You Need to Hear My Story

AUTHOR'S NOTE

Below is a new tale from SemperAmare, the writing name we, being Vandemonium1 and CreativityTakesCourage, use when we co-author a story.

If you didn't like Van1's 'This is Madness' or CTC's 'If You Truly Love Me', probably best you give this cautionary tale a miss as we've experimented with how much suffering can be endured without drawing blood. So, sit back, relax, maybe have a drink, (yes, definitely have a drink) and enjoy a little escapism with us.

Please Note: Some of the content of this story may evoke strong reactions.

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WENDY LOOKED AROUND the room at all the old familiar faces, trying to find some inner peace. That place that made her feel safe, but it was proving elusive.

Understandable, she thought. Today was crusade day. Improve-the-world-just-a-little-day. Prod-the-anthill-that-is-my-memory-day. She shuddered but braced herself.

Suddenly, she became aware of the weight of the two tiny steel balls in her hand. Automatically, with practiced ease, she began manoeuvring them around each other in her palm.

It was while she was focused on the smooth rolling action of the balls that her friend Pam entered the room, bustling as always. Wendy made eye contact and beckoned her over. Pamela finished what she was doing and walked over, smiling warmly.

"Hi, Wendy. Is there anything I can get you?"

"No, Pam. Today is the day I do something for you. I need about half-an-hour of your time, not work related, somewhere quiet. Can we do that?"

"Of course, Wendy. But not today. There's a staff meeting later when I'd normally have my break. How about tomorrow?"

A look of disappointment suffused Wendy's face. She'd had to psyche herself up for this conversation. It had taken days and hence she'd hardly slept a wink the last few nights. The idea of another sleepless night was traumatic. She ground the worry balls in her hand and made a decision, a look of determination replacing that of disappointment.

"It's important, Pam. It's about the man I saw you kissing outside the back door last week. He's far too young to be your husband."

The simple words made Pamela freeze. She remembered the day her friend Wendy was talking about. She'd been very careful to kiss Randall, one of the chefs, where no one from the ground floor could see them. She hadn't realised they were visible from the upper floors. The revelation was embarrassing, and very, very dangerous. If word filtered back to her husband, then she could lose the idyllic family life she'd striven so hard to build. Still, it really wasn't any of Wendy's business.

"Um, what I have with Randall isn't that serious, Wendy. It's just a little fun when..."

"Shut up, Pam! We need to talk. Urgently! Today!"

Shocked at Wendy's demanding tone, Pamela looked at her friend as if seeing her for the first time. She had to fight the reflex to tell Wendy to butt out and mind her business. In Wendy's hand, the balls ground together loudly.

With an expression of extreme anguish, Wendy spoke again. "Please, Pam. You need to hear what you're risking. You need to hear my story."

Bullshit, thought Pam. More like YOU need to tell me your story. Get something off your chest. Regardless, she decided to play it safe.

"Okay, Wendy. Let's go to the sunroom; it should be quiet there at this time of day. I'll just arrange some coverage then I'll meet you there in ten or so minutes. All right?"

Wendy nodded and watched Pam bustle away before making her way to the rendezvous point.

Pamela found Wendy there at the appointed time, stress balls grinding away and a look of tension on her face. Pam was annoyed. Randall was just a bit of fun, a harmless distraction who took nothing away from Jake and the boys. She sat beside Wendy, prepared to defend her actions, but Wendy beat her to it.

"I don't want to know if you've slept with the guy yet, it doesn't matter. I can only imagine the bullshit rationalisations you've told yourself... probably similar to the ones I told myself."

The remark was so out of character for Wendy that Pam was shocked to silence.

"I...I cheated on my husband and it cost me... everything."

Pamela watched as Wendy's eyes misted over and became unfocused. Wendy's right hand was grinding the worry balls furiously and automatically. Being a nurse, Pam knew the balls were a distractive device, probably recommended by a counsellor or psychiatrist.

She didn't really want to listen to what Wendy had to say, it was hardly relevant to her. She'd been really careful with Randall, and, besides, they hadn't gone all the way. If they did, and it was still a big if, what was the worst that could happen? She'd have to soothe some ruffled ego feathers. Maybe, eat some humble pie for a while. She couldn't see her husband divorcing her; he would never risk losing access to his kids.

But where was the harm in hearing Wendy out? She obviously needed to unburden her soul. Pam waited, patiently.

"I don't make a big thing of it, but I used to be a doctor. I-no, I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me start at the beginning. I met my husband-to-be just after I finished my internship after graduating medical school. I wanted to stay in the big city so the only job I could get was in the casualty department of City General. Ronnie, the man I married, was brought in one night after sustaining a football injury. Well, I won't bore you with the details of our courtship, but, suffice it to say, within two years we were married, I was twenty-eight by then, and within a year of that we were parents of a son..."

It didn't need Pamela to be a world class psychologist to see Wendy was having big problems saying the name of her firstborn. Wendy was so agitated she dropped the worry balls from her hand and had to chase them around the floor. Pamela helped, picking up one. She'd never actually seen Wendy's before, or, more truthfully, never so close up. Their appearance was unlike others she'd seen but she couldn't place why. As soon as they were back in Wendy's hand, she calmed noticeably.

"We decided I'd become a stay-at-home mum because Ronnie's business was taking off and, frankly, the hours in the ER were insane. Certainly not conducive to having a family and we always wanted two children, so when my eldest was only a year-and-a-half, we had another son and I went on the pill."

Again, the names of the children were conspicuously absent from the monologue.

"I stayed at home until our youngest was five and going to school, then someone pointed out that if I didn't return to practicing soon I'd lose my registration. So, it was back to the ER for me. Ronnie was very supportive, and thankfully his business was doing so well he was able to change his hours so he could be there when the boys came home from school. We also hired a live-in nanny as a fall back for the times he just couldn't be there and to help with the preparing of meals. Ronnie was an orphan and both my parents were gone by then.

"About that time, we lost a few doctors from the hospital and things just got stupidly busy. I was exhausted all the time, it was horrible."

Wendy paused, looking anguished, and Pamela recognised they were getting to a part of the story that troubled her conscience greatly. She waited.

"I don't know why it started and I won't insult your intelligence by listing all the bullshit excuses I gave myself. I realised they were complete twaddle after... after it all happened."

At this point, Wendy bowed her head but not before Pamela caught sight of the tears streaming, not just dripping, from Wendy's eyes. It was uncomfortable for Pam to witness that much pain. She wondered how Wendy could survive such a depth of agony. How could the pain still be so powerful and raw?

Pam wanted to hug her friend but that was against the rules. She waited. Finally, Wendy continued in a very small voice. Pam had to lean in to hear her properly.

"He was a new intern in the ER and I was appointed as his mentor, my... my lover."

Another long pause. More tears. More grinding of the stress balls. Pam surreptitiously looked at her watch, alarmed at how long this was taking. Worried at what would happen if she interrupted, she chose to remain silent and wait.

"At first we only did it at the hospital, a quickie to relieve the stress every few days. But then, stupidly, I started going to his apartment after our shift was finished. It was simple to hide it from my family, my hours were so erratic. Ronnie didn't suspect a thing.

"I was a fool, Pam, just like you're being with your chef toy boy. I was addicted to the sex, I think. I could do all the things with my lover that I was too afraid to ask my husband. 'Nice girls' just didn't do some of the things we did."

She stopped and shook her head, turning her tormented gaze toward Pam. Pam tensed, trying to suppress a shudder. She wanted to look away; Wendy's stare was too intense. Too tortured. The lines of strain at the corners of her eyes, the lips thinned with pain. It was too much. She didn't want to know any more of Wendy's story. Every sentence now made her feel like she was intruding on something too personal to share. And worse was to come. She sensed it.

"I... I got pregnant again. I don't know how. Just one of those things, I suppose."

Wendy was sobbing heavily by now. Pam just couldn't hold back her thoughts.

"It was your lover's child?"

Wendy, too busy weeping to answer verbally, just shook her head, spraying tears onto Pam's arm. She flinched, fancying they burned. Wendy finally got herself under control.

"I was terrified it was. And he certainly tried to get me to have an abortion, but if there was even a one in a million chance it was Ronnie's then I couldn't. I just couldn't. It drove a wedge between my lover and I and I broke off with him. I... I never knew who the father was. I was still having sex with my husband occasionally: it could just as easily have been his child.

"The pregnancy was different this time. My first two were trouble free but by six months into this one I was hospitalised. The placenta had detached from the wall of the uterus and was interfering with the baby's supply of oxygen and nutrients. She wasn't growing so I had to have total bedrest until it was safe to induce labour.

"Poor Ronnie, with the help of the live-in, had to do everything for our sons. They were scared and fretting so he had to cut back his hours to be with them more. It was such a stressful time for us all. The boys would want to climb all over me when they visited and cling when it was time for them to leave. The only positive out of the whole situation was it strengthened an already strong bond between Ronnie and the boys.

"That, and it made the boys beyond protective of the baby. We had to tell them again and again to be careful with Mummy because the baby in Mummy's tummy was sick. She was special. They really took it to heart. When she was finally born they didn't want to let anyone near her.

"She was an angel. A really good baby. I guess she knew how much she was loved from the moment she popped out. She was immediately the apple of my and Ronnie's eye and her brothers saw themselves as her little protectors. Her knights. She took after me; there were no outward signs she was Ron's or my lover's, and I didn't want to know. As far as I was concerned, she was Ronnie's. He certainly had no clue he possibly wasn't the father."

Again, Wendy stopped and stared into infinity. Pam had known Wendy for five years and this was the first she'd heard of her having a husband, two sons, and a daughter. As far as she knew, she was the only person Wendy was close to. She herself was close to her mother and couldn't see how she could go even a week without seeing her.

By the waterworks she surmised it had to be more than just Ronnie finally getting some DNA work done and absconding with the sons and daughter. The courts always supported the mother, however evil she was. Pam made an educated guess that this must have occurred when Wendy was in her mid-thirties. To still have this amount of pain and remorse, something very powerful must have happened and she knew she had to tread carefully. She didn't want to exacerbate Wendy's pain but, at the same time, Pamela had to get back to work.

"So, how did Ronnie find out, Wendy? How did he find out his daughter wasn't really his?"

Wendy responded quickly and resolutely. "He didn't."

"Then what happened? Did he find out you'd had a lover? Did you tell him?"

The tears were all gone now. The well was obviously dry. Not that the cessation of tears lessened the look of agony on Wendy's face. On the contrary, she now looked like all life had been sucked out of her. Like a dried-up husk. Pamela couldn't decide which was worse.

"No, I didn't tell him... the police did."

WTF!

"After I did something really stupid."

The words were tumbling from Wendy's mouth now like a horse on the homeward straight. If Pam was any judge, Wendy was following the rip-band-aid-off-quickly principle.

"When... my daughter was about six months old, my old lover contacted me again. He was working in a different hospital by then and I hadn't seen him for over a year. I stupidly met him and, weakling that I am, I fell into his bed again. I took to leaving the child with the old nanny we now used as a babysitter for half a day a week so I could ostensibly have some time for myself."

'Oh no,' thought Pamela, 'the stupid cow finally got sloppy and hubby found out.' But it turned out to be far worse than that.

"That went on for about three months but my conscience was really giving me trouble. Ronnie had been so supportive during my last pregnancy, it brought us closer together. It was like I fell in love with my husband all over again. He was wonderful. He even volunteered to have a vasectomy so I never had to go through a horror pregnancy like that again. I felt as bad as it is possible to feel.

"I tried to break it off several times but I just couldn't. If I'd been stronger I... I... I might still have a husband and children. I went one final time to my lover's apartment determined to stick to my guns and break it off with him. He gave me a big sob story about how he loved me and begged me for one more roll in the sack."

Wendy snorted, her look scathing. Pam saw in the look the level of Wendy's self-loathing.

"If I'd known that was the last time I would ever have sex, I may have tried to enjoy it more. My lover had been begging me to try anal sex. I was curious and knew I would never have the opportunity again, so I gave in. He was patient and took his time, almost an hour, I think, but I never really warmed to it."

Wendy stopped abruptly and stared at nothing. Pamela was stunned at Wendy's revelation of how long she'd gone without sex. She herself had cut off her husband for three weeks once, when she was pissed at something he'd done, but in the end it had been her who had gone crawling back to his bed, not Jake pursuing her.

The next sequence of events happened so fast; Pamela saw them as a blur. Wendy, with a determined look on her face, carefully put the worry balls in her lap before ramming her face into the solid tabletop, not once but twice. Blood flew everywhere, spattering Pamela.

By the time Pamela reacted, Wendy's body had slumped sideways and fallen to the ground, her head making a soft thud sound on the carpet. The muted sound did nothing to minimise the horror of the situation. Wendy's whole body had relaxed in her unconscious state but blood continued to pour steadily from her heavily damaged face, staining the carpet.

Years of training kicked in, enabling Pamela to push her personal feelings of shock and dismay aside and raise the alarm. She didn't allow herself to feel as she cleared Wendy's airway of blood and a damaged denture with practiced efficiency until other nurses came to help and ambulance personnel arrived to take Wendy away.

With the crisis over, Pamela, feeling somewhat deflated by the morning's events, went about the more mundane tasks associated with an emergency such as righting the furniture.

She picked up Wendy's bag and headed toward the admin office, then, as an afterthought, returned to the sunroom to retrieve the worry balls from the where they had rolled. As she studied them, checking for blood spatter, she suddenly realised what it was about them that was strange. Normally, stress balls were shiny and approximately an inch in diameter. Wendy's, however, were tiny, less than half an inch and all scuffed. Clearly, they were being 'worried' into oblivion. The thought made Pamela sad. Wendy, for all her failings, had always been kind and friendly to her. Pam didn't like seeing another human being suffer. It was her desire to lessen suffering that had led her to nursing in the first place.

She put the balls in the handbag and turned once again in the direction of the admin block, passing two of the maintenance crew heading in the opposite direction. She smiled at them, glad a colleague had relieved her of the necessity of organising the cleaning.

Pamela glanced at her watch. What a morning. She wondered if there was any word on Wendy's condition yet. Hopefully, a broken nose and damaged denture would be the extent of her injuries. Pamela could still scarcely believe Wendy's actions. They had been out of character. She certainly hadn't foreseen them when the Wendy had demanded a chat.

Pamela picked up her pace, wanting to offload Wendy's bag with the administration staff as entry to residents' rooms was strictly prohibited while they weren't in attendance.

As she rounded the last corner before Admin, she was accosted by Dr. Parsons, the facility's Chief Medical Officer.

"Aah, Nurse Dalrymple, just the person I was looking for. They tell me you witnessed quite a traumatic event. Please, come into my office and let's do a bit of a debrief, shall we?"

Pamela followed the good doctor into his office, behind the main reception desk. He quickly and expertly dragged what had unfolded in the sunroom from her. Pamela felt obligated to reveal the details of Wendy's confession in case she was at risk of making another attempt at self-harming.

Pamela felt slightly ashamed of her curiosity regarding the final chapter in Wendy's story. She wouldn't describe herself as someone who was a gossip hound or who revelled in the misfortune of others, but she couldn't deny a morbid desire to know more about Wendy. What could possibly have happened to destroy her so completely? Many people had affairs and divorced. Rightly or wrongly, most went on to remarry and lead happy lives. They certainly didn't become celibate the way Wendy had. Or self-harm.

Dr. Parsons tilted his head to the side and Pamela blushed under his keen and assessing gaze. Being caught out in her badly concealed curiosity, she felt like a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

"It's all right, Pamela. It's natural to want to know the end of the story and considering the extent of Mrs Harrison's confession, I feel confident that had her guilt, shame, and remorse not gotten the better of her she would have told you the rest herself. We had hoped her days of self-harming were behind her.

"Mrs. Harrison has clearly formed an attachment to you and so I have come to the decision to show you the section of her file dealing with psychological factors that may affect her health. I think it will assist you in her future care. I warn you, it's not a pretty story. In fact, it's tragic. Please speak up now if you think you're not strong enough to hear the truth."

Pamela nodded for him to continue.

"What I'm about to tell you has been taken directly from Mrs. Harrison discussions with me since being a resident here. Okay, where to begin?"