What My Mother Needs

They took Mom away, still unconscious, and the other officers piled into the room. As the stretcher passed, Officer Nelson asked, "So who exactly was the naked man?"

"My grandfather," I answered, and gave his full name. "And the woman was your mother, his daughter?" I nodded.

"That... is fucked up," Officer Nelson commented. "What do you think he was doing in there? I mean, so you think he was trying to do anything other than what we saw? What was he trying to do?"

"I have no idea," I said. "This was... I mean, I once heard Mom call her father a perv, but nothing like... we had no clue about..." I waved my hands to indicate the whole insane mess, and then said, "...this! When Mom went in, it sounded like she'd just be a minute, and after half an hour I went to check on her. I found... that happening."

"So you found your grandfather mechanically raping your mother while she was strapped down and drugged. You stopped the... um, crime from continuing by striking your grandfather, who collapsed, correct?"

"Yes, sir," I answered as different police units showed up and went into the workroom. The house was turning into Grand Central Station.

They took me to the station house for further interviews. They failed to mention that Mom had awakened and was talking from her hospital bed. She only vaguely remembered Grandad opening the door for her and saying something, then fading out and coming back to awareness with 'appalling visions' showing up in front of her eyes while she was... while something terrible happened to her. She told them she had a clear memory of leaving me in the car thinking she'd be right back.

She got extremely upset when they told her that her father was dead. They told her what they had seen, and told her that I had interrupted her father's sexual assault, but she didn't seem to have much of an emotional response to that. On the other hand, he'd had half an hour to do things to her and no one knew what those things might be. It looked like Mom was going to need psychological counselling for years, and might never remember all of it.

The physical evidence and Mom's statements were enough to clear me in Grandad's death, and Dad showed up at the station, to pick me up I assumed. I noticed he had one hand bandaged and a butterfly bandage on his cheek.

"The police told me what you found," Dad said. "I want you to know how proud I am that you stepped up and saved your mother from that monster and called the police!" He looked a little uncomfortable. "I'm not sure I would have had the presence of mind to do that."

I shrugged. What could you really say to that?

"Do not tell your mother this when you see her, but the story of her father's sick incestuous actions is circulating in town. Fortunately, most people seem to think he just went crazy all of a sudden and did this to your Mom. There is going to be a lot of pity for your Mom, and you know how she feels about being pitied!"

"Dad, um, it was fucked up, really, really bad," I told him.

"I know, I know. Listen, your Mom has been through something terrible. She needs to not feel like everyone she knows is judging her for what happened."

:"Judging her?! For that!" The picture of how I found Mom flashed in my mind. "He...did that to her! She thought she was going in for only a minute or two, and the next thing she knows, she's waking up in the hospital, having had that happen to her! How low are people?"

"Lower than anyone would like, sometimes, son," Dad sighed, then looked me in the eye. "This is going to be hard for all of us, but mostly for her. I have already heard one ass-hat say she must have wanted it," he said," so, of course, I punched him. Broke his jaw. I've got a court appearance Friday for the charges."

"That's how you got the bandages?"

"Yes," Dad replied, glancing at his hand and giving it a shake like he was trying to get feeling back into it. He looked at me. "Miles, I've been with your mother for twenty-five years. I love her completely, every quirk, oddness, and foible." He looked at his bandaged hand like it held all the secrets of the universe. "Your mother has changed a great deal very suddenly, just within a couple of weeks. The police said she was drugged and had a thing on her head while she was... while she was being mechanically raped. They're analyzing the drugs he put in her and his... 'equipment'... to find out what he was trying to do."

"Dad! This may have happened before! You remember when Mom was unlocatable that afternoon and evening? And the doctor said she had an old puncture mark in her arm where she wanted to draw blood!" The memory of those two events stood out alarmingly to me.

"Oh, God," Dad took a deep breath, held it a moment, then exhaled slowly. "I... don't think we should mention that right now," Dad murmured. "We need to get home. Your mother has been sedated at the hospital, where she is being closely monitored tonight. We'll find out more tomorrow."

"But, Dad, I...."

Dad overrode me, "Tonight we go home. We'll share that detail quietly with the detectives tomorrow. If people thought your mother went back after it had been done to her before, everyone will think she was a willing participant, and too many people suspect she was even though she wasn't."

I was hurt, angry, and insulted for my mother. How could anyone think that she would willingly... I couldn't even complete the thought! How on Earth could people be such assholes? Blaming a woman who had been raped by a sick, perverted old man? That, as far as I was concerned, was pure evil, and indulged in without any thought or concern for what the consequences of holding that attitude were for the person who had already been wounded so deeply!

Dad and I went home to an empty house after going through a drive-through for dinner. Dad was obviously deep in thought about things and didn't want to talk, so I didn't interrupt him. I would occasionally hear him mutter things like "why?" and "what did he do to her?" The ones that he didn't say, the ones that were about to burst out of him but he could not allow any expression of -- "why did she go back?" and, finally, "why didn't she say anything?" were plain on his face.

I didn't have that problem, I was angry at Grandad especially, but also people in general. Blaming a woman for being raped is hard to forgive. I could imagine it if there were actual good reasons to ask if she contributed, but to just assume that the woman bore any responsibility for one of the worst acts of violence committed against her is beyond vile. That people we had considered friends could even entertain the idea that Mom might have been willing was deeply and profoundly disappointing.

* * *

The next morning we went to see Mom. As Dad followed me down the hall, I knocked and cautiously stuck my head in the doorway. Mom looked small and despondent laying in the hospital bed, and she looked like she had cried all night. It broke my heart.

"Mom!" I cried, and moved quickly to the bed. Asking "how are you?" was right out, stupid, because I could see she wasn't doing well at all. Dad took one hand, and I took the other. "We're here for you, Mom. We love you."

She smiled, but it looked broken, somehow.

"My love," Dad said, "I am so sorry..." Mom's broken smile vanished as she turned to him, but not the broken look. "...Oh, Honey... what can I do to help?"

There seemed to be a storm of emotions that passed over my mother's face, and I felt bad for Dad, because all of them were unhappy. "Could... could you just let me talk with Miles for a while? I... need fewer people around me. Miles saved me, so I feel safe with him."

"Of course, dear," my father said, very disappointed at the rejection, and started towards the door just as it opened and a nurse came in.

"Oh, sir, can I get you to come with me? The doctor would like to speak with you," the nurse said, and Dad nodded and followed her out of the room.

"Mom?" I asked, not sure where to start.

"My Baby Boy, they told me you... saved me from what Daddy was doing to me. It all sounds so strange! They said he used drugs and machines on me, but I can't remember any of it. I remember leaving you in the car to go into Daddy's for a minute and then... I was here. Is... is Daddy really dead?"

"Yeah, Mom. He can't do that to you ever again," I reassured her.

"And you did it to save me?"

"Absolutely, though after I saw... I can't say I'm sorry about killing him Mom. What he was doing was just evil, just... evil."

"Oh, my Baby Boy, you are my hero! Thank you for saving me, for protecting me, for claiming me!"

"Uh, Mom, can you please just call me Miles?" I asked. I think I didn't catch her last words, not really. The "Baby Boy" thing pretty much claimed all my attention. Again.

"Miles, yes, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" she said, slapping her forehead, then took a breath and looked me in the eye. "Miles, thank you for saving me," Mom said, looking down, abashed.

"Mom, you know Dad would have done the very same thing if he'd been there. Are you feeling better about Dad?"

Mom looked at me silently for a minute. "Miles, I... something is wrong with me. I think Daddy did something terrible," she said quietly. "I can't remember anything that happened, but I do remember Dr. Henderson noticing the spot on my arm. She thought I'd had blood drawn recently. I don't think I did. I think Daddy did this before. Why would I forget? How could I forget? Drugs? What did he put in me?" Mom was getting more and more upset, working herself up.

"Shh, Mom, it will be okay. We just have to get you back to where you were before he did this to you!"

"But... can I?"

"Mom, you can't give Grandad control over your life, mind, and feelings," I told her. "You'll recover. You may need a lot of therapy to do that, but Dad and I are 100% behind you, and beside you, all the way!"

"Be... behind me?" Mom looked confused but started moving forward, stopped herself, then looked over her shoulder.

"Just a figure of speech, Mom," I said, feeling bad for confusing her, though I wasn't sure how I'd managed it. "I mean that Dad and I support you, and love you, and will do whatever we can to help. We want you to be happy again, Mom. I want you to be happy and Dad to be happy. I want my Mom back, and Dad wants his wife back. I know it can't be like it never happened again, Mom, but I want my family back the way it was. We'll get there. We'll find our way back."

Mom was looking down again.

"Mom, please look at me," I said, and she did.

"You want me to be happy? After seeing Daddy..." she started to ask.

"Please don't call that sick incestuous rapist that! He doesn't deserve it!" The angry words burst out of me, and when Mom dropped her head again and sobbed, I felt like a complete shit. "I'm sorry, Mom, I didn't mean to yell. It's just... calling him Daddy is really, really creepy when he's the... person... who raped you in the most sick and perverted way... and I just can't... wait! Wait a minute. Did he make you call him 'Daddy'? Before just a couple of weeks ago I had never heard you call him that, then suddenly that changed, didn't it? Why did you start calling him 'Daddy', Mom?"

"I... don't know. I didn't realize... it's hard to remember... haven't I always called him that? It seems that way...."

"No. Well, not in the third person, and not outside of his presence that I ever recall. No, it was a sudden change, a couple of weeks ago."

"Oh," Mom said and held her face in her hands. Then she looked at me, "I can't remember." I was pretty sure she'd just realized, as I had, that this had to have been going on for at least a couple of weeks.

There was a brief knock at the door and it opened a half-second later, admitting a doctor I'd never met before, as well as Dad. "You must be Miles! Pleased to meet you! I'm Dr. Thompson. I'll be treating your mother, and it is very likely that I will need to include the two of you in her treatment from time to time. Will that be acceptable?"

"Anything my wife needs," Dad said, and I nodded.

"Good," said Dr. Thompson. "Melina needs to hear that. This trauma will have a long recovery time. Her emotions seem to be a bit scrambled somehow, so she may react to everyday occurrences in unusual ways at odd times. You have to remember that it isn't you to which she is reacting, but the trauma, and probably in a surprising way. Your father-in-law was family, and he betrayed all of you when he did what he did, but most especially and critically he betrayed your wife, his daughter." Mom was crimson with embarrassment.

"He tried to make your wife do things she would not choose to do, and tried to influence her mind with drugs and manipulation. I think he was trying to implant an incest fetish into his daughter. Some of the things the police found are... concerning, and we don't know what kind of drugs he used or what their effects might be. It will likely take years to work through to full recovery, if that's possible."

"Melina, I'm ordering some neural imaging and function tests for today and probably tomorrow. We'll talk again tomorrow, but I'm not quite ready to discharge you today, I think we need to see how those tests come out. Okay?"

"Um, okay," Mom said, sounding unsure but willing to accept it.

"In the meantime, you and I need to have a long talk. Oh, and Dr. Henderson called, and your hormone test results came back. Your hormones are very much out of balance, though some are quite high, not low, so it isn't early menopause. I suspect it has to do with the drug cocktail that your father used on you rather than anything natural. I'll go write up my orders for you and then come back, and we can have that long talk."

"Miles, why don't you go down to the cafeteria and get some food. Give us an hour or so, okay?" Dad suggested.

"OK, Dad. Love you, Mom!" I told them and left the room a moment behind the doctor, following behind him. "So you were the psychiatrist that Dr. Henderson referred Mom to?"

"Yes, that's me," he said as we got to the nurse's station. He looked at me, sizing me up. "You attacked and killed your grandfather while he was raping your mother. You saved her. This is likely to translate into her feeling safe with you. She is very confused right now because of what he did. You are going to have to be patient with your mother for her to recover. She is going to have some trouble behaving as she always has, because this has forced some changes in her. I was not joking at all when I told you all that it would be a very long recovery process, and it will be bumpy."

"How do you mean, 'bumpy'?"

"I mean, I expect your mother's emotions to be chaotic, and will likely appear as random emotional outbursts. Her conscious mind does not remember, but her subconscious mind is aware of the damage, and will try to find a new emotional balance that will work. The odds are rather high that some of those outbursts will be of anger and frustration, and may seem completely unconnected to whatever provoked the outburst. She and I will have to examine each of these impulses and try to find appropriate ways for her to choose to act. This isn't done in a day or a week or even a year."

I nodded understanding. It figured. I mean, of course Mom needed help getting through and over what my grandfather did. She'd been betrayed by one of the men she should have always been able to trust. If my Dad did that to me, I would be severely fucked up for a very long time, too. That Mom would have irrational outbursts, and that Dad and I would have to tolerate and help her through them made sense.

Dr. Thompson nodded and smiled encouragingly, then pulled my mother's chart and began making notes. I turned and went to the cafeteria to give my parents and the doctor space to talk.

* * *

When I got back to the room, the doctor had left. Dad held Mom's hand but he was looking out the window, his face expressionless.

"So, how did the long talk go?" I asked.

Dad shook his head, and I could see the tears on his face. Shit! Dad crying?!

"It's going to be hard, Miles, for a long time, I think. Your grandfather... he did some very evil things to your mother. It explains... why she's been behaving differently. The police say that he drugged your mother and used drugs and machines to try to force changes in her mind. It seems that your grandfather wanted your mother to hate me, and rebuilding our marriage may... may not be possible."

"What?! Mom, you love him! You have always loved..." I paused, changing my words carefully, "...my Dad! You can't let Grandad screw this up for either of you!"

Mom was crying and Dad snapped at me, "Miles! Don't make your mother feel worse!"

"Um sorry, Mom. I don't mean to make you feel bad, it's just... it's wrong! You love Dad! The one thing in this world that I've been able to count on is your love for each other and for me. Our family. I can't accept that Grandad could change that!"

Mom was nodding that she understood, but looked miserable. She took a deep breath.

Dad's sharp tone was very cold as he said, "Miles, we have to give your mother time and space to... recover. She can't help what she is going through. We will have to be patient and gentle with her, because what she has gone through, what she is going through, and what she will go through is more than hard enough on her; we don't need to add to it."

"That's okay, Andy. My baby boy is right," Mom told her husband.

I held back my complaint about her calling me that, though it was hard. I guess that's just one of the things that got scrambled in her head.

"Andy, would you give Miles and I a minute? I'd like to talk with him. He is as hurt as you are..." Mom continued, though I felt like Mom had once again accidentally humiliated me a moment before with the "baby boy" comment. She meant well, I know, but remember, 18-year-old guy! "...and his reaction is natural. He has been extremely worried about me, about us. I'm worried, too. I want to get back to normal as quickly as I can. Remember what the doctor said, that there would be emotional challenges for all of us, not just you and me. Let me make it a bit easier for Miles, okay?"

"Are you sure?" Dad asked her, and she nodded. He shrugged, and capitulated, "Okay. I guess I'll go get something to eat, myself. I'll be back in half an hour."

Dad shot an undecipherable look at me, then left the room. I sat down in the chair next to the bed.

"Son, Daddy did do some very bad things to me, and you saw some of them, but it looks like he did some worse things deep in my mind. Dr. Thompson said that it looks like Daddy somehow attached all the anger and betrayal I feel towards him to your father in my head somehow. There were records Daddy kept of what he did to me, what seemed to work, and what was not successful."

"Do you have to call him 'Daddy', Mom?"

"I think I do, son. I keep trying to use different words, even his name, and they just won't seem to come out of my mouth. I'm obviously having trouble just calling you 'Miles'."

"Oh," I said. "Did he do this to you deliberately? I mean, he wanted to change who you are deep down?" I felt deeply foolish for asking the question even as I asked it, but he had been my grandfather, Mom's father. It just shouldn't be possible, even though I'd witnessed him doing it. Who can accept that a parent could do that to his own child? It was pure evil! I'd never seen actual evil up close and personal before, and was having trouble coping.

"The doctor says he did. I think maybe the police think so, too. He did have some success in making those changes, son. It's why I can't sleep with your father, and why I'm... Miles, all I can feel for your father is revulsion and distrust. It's what I should have felt for Daddy. It's like... my mind feels like it was your father who did all those things to me even though I know it wasn't. Oh, Son, it is so evil and unfair to him. I remember loving your father, I just can't seem to manage to feel it right now. And that's not the worst...."