2024/01/12 - The Confession - 01

Taken from the NAST files. This is based on Sunnie's notes from a session with a patient. Sunnie was heavily involved because of the subject matter. These kinds of cases are her specialty. With my usual dollop of embellishment, this work derives from a family conversation as was related to Sunnie by the patient during that session.

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Tim Elliott grabbed his car keys. He hadn't seen her since he was 19. That was 26 years ago. His excitement was overwhelming. How much would she have changed? Hell, how much would she think he'd changed? He wore a blue blazer and a polo shirt. He wanted to make some effort for her but nothing over-the-top.

Today was a beautiful late May day in Crompton, Rhode Island. The smell of Spring blossoms filled the air. It was 11.15 and he had a 5-minute drive ahead of him. He needed to be to the Regency House Hotel for his 11.30 rendezvous with Marcie. Tim walked through the kitchen and gave a goodbye kiss to his "wife" Elaine. They had never actually married, owing to some unusual circumstances. But they had been together for the last 26 years. Yes, the same number of years since he'd last seen Marcie. Actually, Tim and Elaine had been together much longer than that, but they had been "together" together for 26 years.

Marcie had come into town specifically to see Tim. She was now 47 and Tim was 45. Marcie had taken a room at the Regency House for the duration of her stay. They had agreed to meet at the hotel restaurant and see how things went before going any further. Tim walked in and saw her sitting in a plush chair in the hotel lobby. He hadn't see her since she was 21, but it was clear after a moment's reflection that it was her. When he'd last seen her, her light brown hair reached to the small of her back. Now it was cut at a "mom" length, just above her shoulders, and showed highlights that lightened it and likely covered emerging flecks of grey. She had maybe put on 15 pounds, but she wore it well. The extra curvature benefitted her.

Their eyes met and they paused as they took each other in. Each looked to be well into their forties but they looked good and wore their age gracefully. Tim was still in great shape, the result of a career spent in construction. There was a slight salt-and-pepper developing at his temples, but he still had a somewhat boyish face. All-in-all, the years had been a friend to him. He certainly looked more dapper and distinguished than he had when she'd last seen him, back when he was a scruffy 19-year-old. At first they moved tentatively toward each other and then finally leapt into each others arms.

"Oh my god, Marcie! It's been so long!"

"Ha ha, Tim! It's really you! Tim, Tim, Tim." They made their way to the hostess's desk and announced their reservation. They were seated at a window table with a nice view. "Wow Marcie, you look.... wow, just great. So, how was your trip?"

"Exhausting! I thought Rhode Island was too close to bother flying but now I know that a drive from Pittsburgh is too far. Next time I'll know. I just can't get over how good you look after all this time!"

"And you... let's say that time has been kind to you. Hell Marcie, it was so abrupt the way we lost touch with each other once Dad discovered the affair, if you want to call it that."

"Tim, I was only marginally aware of what was going on. Don't forget, I'm 2 years older than you, so I was, what, 21 at the time? I had one foot out the door by that time. I was living in the dorm and just coming home on weekends. I stayed away as much as I could. I was finally escaping the mayhem. Dad was rough on all of us, but I think I was able to deal with him better than you and Mom were able to. And leaving for college made it easier to take Dad in small doses on the weekend. I'm sorry that I left the two of you with him to take the full brunt."

"Yeah, you'd think that driving you away would have caused Dad to have a moment of reflection. But, no, he just got more furious. He felt wronged and he concentrated his increased fury on Mom and me. So, yeah, Marcie, we had to bear the brunt. But the funny thing is that I always felt like it was me who owed you an apology. First of all, when we fled, we left you holding the bag... now you were on your own having to deal with Dad. And secondly, I felt bad about leaving without a word of goodbye. You would just come home and find us gone. It still bothers me. Marcie, I can't tell you how sorry I still am about that. We were desperate and we made a bad choice in that regard."

"Fair enough, Tim. I will admit that I was quite hurt that two people I loved had abandoned me and not said a word. You obviously planned something but never brought me in on it, and froze me out when you left. Never reached out to me in 26 years. I had to hunt you down. As far as leaving me holding the bag with Dad... something I had never told anybody was that I had a job lined up in Pittsburgh and an apartment. I was a couple of months from graduation, so my weekend visits to 'my room' were coming to an end. I was going to be free to deal with Dad as much or as little as I wanted. Had you stayed, I would have seen relatively little of any of you. My new life would have taken much of my time. So the only thing that I had to do with regard to Dad once you left was to nurse him through some heartbreak. And he was a different guy after you left."

"Different? How so, Sis? He seemed like he would always be a blowhard and a bully."

"A week after you left, I came back for my usual weekend visit. He was muttering stuff like 'how could they just leave?' Timmy, I laid it out for him. I warned him that I was going to be brutally frank. I told him the reason I had moved to the dorm when I could easily have commuted from home to school was that he had made it impossible to stay. That he kept the level of tension so high that I had to get away. And he had driven the two of you away, too. He was so somber, that all he could do was nod his head. I told him I would help him through whatever he was going through, and help him with whatever he needed a hand with, to the extent that my schedule allowed, but that at the first sign of abusiveness, I was out the door until he figured out how to cool down. He was a changed man from that day on. He had nobody to yell at. He was easier to be around, but there was never any joy in him. Instead of anger, sadness became his new default setting."

"I see.... hard to imagine him without the anger.... but, I need to tell you something important, Marce. We made a conscious decision not to reach out to anyone. Although we did what was right for us, we weren't under any false illusions. We knew that once the story got out, we would be pariahs among some, if not all, of the family. We were not going to reach out. We thought that initiating contact would be putting people on the spot. And frankly, who wants to be chastised by disapproving family members and friends? We were happy, but we were in a difficult position... yes, one of our own making... and we wanted to maximize the happiness and minimize the difficulties."

"So we decided to be receptive to anyone who reached out to us in love and friendship, but not to impose ourselves. Marcie, we didn't go for unlisted phone numbers or aliases. We were the Elliott family, we were still Timothy and Elaine. We made sure to keep the same phone numbers. We've had the same address for over 20 years. We wanted to make it easy for people to find us. We bought a tiny starter home on a big piece of land so that we would be able to expand on our lot without changing our address. We were always only a Google search away. And ha ha, it only took 26 years for someone to find us, Marce. You're the first."

"Point well taken, Timmy. I googled you some years back. I've had your contact info for years. It was me that was afraid."

Tim paused, nodded sadly, took a sip of his coffee, and changed topics. "So, Marcie, If the grapevine is working correctly, you're married and have a family!"

Marcie, too, looked sad for a moment. "Timmy, Sal and I are divorced. He was high-strung and abusive. You know what they say about a girl marrying a man that reminds her of her father. Yep, I did just that. Ha ha, you know a thing or two about that yourself! Speaking of which, how is Mom? You guys still together?"

"Yep. Still together. Still very happy. Mom is 68 now and in great health and in great shape. Ha ha, listen to me, Marce. 'Mom.' I haven't called her that since we ran off together. She is just 'Elaine.' I can't call her 'Lainie' because Dad called her that. Sometimes I get lazy and call her 'Laine' but never 'Mom.' Only for you, Sis. Only for you. You know, old habits. Anyway, sorry to hear about you and, Sal, was it?"

"Yeah... it was for the best. And I got two great kids out of the deal. You have a niece Paulina... she goes by Polly... she's 23 and in veterinary school, and you have a nephew Salvatore Jr... we call him Bud and he is still in college. He turns 21 in three weeks. Great kids. I hit the jackpot, Timmy. And Sal is still in their lives. He was a crap husband but he's a good dad. But getting back to the topic of Mom, ummm, how do I put this... I have always wondered something, and I don't know how to put this delicately."

"No topic is off limits, Marce. Full disclosure. Be as blunt as you like."

"Okay. Tim... when did you and Mom start having sex?"

"Fair question, Sis. Wow, getting right to it! Well, it had been a long time coming. I'm not trying to be cute, here. The event that triggered our sexual relationship actually took place two years before the fact. I was always the scared little boy when Dad would blow up. And then one day, a switch flipped in me. I was 17. Dad went beyond his usual verbal assault and acted physically menacing toward her and, for the first time, I stood up to him. I got between them and told him to back off. He did not take it well and really laid into me. Then Mom went into mama bear mode and protected her cub. I was protecting her and she was protecting me. We were so terrified and so much on edge that when he left the room in disgust, we just held each other and didn't let go. We were stood in the middle of the kitchen, in each others arms, for several minutes. She trembled and hyperventilated. I held her till we both calmed down. Nothing sexual, but something deeper passed between us at that moment."

"Okaayy.... But you did start sleeping together at some point. Timmy, Dad said so. At first, when you guys ran away, he acted like he suspected but didn't know for sure. A year later, after the divorce was final, he said he knew you were having sex."

"Marcie, he knew from the time we left. If he told you otherwise, he was being less than forthcoming. Here's what happened. Like I said, Mom and I spent two years bonding. We were there for each other for non-sexual comfort. Dad would go wild on one of us and the other would stand up to him. Over time, he drove us together. His behaviour strengthened my bond with Mom and eroded Mom's bond with Dad. Things came to a head one day as he was getting ready to go out of town for a few days on a fishing trip with a couple of his buddies. He was unbearable and we couldn't wait for him to leave. Now you have to remember, by this time we were connected mind, heart and soul. We were each other's refuge. When he drove away that day, we stood at the window side by side to make sure that our nightmare was really gone, if only for a few days. We turned around and looked at each other. We were just there. And we grabbed each other and hugged. Then I pulled my face back enough to look into her eyes and pressed my lips to hers, gently. Well the gentleness gave way to frantic pawing and kissing. No clothes came off but lots of areas got touched. Then just as suddenly, we fell away from each other, silent except for some heavy breathing."

"Holy shit, Tim! But it still doesn't sound like there was any sex going on."

"No wait, Marcie! Things got almost farcical at that point. For the next half hour, we did this weird dance. We looked at each other from a distance. Far enough to prevent temptation, yet close enough to not lose sight of each other. We couldn't bear to be away from each other, yet we tried to build a little space between us. We both sensed where this was heading and we were nervous about going there. She had a look on her face that conveyed a multitude of things. She looked needy. She looked questioning. She looked bewildered. She looked wanton. She looked frightened. She later told me that she saw all the same moral ambiguity on my face. So we circled each other like wolves. And total silence! Not a word was spoken... it was surreal. She did things as if nothing was happening. She put some dishes in the cupboard. Then looked over her shoulder at me. She went into the living room and straightened some magazines. I followed her in there. I looked at her. She looked at me. She practically posed with her back against the door frame. I just stared. She went upstairs to use the bathroom and I followed her upstairs."

"Oh please Timmy. Tell me you didn't follow her into the bathroom."

"Ha! Marcie, all I can say is that I'm glad she locked the door or I might just have. Well, when she came out, I was standing in the hallway just outside my bedroom. She walked up to me and the first words were spoken. I said 'I love you' and she told me she loved me, too, and we were locked at the lips again. I pulled her into my bedroom, and the rest of our lives began right there and then in my bed. I was 19 years and 3 months. Mom was 42. Afterwards, there was no regret, no discomfort, no remorse. There was love. We had been joined at the mind, the heart and the soul, and now we were joined at the body."

"Whew, that, Timothy Elliott, is one steamy story. Not that I'm totally comfortable with the whole deal... I'm still a little weirded out by the whole incest thing, but I have had years to come to terms and I can accept it for what it is. But this discrepancy about what Dad told me. He says he knew much later, but when we first discovered you missing, he said he wasn't sure."

"Marcie, tell me how this whole discovery situation went down."

"Well, Tim, I remember it was a Friday. I got home from the dorm just before supper and it was strange. No cars outside. I let myself in. No people inside. I dropped my bag downstairs because it had dirty clothes and I was going to do the washing. I went upstairs to go to the bathroom and walked past your open room. It was odd. No sheets or blanket on the bed. I looked closer and saw empty drawers and an empty closet. I went down the hall to Mom and Dad's room. Her stuff was gone. Dad's was still there. At first I'm figuring you two went out of town, maybe to visit Grandpa Bill. Then I heard Dad come in the house downstairs. He saw my bag and called up to me. I saw the look of devastation on his face."

"Timmy, It was the first time I'd ever seen him without his usual bluster. He just looked at me and said 'They're gone. They've left us.' He told me he'd been home earlier that day, that Mom had called him to come home in the middle of his work day and that he saw a strange little car in the driveway, he came in and the two of you ambushed him, as he described it. He said there seemed to be something going on between the two of you and that you were running away together. I asked what he meant by something going on, and he said he didn't know for sure but that it could be something romantic. Then he watched you guys walk out and he sat there a while, then he left the house for a while to clear his head, like he we in shock or something, then he stopped back at work for a short time and then came back home and found me."

"Marcie, we told him in no uncertain terms that we had a sexual relationship when we had our showdown. Maybe he was in denial. Didn't want to admit defeat."

"What was it like... the showdown as you call it. How did you leave?"

"Phew, it was quite a process, Marce. Let me make it clear that it was not a rash decision. I went from defending my mother the way a son should. Then I was defending the woman I loved the way a man does. From there I went to standing by my best friend. Only after two years was I defending my lover. And from the time we became sexual, four months passed before we left. It was a horrible four months. She probably shared Dad's bed 6 or 7 times in those 4 months. That was torture for me, and no picnic for her. She never slept in my bed when Dad was around. Not being able to sleep together was torture enough, but we chose our moments when he was away. Most nights during the first two months, one or the other of them slept on the couch. During the last two months she was every night on the couch. One night Dad came down and got belligerent. Starting that night, I slept in the easy chair next to the couch. On more than one occasion I had to chase Dad away from harassing her while she slept. He started calling me 'The Watchdog.' Mom and I agreed this was no way to live. It was me who brought up the idea of running away. She was the adult so she saw the pitfalls. I was 19. Remember that age? Nothing can harm you. Tomorrow never comes. No consequences. I told her my fantasy. She and I living in a little home in the country. Far away where nobody knows us. Nobody yells at us. Nobody tells us we can't love each other. I'd tell it to her like a bedtime story and it brought her peace. Some nights, before she'd go to sleep, I'd sit on that couch with her. She'd say 'Tell me about us. Tell me our story.' And so I'd paint her that picture. And it warmed her and soothed her."

"I can see her feeling that, Timmy. You were offering her a way out. My way out was college. You would have your way out in a few years. But Mom had no way out."

"And I was never going to abandon the woman I loved. So I decided for both of us and asked her if she was in. She said to count her in. So for the last month we were there, we planned. We researched places and settled on Litchfield in northwest Connecticut. We bought a bunch of packing boxes all the same size. We measured them and measured her SUV to see how many boxes would fit. We unflattened one box and I packed it with underwear and socks and a few items. I wrote down the inventory of that box on a legal pad. Then I unpacked it and put everything back. Kept track on the legal pad where everything came from so that we wouldn't have brain lock and try to remember where certain items were during the limited time we'd have to pack and load the car on D-Day. Each day we would pack that box with different things we wanted to take, then we'd list the contents, then empty the box. We had to decide what we would take and what we would abandon, once we realized we had more "boxes" on our legal pad than would fit in the SUV. In that last month, we added her name to my small bank account, and that became our joint account and our operating capital. The day before we left she moved half of her joint accounts with dad to her joint account with me. We only wanted one car for our getaway, so the day before D-Day I sold my buggy and added the proceeds to our war chest."

"I'm impressed, Timmy. You guys had it all worked out. And Dad never suspected?"

"Nope, Mom and I looked at each other on the couch when we settled down for the night on D-Day Eve. We asked each other if we were really ready, if we had forgotten anything. We were nervous. But also giddy. Full of wide-eyed energy. Finally we agreed not to be nervous if we had forgotten some object or detail. Any one thing can be replaced later on. The only thing we can't replace is each other. As long as we had each other, we had what we truly needed. That relaxed us and allowed us to have a restful sleep for the next morning."