Page 11 of Wildcat

We both have taken a seat across from one another. He hasn’t said a word, so I assume it’s going to be up to me to start this long-awaited conversation.

“Why, Malty? For what reason did you not want me around anymore? To do what you did, I hope you know you broke me more than those animals ever could. Is that why you couldn’t think of touching me again after what they did? It took me all this time to start to trust and believe in myself. Hours, weeks, months of therapy, not only because of the brutality but also because of your harsh and emotionless words, time and time again. Even hurting, I sat by your bedside, day in and day out, while you were in a coma. Do you have any idea what they did to me, Malcolm? Well, let me tell you. I was ripped from front to back. They penetrated me not only with themselves but they used something else to cause as much damage as possible. And they succeeded, as I was torn to pieces. I woke up in the hospital in so much pain my screaming woke me up. The doctors were giving me pain medication but didn’t want to give too much that would keep me from waking up. Eventually, I had to have surgery to correct a fistula that occurred during my rape, probably because I was gang raped or that’s what the doctors thought by the DNA they found in and on me. And just so you know, I never once blamed you for anything. I loved you, Malcolm, and when I needed you most, you pushed me away, again and again. I tried to talk myself into trying to understand that you were in excruciating pain, but damn it, so was I.

“When you finally woke from the coma, I thought we were both on the way to mending, at least physically. By the time I was able to attempt to go back to work, I was given desk duty as I didn’t even try to pass my physical to go back out on the streets. I was mentally and emotionally scarred, and terrified at the thought of being out there by myself. And being on the desk, my hours were regular so I could keep a schedule to be there for you. Though that wasn’t what you wanted, was it? You wanted Michael, your best friend, but you didn’t want your fiancée to be around or help you. Do you know he got even meaner to me the more you pushed me away? Even my parents started to worry when he was around. I bet they weren’t happy when you showed up at their door with that bastard with you. Yeah, that’s what I think of him. When you were at your lowest and needed people around you, he pushed all of us away. I wondered if he was the one telling you to push me away. That you didn’t need me or my problems. For the first time I got a taste of what hate was. It was directed at him first, then I began to detest you. For being so damn hateful and cold-blooded. It felt like you were acting like you were the only one injured. Don’t look at me that way. I know they also assaulted and raped you. Do you think I’m stupid or was an idiot back then? Malcolm, I saw that asshole behind you with your jeans around your ankles, the look of devastation and utter pain on your face. Why do you think I came out to begin with? I shot and killed one of them. It’s my fault I didn’t act quick enough to prevent them from hurting you. My God, don’t you know I’ve been carrying this guilt around since that moment? You never looked at me the same and it’s because I saw. Yeah, Malcolm, I saw that maniac raping you.”

Tears start to fall from down my cheeks but our eyes never lose connection. I can see all the emotions in his eyes before his shoulders start to shake. I remain in my seat and as hard as it is I don’t reach out to him; in fear he’ll push me away yet again. When his eyes fill up, I bite my lip so hard I taste blood. It is when his hands reach for me that a gasp escapes my lips, and we both stand from our chairs and fall into each other. Not sure which of us sobs harder, though it isn’t a contest. This was the aftereffects of mental, physical, and emotional rape, along with post-traumatic stress.

I’m not sure how long we hold on to each other. Malcolm shuffles us to the love seat and we fall into it, never letting each other go. Neither of us says anything. What can we say that will heal either of us? Even though this happened in our past, neither Malcolm nor I have dealt with the aftermath of that day. I will never go to a cabin in the woods for the rest of my life, no matter what. Just going to Raven and Ash’s wedding on the Sterling ranch was hard enough. I need to reach out to my therapist and start getting real serious about trying to work on these issues. Life is passing me by and the more I don’t work on them, the more those deranged assholes win. They’ve taken enough from me already. And from Malcolm.

I lean back and look up at him. Those gorgeous eyes are more bluish-green today. He lifts his hand and lets his fingers wipe away my tears. I do the same for him. When he leans down, I’m unsure but shouldn’t be. He places a tender gentle kiss on my lips then pulls away.

“Frankie, first, my God, thank you for sharing. I never knew the extent of your injuries. I asked but seemed like no one wanted to give me any details. Shit, I need a second or two please. You don’t know everything from my perspective and I want—no, need—to share that with you. Is there a bathroom close by? I need to well, got to take care of something, and then clean my face and get a towel to clean you up too. No, let me do that for you.”

He’s not telling me something, so I point to the small bathroom across the room. He pushes himself up but I can tell he’s either in physical pain or something is bothering him. Takes him a moment to walk to the bathroom and close the door. Leaning back, I don’t move, just try to calm myself from everything I just told Malcolm. Shit, I can’t believe that, in the matter of under an hour, I shared with Malcolm stuff that even to this day my own family doesn’t know. My therapist has been pushing me to open up to my family. She even said pick just one person and explain to them what happened. I explained I’m still ashamed, you know, being a cop—even a new one—and not being able to protect Malcolm or myself. The guilt has been eating away at my soul. My therapist finally got through to me when she brought to my attention it was me against four men that I know of.

Suddenly, an overwhelming smell sneaks into the room. My God, what the fuck is that? Immediately, I get up and open the only window behind my desk. Not wanting to embarrass Malcolm, I softly knock on the door.

“Malcolm, I’m going to go get some coffee. You still drink it, right? I’ll be right back.”

I hear him mutter a “yeah” before I walk out the door and down the hallway. When I enter the main room it’s still pretty full with people. My eyes are drawn to my parents, who both stand and start to walk my way. We meet halfway and I grab on to both of them.

“I’m so sorry for pulling away. No, really, as crazy as it sounds, in a way I’m glad this is happening. We need to arrange some time while you are here for me to share some things with you two. It’s long overdue. First though, I need to get some coffee for Malcolm and me.”

“Frankie, make sure its decaffeinated for Malcolm. Don’t think his gut can take regular coffee. He never drinks it at our house.”

I look first at my dad then my mom. Why can’t he drink coffee? I think to myself but I don’t ask. That’s up to Malcolm to explain, and I’m done putting my parents on the spot.

I kiss them both then walk right to the kitchen. I pull out one of the carafes we keep for our chapels. I move to the industrial coffee machine and set it up for a pot of decaffeinated coffee. While it’s being made, I grab a tray and place some cream and sugar on it. On the counter are some fresh homemade cookies, so I add them to the tray. When everything is ready, I carry the tray through the main room and down the hall to my office. The door is wide open so I walk in to see Malcolm on the love seat, elbows to his knees, hands in his hair.

I put the tray on the table, turn, and close the door. Then I take a seat next to him but don’t touch him. The odor is gone but I can smell some air freshener. The window is still open.

“Ready for some coffee, Malcolm? Mom and Dad told me to make decaffeinated, so I did. Still like cream and a ton of sugar?”

When he glances up at me, I’m shocked at how devastated he looks. On instinct, I lean into him. He puts his arm around me and just holds me close. Neither of us says anything, probably too afraid whatever is said will ruin this moment. After about five or so minutes he leans down again, putting a soft kiss on my head.

“Yeah, Frankie, could use some coffee. Are those cookies sitting on that tray? So I see you still have a need for sweets? Grab me a cookie or two before you demolish them, being the Cookie Monster that you are.”

Just that sentence reminds me of back in the day when we didn’t have a care in the world. I’m not sure what the future holds for the two of us, but if it means I can at least have Malcolm as a friend again, I’ll take it. Though I want to be selfish and want more. I want everything.

TWELVE

‘MALCOLM’

MALTY

Watching Frankie get us both coffee; it dawns on me at this moment that this is it. Time for me to step up to the plate, as they say. I owe it not only to her but also myself. It’s been a long goddamn time coming. All the pain we’ve both been through changed our lives forever. My biggest fear right now is, once she hears what happened and all I’ve gone through, she won’t want me in her life in any way. Not sure that we even have a chance to maybe pick up or start over, but just having her in my life in some way is vital to my well-being now that I’ve seen her.

I’m so deep in thought, I jump when the coffee mugs hit the table. Shit, what the hell is wrong with me? Frankie has a cookie in each hand, waiting on me to pick one. Instead of just one, I reach up with both hands and grab each one before she can pull her hands back. The look on her face is priceless. Reminds me of happier and more carefree times. After we both eat two cookies and sit back into the love seat to drink our coffee, I look anywhere but at Frankie. That is until I feel her hand squeezing mine. When I look her way, she gives me a small, sad smile.

“Malty, no matter what you tell me, it won’t change a thing. We both went through a living hell, but they didn’t win. We are both alive and though fucked up, they didn’t achieve what they wanted. Good prevailed somehow. Now take your time, we got all the time in the world, Malcolm.”

Feeling her eyes on me warms me to my soul. Takes away the cold dread of what’s to come. This isn’t going to be easy at all, but maybe getting this shit off my chest will give me a reason to truly live, or at least try. So many things are going through my mind and as minutes go by Frankie never says a word, she just holds my hand. Finally, when I feel I might be able to get through this, I clear my throat while squeezing her hand.

“I’m not going to rehash everything, as we were both there. I’ll tell you what I remember. When I pushed you into the cabin and locked the door, I felt such release that the beating they put on me didn’t even faze me. Well, the goddamn pain did, but in my mind I prayed that if I didn’t fight back, by the time they’d killed me help would arrive, and you would be saved. Naïve to say the least. When I heard them talking about how my kind deserved everything I was going to get from them, I knew this was going to be the worst of the worst. When the big guy grabbed his crotch with that maniac look in his eyes, I knew that this was going to be pure torture and probably like being in hell on earth, and guess what, I was right. I kind of remember the three of them beating me until I was almost unconscious, then as the two of them laughed the real fun was going to start. Frankie, I’ve never told anyone what happened. The long and short of it was they took turns going at me. You came out toward the end of it when they were trying to hang me. Gerald, the asshole, and the guy you shot were talking, not realizing that I was hearing them. The asshole said this is the way the country should be and my kind didn’t have a place in the USA. Or maybe an option for my people is to do all the menial jobs because we ain’t smart enough for anything else. Gerald said something about me being in medical school and he thought he heard us talking about you being done with the police academy. That told me they were around before we got there to hear us talking, unless they were stalking us before. We’ll never know.”

Taking a big gulp of lukewarm coffee, I roll my shoulders and crack my neck. Then I dive right back in.

“I wasn’t going to go down without fighting. One of them went to the far side of the cabin, hearing you screaming. He was banking on you wanting to help. Right before you came out, Gerald got a couple of good kicks to my back before they pulled me up, rope around my neck. You saved my life, Frankie, though not worth the cost you paid. I fell and landed on my back, which immediately I knew by the amount of pain something had happened. I couldn’t feel my legs. I was in and out of consciousness when the asshole came back, flipped me over, and violated me with some sort of object. Not sure what as I passed out. The next thing I remember is waking up with you by my side in a hospital gown. When I was told how long I was out, couldn’t believe it. When the doctors told me what they were planning, I knew I wasn’t going to hold you back or ruin your chances at a future, no matter what that was going to be. Something just hit me. What you told me, you’re right. Michael was all for me pushing you away. They were going to take a part of my bowel and there was a chance that I would end up with a colostomy bag, though they didn’t know if it was temporary or permanent. After you left, I wasn’t even going to have the surgery, just wanted to die. The decision was taken from me when I went septic. They once again induced me into a coma and removed a section of my bowel and put in a colostomy bag. You probably don’t have a clue what that means, so it’s the bag you wear on your stomach that collects stool. I was lucky they were able to reverse it about three to four months later after my colon had healed. I’ve gone through similar procedures a couple more times. The problem is every time I go through a surgery the side effects become more prominent. A perfect example is when I had to use the restroom. I don’t have the control and it’s a fifty-fifty shot if I’ll be able to hold it in, so I try not to take any chances. That doesn’t always work and, yeah, I’ve had accidents over the years. In the beginning, after they reversed the colostomy bag, I could cough or sneeze and I’d shit my pants. I started wearing Depends, just for the in case times.”

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