Mothers and Daughters Pt. 13

"Stay here," Nate said, "I'll be right back." He got up and crossed the small dining room, and spoke with the man quietly. The tall Italian nodded and smiled. Then Nate grabbed a plate, and put some pastries and an orange on it, and returned it to Martha, so she didn't have to get up.

"What did you tell him," Nate asked.

"I told him you have dementia, and this happens all the time," he offered casually.

"Nate NO!" she yell whispered at him with wide, horrified eyes. He beamed a huge smile at her. "Oh!" she grinned evilly back at him, "you are so dead!" She paused. "So really, what did you tell him?"

"I told him we had received a false alarm - that Uncle Snuffy was actually fine, it was all a big mistake, and there was no emergency. I told him how upsetting the whole evening has been for you, and to please accept your apologies."

"Please don't tell me you actually said 'Uncle Snuffy'," she chided.

"Well, no," Nate looked offended she even mentioned it, "I used his full name of course, Snuffiloppigus."

"You're bad," she smiled. She looked into his warm eyes. "Thanks." They fell silent for a moment as she pushed her pastries around her plate. "Hey," her eyebrows furled as she remembered something, "why did you get out a flashlight last night?"

"You'd be surprised how much damage you can do with one of those old fashioned police issue flashlights," Nate explained quietly. "You can knock someone out cold in one blow," Nate added, "and they let you take it on a plane." Martha nodded thoughtfully.

They finished breakfast, and went back to the room to change into their running clothes. The nearby circular park was larger than Nate had envisioned - perhaps a 100 meters in diameter. You could almost fit a football field inside. Walking paths crisscrossed the park, with a single perimeter path running around the edge. A hip-high iron fence circled the perimeter of park with several entrances. Nate and Martha ran fifteen revolutions side by side around the outside track, which was just inside the iron fence. Nate guessed it was a four kilometer run. Back at the hotel, they took turns in the shower - showering together was not an option in the tiny bathroom.

Martha had already planned to see the Coliseum on Saturday. She explained she booked ahead for a private tour, and the tour operator would meet them there at 8:30, when the doors opened. They Ubered their way to the Coliseum, and as Martha suggested, they Googled about the coliseum to distract themselves from the traffic. Nate had to admit, for all his concerns about driving in Italy, everyone seemed to remain alert and aware of their surroundings - certainly more so than the half asleep drivers back in North America.

As they stepped out of the car, the first thing that impressed them both was the size of the coliseum. It was massively tall and wide. From all the pictures he'd seen, Nate had no sense of the magnitude of the architecture. The second thing that struck him was its complete shaped and form - he thought it was a ruins. The entire exterior structure was being rebuilt. It appeared mostly finished, however there were still insanely high construction scaffolding assemblies that workers used to reconstruct the arena walls.

The crowds were already amassing when they arrived at a quarter past eight. Tour operators and vendors were hustling the tourists, but Nate had Martha ignored them, and they headed for the Arch of Constantine, where Marina, their hired tour guide, would meet them. Martha said they were to look for a woman wearing an orange hat. They people watched while Nate remained alert for pickpocketers and other risks. Martha was explaining how much work was involved in moving out of her house. When you live in one place for twenty years, she explained, it is incredible how much junk you accumulate. In the end, she threw most of it out. She put some in storage, and donated or sold the rest. A friend of hers worked with an international aid agency, and was travelling to Afghanistan to help build some water treatment system. He let Martha use his house for a few weeks until she flew over to Rome, and it would still be there if she needed it after the Rome trip. Nate didn't point out the obvious - she had a place to stay with him. He figured the nearby vendors were pressing enough of a hard sell for one person to take.

Shortly after 8:30 they spied a woman wearing a bright orange baseball cap. They presented themselves to Marina. She removed the orange cap immediately, and pocketed it in her beige cargo shorts. She could not have weighed a hundred pounds soaking wet. She was short and petite. Marina wore a loose fitting short sleeve pale blue shirt. Her long, thin, wavy brown hair fluttered freely in the light breeze.

Marina spoke with an obvious Italian accent, but her English was excellent. Martha had paid for the tour in advance by credit card. An advantage in hiring a private tour was bypassing all the line-ups. Marina led them through a separate door and flashed her badge at a doorman and announced she had two visitors. The gatekeeper noted something in his ledger, and let them pass.

Over the next two hours Marina walked Nate and Martha through the publicly accessible areas of the Coliseum. It felt even bigger once they passed inside. There were two levels the public were allowed to access. Marina explained the history of the coliseum, its architecture, its use, popularity during the Roman Empire, and its more recent restoration.

Inside the coliseum floor was missing, long ago worn away by the eroding forces of nature. Instead they viewed the labyrinth of ruined catacombs, called the hypogeum, that originally housed the soldiers, gladiators, slaves, lions, and other creatures held in waiting for the spectators' viewing pleasure. Marina explained the underworld had access to the main coliseum floor through a hundred elevators, which the entertainers used to choreograph the arrival of lions, condemned prisoners, gladiators, and other live actors into the arena.

According to Marina, the coliseum originally had a 87,000 person capacity, although few events drew crowds more than 50,000. They weren't seats so much as benches, and each section, row, and bench was numbered. Spectators had 'tickets' which were actually pottery shards with their seat assignment inscribed into the clay. She pointed out the reserved boxes with proper seats for the emperor, the senators, and the vestal virgins. The rest of the seating area was divided into sections by class - the nobility and knighthood class, the wealthy class, the poor class, and lowest class reserved for slaves and women. Martha raised an eyebrow at Nate, warning him not to get any ideas.

At the very end of the tour, Marina pulled aside a rope line preventing people from entering a narrow passageway, and she beckoned Nate and Martha to follow. She restored the rope line behind them to discourage common tourists from following. Marina led them up a narrow curving stairway into an open terrace above the floor they had just been on. I looked upon the same open area they had just viewed, but with a semblance of privacy. Marina explained this small area was where injured or sick spectators were brought for medical attention, such as it was in those days. She said the tour was over, and she invited Nate and Martha to remain here as long as they liked, but she had another tour to conduct. Martha passed her a generous tip, thanking Marina for an excellent tour. Nate nodded in agreement - her tour greatly exceeded his expectations.

There were a couple of wooden crates, just the right size for sitting on, and Nate and Martha rested on them, looking upon the colossal ruins. They both agreed how much they liked the tour, and how spectacular the coliseum was. Nate was glad he had seen it, and was sure more people would put it on their bucket list if they knew how impressive it was.

Conversation wandered, and they sat comfortably in each other's company, squirreled away from the masses. Eventually the topic of Briana came up, and Nate returned the conversation to the source of Martha's outburst last night. She knew talking about it would make her feel better, so Martha pressed herself to continue.

"I was really shocked," Martha was explaining her reaction to Briana's behavior. "Nate, the things she did were ... I don't know what they were," she was lost for words.

She paused, waiting for the courage to continue. "She denied it in Hamburg, but later she told me she took pictures of me - naked pictures. I don't know how she took them, but they were all of me in my bathroom, usually stepping out of the shower, or standing at the sink." Martha paused again. Nate took her hand and held it on his knee. A single tear trickled down her face. "She would show the pictures to her boyfriends, and then ... she would ... she fellated them while they stared at my naked body." Nate fell a chill run up his spine. It's one thing to pose for an internet site, but for a daughter to secretly do that to her own mother. It was perverse.

"We had a big argument one night in my house just after I came home from Berlin," Martha continued. "She told me she did this, and I told her she was lying. She promised me in Hamburg she didn't do that. So Briana went upstairs to her old bedroom - Nate she hasn't lived there for six years. She went to her old bedroom, and came back down with a stack of full-size pictures - eight by tens - of me naked. Each one was in a plastic sleve, so they were well preserved. Briana told me she put plastic covers over the pictures so it was easier to wipe off the stains." Martha pulled her hand back from Nate. "Nate there were over fifty of them. What kind of daughter ..." she didn't finish the sentence.

"I don't know," Nate rubbed her back gently. "I'm not going to bullshit you and tell you it's alright. I'm kind of horrified."

"Me too," Martha cried silently. She sniffled a few times, and wiped the tears off her face. "Later, she told me she fucked those boys as well. And also ... you know ... anal." Martha paused again. "I couldn't tell if she was lying, trying to make me feel worse, or if she was just revealing a little bit more each time. I still don't know." Nate guessed Briana was lying about the anal, because she didn't at all seem experienced about it when Briana had anal sex with him. 'Oh, by the way, I'm pretty sure your daughter is lying, because I popped her anal cherry' wasn't something Nate was prepared to offer, so he just listened.

"Every time we talked about it, her story got more elaborate and more disgusting. The last time, she told me she laid down a dozen or more of pictures of me on the floor, and did two or even three boys at a time. She said she did one in the mouth, and two behind." Martha shook her head. "She made a point of telling me the boys always finished by ... you know ... on my face, or on ... or on some other part of me in the pictures. That's why she had plastic covers." Martha drew a deep, troubled sigh. "I just don't know what to believe."

"Martha," Nate announced softly, "Briana needs help."

"Do you think she's sick?" Martha asked.

"I don't know if labels like 'sick' helps or makes a difference," Nate offered gently. "I think she put herself through some very damaging stuff, and she needs someone who can help her heal."

"Well, I can't afford a psychologist three times a week, and neither can she."

"Send me the bill, or better yet, have whoever it is direct bill me." Martha looked at him. He wasn't joking.

"That's a very generous offer," Martha nodded, "and even if I thought it was appropriate, I don't think I can convince Briana to do anything right now. She's not talking to me."

"Try," Nate prodded her. "It's worth it."

"Why would you even foot such a bill?" Martha asked, almost complaining.

"Because I promised you I would not hurt you or Briana, and I can't be sure now what I did to both of you might not have deepened some darkness inside her." Nate paused. "It's part of my promise."

"But you didn't know," Martha was wondering why she was defending Nate as she said it.

"Neither did you, but look at you - your still trying." Nate paused, thinking about what Martha said. "Something troubles me," he warned. Martha looked at him. "You said after six years of not living there, Briana went upstairs and found old pictures. I'm wondering what else might be in there before I rent the place."

"I tore her room apart," Martha said. "I took all the furniture to the dump, in case it was, I don't know, stashed inside of something. There's nothing left."

Nate nodded. Still, he wondered if it was worth having someone crawl through the whole house, looking for hidden cameras and caches of naked photos. It was a delicate problem, one he might have to review with his lawyer.

"Are there any electronic copies of the photos," he asked.

"Briana said no," Martha knew where Nate was going. She pursued the same line of questioning with Briana. "She might be disturbed, but she's not stupid. She knew if she emailed a picture to a boyfriend, it was out of her control. She kept the only copies of the actual photos, so they always had to come back to her."

Nate wondered if there was video. They might never know.

"Did she do anything else?" Nate asked.

Martha dropped her head. "She said she brought boys around to the back yard when I was watching TV. They'd look through the picture window at me while she ... you know ... on her knees." Nate shook his head in disbelief. "And there's something else," Martha started shaking. Nate held her hand. "I think ..." she breathed in deeply and cried, and buried her face in her hands. At last she looked up, and stared off to where the lions dismembered the unfortunate. "I think she might have drugged me," she almost didn't finish the last two words. Tears were streaming down her cheeks now, but her voice held steady. "A few times," she swallowed hard, "three that I can think of - after supper, I was so tired, I just fell asleep, and I woke up the next morning with a weird taste in my mouth and I was really thirsty." Nate knew that some sleeping pills can make you thirsty. "I didn't think anything about it at the time, but now that I look back ..."

"Did you ask her?" Nate inquired.

She just shook her head no. "I didn't have the nerve," she whispered. They sat in silence a long time while Nate held her hand. "I'm tired," Martha complained softly. "I need some air," and she stood up.

They descended the curved staircase together. Nate returned the rope line after they entered into the general area, and they exited the coliseum together. As they walked around the grounds aimlessly, the way tourists do, Martha took his hand. "Briana said one thing true," she finally broke the silence. Nate waited. "If I ever meet you in a dark alley, I pray to fucking God you're on my side."

"Count on it," Nate guaranteed without hesitation. She looked into his eyes and saw the fire.

- - -

(Ten months later)

"Did you bring more water?" Dillan asked, walking beside Nate.

"I got lots," Nate nodded. They were cresting the Katoomba Falls hiking trail, and the Three Sisters rock formation was coming into view. Nate carried a back pack with two full litres of water, and he had two more litres in various pockets in his cargo pants. It wasn't a long hike - 5 miles return trip - but it was actually hot on this winter day. Water was essential. "Let's wait here," Nate stopped on the trial, and he took out a near-empty plastic water bottle and drank. He handed it to Dillan, who finished it off.

Dillan was as tall as Nate. His youth offered him a leaner, cleaner physique, but like Nate, he was considerably stronger than he looked. He had dark brown, nearly black hair with a gentle wave. He had his mother's green eyes, and much of her temperament. He seemed to lack the killer instinct Nate possessed - that went to Sarah.

Nate heard the girls' voices before he saw them. He watched Sarah and Martha round the corner on the trail behind them. They were too far away for Nate to make out all the words. Sarah was relaying a story with animated gestures, her hands sweeping in large circles. Martha was grinning and nodding, and suddenly they both bust out laughing as Sarah reached the punchline. Martha looked up the trail and saw Nate and Dillan waiting for them, and even in the distance Nate could see her eyes sparkle as she smiled at him - not a laughing smile anymore - a warm, affectionate, loving smile. He smiled back automatically without realizing it.

"I thought it was supposed to be winter in August," Martha complained as she and Sarah closed within speaking range of the men.

"A bit of a heat wave," Nate shrugged. "Global warming."

"Is that the Three Sisters?" Sarah asked, pointing at three vertical rock formations rising above the ridge that made up the mountain top below. Sarah stood five foot eight with straight brown hair to her shoulders, which she often tucked behind her ears. Sarah was attractive without being girly. A firm build with solid hips, and shoulders broad enough to gracefully carry her C cupped breasts. Her slightly squared jaw and long face gave her the look of someone strong, which she was. She had Nate's brown eyes.

"That's them," Nate nodded.

"This wasn't hard at all," Sarah commented on the ease of the hiking effort. She pulled out her camera and set up a shot.

Ahead, off the trail to the right, a lookout platform rested atop the edge of the cliff where tourists could view the legendary Three Sisters rock formation from a closer distance. Being mid-winter, few tourists were on the trail today, even though the temperature was 25 degrees on this unseasonably warm day. Nate handed water around, but the women had their own, so Nate pocketed is new bottle of water led the way down the other side of the crest toward the lookout platform.

Only two other couples were on the lookout platform when Nate's gang arrived, and both couples left shortly after, leaving Nate, Martha, Sarah, and Dillon alone with their thoughts. They rested their crossed forearms on the railing, looking over the short valley to the Three Sisters.

"How's Briana," Sarah asked Martha, quietly. They were standing next to each other. Nate was standing to the right of Martha, and Dillon to the right of him.

"She's fine," Martha offered noncommittally.

"Is she still in Toronto?"

"Yeah," Martha nodded. "She has a job there and a new apartment." And a therapist, Nate didn't add. He was receiving the doctor's monthly bills.

"You know," Sarah confided, "she called me up last year. It must have been September, because I just started my Masters degree. I guess she looked up my Toronto number. Anyway, she invited me out for drinks."

"She mentioned that," Martha smiled. "She really loves you guys."

"So," Sarah pressed on, "we went out drinking just this one night. Anyway, she must have had a lot more to drink than she thought or something, because ... well ... she told me Dad killed some dude."

Martha turned her head away from Sarah to Nate, who was standing next to her on the other side. They exchanged a long, hard look. Sarah, to Martha's left, could no longer see Martha's face, but now looking at Nate, Sarah saw an expression in her father she had never known.

"Dad?" Sarah pressed, concerned by her father's mysterious expression. Martha and Nate had discussed this again and again. They both realized that, eventually Briana might tell some or all of what happened in Hamburg. They agreed to deal with in only if it came up.

"Honey," Nate started, and then he stopped. Nate stepped backward four paces from the railing, so he could speak to Sarah and Dillon together. All three turned around to face him. Sarah and Dillon flanked Martha on either side. "About a year ago I met Briana in Germany. She was just passing through - neither of us knew the other was in Germany."