The Prisoner of Glenda

The stall reeked of sex. There was also a pronounced smell of urine. Surveying the scene, I noticed bruises on her shoulder and her left breast. Her breast! Jesus, one of her breasts was exposed. There had obviously been a struggle. She had been assaulted, probably raped. But where was Brad? Had he left without her?

I do not know how long I stood bent over just staring at her, rummaging through these thoughts when she murmured, "Andrew?"

"Yes Glenda, it's me, what the hell happened? Are you OK?". Of course, she was not OK, but what does one say upon meeting your best friend's wife disheveled in a men's room?

"Ooooh...ah, my back...", she moaned. I found my hands and moved to help her sit up. She was looking up at me but her eyes were glassy. "Andrew, please help me out of here?".

"Oh my God Glenda don't move", I said as my hand went on the hunt for coins. "There are pay phones outside", I said as I was bringing into light a few quarters. Glenda grabbed my arm. The strength of her grip shocked me.

"No, please, please. Don't call anyone. Just take me home."

"But Glenda, you might be injured. You..."

"Andrew", she said as her eyes closed and huge tears began to travel down her face. Her grip tightened. I saw fear in her eyes and nodded.

"Ok, let's get you out of here". I grabbed her elbow and then snaked my hand around her so she could lean on me. I started pulling her dress down to straighten the material. Then looking around I found her purse.

"Can you walk?" I whispered her head just inches from my mouth.

"Yes."

I guided her out of the men's room, all the while praying that no one would enter as we left. Fortunately, no one seemed to be paying us any attention. I decided that we would leave by the closest exit and literally dragged Glenda though the door.

We were standing in the side parking area. I spotted my car. This was my first time at this club and I had parked in the wrong part of the lot. That mistake now worked to our advantage as I opened the door for her and virtually lifted her into the seat. I then circled around and got into the driver's seat.

"Where's your car?" I asked her as she was further adjusting her clothes.

"At the park'n ride in Swarthmore. I took the train in to town to meet Brad and then he drove us here." She said, all the while staring out the window, never once looking at me.

After adjusting her seat belt, I started the car and we were off. Glenda lived about 40 minutes away. She was silent the entire trip. I was thankful for that. If we spoke, I would be tempted to turn this car around and head to the nearest police station. She had obviously been victimized in that stall and I was now involved in covering up the crime. Damn. This was about the dumbest thing I had ever done.

It was a little after 1am when we reached her driveway. I saw Michael's car and felt a sense of relief. I guided Glenda to the front door and rang the bell.

After a few minutes, it dawned on me that Michael must not have been home. Glenda, now slumped against me, looked up, curious as to why we were just standing there.

"Michael is in Chicago. My keys are in the side of my purse."

I lowered Glenda onto the landing and searched through her purse. After trying several keys, I opened the door.

Glenda was moving a little better now. She seemed to be more sure footed as she walked into her living room. She lowered herself onto the sofa. Then as if a silent countdown had taken place, she began to cry. She looked like a little girl in her worst moment of despair.

Seeing her crying was causing my stomach to do cartwheels. Before I became conscious of it, I was sitting beside her with my arm wrapped protectively around her shoulder. Her crying intensified but it was quieter now. Only the momentary spasms of her small frame indicated she was still in much pain.

We sat there for hours. My arm began to cramp and as I moved, I noticed that that Glenda had drifted off to sleep, her arms nestled around me and her head resting peacefully on my shoulder. She looked like a sleeping child. Thinking it OK, I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep myself.

As sunlight entered through the curtains, Glenda began to stir. She shifted and then rose up as she remembered the events the past evening and how she came to be with me. Having woken me, I looked at her face assessing her mood and stamina for the dreaded conversation that had been too long delayed. She smiled as I continued staring.

"How are you feeling this morning?" I began.

"Oh, I'm a little sore...in too many places. I need to shower. That should help.", then placing her had on mine she said "Thank you." Looking determined she stood up and made her way up the stairs.

I got up and stretched. The grandfather clock said it was a little after 6am. It was time for coffee so I slipped into the kitchen gathering the utensils I would need for my morning brew. As I pressed the grinder, I looked around the room.

This place was twice again the size of my kitchen area. The room suggested family. This was a place for many, not just two people. In fact, the whole house begged for chaos of children and parents, grand parents and guests. This old place was designed for living. I wondered which of them had chosen this house to be their home, probably Glenda...with Michael's enthusiastic approval.

I managed to make the coffee and had the cups ready when Glenda entered. She was wearing sweats. Her face showed the strain of last night but her movements were all familiar. She was mostly her old self.

We both drew our coffee and proceed to drink. There was an obvious tension between us. We would either negotiate or argue, not both. I began.

"Do you remember what happened last night?"

"Yes."

This was no time to hesitate. I had deduced some of what had happened but I needed to hear it from her, and I need the raw truth, no embellishments nothing held back. I pressed her.

"Well?"

She looked me straight in the eye as she spoke. She barely blinked. I would get the truth.

"I called Brad earlier that evening, after Michael had left for Chicago. I was so angry with Michael. He left to go on a job interview and then to do some house hunting. He was going to uproot us without even asking me. We had agreed to start working on our family."

"This was so unlike him. I needed to talk with someone. I left a message on your machine and when you hadn't called back, I called Brad. I thought he could help me understand what Michael was thinking and why he was doing this, perhaps even persuade Michael not to accept the job."

"He told me to come by his apartment. When I got there, we talked for a while. Brad agreed with me, he was very sympathetic. He thought Michael was being completely selfish. He thought there was some hidden motive. Had Michael been to Chicago before? Didn't he have an old girlfriend from Evanston?"

"After a couple of hours I was so confused. I was not thinking straight I just angry. Then Brad suggested that we have a drink. That would calm me down. He knows I like merlot so he poured me a glass before I could refuse."

"We chatted some more and I was feeling quite buzzed. I did not think anything of it but then Brad mentioned we should not drink on an empty stomach. Before I knew what was happening we were walking into a dark restaurant. I tried to act like nothing was wrong but I was so drunk I could hardly stay awake."

"I dozed off for a moment and then I was on a toilet and Brad had his hand on my breast..."

She paused and looked down at her cup. Tears began streaming down her cheeks. Looking up at me, she said in a strained voice, "He raped me. Brad raped me. Why? Why would he do that to me? I thought we were friends."

Her hands went to her face as she hid from me. She was crying uncontrollably as spasms racked her body. I moved to stand behind her chair. I slowly stroked back as she buried her face in my stomach.

Why had he raped her? Why had he chosen a public rest room instead of his apartment? Why had he left her there? She had been drugged, was this whole thing a crime of opportunity or had it been planned?

The muscles in my stomach began to stiffen. Glenda must have sensed it for she looked up. I do not know what she saw but it must have scared her because she tightened her hold on me. I was looking away, my thoughts consumed elsewhere.

This was an act of betrayal beyond any in my experience. Rage, pure rage was taking over every ounce of my being. Had Bradley William Thomas walked into the room at that moment I would have beat him to death with my bare hands. I began to tremble. Fortunately, Glenda snapped me back to the moment.

"Andrew?"

"We should go to the police immediately. I'll make up some explanation for why we waited." I said, while moving towards the counter.

"No police."

"If we don't go to the police Michael will kill him when finds out."

"He won't find out. We're not going to tell him."

"We have to tell him! If you do not, I will. This is not something I can just keep secret."

"Please Andrew, I will tell him, just not now. I don't think I could face him now."

"Glenda I don't like this. First, you do not want me to call the cops. Then you want me to compound the problem by hiding from my best friend the fact that his wife was raped. He will not understand. He will hate me for this...and I will not be alone. The longer you wait the harder it's going to be to tell him."

"It won't be worse than what happened to me. I know what I am asking. I know the price. It might cost my marriage. Andrew...I'm pregnant."

When she made that last statement, I could hear the fear in her voice. I drew a deep breath knowing she had won this argument. She risked more than I could imagine. I was now along for the ride.

"What?"

"I'm pregnant. Michael does not know yet. I was planning to tell him when he got back. I can't..."

"OK, OK, I agree. This will be your call."

"One more thing Andrew. Promise me that you will not harm Brad. Promise me that there will be no violence. Swear it. I saw you a few minutes ago. I have held Michael when he gets mad, you had that same feel...that same look. I don't want you getting into trouble, doing something stupid." she said.

Don't do anything stupid? This whole response was stupid. Since her husband could not be her protector, she had unknowingly committed me to her safety. That was stupid. Calling the police now was not an option and that sure was stupid. So what were we left with?

We had a so-called friend who was a rapist. This was probably not his first rape. Given what little I knew of sex offenders they were the worst recidivists, they would not stop until they were caught. Short of incarceration or death, Brad would rape again. Glenda might still be a target for all I knew. By his actions, he dared her to tell. That veiled message alone scared me.

Late in the morning, Michael called from Chicago. I was there when she received the call. She gave an excellent performance over the phone but I observed her face as she spoke. She was biting her lower lip while he was speaking. Before hanging up he told her that while he liked Chicago the offer was woefully short of the representations that had made to solicit his interview. When Glenda ended the call tears were forming in her eyes. She now realized that her rendezvous with Brad had been unnecessary.

However, her resolve to hide this episode from Michael did not waiver. I would have to speak again with her at another time. We could not hold this secret indefinitely. She had to know this. The sooner she told Michael the sooner we could distance ourselves from Brad. What she proposed meant keeping him close, very close, all the while pretending. Was I up for that? Was I that good an actor?

Nevertheless, a promise was a promise. I had given my word to her. I had to get her to change her mind. I would wait until Michael was back. She would be more agreeable with him home.

While I waited for Michael, I turned my attention to the problem of Bradley Thomas. I had acted to conceal a crime. Were we to take the matter to the police my actions would likely taint any prosecution. There were no witnesses to the rape so no corroboration was possible from a third party. Last, the scientific evidence had not been preserved; no semen, blood, hair or fibers could be reclaimed.

Short of a confession, Bradley Thomas would escape justice. I also worried that any attempt to create a criminal case could be met with a civil response that might ruin all of us financially. The law offered him a remedy for an unsubstantiated assault on his reputation.

If we told Michael of the attack on his wife, we could then ostracize Bradley from our circle and perhaps insulate our other friends in the process. That is if Michael did not try to kill him first. I was not convinced that he would take a non-violent approach to his wife being raped regardless of Glenda's influence. In that sense, I agreed with Glenda. It was too early to tell her husband. We needed to offer him an alternative to violence. Unfortunately, we had no alternative at that time.

If we put Bradley under surveillance, would we learn something that could be used to stop him? I doubted it. I had known Bradley since I was 12 years old. I never knew he was even capable of this; and I knew him better than most. I would need to turn his life upside down and inside out to find a chain of irrefutable evidence to trap him.

Should I break into his Condo and search for evidence? What evidence was there? Who said he took souvenirs? This was not a television drama. In real life, you do not break into someone's home on a whim. In addition, putting him under surveillance was impractical too. I did not have the resources for that...we did not have the resources for that.

What could I do? I was getting paranoid. Paranoia was good. I needed to be paranoid about those I loved and seek to protect them first. Bradley had in effect dared Glenda to talk. If we were lucky and Bradley presented us with evidence, we might be able to extend that umbrella of protection.

Bradley might try for Glenda again, or he might select another of woman related to a member of our group. I was unattached at the time. That left Rueben and...my sister!

Without another thought, I called Rueben for a meet. An hour later, I had filled him in on the situation. He was family and this secret would not go beyond him. In addition, he saw the same potential threat to Debbie that I had. Bradley was always friendly with her too, though he saw her less now that she was married. It was unlikely she would be a target ...but he raped Glenda and she was the most unlikely target imaginable.

Rueben and I agreed; were he to see any untoward move by Bradley against Debbie he would dispatch him quietly. In that unlikely event, I would provide his alibi. Glenda was still the most likely target. The circumstances and manner of her rape said he might try for her again.

It was thought that Bradley would not try the same approach though. His assault in a public facility was probably a one-time occurrence. If there were another attack, he would likely come for her when she was alone, probably at home when Michael was absent.

I could not let that happen. I would be with Glenda during those times when Michael was out of town. I would be her bodyguard. She would agree because I would use my silence with Michael as leverage. I liked this strategy because it applied pressure on her to inform Michael; and that was still my ultimate goal.

In support of this effort, Rueben agreed to begin training me. He was not training me with an eye toward self-defense. No, this training would be focused on how to kill a man. We would concentrate on light weapons use as well as hand to hand fighting. If I were to confront Bradley then it was to be to the death. I was uncomfortable with killing a man.

Rueben and I argued on this point well into the night. If Bradley made another approach on Glenda, he was to pay with his life; any response short of that put too many people at risk. I came to see the wisdom in this.

When I left Reuben in the early morning, I was confident that we would at least protect the two women who were Brad's likely targets. That goal was both modest and attainable. However, I desperately hoped Glenda would tell her husband and relieve me from this blood oath.

In conversation with her the next day, she accepted my offer of protection. She would tell me when Michael was out of town and she was alone in the house. We spoke as if this were a temporary arrangement. When she had steeled herself enough she would tell her husband everything.

Thinking back on those talks I cannot believe how naïve I was. I do not know why men can be overcome by this 'damsel in distress' syndrome. We will drop everything to play the hero. It comes so natural to our psyche that we rarely question it. However noble an intent, it is one of the most dangerous defects of our gender.

I had no inherent skills in protecting Glenda. My lack of abilities was plainly apparent when I began training with Rueben. I failed miserably in marksmanship and my fighting prowess was laughable. It took months of fights before I was confident that I would take Bradley in any physical confrontation. By then I knew at least a dozen ways to kill him with my hands.

I wonder now if my ego prevented me from forcing Glenda to tell Michael. When those first months lapsed, the urgency for honesty declined. We never spoke about it directly but it was clear that we were both avoiding that conversation with him.

When Michael made his first trip out of town, Glenda called me days in advance. My job was flexible in that I could work from home, virtually at any time, at my discretion. I packed a suitcase and made my way to Glenda's. In the future, I would keep a bag packed at the ready.

The first time I arrived, I decided to at least check the obvious security exposures presented by the property. My paranoia led me to inspect all windows and doors on the first floor and the basement. I made notes on weaknesses I found. The result of that inspection led to the installation of an alarm system and video cameras at the major entrances and exits. I am not sure how Glenda sold Michael on the idea; all I know is that the systems were in place weeks after my recommendations.

Glenda told Michael about the baby. He was overjoyed. Given her condition and because it was his first born, Michael stayed close to home for most of her pregnancy. Her status probably factored into the security system being installed. His being home made me complacent during this period. I thought that I had overestimated Bradley's threat. Their daughter Renee was 3 months old when that impression was dispelled forever.

Michael was leaving on a 2-day trip to Atlanta to meet with a client. Glenda had called me and I prepared to be at her house on the hour of his departure. I normally timed my visits to coincide with the exodus of Michael's shuttle from the house. I had a bulky car phone at the time so that I could alert Glenda to my eminent arrival and check to ensure she was alone. In my earlier visits, I parked a block from the house and watched his departure. On this occasion, I arrived moments after Michael had left.

As I turned down their road, my car phone rang. It was Glenda and she was very agitated in her speech. Bradley's car had just pulled in front of the house! I told her that I was seconds away and not to let him in until l arrived.

When I sat the phone down my bearing suddenly changed. My mind focused on the potential confrontation. I went through a mental check of my weapons. Then I reviewed every technique I possessed to put Bradley down. I had trained for this and my training kicked in faster than I thought possible.