me,” I warn him again.  I’m too hurt by his accusations to slide into forgiving Marlena.  That Marlena has been trampled on one too many times by Roman and his family.  No more.

“I need to know the truth,” he pleads with me, shades of the old Roman returning.

“I told you the truth….you just don’t want to hear it….now if you’ll excuse me.”

“I want to hear you say it.”

“What.”

“Tell me that he raped you.”

“He raped me Roman….you precious brother Bo raped me,” I tell him not bothering to hide how hurt and ashamed I feel. “I need to go now.” Slowly I stand up not entirely confident that I have enough strength to get me out of the building and into my car.

“How?  When? Why?” he asks in a quick succession as I see the wheels turn in his head as he tries to grapple the truth.

“Ask him,” I tell Roman not wanting to provide him with any more ammunition against me.  I can see his resolve softening but too many words were said in anger for me to quickly forgive or trust him again.

Slowly I walk out of the building with my head held up high knowing that I have nothing to be ashamed of.  I spoke the truth even if they couldn’t hear it.

Page 22 of 27
My anger surprises me.  I’ve never considered myself to be an angry person but all I seem to be capable of feeling these days is pure unadulterated anger.  I’m mad at myself for putting myself in the situation where it was possible for Bo to rape me, I’m livid at him for what he did, and I’m irate and disappointed in Roman and his family for standing behind Bo and blindly believing in his innocence. Worst of all is my anger at John for thinking that violence is the way to solve a problem.

My regrets are many and weigh heavy on my mind.  I’ve reached the point of no return, my soul refusing to be silenced.

In my mind I’ve run through every possibility of what I could have said or done to make things different and in the end it doesn’t really matter.  It is what it is.

Yes, I could have told John what happened from the beginning and had Bo arrested, but I didn’t and it’s a moot point.  I’m done agonizing and chiding myself for decisions not made.

As I walk down the familiar hallway, I see their eyes and hear their whispers.  To them I am nothing more than “that woman” or “the woman that said she was raped”.  I refuse to allow them or anyone else to define me and could care less about what they think.   For all Roman’s faults he really gave me a gift yesterday. For so many years I allowed myself to be his patsy to the expense of my own dignity.  No more. As he hurled his accusations I came to the realization that I am not who they say that I am and even more importantly, I can’t worry about their perception of me.  I am me and no one else. I can’t be the woman that Roman thinks I am, the friend that Mickey and Maggie think they have, or the perfect mother that Belle, Sami and Eric want.   

Pushing open the heavy doors I hear my name being called.  Walking down the aisle I pause slightly and reach down and touch John’s shoulder and squeeze it.  “I love you,” I whisper loud enough for him to hear. The smile on his lips warms my heart and gives me the strength to continue on my journey to the stand.

“Dr. Evans,” Prosecutor Barnes states as he approaches me, “You are still under oath from your testimony yesterday.  You do realize that when you left the court yesterday at recess you were supposed to return?”

“I do,” I tell him calmly as I take my seat.

“Would you care to inform the court why you didn’t return?”

“I fell ill and wasn’t in a condition where I could testify.  I apologize.” I focus on John’s eyes as I tell him my reason, which is the truth.  Yesterday was emotionally exhausting and left me in a place of extreme vulnerability.  I didn’t want to testify anymore in that frame of mind.
“Very well, but in the future don’t let it happen again….Now let us see where were. ..,” he says as he flips through his notes fully aware of the bomb I’d dropped.  “Ah yes, you claim that Mr. Bo Brady raped you.”

“Yes.”

“Care to elaborate?”

“What do you want to know?” I ask him, confused as to how much detail he wants to know. I’m prepared to tell him what he needs to know to end this charade but nothing more.  Some things are simply no one’s business.

“Everything…..”

“Objection,” John’s attorney says as he stands up.  “Prosecution is being too vague.”

“Mr. Barnes, please be more specific in your questions of Dr. Evans,” Judge Cortez tells him as he adjusts his glasses and looks down at Mr. Barnes.  He licks his lips as if he’s on the verge of saying something else but then stops.

“Mr. Barnes,” I start, “May I say something?”

“Sure.”

“I’m not on trial for being raped so let’s make that clear; I’m a witness that you called in regards to my husband John’s whereabouts”.

“Dr. Evans, let’s leave the legal posturing to me,” he tells me in a sickening sweet voice as he approaches the stand. I can see him playing into the hands of the jury and know that I need to somehow turn the tables and get them on John’s side.

“I’m a doctor, not an attorney and I wouldn’t try to assume to be a legal expert…however, common sense tells me that Bo raping me shouldn’t be an issue.”

“I get to decide what questions to ask Dr. Evans, not you,” he addresses me as a parent would to a child.  “Does your husband know about this so called rape?”

“It’s not a so-called rape and I’d appreciate it if you’d stop referring to it as that.”

“Was a rape kit done, was it reported to authorities?”

“No,” I say softly, ashamed at myself for not saying something earlier.

“What was that?  I couldn’t hear you….would you please repeat yourself?”

“I said no,” I say somewhat louder.

“Why not?”

“He’s my former brother in law and best friends’ husband,” I blurt out a little too bluntly, exasperated at the obvious.

“So….if he’s a rapist like you claim he is why should it matter who it is?”

“You’re right it shouldn’t, but you know what?  You put yourself in my situation and see what you would do,” I tell him defensively, annoyed that my decisions are being questioned.

“I’d tell the truth and come forward,” he snickers at me.

“I’m sure you would, I’m sure that everyone thinks that they would but no one and I mean no one knows what their reaction is going to be until it happens to them.”  I’m beyond upset at him and am trying my hardest to get my emotions back under control. Meeting John’s eyes I breathe in deeply in and out focusing only on him.

“Okay, so we’ve established that you didn’t report this alleged crime.  Did you go to the hospital for treatment?”

“No.” My statement isn’t exactly the truth. I did go to the hospital later and I know from what Karen has insinuated that it’s noted somewhere in my chart.  How I wish Karen were here right now; at least I’d have someone other than John on my side.

“No, surely as a medical professional you realize that you should have gotten treatment?”

“Yes, but I was at the point where I didn’t believe that it happened.”

“When did this alleged rape occur?”

“At the end of January,” I tell him as several people gasp.  I look over and see Caroline holding her hand over her mouth as if in shock.

“At the end of January of this year?”

“Yes.”

“Would you care to tell the jury about the events that led up to this alleged rape?”

“Objection,” John’s attorney states as he stands up once again.  “I don’t see the relevance in making Dr. Black relieve a situation that has to be horrible for her.”  I can see John grabbing his attorney’s sleeve and whispering to him and I know that John is trying his hardest to spare me.

“Objection upheld….Mr. Barnes, what is the relevance of this line of questioning?  John Black is on trial, not his wife.”

“It shows motive, your honor.  The prosecution will prove that Dr. Evans will say anything to get her husband out of this mess.  We maintain that Dr. Evans had an affair with Bo Brady, her husband found out and went after Bo in a jealous rage.  If she is willing to make up something to try to exonerate her husband the prosecution has no problem going along.”

“You are so far off the mark,” John grunts through clenched teeth at Mr. Barnes as he tries to control his temper. I know he wants to say more but doesn’t want to be held in contempt and be removed from the court again.

I’m sick of the bickering, accusations and questions and want an end to all of this.  I have the answers to set all of us free. “You want to know that happened?” I ask him abruptly.  “You really want to know the truth? The real truth and not your little fantasy?”

“Stop talking Marlena,” John’s attorney warns me but I’m too far gone to hear him.  I’m tired of the lies and cover up. I’m tired of feeling like I did something wrong and I’m tired of John taking the rap for just trying to protect his family.

“No,” I tell him feeling more powerful than I have in a long time.  One look at the leg shackles that John’s tries so hard to hide underneath his black suit pants is all it takes to continue down this path.  “The truth needs to be told…it needs to be told. John shot Bo because of me, because of me.” Looking into his eyes the world stops and it’s just us, just a man and a woman desperate to be together.  He’s no longer the business tycoon and I’m not a psychiatrist. No longer saddled by the baggage that our identity carries, we’re who we were all along but too caught up to see it. Man and woman, husband and wife, lovers.  

“He did it to protect me,” I tell them smiling at John while tears well up in my eyes.  Holding on the stand, my knuckles turn white from the pressure. I know if I let go I’ll be unable to control the shaking in my fingers.   

“What do you mean by that?” Mr. Barnes asks me loudly over the uproar in the courtroom.

“Bo threatened to take my baby away and destroy me.” Every emotion of that night comes back to me with a force that I’m not prepared for.  I can hear his voice on the phone as I say the words to Mr. Barnes.

“He wouldn’t do that?” Caroline yells at me.

“He would and he did,” I tell her no longer bothering to protect her from the truth.  I can’t stop the tears as I feel his hands as they roughly grab my skin and hold me to him.

“You’re lying Marlena,” Caroline shouts across the courtroom at me.  “My son wouldn’t do that.”

I can still smell the cheap alcohol on his breath as he held onto me tightly and tried to kiss me.  I close my eyes and pray for the moment to pass.

“Well I’m sorry to have to be the one to expose what he’s capable of but I refuse to remain silent any longer…..I can’t do it anymore….you all sit there and judge me and John…I see it in your eyes…you want to believe what you want to believe and that’s fine….but I will not sit here and allow my husband to go to jail for something that he shouldn’t,” I yell at her through my tears. I have absolutely nothing to lose now except for John and protecting him and our baby is all that matters.

“He shot my son and tried to kill him,” Shawn yells at me in indignation.  “He shot Bo…of course he belongs in jail.”

“How do you know it wasn’t self defense?  Why are you all automatically assuming it had to be premeditated?  You weren’t there….YOU DON’T KNOW.” I can feel my blood pressure rising and take a deep breath to regain my composure.  

“This is highly unusual…” the judge starts before I interrupt him.  I know it’s highly unusual and probably not something that should be happening but there is a part of me that feels that if I don’t do this, if I don’t speak the truth then John is going to go away for a long time for attempted murder.  The more that I think about what Bo took from me the madder I become.

“Yes, but the truth needs to be told.”

“Dr. Evans,” Prosecutor Barnes states as he slowly walks towards me.  I can’t tell from the look in his eyes what he’s thinking or feeling as he hides his emotions rather well.  “Lets say that this is true…lets say that this alleged rape did occur could you please explain to the jury why you didn’t report it?”

“I was ashamed and in shock that it happened to me and I mistakenly thought that I could deal with it myself.”

“And did you?”

“No,” I say ashamed for a moment but still feeling that I needed to explain myself.  “Bo is a cop and my former brother in law…I didn’t want to destroy his family by coming forward….they are proud people and something like this would be devastating.”

“How noble of you Dr. Evans,” he snickers as he looks over to the jury.  I can tell that he doesn’t believe me by the tone of his voice. He thinks I’m making all of this up to get John acquitted.

“If it’s true you should have come forward,” Caroline yells.  I see her out of the corner of my eye as she walks up to the gate separating the defense and prosecution tables from the rest of the courtroom.

“Mamn, please sit down,” the burly bailiff asks her as he tries to escort her back to her seat.  I can’t allow the Brady’s emotions and questions to get in the way of what I have to do.

“Suppose I would have come forward, what would that have accomplished?  Your whole life and the lives of my children as well as my ex husband would have been effected.  This isn’t just about me…this is about them as well. I thought that I was strong enough and could get over it in time and live a normal life.  I thought by remaining silent I was doing the right thing and in a way I was, for all of you, not for me. Do you have any idea what it’s like to wake up every morning and go to bed every night thinking about being violated and unable to tell anyone?  Do you have any idea?”

“You could have told us,” Maggie blurts out as she starts to cry.  “I’m one of your best friends…you could have told me.”

“And then what would that have accomplished?  I’d have sent the man that you all love to jail.”

“So you’re essentially telling the court that you are a martyr?” Mr. Barnes asks me.

“No, I’d be the last person to claim I was…. I’m just trying to get the court to see why reporting that I was raped isn’t as black as white as you seem to think it is.”  I know that I must sound clinical and detached but referring to a rape and being a rape victim is still foreign to me. Even though this is the second time that a man violated me, it still feels a little too fresh to me.  Each time I say the word rape it feels as if salt is being poured into an open gaping wound.

“What I’m having a hard time grasping in my mind Dr. Evans, and perhaps this is something you could explain for the jury, is the time difference between when you were raped and when John Black shot Bo Brady.  It doesn’t make any sense….”

“It makes perfect sense,” I interrupt him.  “I was raped in January but John didn’t find out until the night that he shot Bo.”

“What?  That makes no sense,” Caroline yells.  “…that makes no sense. You’re lying….you tell John everything.”

“I didn’t,” I tell her and the court as I look over at John, “and for that I’ll be eternally sorry.”

“Mrs. Brady, please no more outbursts or you will be removed,” Judge Cortez finally says as he eyes me suspiciously.  I can tell he’s not sure whether or not to believe me.

“What more can I say?  It’s the truth. Bo threatened to take the baby away and never let me see it and he was serious.  Call him in here and ask him. Call Roman to the stand and he’ll tell you what he saw that night.”

“Mr. Brady will be testifying tomorrow and Roman Brady has already stated for the record that he doesn’t know what happened.”

“Call him to the stand again.  He’s the one that came to my house that night to tell me about the shooting.  He knew that I knew what happened and wanted to know the truth. Ask him.” Looking around the room I finally spot Roman sitting away from his family in the back of the room, his head in his hands.  Last night after our encounter in the hallway he stopped by the penthouse to make sure that I was okay, but was respectful enough not to ask me any further questions. I can see the questions in his eyes as he tries to process the truth.

“Did you tell him anything?”

“Of course not.”

“And why not?”

“At that point in time I thought by remaining silent I was protecting my family and honestly I had no idea what happened….it’s not as if when John left he told me that he was going to shoot Bo.”

“Dr. Evans back to the events of that night…what was the mind set of Mr. Black when he left.”

“He was upset,” I tell him as I look over at John and see the sorrow etched on his face.  He’s remembering that night as I do, every detail revealed too painful to remember. I can see him putting on his black jacket and going off into the night, protecting us from Bo.

“So you are saying that you had no idea when John left what his intent was?”

For me this is a tricky question, to say yes gives credence to the prosecutor’s theory that this was premeditated.  To say no, would be a lie. John told me when he left that he wanted to kill Bo; did I think he would do it? Maybe.

“Answer the question.”

“I plead the fifth,” I tell him as I look at the jury for their reaction.  Either way, I’m in a no win situation. I hear their gasps and know that they are thinking that the shooting was premeditated.

“Dr. Evans, is there a chance that this baby is Bo Brady’s?  Let me remind you that you are under oath.”

“God wouldn’t be that cruel,” I tell him as I look over at John and smile.  I know in my heart that this baby is his and no medical test will tell me otherwise.

“Is that a yes or no?”

“This baby is my husbands.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Positive.”

“Dr. Evans, ever heard of the story of the boy who cried wolf?  Your whole story smells like a huge cover-up to me. You claim that you were raped, yet didn’t report it.  You are pregnant and claim the baby is your husbands, yet your defense of why your husband shot Bo Brady is that he threatened to take the baby away.  You cannot have it both way Dr. Evans. The baby is either your husbands or Mr. Brady’s but it can’t be both. Which is it?”

“This baby belongs to my husband and me.”

“If the baby is your husband’s why did Bo Brady threaten to take it away?”

“He believes that it’s his,” I tell him as I feel little Forrest move inside of me.  Rubbing my hand over my rapidly expanding belly I wish for the truth to be told and this whole mess to be over with.

“Other than this alleged rape did you ever have sexual relations with Mr. Bo Brady?”

“NO,” I blurt out, horrified at the idea.

“What about all those times your husband couldn’t find you?”

“I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“Didn’t your husband accuse you on several occasions of being unfaithful, of cheating on him?”

“Yes,” I whisper, not wanting to relieve the incident in the bar when John was drunk and came looking for me.

“Let me remind the court of Roman Brady’s testimony about that night.  He said and I quote, “John was paranoid that Marlena was cheating on him and came to the bar.  He caught me giving her a hug and totally lost control”. Dr. Evans, would you agree with that statement?”

“Yes.”

“Have you ever been unfaithful to your husband?”

“What is the relevance of that?”

“Please answer the question Dr. Evans.  Were you unfaithful to your husband John?”

“Yes,” I whisper as I lower my head in shame.

“Would you mind telling the court whom you were unfaithful with?”

“Roman,” I tell them as I look down at my hands, ashamed of my actions.

“What?”  Caroline yells and for once I wish that she wasn’t here.  With each statement I make I can see and feel her opinion of me dropping.  I’m not the perfect Marlena they seemed to think I was.

“Roman Brady, as in Bo Brady’s brother?” Mr. Barnes asks, knowing full well who he is.

“Yes.”

“And let the record show that you also became pregnant as a result of your affair with him….”


“It wasn’t an affair.” I tell them.  “It wasn’t like that….we thought we were never going to be freed.”

 

“Dr. Evans, you just seem to have an excuse, an explanation if you will, for everything.  Why in all my years I’ve practiced law I can’t quite say I’ve ever met a woman quite like you.”

“Stop pal,” John warns the man.  Looking over at him I can see the anger in his eyes.  I consider myself to be a very truthful and honest person but I can see where my choices over the years would lead others to think I was making up the story.

“They are not excuses…it’s the truth.”

“A rather convenient truth if you ask me.”

“Ask Bo about it tomorrow….he’ll be under oath and will have to tell the truth….Ask Roman….ask John….ask anyone that knows me, I am telling the truth.”

“I think you’re lying to the court,” Prosecutor Barnes tells me as he faces the jury.

“I believe her,” Hope blurts out from the back of the room.

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“I believe her,” Hope blurts out.  “She’s telling the truth.” I’m surprised at her admission, her belief in me.  Slowly she comes forwards, rubbing her hands together as if she’s nervous being here, supporting me.

“How do you know this Mrs. Brady?” Mr. Barnes turns and asks her, the venom is his voice not masked.  His back is to me, but I can tell from his stance that he’s not pleased at her admission. For as controlled that he is, even he can’t predict or prevent the ways in which the truth presents itself.

“Because Marlena doesn’t lie,” Hope answers him as she tucks a strand of errant hair behind her ear.  She stands awkwardly as all eyes fall on her. No one seems to know what to say or do in this moment, including me.  I sneak a look at John and see the smile on his face. I can’t help but smile as well even though it’s at an inappropriate time.  As my family sees a ray of light in the face of blackness, clouds of grey mar her future.

“I’m sorry Caroline,” Hope tells her as she walks briskly to the front of the courtroom, the click of her heals on the tile floor echo in the room.  I can see the tears in her eyes and know that she’s emotionally torn from coming forward and supporting me. I’d always hoped that she would but was afraid to hope.

“Hope, why are you doing this?” Caroline asks, looking far frailer than her seventy years.

“I understand if my speaking out upsets you,” Hope tells her as she faces her.  “I’m sorry.”

“You know that Bo didn’t do it….” Caroline blurts out in defense of Bo before Judge Cortez interrupts her.

“I need to stop this discussion before it goes any further…..This is all a little unorthodox,” Judge Cortez remarks in disbelief as he looks down at me and then at the jury. “How about a ten minute recess?  Bailiff, please remove the jury from the room…then I’d like to speak with counsel.”

Swiftly the bailiffs order the jury to rise and exit the room in a single file line.  Quietly I watch them frozen in my seat, not sure of what I should be saying or doing.

Out of the corner of my eye I see John stand up and turn around to talk to Hope.  I can’t hear what they are saying only that she’s nodding her head and crying. He puts his arms around her in a measure of comfort and willingly she clings to him for support.    A part of me is jealous of her taking my place in his arms, but I quickly push down those feelings knowing the enormous sacrifice she just made for me.

“Dr. Evans, you may step down from the stand,” Judge Cortez finally tells me before he speaks to the prosecutor and John’s attorney.  “Gentlemen, I’d like to speak to you in my chambers.” Slowly they follow him out the side door and disappear behind the heavy wood paneling.

Standing up, I smooth my maternity dress over my growing stomach and slowly step down from the stand.  Walking towards John I want nothing more than to throw my arms around his neck and hold onto him tightly but I resist my impulses. Reaching up I squeeze his arm tightly and smile up at him through my tears.

“I don’t know how I can ever thank you,” I tell Hope as I reach out and grab her arm with my other hand.  She grabs hold of my hand tightly and squeezes it. “Marlena, I just wished you trusted me enough to tell me the truth earlier.”

“I’m sorry…I thought I could handle it.”  Looking into John’s face, I see love and know how close I’ve come to losing it all.  I should have trusted John enough to have told him the truth in the beginning

“I’m your best friend Marlena, you’re supposed to be able to confide in me.”  Her reaction wasn’t what I expected it to be, but then again I’m not sure what her reaction should be.  

“I know, but considering the circumstances I expected you to believe him,” I tell her as I let go of her hand and wipe the tears from my eyes.  It still hurts too much to say his name and to talk about what he did to me. I know that the questions will come later but I’m not prepared from them right now.  

“I’ve learned long ago that things aren’t always what they seem and to trust my instincts,” she tells me solemnly as she shrugs her shoulders. I can see Caroline out of the corner of my eye and know that things aren’t going to be easy for Hope once she leaves the courtroom.  Caroline is one of the most loyal people I know but when you cross her or go after a member of her family; watch out. I feel for Hope now, having been that outsider one time to many in the past.

“Must have learned that as a cop,” John jokes trying to bring levity into the situation.

Hope smiles at him, a faraway look in her brown eyes, “I learned many things as a cop, but my instinct has always been there and I guess I knew that there was more to the situation than I wanted to believe.”

Grabbing her hand, I feel the need to explain myself to her, to let her know why I didn’t speak the truth earlier. “I wish to god that it wasn’t him, that it was a stranger Hope, you have to know that….I didn’t want it to be him.”

She squeezes my hand and then lets it go. “I know, I know….I didn’t want it to be him either but it’s something that we are all going to have to live with and somehow overcome.”

A lump forms in my throat and I momentarily start to panic at her choice of words.  What does she mean overcome? Does she think that we’re going to all pick up the broken pieces of our lives and function as if it nothing ever happened?  I don’t know if I’m capable of doing that. “I don’t know how that’s going to be possible….everything I wanted to avoid is happening. This is going to tear our families apart….”  John senses my panic as he removes my fingers from his arm and puts his arm around me.

“Stop, Marlena, stop,” Hope interrupts me.  “Stop trying to be the martyr, just stop.” Slowly she rubs her temples and looks over at Caroline again.  I see Roman get up from the back of the room and slowly walk towards us. “I’ll deal with the Brady’s okay….it’s not your job to make everything and everyone right and whole…it’s not.”

I’m too stunned at her directness to speak. There’s an underlying anger to her words directed at me.  I’m not surprised though; I’m the woman that’s destroying her family.

“Hope, did you talk to Bo?” John finally asks, sensing the tension between us.

“Yes,” she curtly answers as she chews on the inside of her mouth. I know her well enough to see the signs that she’s emotionally shutting me out.  I don’t blame her.

“And?”

“Look, it’s been a long day for me and I’d rather not discuss that conversation with you two.  If you don’t mind, I think I need a breath of fresh air,” she tells us before she turns around and leaves.

“Doc, it’s going to be hard for her to go home tonight,” John says with sympathy as we watch her leave the courtroom, Caroline Brady following close behind.  “She’s going to need a friend.”

“I know….but I don’t know that I can be that friend to her considering the circumstances,” I tell him as I look into his azure eyes.  “John,” I whisper as the enormity of the situation dawns on me. He is here; this is real.

“Pretty lady I have waited months to hold you in my arms,” John tells me as he gathers me tightly and hold onto me.  “I have missed you more than you can imagine.” I can feel his hot breath on my hair as he breathes in and out. There are so many things that I want to say to him right now that I don’t know where to start.

“I’ve missed you too John,” I tell him through my tears.  “I was afraid that I was never going to get to hold you like this again…I was afraid that I was going to be alone forever”

“Never…You know that I would go to the ends of the earth for a chance to hold you, you have to know that.”

“I do…I do.  It’s just that it’s been so hard without you,” I tell him as I start to cry again.  I didn’t think I’d be so emotional right now, but I can’t seem to stop crying.

“I can imagine,” he whispers as he rubs my back, back and forth.

“Every night I’d go to bed and every morning I’d wake up and you wouldn’t be there….and knowing that I wasn’t allowed to visit you in jail was the hardest.  Why did you deny me?” I swore to myself that if I ever got the opportunity to hold him in my arms I wouldn’t question the past, but the pain of his rejection lingers.

“Doc,” he tells me as he gently holds my face between his hands, wiping away my tears with the pads of his thumbs. “You have to know it wasn’t you…It was me….It was too hard seeing you like that.  After all we’ve been through I didn’t want you to have any more memories of me like that behind bars.”

I close my eyes and try to shut out the images that are seared in my brain of him behind bars at Aremid, ready to face the gas chamber.  I’ve worked so hard to suppress those images, painful memories from out past, but can’t. Every awful thing, every horrible memory has brought us to this point and I wouldn’t trade a minute of it for anything. The past has defined us and shaped our future and hopefully in due time I’ll be able to look at this incident as a foot note in our history.   “So what happens now?” I ask him through my tears as I smile up at him.

“I don’t want to talk or think about that….all I’ve been thinking about for the last couple days is the taste of you on my lips….come here Doc,” he tells me as he pulls me even tighter and his mouth descends upon mine.  Forcefully his tongue enters my mouth as I automatically part my teeth giving him greater access. Gently his tongue strokes mine over and over. The sweetness of this moment will be enough to carry me through the lonely night.  Lost in his arms I try to memorize every moment; every taste, every emotion I’m feeling so that I can relive it later in my dreams. In his arms I feel like a woman loved.

The sharp jab of our baby against John’s stomach interrupts the moment.  John breaks the kiss laughing. “Hey there pal,” he says to the baby as he slowly strokes my stomach.  “You don’t like me putting the moves on your mom, huh Forrest.”

It’s as if the baby understands what John is saying, he kicks John again.  I watch the wonderment on John’s face as he slowly strokes my stomach. When I was pregnant with Belle I was married to Roman and John never had the opportunity to bond with her invitro. There’s a sadness to his face as he looks away from me and quickly wipes away a tear.  Is he thinking about Belle and how I cheated him?

“Mom,” Belle says, interrupting our private moment.  John looks over at her and gestures for her to open the gate and join us.  Sami follows her close behind. John takes Belle into his arms and holds onto her tightly.  “I’ve missed you baby girl,” he whispers into her hair.

“Daddy, is everything going to be okay?” she asks him as Sami hugs me tightly.  The clock has turned its hand’s back and both Sami and Belle have the look of terrified teenagers looking for reassurance from their parents that everything’s going to be alright.  

“I don’t know….everything rests in the hands of that jury,” he says solemnly.  John gently touches the side of Sami’s face not wanting to intrude in her personal space.  “John,” Sami cries out as she goes into his arms, saying nothing more. John looks over at me, surprised at Sami’s actions.  

“I can’t believe that Uncle Bo did that,” Belle says, the subject matter obviously an uncomfortable subject for her to talk about.  

“I can,” Sami says.

“What do you mean by that Sami?” I ask her.

“Lucas and I were talking and discussing it and…..”

“And?” I ask urging her to continue, confused as to her line of thinking.

“He thinks that because you are smart and pretty that you’re a man magnet.” She looks away from me embarrassed at what she’s just said.

“What?” I ask her.

“You know….uncle Bo has known us, well for my whole life and he knows you and you were married to dad….”

“Sami,” I slowly lift her chin with my finger and look into her crystal blue eyes, so different from my own. “Rape has nothing to do with what I look like or how educated I am….you know that, right?”

“Yes….but we were just trying to figure out why, why you.”

“I don’t want you, Lucas or Belle worrying about that, worrying about me….okay.  I need for you to be strong and to protect yourselves. What happened to me was an act of violence….”

“But why you?  Why uncle Bo?” Sami asks me.

“I’d like to know that as well,” Roman states as he gently places his hands on my shoulders.  I’d been so caught up with Belle and Sami that I was unaware that Roman had opened the gate and entered the front of the courtroom.  His touch is an overload on my senses and more than I can take. I can smell his cologne, recognizing it as the same one that Bo wears.  “Roman,” I start as I close my eyes looking for the words that I want to say to him.

“Pal,” John says, rescuing me from the situation.  “I only have a couple more minutes with my wife….maybe you can talk to her later.”

“Sure, but we need to talk to Marlena.”

I can only nod my head as I watch him walk away.  “Girls, if you don’t mind, I’d like a couple minutes with your mother alone.”

“Sure,” Belle says as she hugs John and leaves with Sami in tow.

“Doc,” John tells me as he takes my face gently in his hands and brushes his lips tenderly across mine.  “Whatever happens I need for you to be strong.”

“I’m trying,” I whisper as I feel his lips brush across mine.

“I know, but it’s important that you not lose focus on the fact that you are a strong and amazing woman who did nothing wrong.”  His lips move across mine again and he gently kisses me.

“I’m trying,” I tell him again as I gently kiss him.

“You are the singularly the most amazing person I have ever met,” he tells me as he captures my lips once again.  “You are strong, you are a survivor.”

“I don’t feel that way.”

“You may not now, but that’s who you are, who you’ve always been,” he whispers into my mouth.  “Whatever happens know that you are loved….by our family and friends,” he tells me as he gently pecks my bottom lip.  “But most of all you are loved by me.”

“Stop sounding like a pessimist John.”

 

“I’m not Doc….I just want to you see you how I see you, no matter what happens.”

“Please rise for presiding Judge Cortez,” the bailiff states as he enters the room. I stand frozen in place, grasping John’s hand tightly, not wanting the moment to end or to leave his side.  Following the judge, John’s attorney and prosecutor Barnes enter the room.

“You may sit,” the Judge tells us as he sits down.  John’s attorney joins us at the table and motions for me to sit down in his chair.  John looks up to him for some hint as to what’s going on, but his attorney doesn’t meet his eyes.

“Judge Cortez,” John’s attorney states as he stands behind the wooden table.  “The defense moves for the attempted murder charges against Mr. Black be dismissed related to the shooting of Mr. Bo Brady.”

“What is the basis for dismissal of these charges?”

“The defense moves that there is insufficient evidence to support the intent element require by state law.  There is lack of probable cause that Mr. Black committed the offenses he is charged with due to conflicting statements from witnesses as well as additional evidence admitted.  Additionally, the defense contends that the State violated Mr. Black’s constitutional rights to due process and a fair trial by hearing and allowing evidence that was not turned over to the defense, deposed of or discovered earlier as required.”

Grabbing John’s hand, I hold on tightly as I look up at him.  His eyes are unreadable as he stares at his attorney and the judge.  I’m stunned at the turn of events and wonder what was said in the judge’s chamber.

“Does the prosecution object to this motion?” he asks Mr. Barnes.

“Judge Cortez,” Mr. Barnes states as he adjusts the glasses on his nose.  “The court is aware that the prosecuting attorney is authorized that obtain a dismissal of charges at anytime before sentencing, and the granting of such a motion does not of itself bar a subsequent trial of the defendant for the same offense.”

“Mr. Barnes, the court is well aware of the law.  Does the state wish to dismiss the charges against Mr. Black?”

“At this time yes….the state wishes to dismiss the charges.”

The murmur from the back of the court is deafening.  I can hear Shawn and Caroline shouting “no” along with several other people.  I lean into John as he takes me into his arms and hold me tightly.

“Mr. Black, would you please rise,” Judge Cortez asks of him.  Slowly John rises, pulling me up with him. Side by side, partners and lovers, we’ll face the judges’ decision together.   “Mr. Black, it is of the opinion of this court that that due to the unusual events of this trial that your constitutional rights have been violated and I cannot guarantee you a fair trial.  Rather than continuing with the trial, the prosecution and your attorney have asked for the charges to be dismissed at this time. Mr. Black, please be advised that the dismissal of these charges does not mean that you are not guilty.”

“Yes, your honor,” John tells Judge Cortez as he squeezes my hand.  We aren’t promised anything but a temporary break, a time to relief, a respite of sorts.  I know that perceptions will be slow to fade and to many John will always look and be guilty.  At this point in time I don’t care; John is coming home with me tonight.

“Mr. Barnes, if the prosecution wishes to reinstate the charges against Mr. Black that’s your prerogative.  But, do not waste the courts time; be sure you have your case together before you proceed.”

Mr. Barnes nods and sits down, defeated.

“Mr. Black, you are free to go,” Judge Cortez tells John as I hug him tightly, kissing him all over his face.  I haven’t felt this much joy and elation in months and am surprised by the feeling; I could get used to this

“Don’t I get to speak,” Bo yells from the back of the courtroom.  I feel the chills run down my spine as I hear his voice. “John Black shot me….He shot and you aren’t going to do a damn thing about it.  What, did he buy you all off with his money? Is that it?” Bo continues to yell as he moves closer to us. “Don’t I get a say?”

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Silence cloaks the room as Bo continues to yell.  Louder and louder he screams demanding justice be served.  I sit down and squirm uncomfortably in my wooden seat, leaning into John for comfort.  I’m not prepared to see or hear him, every word he says a reminder of what he took from me.

“Don’t I get a say?” Bo shouts once again, his voice moving closer.

“Mr. Brady, this is a court.  Please sit down or you will be removed,” Judge Cortez finally tells him as he bangs the gavel hard on the wooden dais. John defensively turns around to face Bo, as I try to make myself as little as possible.  Maybe he won’t see me.

“No, I want justice,” Bo screams at the judge.  “John shot me and deserves to rot in jail and Marlena….she’s lying…she’s lying…she’s lying.”  Over and over he says the words, each like a jagged piece of glass being jabbed into my gut. I place my hands over my ears so that I don’t have to hear him and his hatred anymore.  I don’t want to be in this room with him.

“Mr. Brady” Judge Cortez yells at him. “Mr. Brady, stop or you will be removed.  The court has dismissed the charges against Mr. Black. That is my final ruling,” he says as he looks down at Bo.  “Court dismissed.” With a bang of his gavel this legal nightmare is over for the time being. I feel relief as I hug John’s waist. Letting go, I peek around his side for a sign of Bo.

“NO,” Bo screams as he stumbles towards the front of the court.  I can feel John leaping up from his seat to protect me from Bo. Bo manages to make it past the deputies as everything moves in slow motion.  I can see the bailiff draw his gun and warn Bo to stop but he doesn’t. Jumping over the gate he comes towards me.

“No,” I scream as he grabs onto me. “No, help me John,” I cry out in anguish as I feel his hands on me, removing my clothing. “Nooooooooooooo.”

“Marlena….Marlena….Marlena.”

“Stop him,” I yell to John, not understanding why he’s not helping me.

“Marlena.” I feel John as he slowly shakes my arm.  “Wake up….You were just having a dream…..I’m here….You’re safe.”
Slowly I become aware of my surroundings, embarrassed to be still having nightmares after all these months.  It was just a dream.

“Want to talk about it?” he asks as he gets out of bed and walks toward our bathroom.

“It’s the same one,” I tell him as I sit up, my back against the soft headboard.  I feel my forehead, a sheen of sweat covering my hand. I’m embarrassed that I haven’t been unable to hide my fears from him as well as I think I should be able to.  

“Same one?”  John questions as he walks back into the room and hands me a glass of water.  Sitting down across from me on the bed he takes my hand into his. I nod my head and take a sip from the crystal glass.  The coldness of the water against my esophagus as it goes down distracts me from the real pain that I’m feeling.

“The one in court when he showed up?” John asks as he takes the glass from me and sets it on the bed side table.  I’m not in the mood to talk about my dreams and never have been. John understands that the things that I see at night are better left unspoken.  To speak of what I see is to validate that if not the actual dream, but the feelings derived from them are real.

“Yes,” I reveal as I push my legs under the covers and slowly bring them up, tucking them underneath my arms.      

“But that had a happy ending Doc,” he says tenderly.  “I got to go home and be with the most beautiful woman in the world,” he tells me as he takes my face in his hands and gently kisses my lips.

“John.” I blush at his kind words, appreciating that he always seems to be able to take my dark dreams and make them better.

“It’s true Doc….you are kind, compassionate, amazing, exquisite, passionate, smart and not to mention gorgeous.  I’m the luckiest man in the world to have you for my wife and every day since the trial I’ve woken up and vowed that I will never take you and what we have for granted.  Never. We came too close to losing it all.”

“John.”   After months of self imposed isolation from family and friends, it’s hard and foreign to hear such nice words said about me, especially when I don’t feel them.  I’d love to be the person that he sees me as but am not at that point and I don’t know when or if I ever will be.

“It’s true Doc….I got you, but what did Bo get?  He had to go home and face the wrath of Hope or whatever the hell happened in that household and I got a get out of jail free pass.”  

“You know that they can retry you anytime,” I remind him, not wanting to be too optimistic.

“Yes, and I’m sure that Bo realizes that the statue of limitations on rape isn’t up,” John say as he looks down at me looking for my reaction.

“John….you seriously aren’t suggesting a trade?”

“Why not?”

I have to think about his response for a minute.  Could I live with knowing that Bo would never be prosecuted for raping me if that meant that John would be free?  I guess in a strange way I could. If I were to push for a rape charge the chances of getting a conviction after so much time would be minimal.   Aside from what my doctors have there was no rape kit done or police report made. It would be a classic case of he said, she said. Could I risk having him tried and losing the battle and John being retried and going to jail?  I honestly don’t think I’m strong enough to deal with that right now.

“Don’t answer,” he tells me, sensing my internal conflict. For him the choice is an easy one; Bo’s freedom for his.  For me it’s more than that; it’s about my dignity. “But it’s something to think about.”

“I just want all of this to be over John….I’m tired of having these dreams,” I tell him as I lean my head back against the headboard and pretend that I’m trying to go to sleep.  

“I know, but didn’t your therapist say that it was part of the healing process?”

“Yes,” I respond, amazed that John was even paying attention during therapy.  When John returned home I was elated, beyond elated. I expected things to return to normal, for us to fall back into our routines as they were before the incident.  Boy was I wrong. For as hard as I tried I’m unable to give myself to John sexually. Every attempt at heavy petting led to flashbacks and frustration for John. After weeks of frustration on both of our parts we mutually agreed that in order to get healthy we both needed therapy.  I go twice a week; once with John and once alone. I didn’t think I’d be the type that would respond to therapy but surprisingly it’s helping. John and I can now sleep in the same bed without me going into a panic attack. I can hear him in the shower late at night relieving his frustrations and I’m glad he has that for an outlet, not another woman.

“So then it’s a good thing maybe.”

“Maybe….” I’m still skeptical and want nothing more than a night of sleep without dreams. I’ve had moments of peace but they are few and far between.

“In time things will get better Doc…you’ll see.” John tells me as he reaches over and strokes my pregnant stomach.  Opening my eyes and looking over at him I see that it was a ploy to get me to look at him.

“Things are fine now John,” I tell him before I realize what I’ve said.  I can see the walls going up immediately, a look of disappointment on his face.  I fall so easy into my protective traps, saying and acting like everything is okay even though I’m hurting on the inside.  It’s something that John brought up in our couples therapy and I’m trying to work though. “I didn’t mean that.”

“It’s okay Doc….I just want you to be able to tell me what you’re thinking without you thinking you have to hide anything.”

“Please don’t feel like I’m hiding anything from you John… I’m not doing it intentionally. You have to know that I would give anything to get to that point, but old habits die hard.”

“I know, Dr. Smithfield likes to tell me that psychiatrists make the worst patients.”

“You don’t know the half of it John,” I tell him openly, feeling safe in the direction of this conversation.  This is something that we’ve never discussed but need to. Perhaps if he understands where I’m coming from, he could understand that my motivations and behavior as not quite as black and white as he thinks they are.  “I keep thinking that I should be able to fix myself and make everything better.”

“You can’t Doc….You can’t fix anybody, least of all yourself. What happened to you was traumatic and it’s not something that you wake up one day and get over.”

“I know that, but knowing and accepting are two different things,” I tell myself as I get up from the bed and walk towards to the french doors, opening them.   The crispness of the fall air chills my skin but provides a strange sort of comfort. “I know that I can’t fix myself, but I keep thinking that I should be able to…does that make any sense?” I ask John as I walk out onto the balcony, sensing that he’s following me.  Even though I can’t hear his movements or see him, my skin tingles with electricity at times when he is near. “As a psychiatrist, I know all the stages of trauma and recovery. I know what’s happening inside my body and my mind. I look at these things and self diagnose.  Every symptom and emotion I feel I classify why it’s happening and what my response should be. I know how screwed up I am which is a bitch.”

I hear John’s throaty laugh behind me at my uncharacteristic use of foul language.   “Maybe if you took off your psychiatrist and martyr hat and just tried to be a human being for once it would help.”

His words are hurtful but true.   My control over my emotions has always my armor against the world.  I have intentionally set up my defenses to protect myself. As the years passed that defense became stronger as I allowed people to define me based on what they saw. I allowed myself to accept the label of psychiatrist, rock, perfect mother, perfect wife and great friend, when deep down I knew that I did none of them terribly well.  Illusions are hard to shake and the more people saw me for something I wasn’t the more I felt that I needed to become it. “I know,” I smile wistfully; “I just wish that things would go back to the way they were before.”

“I don’t,” John immediately responds without hesitation. “If I could undo the rape I would but in a way this experience is finally forcing us to be honest with each other.”

He’s right.  As a psychiatrist I’ve counseled hundreds of rape victims through various stages of recovery.  The trick to leading a normal, happy and fulfilling life is to try to stop going back to the person that you were before.  I’m not the same person I was 8 months. Every relationship I have has changed because of it, including my one with John. I can’t go back and be that old Marlena no matter how hard I try.  My whole life and perceptions have been altered by my rape. “What about you?” I ask.

“What about me?”

“I’m not the only one dealing with issues here.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning that when I’ve been open in therapy about my fears; my fear of failure or disappointing others of not being who you want me to be, you’ve offered little.”

“Because the therapy is to help you get better.”

“Not me John, us.  Maybe that’s the problem.  You’ve intellectualized what happened to me as something that I should get over never taking into account your own feelings about what’s happened.”

“I’m fine.”

“No you’re not,” I yell at him in frustration, turning around and facing him. “You shot a man John.”

“He deserved it.” I hear the iciness in his voice and see the tenseness in his jaw as he clenches his teeth together.

“Maybe so, but sooner or later you’re going to have to deal with your rage and whatever else you are feeling.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“Cut the bullshit John….you want me to get real and tell you what I see and experience living with you?”

“Not really,” he says as he turns and walks back into the bedroom.

“Stop John, just stop,” I plead with him as I grab onto his arm.  The softness of his skin a reminder of how fragile and human he is.  “If we are going to get better we both have to face our demons. It can’t be just me.  If I heal and you are still stuck back here,” I gesture with my hands, “it won’t help me or will end up destroying us in the long run.”

“What do you want me to say Doc?”

“I just want the truth from you.  In therapy with Dr. Smithfield you say the words that you think she wants you to say but it’s not real.  As a psychiatrist, but more importantly as your wife I see what you’re doing from a mile away.”

“And what would that be Dr. Evans?” he asks facetiously.  His use of my maiden name is not lost on me. Another defensive barrier goes up between us.

“Every day since you’ve been home you smile and tell me that everything is fine but I know that it’s not.  I can see that you’re hurting but you shut me out and go running instead. I’ve asked you to be honest with me, yet you won’t.  After a while I’ve started to think it was me. Am I that awful to live with or do you think that I’m so fragile that I’ll break and fall to a million pieces if you tell me the truth?”

“That’s not it Marlena.”

“Then tell me how it is then.  From where I stand your actions show me that you’re having all these feelings but aren’t saying them.  So many times I’ve looked at you and wanted to talk to you about what was going on and felt like I was being shut out at my own expense.”

“The last thing I wanted to do was make you feel like that,” he tells me as his head hangs low and he defensively folds his arms across his bare chest.

“Until we can be honest with each other and stop trying to protect each other it’s going to keep happening and nothing is going to change and I don’t want to live like that.”

“What are you suggesting? That we separate?”

“No, god no….that’s the last thing I want John.”

“What do you want from me then?”

“I want you to be honest with me.  I want you to be able to look at me and tell me the truth, to tell me something even when I don’t want to hear it. For example, six months ago you had to have seen the signs that I was in trouble, yet you didn’t say a damn thing.  I want you to be my compass so that when I get lost or off course, you’ll guide me in the right direction and tell me when I need help.”

“Are you suggesting that I haven’t been honest with you? That I’ve lied to you?”

“Yes, but your lies have been lies of omission in so many ways.  You knew that we were in trouble and rather than face it head on all my signs and symptoms became wrapped up in a little package that you categorized as an affair.”

“That’s a little harsh, don’t you think.”

“Yes, but for the first time in a long time I’m being honest.. I don’t want to go back to the things were before.”

“Doc, you’re the intellectual here, I’m not.  You’ve had all the training and know about this kind of stuff, I don’t.  I can’t be objective about you, I can’t.”

“If you lie to me and tell me what I want to hear how is it going to help me?”

“It’s not.”

“Then work with me,” I plead with him as I grab his hand. “This…my rape…effects both of us.  I know that you walk around on eggshells because you’re afraid that I’m going to break. I also know that sexually you see me differently.  Some times when I kiss you I sense a rage in you that scares me….it’s almost as if you are trying to force my body to replace to images of what happened with Bo, by memories of you.”

“Is it that obvious?” he asks as he ducks in his head in shame.

“No, but I know you John and know your moods and this is something that I haven’t experienced in a long time.”

“In a long time?”

“You used to kiss me like that when I was married to Roman.”

“Well yeah, because I wanted you to be with me and it was killing me knowing that you laid down in bed with him every night when you should have been with me.”  The memories of that time flash through my mind, more regrets of chances not taken.

“If we are to move forward we can’t keep protecting one another John.”

“Okay, but in order for me to move forward I need to make peace in my mind with the events of the past….what I want from you it’s not fair of me to ask.”

“What do you mean?” I ask. “You know I would do anything for you John.”

“I know that, but,” he stops and then looks away from me.

“Talk to me John…don’t shut me out.”  Grabbing onto his upper arm I feel his heavy bicep tensing up.  

“God, how can I even ask you this?”

“Ask me what?”

“About what happened.”

“What do you mean?”

“I need to know what happened between you and Bo, Doc…..my mind is playing all kinds of tricks on me.” I’m taken back by his directness and feel sick to my stomach.  This was one part of the past that I hoped would be left in the past, ignored. Turning away from him I walk out onto the balcony, needing some distance.

“Don’t shut me out Doc…I know that you need to talk about it before it eats you up inside.”  Turning around to face him, the moonlight illuminates his face as he stands at the threshold of the patio allowing me my space.

“How do you know that I haven’t?” I haven’t discussed the particular with anyone since that night, not even Karen or Dr. Smithfield.  They’ve tried to pry out the details from me in various ways but were unsuccessful. I resolved after the incident that it never needed to be spoken about.

“Because I know you,” he tells me as he approaches me, gently tipping my head back with his index finger.  I close my eyes and concentrate on the sound of him breathing to calm my nerves.

“God this is hard…this is hard John.” Breathing deeply though my nose I can smell the remnants of his cologne.

“It doesn’t have to be…this is me here.  I love you unconditionally.”

“I don’t like to see myself as vulnerable,” I tell him as I finally open my eyes and gaze into his. “I don’t.  My whole adult life I have tried so hard not to be seen as weak, to overcome all the doubts that Alex North put into my head about what I was…talking about Bo and that night brings all those feelings of helplessness back.  To me, as awful as the act was the pain lies in the loss of trust and my inner feelings of worthlessness. “

“You aren’t those things,” he tells me tenderly as he strokes the side of my face.

“But at times I feel that way…After Alex I vowed never to put myself in the situation where I was vulnerable to a man….I guess vulnerable isn’t the right word.  I would never allow a man to destroy my self esteem. You have to know John that I would never have put myself in that situation with Bo if I had known what his intentions were.”

“Doc, stop thinking it was your fault.”

“I know that it wasn’t, but knowing and accepting are two different things.  I keep wondering if I said or did anything to provoke him.”

“And if you did?  That didn’t give him the right to take you,” John says crudely before apologizing. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t….I asked you to be honest with me….If that’s the way you feel, say it….But I want you to promise me that you aren’t going to go after Bo and retaliate against  him anymore.”

“I can’t promise you that,” he tells me, his voice filled with regret as he walks to the edge of the balcony and looks down at the sleeping city beneath us.  

“Then I can’t promise that I’ll tell you what happened.  I can’t risk losing you again,” I tell him as an unexpected sob escapes the confines of my throat.  “I can’t, not so soon to when the baby is supposed to be born.”

“What if it’s his?” John asks quietly.

“Then we’ll face that if it comes.”

“You know that I’ll love the baby regardless, right?” His back is still to me which makes the whole conversation easier.  We can tell each other painful things without having to see the hurt and disappointment in each other’s eyes. Not the healthiest way to communicate but it’s a way that has always worked for us.

“I know,” I tell him, wanting to change the subject.  Talking about the baby is something that I’m not comfortable with.  I want to wait until he is born and then deal with the situation if its Bo’s while John wants to formulate a plan now.  “Remember last year when Bo and Hope were having all kinds of marital problems and separated for a while.”

“Vaguely Doc, something to do with Billie, but that’s all I remember,” John says as he looks at me over his shoulder.

“Hope kicked him out of the house…”

“Oh yeah, I remember that now.”

“Well she called me in a panic at work one afternoon and asked me to try to talk some sense into him.  She was worried about his mental state and afraid that he would try to harm himself.”

“I wish he would of.”

“John.”

“It’s true.”

“I found him at…”

“Wait, why didn’t she call me or Roman?” John interrupts as his ISA trained mind analyzes every word of mine.

“She tried to.  You were in a meeting and your secretary told her that you couldn’t be interrupted and when she called the station for Roman, he and Abe were out on a case.  She didn’t want to interrupt so she called me.”

“Makes sense…”

“I found him on their boat.”

“Their boat?” John asks and immediately I see the wheels in his head clicking as he’s imaging Bo raping me on the boat. His shoulders are so tense that I can’t resist the urge and reach out and touch them, my fingers slowly tracing the lines of his tattoo.

“Stop John…just stop or you’re going to drive yourself nuts.”

“I can’t help it Doc, I want to kill him,” he says in frustration and anger.

“That may be, but you can’t.” Letting go of him I sit down on a chair that John placed on the patio a couple of week ago.  The baby is pressing on my bladder making standing uncomfortable for me. “So anyway I found him drunk on the boat.”

“Why didn’t you leave? He asks as he turns around and sits down across from me on the ground, his back against the wall.

“Why would I?  I had no reason to fear him.  My plan was to talk to him, offer him some advice, call Roman and Abe to check up on him and then return home.”

“And?”

“He was drunk and lamenting on how his life was over since Hope kicked him out.  I tried to be supportive by listening to his complaints. But then his complaints became complements.  He started telling me that he wished that he’d married someone like me and wanted a marriage like you and I have.  At first I didn’t pick up on his intentions; I thought he was just being nice.”

“I sense some hesitation.”

After several minutes of silence I finally continue embarrassed about what I’m about to reveal, my one huge regret. “He offered me a drink.”

“No,” John says in shock and then quickly tries to hide his response.   

I know that he’s judging me thinking that I put myself in the situation that allowed Bo to rape me.  “Don’t you think I haven’t beaten myself up enough over the fact that I accepted a drink from him already?  It was one drink, one glass of wine. I thought that by accepting he’d calm down and accept my help.”

John tugs on his ear, deep in thought before he finally responds. “Well obviously he didn’t. How much did Bo have to drink? ”

“Before I got there I’m not sure, but there were empty bottles all over the place.  He was drunk that I do know. But John, remember that this is Bo, our friend and my former brother in law.  Never in my life did I think that I would ever have a reason to fear him. But the more he talked the madder he got.  He was really angry at Hope and Roman for some reason. I don’t even remember why he was mad at them for he wasn’t making a lot of sense. He started making comments to me like how nice I looked and how good my perfume smelled.  He started rubbing my shoulders and making me uncomfortable.”

“Why didn’t you leave?”

“I should have but at the time I didn’t realize what his intentions were.  To me he was Romans kid brother that was drunk and nothing more. Before I knew it he had me cornered in the back of the boat.  He started flattering me telling me how smart and wonderful I was and that if he had a woman like me he’d never let me go. All the while he kept drinking out of a bottle.  I tried to calm him down and get him to lay down and sleep it off. He said that he only wanted to talk to me because I was the only one that could understand. I listened to him rant and rave at the world as he continued to drink.  It was only when I opened my purse to get my phone to call you and Roman that I realized that he had other intentions.”

“What do you mean?”

“He grabbed away my phone and threw it across the room and screamed at me.  I was shocked as I have never seen him like that. When he stood up in front of me I saw that he had an erection. I was in shock.  Honestly, I’ve never seen him like that before. I knew at that time something was terribly wrong and tried to leave. He grabbed me by my waist and pulled me back into the boat, shutting and locking the hatch.  ”

My mind completes the images of what happened next.  I see him in vivid colors dragging me by my hair back to his bed and pushing me down. Every image of him is seared in my brain, every touch of his marking my skin.  As hard as I’ve tried to forget what happened, I’m unable to. Unable to remain detached from the series of events, I finally allow my tears to fall. John takes me in his arms and holds me, allowing me to grieve.

Finally he lets me go, allowing me to compose myself.  Wiping my eyes and nose on my silk nightgown I feel much better that I’ve finally been able to share the truth.  “Marlena, I know that this is painful for you, but it’s something that I needed to know. I needed to know the truth.”

“I didn’t want to believe it happened, I didn’t want to be him.  I was afraid if I said anything it would destroy our families. I saw it as an act of a drunken man.”

“But he raped you.”

“True…look I regret not telling you…I do. But what happened to me in that instant was so much more than I wanted to believe.  I tried to act like it meant nothing, even going so far as trying to convince myself that what happened was nothing more than casual sex between friends…I don’t know, maybe I wanted it to be that.”

“I know you Doc; you don’t give of yourself like that to anyone, not without a strong emotional attachment.”

“I’m mad at myself for not fighting more…do you know how that makes me feel?”

“No.”

“It’s the worst feeling in the world….it would have been better if it had been a stranger or if he tied me up.  But to know that I laid there and allowed him to do that to me makes me sick.”

“You didn’t have a choice Doc.”

“Did I? Was there something I could have said or done to make him stop? Was there something I did to make him think that I was okay?  He’s a cop, he’s my best friend’s husband, and he’s my ex-brother in law. Do you know how many times he’s sat at my dinner table, do you know how many times I’ve talked to him on the phone about various things?  We were close, in a defacto way like brother and sister and then for him to go and do something like that crushes me. He took more than my dignity John…it’s not about the physical act. I could care less about that now…not really.   What I can’t forgive him for is for taking away my trust. I can’t trust anyone now….”

“Anyone?”

“Anyone.    I want to but a part of me will always wander if he’s capable of doing that what are other people capable of, including you.   I’ve known you long enough to have seen the long term effects of your past on you….do I know what you’re capable of? No.”

He doesn’t seem too shocked that I just told him that I don’t trust him entirely.  “You can’t lose faith in mankind Doc.”

“I haven’t….it’s just going to take me time before I feel safe again, before I can trust.”

“Trust in me Doc, trust in us,” he tells me tenderly.  “You’ve made me feel alive and have given me hope so many times when I thought there was none.” Gathering me into his arms he lifts me off the chair and carries me into our bedroom.      

“No, you’ve done that for me and so much more,” I tell him as I lay my head on his shoulder and enjoy this measure of comfort, reminded that I don’t always have to be strong and in control.

Setting me on the bed gently I see him look over at the alarm clock.  “Doc as much as I’d love to stay in bed with you the whole day, we do need to get up and start moving….Sami and Belle will be here in about an hour to go baby furniture shopping.”

“Why didn’t you remind me?” I ask as I see that its almost 6 am.

“Wasn’t important…there were other things that we really needed to talk about….why don’t you waddle into the shower while I cook you breakfast?” John suggests as he rises from the bed and puts on his pants.

“I do not waddle.” I tell him as I appreciate the view of his backside bending over.

“Every woman that’s 8 ½ months pregnant waddles.”

“Except for me.”

“Whatever you tell yourself to make yourself feel better,” he jokes as he stands up and buttons his black jeans.

“John,” I joke as I throw a pillow at him. “I’m tired….can’t you call your pilot and tell him that we’ll be a little late?”

“I could but I don’t want to spend all day in New York City furniture shopping.  I’d rather just get there, let the girls select what they want for their brother and then come back.  The national weather service is forecasting an early winter storm and I’d like to get back before it hits.”

“Makes sense,” I tell him as I get out of bed and walk towards the bathroom.

“You so waddle,” he tells me as he smacks my butt.

Page 25 of 27
My regrets are many as I look into his eyes.  Everything before us has come to this one moment. For all my faults and problems I have always known that our love is pure, never once doubting what he felt for me.

He’s staring at me, taking his time.  If it were anyone else I’d be embarrassed but this is John and I feel safe.  Lovingly he watches me as I remove my shirt and pull it over my head.

“Undo your hair,” he prompts me as I reach up and remove the clasp that has held it tight to my head for the better part of a day.  Instinctively I run my fingers through it to shake it out. I hear John groan and know that this one singular motion has aroused him.

I continue undressing under his watchful and appreciative eyes, trusting him with my vulnerability.  Standing bare before him my nerves are alert. I thought that I’d be uncomfortable before him nude due to my size but surprisingly I’m anything but.  I can see the fire in his eyes and know that my pregnancy is a turn on.

“Mr. Black, you are looking very fine right now,” I tell him, suddenly overcome with desire.  I want him badly, but am afraid of my feelings and how I’ll respond. I revel in the darkness of the room, our bodies illuminated only by the moonlight as it breaks through the ominous storm clouds.   I need the shadows to hide me, to give me security and strength in what I know that I need to do.

“Why Mrs. Black, if I didn’t know better I’d say you look a little flustered.” Slowly he walks to the bed and sits down next to me, flicking down the strap of my silk bra, exposing my breasts.  He eyes them appreciatively as he licks his lips.

“I love your body right now,” he tells me as he strokes my swollen stomach. I stare at him sheepishly through half hooded eyes as his strong fingers reach up and start to unbutton his shirt, his eyes never leaving my body.  Quickly he discards his dress shirt onto the floor and stands up to unbutton his dress pants. One leg at a time, he removes his pants and drops them on the growing pile on the floor. He is the most physically stunning man that I’ve ever seen. No lover that I’ve had has ever come close to comparing to John.

Looking at him I see his penis standing hard and erect, bobbing gently as he moves.  My mouth opens but no words come out. He stares at me, seeing my response to him and knowing that he’s the one in control. “God am I lucky,” I tell him as I reach out to touch him, to feel his humanness.  I feel my heart hammer in my chest.

“No I’m the lucky one Doc,” he responds as he sits down next to me on the bed and loosely pushes my body back against the decorative pillows.  I feel a rush of arousal from his closeness, my nipples tingle with anticipation. I want him to touch me desperately but am afraid to ask.

“Oh god,” I moan, my voice low and husky with excitement.  It’s as if I’ve left my body and a wanton woman has possessed it.

Encouraged by my response, John grabs under my thighs and lifts me against him.  The angle isn’t the best with my swollen belly, but both of us are so filled with desire that it doesn’t matter.  His strong arms hold onto me, drawing me deeper into his embrace. Gently his hand moves along the strands of my hair as he places a soft kiss along my hair line, stopping occasionally and leaving his lips there, just breathing.  

Turning my head towards his, I desperately need him to kiss me.  Tentatively I lick his bottom lip, desperate for the taste of him.  I feel like an unsure lover, not sure what John wants or is thinking other than his obvious want for me.  His mouth is hard and demanding as it devours me. For so long I have denied myself and him this intimacy.  I was too scared, scared to be hurt and even more so by the memories that it might bring up. My fear became the enemy that kept me from comfort.

I trace the smooth roof of his mouth with my tongue sensually before seeking more; the pressure of his hand at the base of my skull cradles my head and offers me no escape.  Drowning in his mouth, hot and hungry against mine, his tongue duels for control, the taste of dark chocolate and hidden delights.

His mouth intoxicates me as I struggle to maintain my sanity. John moans, the sensation vibrating along my tongue.  I slowly tear myself away, taking in a great gulp of air as we break the kiss. Resting my forehead against his I try to regain my breath.  My loss of control is unsettling.

Mesmerized by the scent of him I move my mouth lower until it connects with his waiting nipple.  Gently I probe it with the tip of my tongue as John holds my head in place loudly moaning at the sensation.  Over and over I lap at his nipple, alternating between them as they quickly become erect peaks. Moving down his body I drag my breasts across his torso.  My need to possess him is overwhelming, almost beyond comprehension. Feeling loved, warm and wanted, I desperately want to reciprocate by giving him pleasure.

Moving down his thin muscular body, my tongue dances lazy circles around his navel.  I can feel the twitch of his penis against the side of my head. Moving lower, I cover his hips and abdomen with little tastes.  Not going where he wants me to, I hear him softly moan.

Finding one of his wrists with my hand, I pull it to his side, holding it there.  Cupping him, I flex my fingers to stimulate him. His hips begin to thrust as I move my mouth over him, taking him as far as I can.  

“Doc….I can’t… I can’t…” John moans as he tries to hold back.  I won’t allow him.

“I want to make you happy,” I tell him as I take him in my mouth once again, allowing my throat to open, taking him as deeply as I can.   It’s been almost ten months since I’ve last done this for John but my body and mind haven’t forgotten the little things that drive him wild with desire.   My lips close halfway down his length as I look up at him smiling through the moonlight. Slowly I drag my lips along the length of his shaft. Coming to the crown his penis, I open my mouth as wide as I can and thrust my head forward taking him deeper.

“Fuck,” John grunts as he grabs my head and holds into his place. Pulling back I move my lips back and forth along the length of him, loving the control that I have over him.  

“Doc, I’m going to cum,” John tells me as he pulls out of my mouth.  “I want to cum inside of you.” Like a panther he crawls over me and pushes me down against the bed.  “First I need to taste you.” His words alone cause a wonderful intense pleasure as I feel moisture beginning to gather.  

Tenderly he spreads my moist lips apart and slips one long finger between, dragging it against the side of my bundle of burning nerves.  It takes an enormous effort on my part to remain still under his ministrations, the hunger in my mind leaving me wanting much more than this.  I have a need to be entered, filled and possessed by John.
His finger stills, his other hand holding my waist firmly.  I’m dying with desire for him to taste me. His lips move up towards my ear as I hear him murmur, “Let me do this for you.”

He runs a path of slow kisses from my neck to my shoulder, finally coming to a rest on my chest just above my breast.  Laying his head against my chest he is content to just hold me, listening to the sound of my beating heart. Slowly his fingers starts moving inside of me, in and out to the beat of my own heart.   

“God, you’re beautiful like this,” he tells me.  “So hot, wet and sexy.”

Each thrust moves me closer and closer to the release I so want and need.  As my breath becomes more ragged, his finger moves faster and faster.

Looking over John I see that the sky is impossibly dark.  I hear thunder in the distance and feel the humidity in the air.  Every part of me is alive at this moment, alive with want, desire and need.  

Kissing my inner thighs he slowly plants little kisses along the crease between my legs and my womanhood.  Desperately I want his tongue on me, in me and I try to move my body toward his waiting lips.
 
“Kiss me pleeeeeassssseeee,” I whisper, growing weary of his torture.

“Patience Doc.” I feel his hot breath as his mouth closes over me.  Quivering I’m unable to respond as I concentrate on the immense pleasure that I feel as the tip of his tongue flicks against my hooded clit.  Moaning I buck my hips and try to get him to press harder.

Darting his tongue in and out, I buck my hips upwards.  I can feel him as he circles his tongue over the top of my hood and then begins licking my folds in long strokes.  Ripples of sensation flow over my skin. Awareness, primal and needy, shoot through me. Suddenly the sensation stops and is replaced as he inserts the tip of his finger into me.

“God you’re tight.”  Still licking my slit he forces another finger into me.  With a mounting urgency his fingers move at a frantic pace as his tongue rapidly flicks side to side over my clit.  Grunting I grab his head and hold it in place, never wanting this incredible feeling to end.

“Oh god…” my moan comes out low and dark, a voice I almost don’t recognize.  “Oh god, don’t stop…don’t stop….John I need you.”

“You have me.”

“Inside….. of……. Me…….” I manage to get out.

“Not yet,” he taunts me as he looks up at me.  “I want you crazy for me.” I desperately need him to erase the memory of every other man that’s ever touched me.  I suck in a huge breath of air to try to control the emotions spilling to the surface for this man. Wiping away my tears I lay back on the bed as he slowly kisses each of my ankles.  

Slowly he moves from my ankles to my thighs.  Breathing in my scent, he licks me thoroughly, exploring my dips and walls, gently stabbing his tongue inside.  I can feel my passion mounting again as he takes his mouth off me. Groaning, I feel him slowly blowing my spread lips.  The cool air washing over my super-heated womanhood, I groan in a combination of frustration and pleasure. He flicks his tongue and then licks me again.   

Unable to stand the pleasure anymore I gently take his head in both of my hands and lift him off my center.   Bringing his face close to mine, I look into his eyes and see myself reflected back. His eyes are not merely azure blue, but a thousand shades of dark blue blended together that change depending on his mood.  

I feel his little panting breaths as they blow into my face, tasting myself on him.  Weaving my fingers though his dark hair I hold him close.

Kissing him again, I’m lost in the delicious sweet heat of his mouth.  Relishing our taste, I delicately wrap by other hand around his wrist. His eyes slide open, looking at me, into me.  I pull his fingers to my lips. My tongue darts out to taste myself on his fingers. I wrap my lips around those fingers and twist my tongue around them.   I revel in the smoothness of his fingernails contrasted by the slight roughness of the pads of his fingers. Suckling his fingers, I’m lost in the feeling of having at least something of him inside of me.

His fingers dig into my wrists as he brings them up and holds them over my head, looking into my eyes for permission.  Nodding, his mouth descends on my swollen breasts. Tugging, pulling his fingers tweak them until my pain and pleasure are one and the same.

“I want to do this on your terms,” lustily he tells me.
T
aking hold of him in my unsteady hand, I guide him to my entrance.  When he enters me, I am impaled by a flaming brand that consumes me from the inside out. Tears stream from my eyes and I cannot tell if they are from pain, pleasure or loss. This voluptuous heat of friction and delight are turned into a curse of my own making.  His gasp makes my stomach flutter and instinctively I bite down on his shoulder, my teeth closing over his tendon. He tastes so good; of mysteries, sex and maleness. Loving his flavor, I crave more. Giving him more open mouthed promises against flesh and muscle, I move on to his neck.  

Rocking slowly, I watch his face in the moonlight.  There is the look of pleasure that belongs only to me as I feel him thrust into the depths of who and what I am. With each thrust I feel heat sweep through me.  Staring into each other eyes, we become one thrusting groaning mass of pleasure. The sensations run through me in waves as I see John struggle to keep his eyes open.

I feel his tongue lap up a tear from my cheek as he slowly rocks inside of me.  His tongue moves from my face down to my right breast as his mouth suckles as much of my breast into his mouth as he can.    His mouth works wonders; miracles. He teases my breasts as he strokes in and out of me.

“God help anyone who tries to take this from us,” John moans into my breast as he continues to pump into me.  

His hands move to my ass as he lifts me, placing a down pillow beneath me.  The angle giving him deeper access, he is hot and thick inside me. Slowly he circles his hips grinding his pelvis against mine.  Grabbing his hips with my hands, I hold him in place and plead with my eyes for him to be fast and quick.

This slow dance finally speeds up, the tempo becoming more frenzied.  Our mutual need feeding our efforts, every stroke brings me closer and closer to release.  The bed squeaks rhythmically as he continues to thrust inside of me without mercy. I cry out as I feel my clitoris being brushed by his public bone with every thrust.  The heels of my feet press into his backside, urging him on and trying to pull him as deep as possible. I

“So close,” he moans to me. “Oh yeah Doc, you feel so good…So hot…come for me…you are so tight.”

My voice ragged and disjointed, I mumble incoherent thoughts to him.

I tip my pelvis forward towards him, crushing my clit between us on the next hard deep stroke as I feel my orgasm wash over me, moving through my body like waves.  

“Johhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhnnnnnnnnn,” I scream into the night, not caring who hears me.  As my whole body tightens and convulses. John catches me, holding me tightly.

I struggle to remain with John in the moment, focusing on his brilliant eyes as I feel another mounting wave of pleasure.  With a look that I’ll never forget, he throws his head back, eyes clenched as he thrusts into me a final time. Heavy and hard inside me, he fills me.  I hadn’t known I was empty until now. I’m overcome with a feeling of completeness, of closure. My head falls back against the pillow as I try to regain my breath.  John slowly pulls himself out of me and lays his head against my pregnant stomach, kissing it gently before he joins me on my pillow. Curled around one another, he’s content to hold me and kiss me.  I smell the heavy musk of sex surrounding us and take it in. This is our scent.

After several minutes of silence, John finally speaks.  “I love you so much Doc…I want to be making love to you like this when we’re ninety….I wondered if we’d ever get to this place again,” he tells me as his hand draws abstract shapes on my shoulders and back.  

“I did too,” I admit to him, fully aware of how I almost lost everything.

“I took for granted everything that I have in you,” he tells me tenderly as he takes my hand and brings it to his mouth, kissing it.  “I swear to you that I will never let that happen again. When I was in jail I made a promise to myself that if I was ever so lucky to have you in my life and arms again that things would be different, much different.”

“You make it sound as if things were really bad before…I didn’t think they were,” I tell him, a feeling of melancholy deep in my soul.  For as hard as I tried to avoid the mistakes of the past I always seem condemned to repeat them.

“They weren’t bad, but think of all the missed opportunities… think of all the regrets at chances not taken.” His fingers gently move up and down my arms.  The winter chill in the air causes goosebumps to quickly rise over my exposed flesh. The smell of wood burning in fireplaces fills the night air.

“In retrospect we’re all afforded that opportunity, but that’s part of life John.  You can’t always predict the right course all the life…” I nestle my body closer to him, drawing warmth from his heat.

“I could have, but so many times I put other people ahead of me and what I wanted…I’m sorry I didn’t mean that to come out so selfish sounding.”

“If it’s the way you feel.”  I think of Roman and how long I allowed him to come between what John and I have, trying to spare his feelings.  So much time wasted, so many opportunities where John and I should have been together.

“Doc, if you had the chance to do everything over again, would you?”

“In a heartbeat….life is what has brought us to where we are right now,” I tell him sincerely.  Every decision, every experience, every chance taken has made me who I am and to change one thing would be risking it all.

“Say that you’ll marry me again,” he tells me as he looks deep into my eyes, dead serious.   “I want to be the man and father I wasn’t before….I’ll give you everything that you need, including myself.”  His tears glisten in the moonlight as they run in two small paths down his cheeks.

“John, you were a great father to Belle,” I tell him as I tenderly wipe away his tears, sad that he doesn’t see himself as I do.  Laying in his arms, I realize exactly how blessed I am. My life is richer not for what I’ve done but for the wonderful people that are a part of it; John being an integral part. .   

“I wasn’t always there for her….I don’t want this baby to fear about his parents and wonder where we are and if we’re going to stay together.  I want this child to always feel loved, no matter what.”

“John.”

“Yes.”

“My water broke.”

Page 26 of 27
The neon lights flicker against the white acoustic ceiling tiles as the gurney that I’m lying on is wheeled down a long hallway.  Faster and faster the lights blink as codes and medical information are passed from one hospital orderly to another. Height, weight, age, BP; I listen with a detached sense as if they are talking about someone else.

“Husband reports that contractions are two to three minutes apart, lasting for approximately 45 to 50 seconds.”

“Has someone called her physician?”

“I did on the way in,” John tells them as a powerful contraction hits. It takes every ounce of strength I have not to scream out.   “You’re doing fine Doc….fine,” he tells me as he wipes my brow. I look up at him, his kind face marred by a mixture of concern and love.

“Take her into room three and call the OR and have them on standby….”

“Standby?” John asks.  “What’s wrong with her?” I can hear the fear in his voice; he’s just as worried as I am.

“Nothing sir, just a precaution….I need for you to go to the waiting room for a little while.”

“John.” I call out to him as I struggle to find his hand.  I feel the start of another painful contraction. “It hurts,” I whimper.

“It’s going to be fine Doc,” he reassures me as he grabs onto my fingers.

“Sir, you can’t go in there with her,” I hear someone tell John as the heavy metal doors to the surgical suite open up.  

“Try to stop me,” John threatens the man.  I try to turn to my side to see one last glimpse of John but the tremendous pain I feel in my side renders me incapacitated.  The pain is incredible and blinding. I feel sick to my stomach and dizzy at the same time.

“John,” I whisper as I reach out my hand towards him as my world goes black.

***************************

“Female, age 50, approximately 38 weeks gestation, membranes broken approximately a half hour ago per the husband.  Cervix was sewn shut at approximately four months, Vaginal fluid clear, temp 102.” I struggle to open my eyes but don’t have the strength. The pain in my abdomen is excruciating and it takes every ounce of strength I have not to give into the pain.  

I feel an intravenous port being interested into my arm, followed by the initial stinging of medication as it enters my vein.  God, does it burn

“Has anyone called her OB,” the voice continues.  I try to see if I can recognize who it belongs to keep my mind off of what I feel but realize that I’ve been on leaves of absence from the hospital for so long that most of the staff has changed.  

“Where the hell is she?” a second voice asks in concern.

“Hell if I know…it is 3 am.  She’s probably sleeping.”

“I hate these kinds of cases.”

“Dr. Evans, can you hear me?” the first voice asks, his soothing voice reminding me of the man that does the voice over’s for movie trailers.   

I try to nod my head and whisper, “yes” through the oxygen mask that I’m wearing.

“You’re in labor right now.  Your husband brought you in a little while ago. In a few minutes he’ll be joining you.  Dr. Bader is also on her way, but we have been in contact with her over the phone….”

“The pain…,” I tell him as a contraction takes over my body. Breathing deeply I try to concentrate on my relaxation techniques and not what I’m feeling.  I want John.

“I know….we gave you some medication that should help.  If you get the urge to push please don’t, not until Dr. Bader gets here,” the nurse tells me as he removes the sheet that John must have left me wrapped in and puts a hospital gown on me.  I try to hide my nakedness from him, grabbing the sheet and holding it tight to my body.

“The baby?” I manage to ask between contractions.

“The heartbeat is strong right now….We’re about to hook you up to the ultrasound.  Due to your high risk pregnancy Dr. Bader has asked that we wait until she arrives…”

“Wait?”

I feel a strap being attached to my waist followed by the steady sound of the heartbeat over the monitor.  “Wait?” I ask again, not sure what he meant.

“Dr. Bader needs to assess the situation and see if a vaginal delivery is safe….”

“No C-section,” I interrupt him.  I want John.

“Dr. Evans, we need to do what’s best for the baby.  I need to remove your stitches now,” he tells me as I feel the coolness of the air on my legs.

“Stop……please stop….I want to see my husband,” I tell him as I gather enough strength to take off my oxygen mask.  “I need to see him please.”

“Once Dr. Bader examines you, we’ll go get him….it should only be a couple of minutes.”

“Please,” I plead with them.  I don’t know why I’m so emotional and crying now, only that I feel such a sense of loss right now.  Everything is wrong and I need John.

“In a couple of minutes,” he tells me.  “A couple more minutes Dr. Evans.”

“Please,” I manage to get out between sobs.

“I’ll go get him,” someone finally says.  I try to quiet my fears by listening to the steady thumping of my baby’s heartbeat on the monitor.

*************************

“You’re doing beautifully Marlena,” Karen tells me as enters the room and picks up my chart.  “John you brought here in a little more than forty minutes ago?”

“Yeah, her water broke, so I drove her here,” John tells her as I watch her lift the sheets covering my lower legs.  “I’m going to insert my fingers and see how dilated you are. You may feel some discomfort, but it’s normal.”

I close my eyes and listen to the sound of baby Forrest’s heartbeat as I feel Karen’s fingers enter me.  “100% effaced and eight centimeters dilated,” she says as she removes her gloves and places them in the trashcan.  

“Is that a good thing?” John asks.

“It’s very good; it means that she can start pushing soon.”

“Thank god,” I respond as I immediately start to push.

“Marlena, you’re a doctor for heaven’s sake, please try to be a good patient and push when I tell you to,” Karen jokes as she scolds me.

“Sorry, but it seems like this kid has been in here forever…John, did you call Belle?” I ask in a panic.

“Yes, and I also turned off the lights and made sure that the oven wasn’t on.”

“Very funny.”

“Hey, I can see the hamster running around in your head, just thought I’d spare you some misery.”

“You both are too cute…on a more serious note; I am concerned about Marlena’s blood pressure and the possibility of the placenta prematurely separating from her uterus during labor.  As I discussed with both of you at your last appointment, this is a high risk pregnancy. I’d prefer to do a C-section with this baby, but I’ve agreed to your wish for a vaginal birth.  At any time I feel It’s not safe for you or the baby I will stop things. I just want both of you to understand.”

“We do and I appreciate your candor Karen,” John tells her. “I’d never want to do something that would put Marlena’s or our baby’s life in danger.”

The sound of the baby’s heartbeat echoes off the bare hospital walls as Karen silently works, checking the fluid levels in my IV and then placing her stethoscope on my back.  “Marlena, I need for you to relax.” Picking up my hand and holding gently onto my wrist she checks my pulse.

“I’m fine.”

“Right now you are, but you need to relax.”

“I’m trying.”

“I know, but your son needs for you to try your relaxation techniques a little more.”

“Why am I so dizzy?” I ask, concerned about the signs I know not to be typical of labor.  The pain has subsided somewhat and I’m not as drowsy as I was, but I still feel like something is off.

“You have a fever right now, however your amniotic fluid was clear and the culture taken earlier shows that there is no sign of infection.”

“She’s okay, right?” John asks.

“Everything looks great.  Your contractions have slowed down a little bit which is typical and nothing to worry about.”

“So says you,” I tell her through clenched teeth as I’m stricken with another contraction.

“Marlena breathe,” John tells me as he holds on my hand, squeezing tightly.  Breathing is the last thing I want to do now.

“I’m trying,” I tell him as I lean my head back and pray for this baby’s release.  I don’t remember any of my previous labors being this painful.

“Daddy,” Belle squeals as she rushes into the room and instinctively goes into her father’s arms.  No matter how hard I’ve tried to develop that closeness with my daughter, Belle has been and will always be the apple of her daddy’s eye.   “Mom,” she finally says as she leans down and kisses my cheek.

“Belle sweetie, I’m so glad that you could make it.”

“You know that I wouldn’t miss my baby brothers’ birth for anything in the world.  Plus I want him to know early on who’s the boss in this family,” she jokes as she sits down in the vacant chair next to me.  I close my eyes and grit my teeth as another contraction hits. “Is everything okay Dr. Bader?”

“Everything looks good right now Belle,” Karen responds as she picks up my chart and writes something in it.

“Great….so what happens now?”

“We wait,” John and I say in unison as I look over at him and start to laugh. For someone that just had a baby a little more than a year ago Belle seems to have forgotten a lot.  

“It’s happening now,” I yell out as I feel a powerful contraction ripple through my body.  “God,” I scream out.

Dr. Bader quickly examines me as I squirm to get away.   “Marlena, you aren’t dilated to 10 cm yet, soon, but not yet.  You’re just in transition now…I know it’s painful but just hang on,”

“You can do it mom,” Belle encourages me.

“I don’t want to do it; I just want this baby out NOW…” I yell out at no one in particular in frustration.  Belle, John and Karen silently watch me

“Can you give her something to speed this along?” John asks Karen, as I struggle not to laugh.  He knows darn well there isn’t a damn thing that they can do. I appreciate him trying to help though.

“No magic drugs John and besides, Marlena’s labor appears to be progressing rather quickly.  Most women, even those having their fourth delivery, don’t progress this fast. Whatever you two were doing earlier seems to have worked,” Dr. Bader says as she winks at John and lifts up the corner of our black silk bed sheet. “If you’d like an epidural, let me know.”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“You don’t have to be a martyr doc. If you need the pain medication, take it,” John barks at me.  “I’m sorry.”

“No,” I tell him as another contraction hits.  “I don’t want it to slow this labor down… I want this child out right now.”

“Marlena, if you change your mind let me know, but keep in mind that if you wait too long it will be useless,” Dr. Bader warns me.  I am well versed in the mechanics of labor and drugs, and know the benefits outweigh the risks. I am also well aware that I’m still punishing myself for the rape and this is another way that I’m making my psyche pay.  No one promised me that life would be easy.

“I don’t want to see you in pain Mom.”

“This is a good kind of pain.”

“I know but please think about taking the drugs.”

“I’ll take it under advisement.”

“Oh mom, before I forget, Brady and Chloe are on their way here.  They didn’t want to miss their baby brothers’ arrival. Sami, Lucas and Eric are also on their way….Eric was hungry and wanted to go through the drive through first.”

“Did someone mention my name?” Sami asks cheerfully as she enters the room. The aroma of French fries wafts from the small brown bag that Sami is carrying.  I’m starving and want nothing more than to eat but know that I can’t.

“You didn’t have to come.”  Overwhelmed by the sight of Eric I feel my eyes well up with tears.  We used to be so close but the last four or five years have put such a distance between us.

“I wanted to be here.” Eric bends down and kisses my cheek and then steps away from the bed.

“How is it going Marlena,” Lucas asks me as he looks away.  

“I’m fine Lucas….thank you for coming…I know that this probably makes you uncomfortable and if you want to go home and be with Will I really wouldn’t mind.”

“Thank you,” he whispers as he looks over to see if Sami heard him. I follow his eyes and see Sami, John and Eric talking quietly by the door. “What’s going on?”

“Mom, it’s nothing for you to worry about.”

“Let me be the judge of that….I repeat, what’s wrong.”

All three of them look uncomfortably at each other until Sami finally responds. “Uncle Bo and Aunt Hope are out in the lobby.”

“What do they want?”

“They wanted to be here for the birth…I told them to go home.”

“Good job pumpkin,” John tells her as he puts his arms around her and rubs her back.  “What do you want me to do Doc?”

“I can’t handle them here right now.”  Another contraction hits compounding the emotional pain I feel.  “Eric and Lucas, you could please go and talk to them and ask them to leave?”

“Sure mom,” Eric states as he stands up and walks towards the door with Lucas following him.  

“Girls, would you mind if I had a couple minutes alone with your mom?”

“Sure dad, Sami and I are going to the cafeteria to get some coffee, would you like some?”

“Sure, black, no sugar,” John tells them as they leave, leaving just the two of us and Karen alone in the room.

“Are you okay Doc?” John asks me as he sits down on the bed beside me.  I can tell by the look on his face that he wanted to be the one to make Bo leave but knows the risk is too great and not worth it.

“Yes,” I tell him as I start to cry.  “I hate this…I really do. This is supposed to be a happy day, yet he shows up and ruins it.”

“Don’t let him have that control over you.”

“I’m trying not to but when his name is mentioned my confidence is strained.  How long… how many times am I going to think about what he did?”

“Marlena, you need to calm down,” Karen warns me as I look over at the monitor and see my blood pressure rising and Forrest’s heart rate decreasing.

“I just want these feelings to stop….God, why am I even talking about him?” I ask as another contraction hits.  “He’s ruining my labor.”

“You think about it because you haven’t healed yet,” John tells me tenderly.  “Maybe this will be something that you’ll never get over….maybe it will be a memory that you’ll have to live with.”

“I don’t want to have these feelings anymore…I’m tired of letting him and this control me.”

“Breathe.”

“Is everything alright?” Roman asks as he walks into the room, once again at the wrong time. The tension in the air is heavy as John moves closer to me on the bed.   

“What is this, ‘Marlena Evans, this is your life’?” John asks.

“I swear John that I didn’t call everyone, I only called Belle.”

“Good news travels fast,” Roman Jokes. “Doc, you look beautiful,” he says as he leans down and kisses me on the cheek.  The moment is awkward, but I’d expect nothing less of him.

“Thanks Roman.”

“I just wanted to see that you were alright.”  After last time were the unspoken words that hung precariously in the air.  I know he’s thinking about our baby that I lost; honestly the last thing I need on my mind.

“I’m fine,” I tell him as I grunt through my pain at the start of another contraction.  

“You’ve always been my favorite ex-wife and I know that now really isn’t the time but I wanted to apologize for how I’ve treated you in the last year.”

“Try years,” John mutters under his breath as he moves even closer to me.  

After the contraction ends I take John’s hand in mine before responding to Roman.  “There is nothing to be sorry for…..I know it was your anger talking and not you.”

“Still I said horrible and hurtful things to you and John.”

“No hard feelings,” John says, more for me than him.  

“Thank you,” Roman sighs.  “I just wish you trusted me enough to tell me the truth from the beginning, but in retrospect I can see why you wouldn’t.  I wasn’t exactly welcoming.”

“Stop beating yourself over it,” I tell him, not wanting to have this discussion with him.  “Roman could you do me a favor?”

“Just ask Doc.”

“Could you please talk to your brother and get him to leave?”

“He’s here?”

“Apparently, Eric and Lucas went out to talk to them.”

“I’ll make sure he leaves.”

“Thank you.”

“Call me if you need anything,” Roman says as he walks out of the room.

“No chance in hell of that happening pal,” John mutters.

“John.”  I playfully slap his knee.

“Hey, we vowed to be honest with each other right?”

“Yes we did.”

“I’m just saying that the man pushes my buttons….I get that he’s your ex-husband and cares about you, but the man’s interest in you goes beyond the friendly if you know what I mean.”

“You have nothing to worry about John cause I’m having your….your…..your baby,” I manage to get out as the most powerful and painful contraction that I’ve had to date hits. “Holy mother of god….I want to push Karen.”

“Hold on Marlena….let me check to see if you’re at 10 cm yet.”

“I better be,” I tell her as John laughs and gets up off the bed allowing her room for her exam.  

“Great, you’re at 10 cm now Marlena and you finally get to push.  Have you decided who you want to stay in the room with you?”

“John and our children.”

**********

“Push,” Karen orders me as she puts on her white lab coat and slides one finger at a time into a pair of latex gloves.

“I can’t do it.”

“You can do it Marlena,” John says softly from his position at the end of the bed.  

“No I can’t, I’m not strong enough.” Struggling to find a comfortable position I’ve given up on modesty.  I no longer care what I look like; I just want this baby out. Holding onto the black silk sheet I try my best to cover my nakedness.

“You are….You’re the strongest woman I know.”

“I can’t…It’s too much,” I tell them in defeat as I lay back down and close my eyes. The contractions arrive at frequent intervals, each one more painful than the previous one.

“Come on Doc…do it for me, do it for our baby.”

“I need to rest…go away.” I want to curl up in a ball and make everything and everyone go away.  I want to stop hurting.

“In a couple of minutes it will be over with…you can do it.”

“I feel like this baby is ripping me in two…god,” I moan as another contraction hits.  Sitting up I push as hard as I can, sweat dripping down the sides of my face.

“Come on mom,” Eric encourages me as he runs the wet washcloth along my brow.  “You can do it.”

“I’m a fat mess, I can’t.”  I feel a lump in my throat and know that I’m on the verge of crying.  I’m embarrassed to be losing control like this in front of the kids.

“You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, this is the most beautiful thing I’ve seen,” John tells me in all seriousness.

“You’ve…seen…this…before.” I struggle to get the words out as another contraction starts.  “You… delivered… Belle.”

“This time I know it’s my baby.”  Squeezing my bare knee he looks down in encouragement.  I feel the sincerity of his words. They give me the strength to push harder.  For myself. For John. For the baby.

“Oh my god, I can see the head mom, I can see the head,” Belle screams in delight.  I’ve been pushing for more than an hour and am glad to see some reward for my efforts.  I look up into Brady’s eyes and see him wiping tears from them. He’s focusing on my face.

“Hold there Marlena, don’t push,” Dr. Bader tells me. “On the next contraction hold it; don’t push….I need to check f you need an episiotomy.”

“No… I tore with Belle and the healing was quicker.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“John come over here,” she instructs him.  “With the next contraction I want you to push as hard as you can and hold it.  Girls grab your mother’s legs and hold them in place. John, I am going to guide the head and shoulders out and rotate them if I need to.  Once I do that I want you to grab the baby gently and guide it out of Marlena. Brady and Eric, I’d like for you to support her upper body.  She’ll have more leverage if she’s not lying down.” Quickly, Belle grabs hold of my right leg and lifts it followed by Sami on the left.

“Come on Doc, you can do it,” John encourages me as he stands next to Karen.

“Push Marlena,” Dr. Bader orders me as another contraction hits.  I feel like I have nothing more to give but try my hardest. The pressure of the baby’s  head on my perineum is intense. I feel a burning sensation as my tissue begins to stretch.

“Hold it Marlena….stop for just a minute to let your body adjust.”

“I just want this over with,” I tell her as I continue to push.

“I know, but the more controlled we try to make this, the less chance of tearing there is.”

“Oh my god mom, I see his face,” Sami yells out in excitement.  “He’s got black hair,” Belle adds. “This is so cool. Brady, you have to see this.”

“No thanks, I’ll pass,” Brady tells her.  “Marlena expelling my baby brother isn’t something that I exactly want to see.”

“Brady,” John laughs, understanding how seeing me in this state must be uncomfortable for Eric and Brady.  I look up to see Brady and Eric looking everywhere in the room but at me.

“John, give me your hands and hold the baby where I show you,” Karen asserts as she holds the top of the baby’s head with one hand.   “I’m going to suction out his mouth and nose and then feel around his neck for the umbilical cord.” She moves in silence as we all wait for her next instruction.

I feel another contraction coming and bear down as hard as I can.  “owwwwwwwww,” I cry out.

“You’re doing great Marlena….See John, his shoulders are rotating inside her pelvis.  With the next contraction you are going to need to hold onto him tightly. Push Marlena….push Forrest out.”

“About the name Doc,” John replies.

“What…about….it?”

“Could we pick something else….something a little more manly?”

“I… love… the… name…it’s… you.”

“Yeah and there’s a reason I don’t go by the name….we could call the baby John,” he suggests.

“I like the name Dad,” Brady smirks.  “Yeah,” Eric agrees.
“God,” I scream out as another contraction hits.

“Isn’t it sacrilegious to name your child that?” John laughs.  “Oh shit…..” With a final push I feel the baby leave my body as John holds onto it with a surprised look on his face.

“Hold onto the baby,” Karen instructs him.  I hear the sound of her suctioning about the baby’s nose and mouth.  After a few seconds the sound of his first cries fill the room as they grow louder and louder.  My eyes are focused only on John as he looks down at his soon with a look of wonderment.

“Would you like the cut the umbilical cord?”

“You bet,” John says, tears running down his face.  “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” Carefully he cuts the cord, fingers trembling, watching as Karen clamps it.  

“Mom, he’s so little,” Sami says as she fights back her own tears. “He’s adorable,” Belle adds.

“I need to take him from you to dry him off…then you can have him back.”

“No, I want to do it,” John replies as he brings his son close to his chest and carries him over to the table in the corner of the room.  As John and Karen tend to the baby, I’m struck by the poignancy of the moment. Sami and Belle have their arms around each other watching John with their baby brother.  Eric and Brady, my strong sons, are on the bed behind me, supporting me in their strong arms. This is my family, this is my life.

“Doc, thank you…thank you,” John states, his eyes filled with happy tears   as he carries our little boy towards me and places him in my arms. He’s wrapped in the blanket that Belle knitted for him; a perfect little bundle.  Sitting on the bed next to me, John places our son in my arms.

“Hey little man,” I tell him, my voice breaking from the emotion.  Looking down at this baby that has brought us so much joy and brought us together, I see John reflected in his blue eyes.

Page 27 of 27
Every day I watch the clock, staring as the numbers tick slowly by.  With each tick I fear that the silken threads holding my life together will become unraveled.   I’m not afraid of the future by any means, but that the choices of the past will someday catch up with me.

“Doc, we have to choose a name for the baby…” John says as he strides into the room, interrupting my reverie. I’ve tried for a better part of a month to avoid the subject knowing that eventually we’d have to have this discussion.  I avoid his questioning eyes, afraid of the pain and the promise that I’ll see. Ever since the baby was born we’ve fallen into this comfortable pattern of existence. John’s taken an extended leave of absence from Basic Black not wanting to miss a moment of the baby’s life.  I’ve tried to cope with his constant presence, grateful for the companionship but guilty for my feelings of resentment.

“And?” I ask as I look up from my comfortable position on the rocker.  Our son is snuggled tightly in my arms, bundled in a black cashmere throw that John insisted in buying.  The $600 price tag seemed too extravagant for someone so small but John is insistent that we start things off right with this child, that this child want for nothing including his parents love and attention.

The attention at times is smothering.  I’ve stolen a few moments here and there, needed moments where I can be at peace with my thoughts and not projecting the image of a happy loving mother and wife.  More than anything I want to be that person but she is not me.

“And, the state requires that by the end of tomorrow the birth certificate for the baby be filed…”

“I need more time….”

“Sorry Doc, my attorney has been on my case….the paperwork needs to be filed.”

“Can’t he get an extension?”

“This is the extension…..the birth certificate has to be filed….let’s just pick a name, if we don’t like it in a year we go to court and have it legally changed.”  I know by the tone of his voice that he’s willing to compromise, that my month long hold out over the name has finally worn him down and that he’d sign off naming the baby anything I wanted.  

“Okay, how about Francis?” I ask him as I watch him involuntarily wince.  

“Francis?” John asks.  “Where’d that come from?”

“My great Uncle.”

“Uh huh….A great uncle who I have never heard about until now….rather convenient Doc.”

“I never told you about my great Uncle Francis?  He used to take Samantha and I fishing all the time in Colorado.”

“See that’s where I know you’re lying…”

“Why would you say that,” I ask coyly as I bat my eyelashes at him.

“Cause the day that you pick up a fishing pole is the day I bring you to the hospital and have them start running tests for a brain tumor, that’s why,” John asks as he kneels down beside me and strokes the baby’s thick black hair.  “Marlena, we can’t call him baby forever….he needs a name.”

He needs a name.  If only it were that simple.  I loved the name that John picked out the moment that I heard it, but have stubbornly held onto this non-existent ongoing argument.  

“Doc, what is it?” he asks tenderly as he takes the baby into his arms and walks over and places him in the crib, covering him up.  I can hear the baby coo and know that soon he’ll be fast asleep.

“Nothing…I just don’t want to mess up on his name.”

“You can’t mess up a name….okay maybe you can,” he admits. “But is it the worst thing in the world?  No. We pick a bad name and he can hate us and change it when he’s older….not a big deal.”

“But it is a big deal….”

“No its not….look if it makes you happy I’ll go along with Francis even though I personally loathe the name….we’ll just call him by a much cooler middle name.”

“I need to get dressed.” Slowly I stand and stretch my arms above my head, my cramped muscles getting much needed relief.  

“Not until we decide on a name.”  Following me into the bathroom, John sits on the vanity counter and watches me as I remove my shirt and place it in the laundry bin.  “Come on Doc…it’s not that hard. It’s just a name.”

It’s just a name.  It is and it isn’t.  I need to do this, for him, for me and for us.

“Okay fine, Blake Frederick Black,” I mutter as I hurry from the room.  “Fill out the paperwork before I change my mind.”

*7*7*7*7

It’s been two long days since the paperwork was filed and each day I’ve sat nervously on the couch waiting for the phone to ring, a phone call demanding a paternity test on the baby.  I still haven’t been able to call him by his name. I’m too tired to psychoanalyze myself, not wanting to know what I’ll find. It seems the more self analysis I do, the more help I need; help that I don’t want.  This eleven month nightmare that I’ve been living has worn holes in my soul, holes that gape with every movement of my mind and body. I walk through my days exposed never knowing when a look or a comment will reduce me to tears.  I know that John and the girls think I have post partum depression, but I’ve counseled enough women with it to know it’s not the case.

He’s the problem; the one person I’ve tried with my heart and mind to forget but can’t.   But remembering no longer haunts me, its forgiveness and moving forward that I’m having a hard time with.

“Doc, Roman is here to see you,” John whispers as he leans down and kisses my cheek, interrupting my moment of solitude.  I’d taken advantage of the baby’s nap to catch up on reading my medical journals.

“It will be nice to see him again.” Standing up, I move to our bureau and pour myself a glass of ice water.  Holding tightly onto the crystal tumbler I gently bring it to my lips and savor the coldness as the water swirls around my tongue.  

“Will it?” John asks impatiently as he stands before me.

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“You know why?  The last time we saw him was when you were in the hospital giving birth to Blake.  Not a word from him since. Why?” John is surprisingly defensive and angry.

“Who knows, maybe he’s busy.”

“Come on, you know that’s not the case,” John tries to convince me as he places his hands on my shoulders and squeezes them.  I see his tortured reflection in the mirror trying to understand my own.

“Why don’t you just tell me why you think he’s here instead of playing twenty questions?  You obviously think he has an agenda.” Walking away from him I break our contact.

“Sorry Doc, but my trust in the Brady’s doesn’t exactly run high these days.”

“That’s fair.”

“So do you want to meet with him or not?  I have no problem sending him on his merry way.”

“I’ll see him.”  I realize that I can’t avoid him forever.  Sooner or later I’ll have to come out of my self-imposed isolation.  For as many steps that I took forward, I took three steps back. Rather than being the victim of a vicious crime I’m the town pariah.

“I trust you Doc…Do whatever you have to do.”  As quickly as he entered the bedroom he’s gone leaving me alone.

Quickly I walk down the stairs, not quite understanding my rush to see Roman.  He looks up at me, his eyes vibrant and warm. Standing, he walks towards and embraces me, “God, don’t you look good.  If I didn’t know it, I’d never guess that you just had a baby.” He smells of things that I’d like to forget.

“Thanks Roman.”  Sitting down across from him I take a blanket from the back of the couch and drape it across my lap hiding my hands.  Nervously I fidget.

“How the hell are you Doc?”

“I’m fine.”

“You sure look it….new motherhood really suits you, you know that?”

I nod my head not knowing what else to do.  With every word that he speaks I nervously wait for the other shoe to drop, for him to tell me that I can’t have the baby anymore.

“I really hate to do this Doc, but you know why I’m here.”

“The baby…” I whisper as my hands nervously shake.  I hold onto the thin band of my wedding ring to keep myself grounded.

He nods his head and moves to sit on the couch next to me. “Doc, he really did a number on you, didn’t he….look at you, you’re shaking.”

“How could I not be?”

“Fair statement….I don’t want this to be difficult….”

“Then why are you?”

“I have to….”

“No you don’t Roman….”

“I have a court order Doc.”

“When?  Wait, don’t tell me….”

“When John’s attorney filed the birth certificate…”

“God,” I groan in frustration as I bury my head in my hands.  Every hunch I had about what was going to happen had come true.  Bo was waiting for the birth certificate to be filed, for the child to be officially on record.  Without a filed birth certificate Blake did not exist as a citizen of the state.

“It’s going to be okay Doc….”

“No its not…its always going to be one thing or another…..for once I just want to wake up and hear the sound of the birds singing and nothing else….” My voice cracks as it reaches the upper timbres and I have to stop before I say something I’ll regret.

“That day will come….”

“When?  A year from now?  Five years? Twenty?” I interrupt him, amazed that after all this time he understands me so little.  He’s always had a knack for trivializing things on a basic level equating something like rape with the common cold; take a tablet or two and it will all be better in no time.  Some things never get better.

“I don’t know what to tell you….”

“I don’t expect you to understand.”

“I’ve been trying hard to, Doc, I really have.”

Roman and his guilt are legendary as is his need to be the hero and fix things.  “The last thing I need is for you to wax poetic to assuage your feelings of guilt….This isn’t about you.”

“The hell it isn’t,” he yells as he stands up and walks towards the French doors, staring at Salem below him.  “….Knowing that my brother raped you doesn’t exactly instill a sense of family pride,.” He watches the world below in silence for several long seconds before he responds.  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell, but you have to know that this situation has really thrown me a loop….i don’t know how to react and that’s not me.”

“Imagine being me Roman,” I tell him as I lean back and close my eyes.

“I’m sorry…”

“I know…I know…”  I can’t blame him for being the messenger for his brother, the bond obviously not broken regardless of his brothers actions.  “…..so what is it that you have to do?”

“Take a swab from Blake’s mouth and within a couple days we’ll know who the baby’s father is.”

“I am,” John declares as he walks into the room.

&&****

“Doc, look at me….look at me.” Gently he cups my chin with his warm hand, raising my face to meet his blue eyes. “I love you so much that at times it hurts.”

I can’t stop the tears that flow at his simple words, words that mean the world to me

“You have always been the rock of this family…my rock…I know that this past year has been absolute hell for you, for us.” I look away from him towards the window, allowing my tears to freely flow.

“I’m sorry.”

He kisses away the tears that slowly fall down my cheeks, looking me in the eyes.  “I don’t want to hear you apologize again. This isn’t your fault. What happened with Bo isn’t your fault.  For all the wishes and hopes in the world I wish that I could go back and change things and make things different but I can’t….sooner or later you are going to have to accept what happened and move on.”

His words anger and sadden me for I know that they’re true, “I’m trying John, I’m trying.”

“I know….I know … And .I can see your effort.”

“But it’s not enough for you,” I simply state as I step away from him, watching as his hand falls to his side.   

“Yes and no….god, how can I say this without offending you?”

“Say what you feel,” I implore him as I sit down on our bed.  “Don’t try to hide what you feel for my sake…not communicating is kind of what got us into this mess in the first place…”

“Huh?”

“Not the rape part but my response to it afterwards.  You weren’t available emotionally to me. Every time I wanted to talk to you and tell you what happened you’d accuse me of something.  Not the healthiest way to communicate but it happened and we can’t change it, only try to prevent it from happening again.”

“How many times do I have to apologize for it?” John asks as he sits down beside me and massages my shoulders.  The pressure of his fingers on my sore muscles hurts in a good way.

“I honestly don’t know….I don’t know….I was in such a bad place emotionally for so long….This is not something that I’m going to wake up one day and suddenly be over.  I need you to understand that. It doesn’t mean that I love you any less or that I’m not trying, it’s just the way things are.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

“You can keep on being your wonderfully supportive you…that’s what I need…someone to keep me grounded and sane.  Someone that I can come and talk to when I’m having a bad day and the memories are a little too much. Just be here for me when I need you.”

“You got it Doc, you’ve always had it…well maybe not always,” he adds when he sees my look. “But I’m here for you now.” Slowly his lips move towards mine.  I close my eyes and breathe in his smell, which takes me back to the first time I ever kissed this gorgeous man. He knows what I like as his tongue gently parts my lips and seeks entrance to my mouth.  Opening my mouth a small fraction I let him have entrance as my nails connect with the skin on the back of his neck. Over and over, his tongue washes over mine and he seeks to possess my mouth. I allow his control as I struggle to maintain my sanity in the moment.  I know that we are seconds away from making love, something I desperately want to do, but there are other things I need to do first. Breaking the kiss I pull away and look deep into his eyes. “John, my love,” I whisper to him, panting as I struggle to contain my breathing.

“Doc,” he smiles sheepishly at me as he adjusts the buttons on my shirt, buttons I wasn’t even aware that he’d undone.  “Sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry about….”

“I know, but sometimes when I look at you it just want you so much….”

“That’s normal John.”

“That’s the thing….I don’t think it is….I think I want you more than most men want their wives….I want you all the time.”

“Well you’re going to have to wait a little while…okay?”

“Does this have to do with Blake?”

“Yes,” I whisper.

“You know Doc, regardless of what the paternity tests state that baby is mine in my heart and that’s all the counts.”

“Thank you for saying that….I hope for all of our sakes that you are the biological father …which brings me to the subject of where I need to go….John, I know that you aren’t going to like this, but there’s something I need to do.”

“What?”

“I need to talk to Bo.”

***%****

The sidewalk leading to Bo and Hope’s house is a lonely one. The paved path crisscrosses the well manicured lawn, animated Christmas decorations lay idle waiting for the chance to come alive.  Each step I take along the path brings me to a precipice of an internal choice I must make; to forgive him or to live with the hatred I feel towards him and risk the chance of it destroying me.

John wanted to come with me but I insisted that I needed to do this on my own.  He wasn’t there when I was raped and hiding behind him and his protection isn’t going to help me mentally overcome what I feel.

“Marlena,” Hope greets me as she opens the door.  The blast of air from their fireplace is welcome against the chill of the air.

“Is Bo home?” I ask her.

She looks somewhat taken aback and perplexed as she struggled to find the words to respond, “Um Yeah, he’s upstairs….hang on for just a minute while I go and get him.”

Numbly I stand by the door while she closes it and climbs the staircase.  Minutes later she returns with him in tow.

“Marlena.”

I haven’t really seen him since that day in court where he accused me of being a liar.  The months have been anything but kind to him, the twinkle that was always in his eyes is gone.  He looks like he’s lost 30 or more pounds; his clothes hanging from his thin frame.

“Hope, do you mind if I talk to Bo alone?” I ask her as I look towards him nervously.  He looks uncomfortable around me; unsure of himself.

“Do you think that’s a good idea?” she asks.  I’m not sure if she means for me or for him.

“Please.”

“Okay.  I’ll be upstairs if either of you need anything.”  We both turn and watch her walk up the stairs and disappear from sight, neither of us knowing what to say.  The minutes tick by as we both stare at the staircase. I know what I want to say to him, I just don’t have the courage to.  Finally he breaks the silence.

“Um you wanted to see me?”

Never before in my life have I felt so awkward.  Driving to the house I had my whole speech planned out; what I wanted to say to him and what his response would be but standing here in this moment I’m at a loss for words.  “I wanted to see you, but now that I’m here I don’t know what I expected.”

“Was it about the baby?” he asks and I’m reminded of all the reasons why I hate him.

“No, this has nothing to do with my baby….this has everything to do with me…and you.” At the mention of “you” he turns towards me and really looks at me for the first time since I entered his house. “We both know what happened that night on your boat….you claim it was consensual and I know it wasn’t….”

“Did you come here to rehash that night Marlena?” he asks, the annoyance in his voice evident.  “Haven’t I already paid for my alleged crime…your husband did try to kill me….Did you honestly expect to come to my house and for me to get down on my knees and beg you for forgiveness?”

“Yes,” I honestly tell him, the words out of my mouth before I realized I was going to say them.   “I guess a part of me was hoping that you’d finally admit to the fact that you raped me.”

“Well it’s not going to happen…because I didn’t,” he tells me in anger, the words seething out of his mouth.  It’s evident that he’s trying hard to control his temper as he looks towards the top of the stairs for a sign of Hope.  

I’m disappointed in myself for allowing myself to get sucked back into a he said/she said type of situation; I didn’t come here to argue with him.   “You were my friend Bo, one of my best friends,” I tell him softly as I walk towards the door, knowing that I’m never going to get him to admit what he did.   Coming here was pointless.

“Well things change.”

“I know, but you know what?  I’m tired of playing by the rules of someone else’s game….I’m tired of it….I know that you’re never going to admit that you raped me, I know that.” I’m disappointed in myself for expecting something more from him, for expecting him to tell the truth.  My back is still towards him; the conversation over in my mind. I just want to go back home and be with John and Blake and wait for the test results and then do what John wants if Bo is the father; fight like hell and move away from Salem.

“Because I didn’t,” he exclaims as he moves besides me and places his hand on the door.  “You have to believe me….I could never do that to you of all people….”

“It’s really a moot point now anyway….” Placing my hand on the door handle I prepare to open it, not caring that he’s blocking the way.   

“No its not….we can’t go on forever ignoring each other, especially if I’m the father of that baby.”

“Well you’re not, John is,” I tell him defensively annoyed at his use of my baby in this discussion.  

“Did you get the test results back….”

“No…I just know that he is….”

“Even if he is…we have to find a way to co-exist….”

“I would love that Bo, but I honestly don’t see that happening….standing with you here right now I’m filled with such hatred towards you….I never thought I’d ever get to the point where I’d physically hate another person but I do….I hate you and I’m ashamed to admit it.”

“Geez Marlena….tell it like it is,” Bo jokes as he lets go of the door and shuffles his feet back and forth.  Shades of the man that I love and the relationship I cherish simmer beneath his rugged exterior.

“Hating you makes me feel all ugly inside, but I can’t help it.  I just want to know why you did it, why you raped me?”

“I didn’t…”

“I was not a willing participant…I asked you to stop.”

“No you didn’t.”

“Oh yes I did….you’re my ex-husbands brother and one of my best friends….why would I sleep with you?  It makes no sense.”

“We just got carried away…a couple of drinks and….”

“You got carried away….I told you to stop.”

“I was drunk, I don’t remember you telling me no…..I remember that you were quite the active participant….”

“That’s bullshit Bo and you know it….Do you know how hard I’ve tried to erase the memory from my mind of you slurring words in my ear, things that you of all people should not have been saying?  You were friend Bo, my friend…”

“Look if you honestly think I raped you then I’m sorry, but that’s clearly not how I remember it happening.  You are like a sister to me Marlena, I could never have done that to you and lived with myself.”

“Well you did and instead of you being punished everyone looks at me like I’m the one that did something wrong.  I used to be close to Roman and Shawn and Caroline and now they act like they’re ashamed to be around me. I have half the town staring at me and making comments, questioning my morality….”

“You just think that they are….”

“No Bo, I know that they are….I’m either ‘that poor woman’ or…or…..” I don’t have the heart to call myself a slut which is what I’ve heard many women whisper about me.  “Does that seems fair to you?”

“No….”

“But you did that to me Bo, believe it or not….”

“I refuse to accept that I would have done that to you….I’m not a rapist, you have to know that.  You have to believe me…..”

“Fine,” I tell him, growing more comfortable around him than I’ve been in a long time.  He actually seems to be listening to me, instead of arguing, willing to hear things from my perspective.  “You think you didn’t….I just want you to know how it is for me on a daily basis….you’re a man, you don’t get that, but on a daily basis I do….people question if I asked for it.”

Several minutes of silence pass as we just stare at each other.  Finally he breaks the silence, “What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know….I just want things to be the way that they were before.”

“So do I, more than anything….I hate the way that things are Marlena.” Turning his back towards me he walks towards the fireplace, running his fingers through his hair in frustration.  “John is my brother and now he won’t even look at me….I want what I had with him back.”

“Bo,” I tell him softly as I walk towards him, standing behind him.  “I don’t think you can ever have that relationship back…it’s over. He will never trust you again.”  I don’t say it to be cruel; I say it because it’s true.

“Do you really hate me that much?”

“I thought I did, but now I’m not so sure.”  My feelings of hatred are more of what he did, not who he is.  I want to dislike himself, but seeing him so fragile and humble before me I’m not so sure anymore.

“Mar, you have to know that if I could go back and undo that night I would….I would.” Turning around his eyes plead with me to believe him.   I see the tears and am not sure if it’s because of the guilt that he feels or if he’s finally feeling the loss that I do. .

“Thank you for saying that…it means a lot to me.”  It means more to me than he could ever know, a sort of acknowledgement of his guilt.   And with his words I’m able to let go of a lot of the pain that I feel. He may have had my body for one night, but that’s all he’ll ever have.  He will never have control or power over me again; I am done with it.

“Bo, I forgive you.”

Turning around he looks at me, tears streaming down his face.  How we got to this point is irrelevant, all that matters is that it’s over.  Walking out of the house I hold my head up high for the first time in a year realizing that some things couldn’t be intellectualized and thought through, some things I needed to feel.  Being silent was the way that I kept everything in control. I essentially had two choices. I could stay dead inside and turn my cheek and act like nothing happened. Or I could chose to face the truth and accept it, fighting for my sanity.  I chose the latter, using the opportunity to really look inside myself and my relationships with others, process and let go of the pain.

Things are going to be alright

My pain is no longer invisible.

The End.