Roller Coaster Ride Ch. 11

Roller Coaster Ride

Chapter 11: Recovery, Retribution, and New Jobs

Tuesday, January 5

Up at 6 am, I search our bedroom and find Katy's iPhone in her suitcase, fully discharged. I expected that because it immediately goes to voicemail. I take her phone and a wall charger with me. At 8:45, the boys are with their grandmother, who only asks that I tell the nurses to tell her daughter she loves her.

I plug Katy's phone into the car charger, pick Joyce up, and then call a man I've been friends with for many years. He's a junior partner in a bad-ass law firm, and after socializing appropriately, I tell him to bill me because he's now on retainer as my attorney and as the attorney for Joyce. I describe the problem in basic detail only, and ask if there is any way to either force them to let me see her, or force them to let me see her records. He says not quickly, but I should try this. He lays out a plan, I thank him, he wishes me luck and says to let him know what happens because we do have legal avenues, but they take time; we hang up.

I give Joyce the code and tell her to check Katy's phone: I don't want anything on it that would cause her to regress. All she finds is messages and voicemails expressing concern and wishing her well. All are from the dancers, her parents, Joyce, or me, except one from Dub. It's sweet and teasing, so we leave it too.

At the hospital, we find out that Katy is in a new room on a restricted floor, so we ride the elevator up to her. We get off as if we know what we're doing; I have a vase of flowers in one hand and her phone and charger in the other, while Joyce has a box of chocolates. We look innocuous, and we find her room quickly; unfortunately, a nurse working on a chart beside her room looks at us suspiciously.

She's middle age and pretty, but her look is cold "Who are you, and why are you here?" "We're here to see Katy; I'm her husband, this is her best friend, Joyce," I reply flippantly.

She looks at her chart and finds Joyce's name, and her face softens. Then she looks at me with ice and fire "You are the husband: Tim? You, sir, are specifically barred from seeing her!"

There is a female doctor, slightly older and even prettier, who's watching and listening at the next station. I look Nurse Briles directly in the eyes and move a little closer, into her space. "I can tell you think I'm responsible, but let me say this clearly, just once: I'm not responsible for her condition! When she left me at 1 am to 'be with her friends,' she was happy and healthy, if not wise.

"When I found her the next morning this was the condition she was in; she refused medical care until two days later. The reason I'm on her do-not list is because she's embarrassed and humiliated by her actions that night, not because of anything I did. Is that clear enough?"

Joyce steps up "Everything he says is true. He's a good man, and she's normally a good woman, but that night she drove off into a ditch; we just want to help her out."

The nurse looks less hostile, but coolly says, "I can't help you. Only Mrs. Kelly can approve visitors," and looks at the doctor. The doc puts her chart down, steps over and shakes our hands, saying "I'm Doctor Charles, one of Mrs. Kelly's medical providers. Let's step into the conference room across the hall."

We take seats around a table and Dr. Charles earnestly says, "I overheard your conversation with the nurse. I can't change her orders, but perhaps you can tell me something that will help us in our treatment. Please go over the circumstances of that night."

Joyce and I take turns briefing her, providing enough background to gives perspective. We take her through the first dance at the county fair, the offer, the practices and performance, to New Year's Eve, and thence the morning after. The doctor takes many notes, but makes eye contact as often as possible.

After asking a few clarifying questions, she asks if there is anything else we could tell her to help with Katy's treatment. After thinking about it for a few minutes, I tell her that the dance at the fairgrounds seems to be the seminal moment, the watershed. Before that, she was a very different person.

She asks in what ways; I reply, "She's always been gorgeous, she's always had persistent admirers, and she's been a very sexual woman since I've known her. The change is that she's been a one-woman man from the day we met until recently. Yes, she sometimes flirted back, but it never went beyond light flirting. Now... well, you heard.

"What would cause a sudden personality change like that?"

As the story played out I read a change in her demeanor and in her eyes; she believes us, and she's sympathetic. She's also curious about the sudden change, and tells me she is going to look into it.

"As to visiting your wife, unfortunately, my hands are tied" she says, "I can't let you in to see her, Mr. Kelly, even though I think it would be good for her." We plead to no avail, but then she asks about the iPhone. I tell her I charged it and she has a bunch of missed calls and messages of concern.

She takes us both into the hall, calls the nurse over, and tells her in a meaningful way to go check on a patient down the hall. The nurse nods knowingly and leaves. Doctor Charles tells Joyce "Let's go back into the conference room; I have some more questions for you." Turning to me, she tellingly gives me very specific orders. "Tim, you stay here. We will be back in 15 minutes, when the nurses do rounds again."

I wait patiently for them to close the door, and then stealthily enter Katy's room. There is a short hall; I can only see her feet under the blankets until I get into the room. She's awake, but looks dazed. She stares at me for a moment and mumbles in a tiny voice "Why are you here? I don't want you here" while turning her head away from me.

I move beside her bed, hold up the phone, and in an excited, happy voice, explain, "I brought you flowers, and your iPhone and charger; I thought it would give you something to do while you recover."

"Please don't be kind to me," she pleads, still looking away, and mumbles in a dead voice, "I don't deserve it."

"Well, you may or may not DESERVE kindness, my love, or the love of your sons, parents, family, and friends, but you have it, so get over yourself!" She closes her eyes, steels her face, and turns back to me "Don't say that. If you knew what I did you would hate me, and so would they."

"Oh, I know exactly what you did -- they videoed the whole night, and I've seen the video. Am I happy about it? Hell no! Do I agree that you fucked up big time? Hell yes! Do I hate you? No, I don't, and if you think your friends and I are going to let you wallow in pity and shut us out, well, hell no, we're not!"

I took a couple of deep breaths, calmed myself, and continued in a kinder, gentler way.

"Your mom said to tell you hello and she loves you and wants you to get well. The boys sent you 'kissies and hugs' and said they want you home to read them nighttime stories and tuck them in. Your dancers all said to tell you to get well soon so y'all can practice, and Joyce is outside waiting to see you. So wallowing alone in self-pity really isn't an option, sweetheart."

She starts crying hard, with deep sobs, clutching at the sheets and tossing her head from side to side. I let it go on for several minutes, letting her cry it out. As the sobs slow, I say, "Katy, what you did is in the past; it's the future that matters now. One spectacular fuck-up in a lifetime of being a good girl and doing good things for people is allowed. Just vow to keep it at one and go on with your life. Those that loved you then still do, and everyone else can go to hell.

"But you need to start moving forward today: you need to raise your head, square your shoulder, and take responsibility for your actions, but you also need to realize those unfortunate events are in the past, and plot the future you want. Your doctors can help, your friends want to help, your family wants to help, and I want to help. Can you do your part?"

She begins sobbing again, for another several minutes, then calms. I stand beside her, brush the hair from her face, and touch my finger to her lips "I love you" I say quietly "Do you still love me?" She shuts her eyes tightly, shakes her head up and down, and says "Yes! But I don't deserve your love!!!"

I reply in a solemn voice, "You don't, and I don't deserve your love either, and neither of us deserves God's love, nor the good friends we have. Fortunately, you don't get what you deserve; you get what God gives you, and that includes forgiveness if you ask Him.

"Starting right now, make a vow to fight the demons that are taking the sparkle from your eyes and the joy from your heart; set some goals for each day, and bust your ass to reach them. Only you and your Savior can do this, but you're doing it for him and for the many who love you, so get started! We need you, and we need you sooner rather than later!"

She takes a deep, halting breath, then another, and then a third, with her eyes still shut. Then she opens them, pets my hand, and says "Thank you." She stares at me with timorous puppy dog eyes, looking for the disgust she just knows is there.

It is, but it's hidden behind the wall I've erected. I smile at her, and softly tell her, "All we want is for you to get well. If you do that, we can sort everything else out, and get on with our lives. Get well, get healthy, get strong, and it will all work out, sweetheart."

Joyce stuck her head inside the door and warned, "They are making their rounds, Tim; you need to get out of there or you'll get Dr. Charles in trouble." I lean down to kiss her, but she turns her head away "Let me get well, healthy, and strong first, please. I'm not sure about my...condition."

I rub her face gently, put my finger on her lips, and tell her "I'll honor your wishes, so goodbye for now, but I'll see you soon. Vaya con Dios." I plug in her phone; lay it on the bed table, and leave. Joyce came in, giving me the palms-up sign for 'how is she'; I just nod and walk away.

Plopping myself in a chair down the hall by the elevators, I sit and wait, my emotions feuding with my rational brain for control. A half-hour later Joyce returns with a smile, announcing, "I have no idea what you said, but I think she's turned the corner. She cried and cried, but then she stopped and seemed determined to get well. She's certain you will always hate her, she's aghast that you've seen the video and knows you won't ever trust her again, but she says she will open up to her psychiatrist, Dr. Charles, and her counselor. We'll have to see, but I'm much more optimistic now!"

"Good to hear" I reply "I actually don't hate her, but 'trust her'...no, not now. Maybe someday, but I can't see it."

Joyce pleads, "Please don't tell her that, at least not yet. She needs hope more than anything, and the one she betrayed the most is the one she feels the worst about."

"Oh, I won't, but the one she betrayed is herself; that's the real problem" I respond.

Joyce mulls that, and remembers, "Oh, and the nurse said to tell you she's sorry she jumped to conclusions, that it's just hard watching that sweet girl suffer, and she thought you were the cause." I consider that, and ask "Wouldn't it be ironic if I proved to be the cure?"

We laughed and got into the SUV. "Joyce, tomorrow I'm sending her some family pictures. She needs to focus on her sons and all the others who care, not just on her and me. She disregarded everyone in her life, not just her husband. I'll survive without a wife, maybe even prosper, but sons without their mother, and parents without their daughter...tough rows to hoe.

"My greatest concern now is that she receives the treatment and counseling that she needs, that she engages in it with the fervor she showed when putting the dance performance together. Well, and in most everything she else she has done in her life. If she does, we will soon know the 'content of her character' and the direction this can go. Right now, that is all that matters, so that's what we focus on.

"What she did that night was wrong in a 'moral' sense, but her actions were troubling on a much higher level than 'moral judgement'. She knowingly forced me away and engaged in dangerous behavior that goes far beyond what I thought her limits were. If she was testing her limits, or scratching an itch, that's one thing; but if that is her new normal, that is a very different thing. Don't you agree?"

Joyce looked at me curiously: "Leave it to you to take a 'world view' of all this. Most men couldn't see beyond her cheating."

"Well, for one thing that's not the first time for her, or for me, to cheat, on our marriage vows, and it's all happened, to the best of my knowledge, within the last month. No, I'm not adjudging her on having partners -- albeit multiple partners -- other than her husband that night.

"I'm pretty sure you remember: I -- we - engaged in similar activities. But there are differences; I was with people I know well in a controlled environment, and I said nor did anything to disparage my wife or our marriage. The actions of both our groups were 'morally questionable' and mine were just as far outside the bounds of matrimony as hers were. We were all consenting adults, including those she was with, so there are a lot of equivalents. But I'll let you view the video, and you can tell me if you see the cause of my greater concern" I explained.

Joyce looked straight ahead "I'm not sure I want to: I saw the results. Is it as bad as she looked?"

I look straight ahead and nonchalantly reply, "Worse, actually; graphic detail in living color, close-ups, filmed for their hard-core porn site, with acts I've never even seen before, even on porn. And then there are her responses to Malcom's questions. I could seriously have killed everyone involved after I watched it, so you are seeing a much more sanguine Tim a couple of days later. Doesn't mean I don't have malice in my heart, but the threat of imminent murder has subsided...at least toward her...somewhat."

We change the subject for the sake of maintaining my equilibrium while driving, and in an hour, we're back in town. I drop her off with more profuse thanks, and we promise to keep in touch until we go back Thursday night after in-service training at school. I go home, make another copy of the disk for Joyce, and watch it again; it might be worse this time, because I know it's coming before it happens. Even though she was drugged, she's still responsible because she chose to abandon me in favor of having fun with her friends, who turned out to be predators.

That they drugged and abused her, filmed it, and planned to turn her into a porn slut, however, is on them, and those mother fuckers are going to pay!!!!

Far from a techy, I do know how to set up so my URL is buried and I'm bouncing off servers all over the globe. Dissatisfied with what I do know, I call a friend who is a certified tech nerd genius. He's curious about what I want to do, but excited that I called him for help. He tells me true anonymity is my goal, and tells me how that is accomplished, step-by-step. It's complicated enough that I have to take notes, even as I follow his instructions.

He adds that if I need a friend on the dark web for any reason, call him; he can get anything, or hire anyone I'd need. I tell him I'll probably be back in touch: what I've got in mind is illegal, but no physical events will occur, just intimidation. He laughingly tells me I have no idea what he does for a living; bring it on! No one will ever know but us, he promises! "In fact," he assures me, "don't worry about this phone call; it's been scrambled and scrubbed already. He's sending me a link in a totally innocuous email, and orders me to use it from now on when I need to contact him.

The world in which he resides is dark, intimidating, and frightening to someone like me who doesn't transgress there. I knew he was a genius when we first met as freshmen, and I can't say I was surprised when he dropped out as a sophomore; he had been impatient from the start with 'higher learning' that was far beneath him. I was surprised, however, that he kept in touch and always provided me with contact info. Luckily, I had identified that info in my contacts with only the initials of my nickname for him, so few if any would ever know.

After his enlightenment regarding his daily routine, I wonder how I "erase it" from everything, including disks, cloud, or wherever, in case he ever gets caught. Mentally resolving to ask him about that the next time we speak makes me realize he has probably already done it. He is one of the least physically intimidating persons you have ever seen, and yet, in his own way he is terrifying.

I check emails and find a senseless one that looks like a scam, but has a code word -- the name of our dorm at UT. I open it, some stuff happens, and a box opens. I type my message, provide the contact information for the targets, and send. The original email disappears, but a box appears that tells me how to bring the box back up, and warns that this message will destruct in 10 seconds; it does.

I go to pick up the boys: they and their granny and gramps are thrilled that I talked to mommy, and that she's getting better! I tell them that she sends her love, says she will be home as soon as the doctors will let her, but she is still recovering so she can't take phone calls yet. I assure them that she has her mobile and will call us when they let her!

Yes, it sounds hinky and unlikely, but everyone wanted good news so they swallowed it hook, line, and sinker. Her parents insisted on taking us out to eat at my favorite local café, which forced to make up more shit to feed them so they will remain patient.

Telling them their daughter is in the psych ward with contagious STDs and injuries to her throat, vagina, and anus isn't an option, so I talk about doctors being uncertain about her diagnosis. She may have the flu and/or an upper respiratory infection, and they are concerned that she may also be developing pneumonia or a bronchial infection, so they are running more tests. Overall, however, she is improving, and the doctors are confident she will get well. I mean, what else can I do?

Supper was actually quite good, the boys are happy when I take them home and bathe them, and are ready for bed early. Unfortunately, I haven't even been by the school yet, and I've got a faculty meeting at 9 am to introduce myself. Oh well, I assure myself, I've winged it before, so I'm ready for this. I confirm that Betsy is expecting the boys tomorrow, send an email to the elementary faculty and staff group, and then go to sleep; I again sleep well, everything considered.

Wednesday, January 6

Up at five, I'm refreshed and hyped up like it's game day. Everything is ready when I awaken the boys at six. After an early breakfast, I take them by Betsy's, and they immediately begin playing. Betsy looks fetching in a little housedress that discloses her shapely curves and legs better than her norm; I compliment her, and tell her I may be a little late; first day and all. She says not to worry, Gary has gone hunting for a few days, so whenever is fine; she will feed them if they get hungry. I head to school thinking that sounded almost like an invitation, but I need to get focused.

Asshole Williams's office is a mess, of course. Not the 'just moved out mess', but a purposeful mess. I ignore it and go stand where I can greet the faculty as they arrive for a workday. The kids are off for the stock show the next two days, but the faculty and staff have to work. I ordered a continental breakfast for the elementary staff at supper last night, and the café folks arrive to set it up in the cafetorium right on time.