Had Auld Acquaintance Been Forgotten?

The officer went to the computer, asked the name and I told him. "She was released on bail less than thirty minutes ago," he said.

I thanked him and left. The drive to her house took about thirty minutes. I rang the bell. Dom answered and we stood looking at each other. "What do you want?" she asked.

"To talk," I replied.

She just stood there. I waited long enough so I turned and started walking away.

"Wait. Hold it. Clay! Wait." I stopped, turned and looked at her. "Come back."

I went back, she opened the door wide and motioned me in. When I was in, she closed the door and indicated I should sit on the sofa. I chose a chair, and sat.

"I received the divorce papers," she said. I nodded. "Why are you here?" she asked.

"The boys want to know why they can't see their mother. I told them you were taking care of your own mother and couldn't leave her. That worked for a while, but no longer. They want to see you, but I needed to make sure you were in a condition to see them."

She looked at the floor. "You've seen me. What do you think?"

"Absolutely not." There was a long silence. "How's your mother?" I asked.

"She's in the hospital. They took her away from me."

Knowing the answer, I asked the question anyway. "Why?"

"They said I was mistreating her."

"How's her health? The boys would like to see her, too."

"She's okay." There was a long pause. "How are the boys?" she asked.

I smiled. "They're great, but they miss their mother."

"Where have you been? I asked your parents, but they wouldn't tell me."

"We've been in Germany."

"For a year? Come on, Clay, don't ask me to believe that."

"You don't have to, but they speak German like natives and have developed a taste for German food."

"Why were you there?"

"The company sent me on a project."

"Where do you live now?"

"In our old house."

"Are the boys happy?"

"As happy as could be expected without a mother, I suppose." There was a long....very long silence before I spoke again. "How have you been, Dominique?"

She looked at me, then the floor, then around the room before speaking. "Would you like something to drink? I'm getting me something."

"No thank you."

"You saw yesterday how I am. That's my life. That and meth."

"Why do you keep doing it? Don't you want to change? Go back to a normal life?"

"Damn it, Clay. I told you I like my life. I have my drugs and I have Denise. I don't need anything else."

"What happened to your boyfriend?"

"Which one?"

"The one you had when I was here last year."

"That was Fred. He's still around."

"And Whitaker is obviously still around.'

"Oh, fuck yes. She and I are getting married. It's one of the good things Fred and Jake taught us. From the first time they made us fuck each other, we both loved it and never stopped."

"And the two of you fuck men for money as well as drugs?"

She took a long drink of her vodka. "How much did you see yesterday?" She was visibly shaking. I'd never seen anyone having withdrawal symptoms, but I thought I was seeing it then. Shaking, twitching, looking around as if looking for a way to escape.

"I saw three guys fucking you."

"Then you know we charged them for the privilege, so you know I'm fucking them for money."

"What am I supposed to tell the boys?"

She drank the rest of her vodka, set the glass on the table hard, and spoke. "Tell them I'm dead. Now maybe you should leave." She stood and started for the door.

"Should I tell them their grandmother died as well? Is that fair to them? Or her?"

She came back. "Look, Clay. My life is fucked up. Like right now, if I don't smoke a pipe, I'll go crazy. I don't care what you tell them about anything. Now go, so I can get what I need. Go!"

I stood and she literally pushed me out the door. The door slammed and I heard her literally running across the floor apparently to get to her drugs. I was in my car and ready to leave when her garage door opened and her car came out in a hurry. She left, leaving the garage door open. I followed her.

She drove fast and reckless and I almost stopped following her twice, but didn't. She pulled up to a house not unlike her mother's about fifteen minutes later, got out and ran to the door. She opened it and went in not bothering to close it.

I walked up and stood outside. I heard voices. "No more. I told you no more until you pay me."

"Fred, Fred, I need it. I just talked to my husband and he was fucking with my mind. Please Fred. I'm begging you."

"Okay. One more time, but you give me a blow job first, then you take care of some friends of mine at their hotel. Deal?"

"Anything, just give it to me."

"Uh uh. Blow job first. On your knees."

As quietly as I could I walked in the house. Just inside was a room to the left. I peeked around the corner and Dom was on her knees. The man had his hand in her hair and was forcing her head back and forth as fast and hard as he could, fucking her face. I was watching the action and he saw me. He didn't stop face fucking her. "Be with you as soon as I blow my wad. How much stuff do you want?" Dom couldn't turn her head, but she shifted her eyes and saw me, but she didn't stop; she couldn't stop because he was controlling her head. She tried to stand, but he wouldn't let her. I walked out.

I drove a couple of blocks, stopped and called the police. I introduced myself and gave them the address of the house, and told them they were selling drugs. I drove back and sat down the street. It didn't take three minutes for the first patrol car to arrive. Then a second, and third. Thirty minutes after I made the call, I watched Dom being put in the back of a patrol car in handcuffs for the second time. I figured the only way she was going to get help was if it came from somewhere else because it appeared she wasn't going to seek it.

It was over. Any emotional attachment I had with her was gone. I took a deep breath and felt relief and a new sense of life flowing through me.

The next morning, I made arrangements to see Dom's mother. She was sitting in a chair looking out her window. I walked in and she recognized me almost immediately and tried to stand. I got to her before she could and held her. She was smiling and the first thing she said was "how are the boys?" Her speech was ragged and difficult to understand.

We talked for a while before the subject of Dom came up. She told me that after Dom arrived and got involved with "those men and that woman" she changed. She got hard and cold. She discovered that Dom was on drugs and tried to convince her to go to rehab, but she wouldn't. She even stopped giving Dom money for household expenses because it either went to drugs, or Denise, and she turned her own finances over to an attorney, which made both Dom and Denise mad.

Dom stopped doing anything for her mother and her job. She spent most of her time in bed with Denise or some man or men, and on drugs.

"She's my daughter and I couldn't turn her away, so I put up with it. Finally she made some big mistake that cost her company a lot of money and they fired her."

We talked for another hour or so. She asked if I would bring the boys out to see her, and I told her that I would the following summer.

The next day I flew home. I told the boys the truth about their mother and that she didn't want them to see her the way she was. I didn't pull any punches. I told them about her drugs and the fact that she was a prostitute who was going to marry her girlfriend. They were disappointed, but I told them that we would fly out to see their grandmother the following year; but they had no interest in seeing their mother.

They never had a chance to see their grandmother, however, because we received word that she died. She had left them a small inheritance which we added to their college funds.

I talked to her attorney and asked him about Dom. He told me that she was serving a one year sentence for possession of a controlled substance. He also told me that her mother had left the house to her in a trust. He said that her mother wanted Dom to always have a roof over her head and the trust took care of taxes and forbade her from ever selling the house, and that in the event Dom died the house was to be sold and the proceeds shared between her two grandsons.

A couple of years after that, I went to a conference in England and met another chemical engineer. She was the smartest person I'd ever known and she proved it by marrying me. She moved to the United States with her two children and was hired by a national cosmetics firm. We built a large house which we eventually sold and downsized when the four children went off on their own. Her son became an actor and her daughter married the son of a Senator.

My son, Tim, graduated from high school and went to West Point. Joe received a full, four year ride at the University of Tennessee and majored in Forensic Anthropology. He and I rarely talk about his choice because it is too gruesome for me.

Tim graduated from West Point and his first assignment was Fort Ord, California. He had been there less than a year and met the daughter of a Colonel. Her family liked him, and vice versa. He and his girlfriend rented an apartment off base and moved in together. Several months after they started living together, her younger sister was graduating from the UCSB (University of California at Santa Barbara) and the family invited Tim to the graduation.

It was after the ceremony that Tim remembered his grandmother had lived and died in Santa Barbara. He called and asked if I knew where she was buried. I told him no, but I could try to find out if he was interested. He was, so I went back in my old files to the letter from the attorney telling about their inheritance; an inheritance they still had because college had cost neither them nor me, anything.

I Called Tim and told him. He then asked if I had her old address. Since he was there he wanted to drive by to see where she lived. That was in the letter as well, so I told him.

His girlfriend and her family were moving the sister out of her Sorority House and home to Fort Ord. Tim excused himself for a couple of hours and told them why.

He found the graveyard and left flowers on his grandmother's grave. He then drove to her house. His intention was to drive by just to look, but when he got there, there was a woman in the front yard trying to start her lawn mower. He watched her try several times before apparently giving up. He got out of his car and approached her.

"May I help you?" he asked.

She looked at him. "Can you start this thing?" she asked.

"I can try," he answered.

He looked at the mower, set the choke, pulled the cord twice and it started. The lady just looked at him; thanked him and started mowing. Tim took off his necktie, loosened his collar, rolled up his sleeves and went to her. "Let me do this." As he gently took control of the mower.

It took him less than an hour to mow grass which, he told me later, looked like it had been mowed recently. The yard was neat and well landscaped. When he was finished, He put the mower in front of the garage and started to leave, but the woman stopped him and offered him some iced tea. Tim smiled and accepted. He followed her inside as she told him that her regular yard man was ill and couldn't do it that week, and that she always had trouble starting the mower when she had to use it.

Once inside she indicated that he should sit.

"No, I shouldn't. I'm all sweaty." He took the offered glass of iced tea and sipped it as he casually walked around the room. His glass was halfway to his mouth as he passed the bookshelf beside the TV. He stared at the three photographs sitting side by side, but said nothing.

"Excuse me," he heard. Then again. "Excuse me."

He turned to the woman. "I'm sorry," he said. "I was looking at your photos."

"That's my family," she said, "But I haven't seen them in years."

"Why not?" he asked.

"It doesn't matter. What's your name, by the way?"

"Oh, sorry. It's Tim."

"Well, thank you, Tim, for your help. Do you live around here?"

"No, I don't. I'm stationed at Fort Ord. I came down for a graduation at UCSB.

They chatted for another few minutes, and Tim found it difficult to keep his eyes off the photos. If the woman noticed, she didn't say anything.

In his car, Tim called me.

"Hello, son," I answered. "How's it going?"

"Pretty strange, dad. I want you to do me a favor."

"Sure. What is it?"

"In the attic with my stuff is an old shoe box. It has pictures and some papers in it. There is a picture of my mother in it. Would you send it to me, please?"

"Sure, but where did that come from?" I asked. He told me the story and ended with a comment that took me by surprise.

"She had a picture of you, and a picture of Joe and me when we were sitting on a pony. You have the same photo over your desk. There is also a picture of an elderly woman I assume is her mother. She saw me looking at them and told me they were her family, but hadn't seen them in years. I want to look at Mom's picture and see if I recognize her." He paused. "It was really weird looking at her, Dad. There were times when I thought I recognized her and other times, she was a stranger."

"Where are you now?"

"On my way back to base."

"Okay, I'll find the picture and send it to you. If I can find it, you'll have it shortly. What will you do, if it's her?"

He chuckled. "I have no idea. Call Joe and bounce it off of him I guess."

"Good idea. You'll have it shortly." Within an hour he had a copy of the photo. Five minutes after that, he called to tell me he thought the woman he was with earlier was, in fact, his mother.

He waited until he got home to call his brother. They decided that Tim would visit her again to make sure.

The next Saturday, Tim was back in Santa Barbara where he volunteered to cut the grass again. It really didn't need it, but he offered anyway. Afterward, over his iced tea, he and the lady talked. He told her he was curious about her family.

It took some time, but she opened up. She told him that she had been happily married and had two sons, but then her mother had gotten sick and she came to take care of her. She continued by telling him she met an old friend who, quite frankly, seduced her and got her hooked on drugs. Her life deteriorated fast after that. She mentioned being hooked on meth, but never mentioned selling herself for sex. She told him that her mother suffered a second stroke and went downhill, and she, herself, went downhill as well.

She told him of her ex-husband's visit and subsequent decision of hers, because of her drug addiction, to not see her children again.

When her mother died, she was left the house and enough money to pay the property taxes, bills and eat, but little else. She said her mother had been dead less than a year when she made up her mind to get clean.

"It has been a long, hard struggle, Tim. One I wouldn't wish on anybody. I've hated myself and my decisions, especially the one to leave my family. That picture," she indicated the one he had seen, "And two school pictures, are the only pictures I have of them. I stay awake lots of nights because otherwise I would go to sleep thinking of them and dream of them all night. It has been torture."

"Why haven't you contacted them?" he asked.

Tears were in her eyes then. "I've wanted to. I've wanted to so badly, but was afraid they would hate me and that would be the worse than not seeing them. I told their father to tell them I was dead."

"Maybe you underestimate them, Mrs...Uh, Mrs... what is your name?"

"Dominique Berry, but my friends call me Dom."

There it was. Her name. His name. He was convinced, and was tempted to reveal himself, but held back.

"What do you do for a living?" he asked

"I'm a Counselor at a high school," she laughed. "Ironic, isn't it. A former drug addict counselling children not to get involved with drugs?"

Tim didn't answer the question, he just excused himself and drove back to Fort Ord. The whole 3 1/2 hour trip, he was on the phone to his brother, Joe.

They decided that Joe would fly out on Friday and meet Tim.

It was mid-morning Saturday. The brothers rang their mother's front door bell. She opened the door and together, they said, "Hi, Mom. We're home!"