I Married a Rapist

"Do you remember if he was ever in a fraternity?"

"Yes. He was a Sigma Alpha Epsilon member at State. But he didn't become a member of that fraternity at Boston College or any other fraternity for that matter."

"Can you tell me why he transferred from State?"

"I'm not exactly sure. I just know that something happened that really disturbed him. We respected his request not to ask too much. Valerie, why are you asking me these things? Stan can tell you all this."

"Oh, I was just doing some research on old friends he wanted me to do. No big deal. Thanks for talking to me."

My tears were angry tears now. SAE was the fraternity at State where I was raped. If he was not one of the men who raped me, he certainly knew about me as did every member of that fraternity did when the Dean of Students sent the warning letter. Why would he not let me know? I could not come up with a good reason.

My imagination went wild. I even considered that Stan might be part of a conspiracy by the fraternity to get revenge on me for trying to press charges. He was the one who sought the first date. Maybe he planned to seduce me into marriage and then, after a while, dump me leaving me an emotional and financial mess. Although I didn't believe that for sure, I couldn't think of any alternate, positive reason he would find me and court me. We've been together in six years of marriage. More than six years of lies from the time we first dated. He was dead to me.

With defenses up, I started planning for my security. I would see a lawyer first. He would probably advise me to take half of the checking and savings and set up my own accounts in a different bank. I would need to look for another place to live. Before all that, I would have to see Stan in a couple of hours unless I ran away. Could I stay and pretend nothing had happened before I was prepared? NO! HELL NO! No one could be that good an actress feeling what I was feeling. I wanted to confront him, maybe even kill him.

Stan came home that night like normal. He barely got in the door before I lit into him. Screw easing into the subject. "You rapist son-of-a-bitch! What the hell were you planning on doing? Humiliate me more? Drug me and take me to another fraternity party? Wait until I was pregnant and then take off with all our money? Thank God I found out before we had kids. The sight of you makes me sick. Go pack right now and get out. I never want to see you again. You better be glad I don't have a gun right now."

He didn't go pack. Stan broke down crying. He sat on the couch with his head in his hands. That confirmed my suspicion as to his identity as one of the rapists as far as I was concerned. All he could say was, "I'm sorry."

"Sorry won't get it. Get packed and get out."

He looked up at me, "Please give me a chance to explain."

"The only thing I want to know is: 'Were you one of the rapists or did you just watch me being raped?'"

Through deep sobs, he confessed, "I was one of the rapists."

I was not totally expecting that. I would have bet he would have said he just watched. Even his being a watcher would have been bad enough. Why didn't he have the decency to stop them? I told him, "The only other words I want to hear from your mouth is 'Good-bye.'"

Stan struggled up the stairs. He came down with one suitcase and a toiletry bag. Besides more apologies, he asked if he could come back when I was gone to get some more of his things. I just said, "You'll find the rest of your things in the driveway tomorrow morning. Now, GET OUT!"

Not too long after he had left, he called and let me know which motel he was staying at. I told him I didn't care. He made one last plea to give him a chance to explain. I said something really nasty in reply and hung up. I didn't bother to write down the room number. I planned to have him served at work with the greatest possible shame and humiliation. I thought about checking to see if I could still prosecute him for my rape. That wound up being a closed door I did not want to re-open.

I saw my lawyer and followed his instructions as to protection of fiscal assets. I insisted on an unequal distribution of assets in my favor. Although he said to expect nothing more than a 50/50 split in this state, he structured the settlement proposal as I had asked. It was a couple of weeks later when the response came from Stan's lawyer. Surprisingly, his attorney said Stan would accept the terms of the deal as offered if Stan could have some time alone with me to tell his side of the story and let me ask any questions. My immediate reaction was to reply 'heck no.' My attorney begged me to take the deal. He was sure any court judgment would award him a lot higher a percentage of assets than what we had suggested. It took a few days before I caved. I wanted to get it over with and move on with my life.

*****

THE MEETING

My defenses were up. I would let him speak, but I figured it would be all bullshit. There was no possible excuse for his actions as part of the rape or lying by omission when he started dating me. It would be hard to sit still for the hour limit I had set.

He didn't look well. I was happy he didn't waste time apologizing more.

"I'll start with the night of the rape. I was a sophomore at the time. I was still low on the totem pole at the fraternity even though I was a full member as opposed to the freshman pledge prospects that were there at the party. I was performing gopher duties for the brothers. One of the brothers came up to me and told me there was a girl who was pulling a train and she wasn't the usual skank. I was curious and followed him up. The door was open, and several guys were standing around waiting their turn. You were on the bed with one guy in your mouth and one taking you from behind. From the glazed look in your eyes and your slurred words, I was sure you had no idea what you were doing much less be able to give consent. I got mad. I didn't know what to do so I yelled out, 'Leave the poor girl alone.'"

"Hey, I remember hearing that. It didn't really register at the time, but I remember someone saying that."

"Well, the fraternity's sergeant-at-arms jumped me quickly. He told me to take my turn or get kicked out of the fraternity. I was either with the fraternity or against it. The other guys backed him up. I admit it. I was a coward. It took another round of threats before I pulled down my pants. My penis wasn't even partially erect. I had trouble putting my penis in you. No matter what I did, I could only get the tip inside you. I pretended like I was fucking you but since I never got fully erect, there was very little penetration. The brothers laughed at my obvious failure. I left the room in tears. I should have gone home then. When the Dean of Students sent the letter to the fraternity, I was accused of either being a part of you making the charges or I was a danger to their potential prosecution. I was beaten up pretty badly and told that worse would happen if I said anything.

"I left school from the hospital and went to my aunt's house until my wounds healed. She swore she would never tell my parents. I went home and later transferred to Boston College. My parents respected my desire to not tell them what had happened. During the time I was out of college I decided to deal with my guilt and cowardice by promising God to somehow make it up to you. Well, I knew I couldn't cause you to become 'un-raped,' but I hoped I could help make your life as good as possible.

"I followed your subsequent college career. Once I graduated, I was able to find employment in your hometown. I was hoping you would stay there after you graduated. When you did, my plan was to become your best friend. As your friend, I could provide help without my motive being questioned. That's part of the reason why I never tried to make a move on you first. The problem came when I became aware that I was falling in love with you.

"When you told me about being raped, I almost confessed then. But, I couldn't. I just couldn't because I didn't want to lose you. I guess you could say I was still a coward. Instead of helping you, I wound up hurting you again, so I was also a complete and utter loser besides being a coward. The last thing in the world I wanted to do was cause you any more pain. I know you don't want to hear it again, but I am very, very sorry.

"This will probably be the last time we see each other again. I can't take the chance of trying to do anything nice for you for fear of making things worse. By disappearing from your life, I won't be around to screw things up for you anymore.

"Valerie, there's only one thing I want you to believe about me: I truly loved you. I still love you and always will." He paused and then asked if I had any questions for him.

Through the tears I promised myself not to shed, I said, "No."

I went home and cried some more. I was mad for the part of me that believed what he had told me. Maybe he really didn't mean to rape me. Maybe he really was trying to make amends. Maybe the more than six years I had known him was the real Stanley Beckman after all. I quickly admonished myself for having those thoughts. Nothing else mattered. He raped me. He lied to me by not telling me. Move on Val.

*****

THE REST OF THE STORY

It was many months after the divorce before I thought much about Stan again. Every time I started to think of him, I forced my mind to change subjects. Most of the time I did think of him I was just thinking of checking to see how he was doing.

Once again, I found myself at a training and once again, I ran into Donna. I told her about the divorce and what Stan had said. She was one of the few people I felt I could talk about those subjects with. I was very surprised that afterwards she asked about the six years of marriage before the divorce. It was like she was challenging my decision to divorce Stan.

My response was harsh, "Donna, you're the one who told me about Stan being one of the rapists! What the hell does the years of marriage before I knew he was involved make a difference?"

"It's just that you seemed so happy when you told me about your marriage that day. I have always felt a little guilty telling you about Stan. Maybe you would have been better off not knowing about his part in the rape. It sounds like he was more a coward than a rapist."

"But . . . but . . . Oh, I can't believe you. I thought you were my friend."

"And, I thought you said you had forgiven all your rapists. Didn't that apply to Stan?"

I got up and walked away. I went to my hotel room and cried. "How dare she? So what if I had a good marriage before I found out. It was all a lie. It was a lie of omission, but a lie nevertheless. He helped rape me! How could I forgive him?" I began to really have trouble reconciling how badly he had treated me in the rape and how well he had treated me as my husband. It's like he was two different people. I convinced myself that the rapist-coward part of him negated the good husband part. I was right in getting rid from him. Damn him.

*****

AFTERMATH

I forced myself to go out on dates. I was seldom asked for a second date. There was too much anger towards men. Too much wondering what lies they had hidden. Too much worrying about how much physical affection to show - if any. I was beginning to give up on the dating scene when I got a phone call.

"Mrs. Valerie Beckman?"

"Actually, it's Ms. Valerie Beckman."

"Stan Beckman was your husband?"

"Yes. What is this about?"

"I'm Amanda Smith a nurse at County General. We have a Stanley Beckman as a patient here. We need you . . . "

"I'm no longer his wife. I have nothing to do with him now. You should be talking to his mother."

"His mother is in a nursing home. Actually, you're still listed on his Living Will as the person authorized to make medical decisions."

"I assumed he had changed that. I haven't had any contact with him since the divorce."

"Well, he's getting close to needing someone to make decisions about his care. Can you come to the hospital?"

"Now?"

"As soon as possible."

"Okay." I regretted agreeing to go as soon as I said it. Memories of my rape and divorce will never be gone for very long. It seems I'm cursed with the aftermath forever.

****

AT THE HOSPITAL

I found the ICU at the hospital. Visiting was restricted to ten minutes every two hours. When I went in, I was not prepared for the shock of seeing what he looked like now. He had stayed around 200 pounds for all the time I had known him. The weight always looked good on his 6' 2" frame. I doubted he weighed half as much. When he saw me, he became alert, surprisingly so. Knowing you're about to die can do that I guessed.

"Stan, you look . . . you look . . . horrible. Sorry."

"Well, at least you still look great, Valerie."

"Nonsense. I have lost some weight I needed too. Not as much as you, of course. I didn't have time to put on makeup and . . . "

"Excuses, excuses." He chuckled while still frowning.

"So, how come you left me on your Living Will?"

"I have wanted to die for a while now. I knew my mother and my aunt would never let me die. I thought I could count on you to let me go. You should be willing to let me go with what I did to you."

"Stan, do you think I hate you that much? Maybe I haven't acted like I particularly cared what had happened to you, but I don't hate you."

"Whatever. I don't want to argue with you. All I want you to do is say 'No' when they ask if they have your permission to take life-saving measures if I am not capable to tell them."

"Damn it, Stanley. I think trying to get me to make this decision may be the worst thing you've ever done to me. Even worse than the rape and the lying. Well, forget it. I won't do it. You're not going to trick me into making me responsible for your death."

Stan responded from a side of him I had never seen. "Valerie, I'm tired of your same old poor me routine. You believe the world owes you a smooth life because you were raped. A lot of women get raped and don't expect the world to give reparations. You forgave the others who really raped you, but you won't forgive me when I was the only one who did something to try and make up for it. What would you have done if I had told you about what I had done before we got married?"

"I would have run the other way as soon as possible."

"So, you would not have had all those years when we were happily married."

"But those years were based on a lie."

"But you didn't know that at the time. At least I gave you back some happiness for my part in your unhappiness. No matter how you look at it, you can't deny the happiness we both had. That's something I treasure that you can't take away from me."

Damn him. I hate it when he's right.

"Valerie, go ahead and leave. I'll take you off the Living Will. I think I can manage to die all by myself."

A nurse came over to me. "Ms., you're going to have to leave now. You can come back in two hours."

I asked the nurse outside the ICU what was wrong with Stan. She said that she could give me a list of the various medical diagnoses he had, but the main thing was that he just doesn't want to live. I felt my hate of the bad things Stan had done begin to melt away.

I went into the waiting room. Thank goodness crying is allowed there. Several families were sitting in groups. Each were deciding which two of the family would go in the ICU two hours from now.

I sat away from them and thought, "Here I am. Another damn time where I need to make a big life decision that most people never have to deal with. What did I do to deserve all this?"

Part of my brain came alive that I didn't even know existed. "You could fight evil with evil. Stan had lied to me for what he considered good reason. Maybe I could return the favor." An idea came to me.

When I went back in two hours later, Stan couldn't believe it. "What? Come back to say good-bye? Good-bye! Oh, on your way out do me a favor and put an air bubble in my IV."

I tried to look as serious as possible. "Stan, as much as I feel you have wronged me, there is something you deserve to know, even if you're about to die. Stan, you're a father. I didn't know it, but I was pregnant when I kicked you out of the house that night. The antibiotic I was taking for the flu cancelled the effect of the birth control pills. I had on a girdle when we met at the lawyer's office. I was barely showing.

"Stan, I did not want you to know back then because I was so mad at you. I was afraid you might fight the divorce and be able to get visitation rights. I couldn't stand the idea. Before you die, I want you to know that you did something so good for me that I can't deny it. Something in good conscience that I must thank you for. Robert is the most wonderful child a mother could ask for. I named him after my dad. Here's a recent picture." (I had searched the internet for cute kid pictures. I just had to find one that looked like a possible child from both of us.)

Stan started crying. "I have a son and you weren't going to tell me?"

"Actually, I was. I kept seeing how much he was missing out not having a dad. At first, I was going to shop for a new husband and potential father for Robert, but I didn't have any luck. I kept coming back him needing his real father, you. Too bad you're too much of a coward to live and deal with the shit life gives you."

He ignored my insult. "Can you bring him to see me? Please."

"Hell no. I don't want to traumatize my son. Picture how the scene would look. 'Here son. The man in the bed with all those tubes sticking out of him is your dad. Too bad he's about to die. Now that you've met him, say good-bye. Maybe someday we can go have a picnic at the graveyard when we visit his tombstone.' If that's the kind of fathering you want to do, please forget me ever saying that I want you to be his father."

"That's not fair. I should be able to see my son at least once."

"Tough shit. When the last time life has been fair to me? You want to see him? Get well enough not to look like a Halloween skeleton and I might, just might, let him see you."

"Damn you Valerie. You're a REAL bitch!"

"Yep. You wouldn't want an ARTIFICIAL bitch, would you?" I left.

I stayed awake that night waiting for the call that Stan had died. As time went on, I began to have hope my trick had worked. A week later they called. Stan had made a miraculous recovery. He was now in a regular room and gaining weight. He had asked for me to visit.

I went to visit. It was obvious that he was hoping I would congratulate him on his seeming recovery. When I didn't say anything, he asked, "Well, what do you think?"

"I think I remember this from my psychology class. It's called a 'death rally' I believe. It's where someone about to die has a temporary rally just before dying. Oops. I guess I shouldn't have said that."

Stan was M-A-D. "Get the fuck out, bitch." If nothing else, I had solicited some prime curse words from him that were totally alien to the Stan I had been married to.

"Sorry, Stan." I left. I left smiling.

It was a couple of months later that the doorbell rang. It was Stan. "Showtime!" I thought.

"I'm here to see my son. I won't take no for an answer. If you don't let me see him, I'll get a court order."

"Come on in Stan. Congratulations on your recovery, by the way."

"Like you give a shit."

"I don't know if I like this 'potty mouth' side of you Stan. Go ahead and have a seat."

"I'd just as soon stand. Where is he?"

"I'm sorry. You can't see him."

"Why not?"

"You can't see inside my head."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Our son is in my imagination. He doesn't exist. I tricked you."

Stan fell back on the couch. Tears came to his eyes. "You really are a treacherous bitch."