A Family Torn

"She did?" questioned a surprised Angela. "I didn't know that. She never said anything to me."

"Nor to me," Tom interjected.

"It's true," said the young social worker. "Lana blames herself for your divorce. She said when you guys fought it was always about her."

"That's not true," Tom said. "Toward the end there we fought all the time about everything, but I don't remember ever fighting about Lana..."

"I do," said Angela, cutting him off, "several times. Remember when I took her shopping and you had a fit over the length of the skirts I bought her?"

He was remembering; she could see it in his face. "There was another time when she wanted to go to some party I didn't want her to go to. I thought you'd back me up but you said she could go."

"Yeah, I remember," he shamefully admitted, "but like I said, we were constantly fighting."

Miss Donahue interrupted their conversation. "Maybe so, but Lana only remembers the fights about her."

Both parents looked uncomfortable. "There seems to be more though. When your divorce became final we were making headway, but just as she seemed to be accepting the situation she stopped coming to see me. Now the marijuana is a whole new wrinkle."

"There's something else, too," said the principle, re-joining the conversation.

Miss Donahue looked at him and Tom got the feeling she knew what he was going to say before he said it.

Principle Colfax cleared his throat. "Lana is exhibiting classic signs of sexual abuse."

That caught them both by surprise. Angela gasped with shock.

Colfax continued. "Unfortunately, we're pretty familiar with this kind of behavior. It happens more than any of us would like to think. We usually find that the abuser is someone who is well-known to the victim, usually someone of authority; a close friend, family member, or even a member of the immediate family," he said, glancing in Tom's direction.

Tom caught the look and immediately took offense. "Are you accusing me? You're accusing me of sexually abusing my little girl?" he yelled.

"No, no; please, Mr. Hayden, no one is accusing you of anything. I didn't mean to infer anything of the kind. From the way Lana talks about you we've already ruled you out."

"Well who then?" Tom asked, his voice filled with anger.

"We don't know," said Miss Donahue. "Over the last couple of months Lana's become unresponsive. She won't talk to me or anyone else. Even her friends are starting to desert her because she just won't talk."

Tom could think about only one person. "Dayton," he said turning in Angela's direction.

"Tom, stop it. I know you hate him but Dayton loves Lana. He'd never do anything to hurt her," she responded.

"Who's Dayton?" queried the principle.

"He's my fiancé."

"I see. Has Lana mentioned him?" he asked Miss Donahue.

"No, this is the first I've heard of him," she answered.

"He's living there with them," Tom volunteered. "So help me, if he's touched my daughter I'll..."

"Please, Mr. Hayden. At this point we have no idea who it is. We're not even one-hundred percent sure it's happening. I said she's displaying the signs but he have no real proof. This Dayton guy could be completely innocent. If she is being molested, heaven forbid, it could even be one of our teachers or someone from the school, we just don't know."

Angela tried desperately to hold back unspent tears. "So what do we do?" she asked while taking a tissue from her purse.

"Ms. Hayden, I'm trained in child development but I'm not a psychologist. Lana needs more professional help than I can give her."

"Actually, Angela and I have been talking about sending her to a child psychologist. I did some research and had settled on a Dr. Marietta something..."

"Zarkowski?"

"Yeah, that's it. Is she good?"

"Very," Miss Donahue confirmed.

That made both Angela and Tom happy to hear. What she said next didn't.

"Mr. and Ms. Hayden, I'm afraid you're looking at some very rough times coming up. There is a fine line between disciplining a child and persecuting them. I know how high your anger and frustration level is about now, but try to not let it determine how you deal with Lana. Try to stay calm and in control of the situation.

"And one more thing—keep an eye on her. Since she'll be home for the next three school days, is there anyone who can stay with her? Someone you trust. If she is being sexually abused this is a perfect storm for Lana. These are all the factors that can drive a young girl to run away, or...or even worse."

Angela and Tom turned to face one another. Angie wiped more tears from her eyes. "Oh, Tom, what are we going to do? I'm so scared."

"Yeah," acknowledged Tom, "me too. Is anyone with her now?"

"Yes, I dropped her off with my folks on the way here."

Tom took a breath of relief and looked back to Miss Donahue. "I'll make an appointment with that psychologist as soon as possible. In the meantime, other than keeping an eye on her, any advice, anything we can say or do to let her know we're both there for her?"

"Don't tell her, show her. I don't know how amicable your divorce was or how well you two get along but don't let any animosity between you spill over on her."

Both divorced parties agreed they wouldn't allow that to happen and said they would show Lana all the love they possibly could. Angela had a couple of questions on the way out to their cars.

"Has she ever said anything to you about thinking the divorce being her fault?"

"Never," he answered.

"You don't really think I would talk you down to her do you? I would never do that, Tom. After seventeen years as husband and wife I would hope you'd know me better than that."

He gave a little sigh. "I don't know, Angela. Let's just forget it for now and concentrate on Lana. If you can't stay home with her I'll move some things around in the schedule."

"No," she said, shaking her head, "no, I'll take time off and stay with her. You're so angry over the thought of someone molesting her I'm afraid she'll feel that anger and think it's against her."

"You're not angry?"

"Yes, of course I am, but I can control it better than you can."

Tom thought about it. "You're probably right. Okay, but if you need me for anything, call me. Don't leave her alone, Angie...and since we don't know for sure, please don't leave her alone with Dayton. In fact, don't say anything to him. Just in case—we wouldn't want to tip him off."

She sighed at the thought of Tom still suspecting Dayton but relinquished, "Okay, I promise, but you're wrong about him, Tom."

On the way home, Tom thought about the meeting and what was said. Yeah, it was only marijuana, but as a parent it was still very troubling. He'd heard horror stories about out of control and troubled teens. Lana was always such a good child, he never thought she would be one of them. She'd always been like her mother. The woman he married, not the woman he divorced.

He thought back to those young, carefree days of dating Angela. His heart started to pump harder as he remembered how much he loved her back then. From the moment he saw her...no, actually it was from the moment he heard her, it was her laugh that caught his attention. She laughed so easily. There was nothing phony or pretentious or forced about it. It was genuine and came from her soul.

At the time he was working as an assistant for Raphael, a very successful commercial photographer. Tom was learning more in a week with Raphael than he did in a semester at college. The only problem was Raphael was a jackass! Personally, he didn't like the man at all, so two or three times a week he'd stop by Plato's after work to let out his frustrations over a beer.

Tom smiled as he thought about the forces of fate. Angela was working for a firm in the area and it just so happened, she and some of her co-workers stopped in one night for an impromptu party. Tom hadn't paid much attention to the rowdy crowd until he heard that laugh.

Just think, he contemplated, if I hadn't stopped in that night I probably would never have met her. That was almost eighteen years in the past and yet it was as fresh in his mind as if it had been yesterday.

Why do people have to change? He wondered. I did everything I could to make her happy but it never seemed to be enough. As the years wore on, Angela's metamorphosis took her from the happy, loving wife he married to the discontented shrew he divorced. What did I do wrong? He questioned.

Angela pulled into her parent's drive more worried now than when she left just a couple of hours before. She took a tissue from her purse and wiped the tears from her eyes before going in.

Her dad was sitting in his recliner watching TV. She looked around and didn't see or hear Lana anywhere. Panic started to set in.

"Dad, where's Lana?" she anxiously asked.

Her dad recognized the concern in her voice and looked up to see the same concern in her face. "She's helping your mother with dinner," he replied. "What's going on?" Not knowing the entire situation, he was confused with his daughter's fear.

Angela looked in through the kitchen doorway just in time to see her daughter cross by on the way to the refrigerator and gave a sigh of relief.

"Angela, what's the matter?" queried her dad as he turned the volume down on the boob-tube.

She sat down on a chair beside him and checked to make sure they wouldn't be overheard. "Dad, Lana's been seeing a social worker at the school. Evidently the divorce has been bothering her a lot more than she's been letting on. I know you guys are wondering why she's not in school today. She was suspended for three days for having marijuana in her locker..."

"Marijuana..."

"Shhhhh, dad, don't say anything. I think she's embarrassed enough as it is. It was a very small amount. The school's not even calling the cops, thank God; but she can't go back to school until Thursday."

"Oh honey," he said, putting his arm around her, "you must be sick with worry. Is there anything me or your mother can do?"

Angela wiped another tear from her eye. "Just show her all the love you can when she's here, I guess. For now that seems to be all that any of us can do. At the school they told us to keep an eye on her so she doesn't run away or hurt herself. That's why I got scared when I didn't see her right away. She doesn't know it yet but Tom found a child psychologist for her."

"Yeah," he said, nodding his head. "That's probably a good idea."

"There's...there's something else, too, Dad. Don't tell mom, and whatever you do, don't say anything to Lana but the social worker thinks she's being sexually abused."

This time his voice was full of anger. "What? By who?"

"We don't know. They're not even one hundred percent sure but they said she's showing all the classic signs."

"Does Tom know this?"

"Yeah, he was at the school with me, just now. Of course the first person he suspects is Dayton but he'd never touch Lana, not that way."

"Are you sure, Angela? Look, your mother and I are in your corner, you know that. You're our daughter and we will always support you, but I have to tell you, honey, I never cared for him."

"Dad, he was there when I needed him. When Tom filed for divorce it almost killed me. I know we had our problems and were fighting a lot but I didn't realize Tom was ready to just call it quits. Dayton saw how much I was hurting and gave me a shoulder to cry on. He took me out places and got my mind off the divorce for a while. He was sweet and kind and made me laugh. He understood what I was going through. All of a sudden I was a single mom. I was terrified but it seemed like every time I'd hit rock bottom he was there to pick me up again."

Her dad took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Well, you know him a lot better than I do, honey, and I trust your judgement."

"Thanks, Dad," she said.

After the conversation with her dad, Angela wandered into the kitchen to see if she could help with anything. It was understood she and Lana would stay for dinner so she started setting the dining room table. As she was getting the silverware she overheard a humorous exchange between her mother and Lana. She looked over and saw a broad grin stretching across her daughter's pretty face. It was the first time she'd seen her smile in ages.

Later that night, on the way home, Angela had hoped her daughter's good mood would continue. Maybe she could get a conversation going with her, but it wasn't to be. As soon as they got in the car Lana clammed up again.

For about the millionth time in the last year, Angela wished Tom was there. Over the years she had learned to depend on him; to lean on his wisdom and character. As many times as she looked back at everything that had happened in their marriage, she still couldn't believe it was over.

Even in the wake of all the fighting, I still loved him, she silently admitted to herself. Why, why couldn't he still love me? For the fourth time since that afternoon, Angela wiped tears from her eyes.

Lana didn't stick around and took off upstairs to her room as soon as they walked in the house.

Dayton was on the couch watching TV when they walked in. "How'd it go?"

Angela remembered her promise to Tom. She reminded herself not to say anything about her possibly being molested. She wanted to make sure Lana couldn't hear her so she waited while hanging her coat up in the closet before walking into the living room to answer. "They're concerned. A social worker was there. Lana's been talking to her about the divorce."

"A social worker...what did she tell her?"

"Lana blames herself for the divorce."

"From what I've heard that's normal. Kids always blame themselves when their parents get divorced. Was Tom there?"

"Yes, of course. He's her father. The school requested he be there as well."

"What did he say?"

"He sat there and listened, the same as me. You seem to be the only one who's not concerned, Dayton."

"Honey, it's not that I'm not concerned, I just think you're all blowing this out of proportion. Lana's a smart kid. She's got a head on her shoulders. She's manipulating you. She maybe blaming herself but she's doing this to punish you and Tom and you guys are playing right into her hands."

"I thought you said it was a phase."

"It is a phase, a self-induced phase. She's pissed, Honey, and the more you guys pressure her, the more pissed she's going to get," he told her.

"I don't believe that, Dayton, but if it's true then fine. Sooner or later, just like you say, she'll get tired of the game and go back to normal, but in the meantime we're going to err of the side caution. We're taking her to therapy."

He was alone in his quest to save Lana from a shrink. It was a losing battle and he knew it. He decided to yield. He gave her the smile that she always found so irresistible. "Come on over here," he said, patting his hand on the couch next to him.

Angela sat down and snuggled up as he put his arm around her. "I'm sorry, honey," she told him. "I'm just worried about her."

"I know you are," he said, supportively.

"Did you have anything to eat? Lana and I eat at my mother's but I'll fix you something if you're hungry."

"Nah, I'm fine," he replied. "I figured you wouldn't be home right away so I stopped at that little bar around the corner and had some hot wings with a beer." Dayton reached over and lightly pulled her chin around to face him. The worry behind her blue, watery eyes was intense. "Hey, everything is going to be alright," he told her.

Angela smiled. He was always so comforting. What would she do without him, she wondered as she laid her head on his shoulder?

***

Try as he did, Tom didn't get a wink of sleep that night. First thing the following morning he would call the psychologist's office and book the earliest appointment possible, but this was his daughter, his little girl; it was his job to protect her and he wasn't about to stand around while some pedophile molested her.

If he could only get her to talk. Why...why wouldn't she talk to him? Why would she keep this kind of a secret? Why wouldn't she turn the guy in immediately...embarrassment; guilt; fear? He was certainly no expert but he knew that, ludicrous as it sounded, some people who were raped felt it was their own fault somehow. Whatever her reasons were, Tom was going to get to the bottom of it. He was going to find out who was hurting his little girl, and then...

At nine-o-one the following morning Tom was in the back office of his studio and already on the phone with Cathy, Dr. Zarkowski's secretary. After explaining the situation, she told him the doctor would most likely want to see the two parents before seeing Lana. Tom wasn't too please with that because it meant delaying the appointment for the person who really need it, but when she explained it would help Dr. Zarkowski understand the situation better, he agreed and gave her his ex's phone number so they could coordinate the date and time of the appointment. As they finished their conversation, Cathy said she'd call him back as soon as she talked to Angela.

He felt so helpless...so damned helpless, and it was tearing him up inside. His child, his only child was being tortured in a most horrific way and he was powerless to defend her.

Tom's mind took him back to when Lana was just three years old and clung to him for protection during a bad thunderstorm. He could still feel her little body tremble with fear as lightening lit up the night sky with the roar of canon fire. He couldn't imagine a greater feeling than he had that night as she found comfort and courage in her daddy's arms. She had always looked to him as her champion—why not now?

"Damn, damn, DAMN!" he screamed at the top of his lungs. Tears flowed from his eyes as he pounded on the desk in gut-wrenching torment. "Why can't she come to me now, why? I'm still her father, damn it."

Cayla was in the front of the studio and came rushing into the back office after hearing the commotion. "Tom, what's the matter? Are you okay?"

Cayla had been with him for a little over three years. She was his girl-Friday. She helped with wardrobe, set design, setting up lights, first draft editing, and more. She watched him suffer through a troubled marriage and an even more troubling divorce. She was probably the only person he could trust with the terrible secret.

"The social worker at my daughter's school thinks someone's molesting her, Cayla," he cried.

"Oh my God," she spoke with genuine concern. "Who? Do they know who?"

"No," he replied, shaking his head. "She won't talk to anyone, not even me. I don't know if she's scared or feels ashamed..." he let his words hang.

"Oh, Tom, I'm so sorry; My God." She put her hand gently on the back of his shoulder to comfort him. "I could try talking to her. Do you think she'd talk to me?"

"I doubt it," he replied, shaking his head.

"What about a police woman? Maybe if she talked to someone like that," offered Cayla.

"I don't know. A cop might be more intimating than anything; besides, if it's true I don't want to scare him off. I want to make sure she's protected but I also want the son-of-a-bitch. I want him caught and prosecuted. I want him to spend the rest of his miserable, fucking life behind bars being raped himself every fucking day," he wailed.

"We're going to send her to a child psychologist. That's what the school recommends. I'm hoping she'll be able to talk Lana into giving up the guy's name; then she can report him to the cops. I...I don't know what else to do," he told her. I feel so helpless. It's so damned hard to just sit here doing nothing."

"You're not doing nothing, Tom. You're getting Lana the help she needs. That's not nothing."

"I know, but she's my little girl, Cayla. It just doesn't seem like enough."