Chapter 26
Taylor
Gianna and I became best friends. We did movies together. Hung out on off time. And even shared Andy. We joked and told everyone we were Siamese twins. After she introduced me to LSD I actually hallucinated that we were joined at the hip and even tried to cut her off my body with a kitchen knife.
Not a good night.
But for the most part, life seemed better with her attached to me. Someone understood. Someone cared. Someone needed me as much as I needed her. We sorta used each other like drugs, to get by, to forget how much we hated “work,” even though Gianna would never admit that. She prided herself (and me) as the best adult entertainment actresses to ever exist. She assured me that one day we’d stop doing adult movies and become real movie stars.
I sunk into her fantasyland. It sounded so appealing, so much better than reality. So, together we lived in a make-believe world as reality tore us to pieces.
Literally.
“You coming?” Gianna looked at me from Andy’s front door after another long night.
I couldn’t resist her mischievous smile, but Andy grabbed my arm.
“I need you to stay here tonight,” he said.
“But?”
He squeezed my arm tighter and I knew what he meant. Shut up and listen or I’ll turn you black and blue until you pass out. I learned my lesson last time. Better to shut up and listen than to try to get my way.
I tilted my head and gave Gianna the look. She knew what it meant. Every now and then Andy would have a bad day and make one of us stay behind while he forced us to do whatever he asked.
Gianna waved goodbye.
The door closed behind her.
Andy smacked my face. “Don’t you ever give me that look again.”
Had too much vodka? I wanted to say, but shut up and listen seemed like a better idea.
Andy shoved me toward the steps. “Go upstairs and wait in my bedroom. I’ll be up in a second.”
Obeying, I trailed the steps and went into his bedroom. I sat on the bed and stared at the blank white walls, wondering what happened to my childhood dream. When life felt like a blank wall that anything could be painted on. Now, someone else painted the wall black for me and I could only sit back and watch.
Andy entered the room with fire in his eyes.
He shoved me on the bed and pulled a gun from his pocket. The cold barrel pressed into my cheek.
“Listen to every word I say or I’ll pull this trigger.”
Paralyzed, I waited for his orders. I never saw him use a gun before. But when Andy did drugs, watch out! I never knew what to expect. He hadn’t had sex with me yet—maybe afraid of Chlamydia or whatever—but I thought for sure he’d try to now.
Without turning around, Andy looked at me and said, “Come in, guys.”
I watched the bedroom door open. Two white guys and a black guy walked in, wasted, with the same smell and swagger as Mom’s boyfriends. Laughing and acting stupid, they called me names I only heard when I filmed movies. My insides tied themselves into knots. My body tensed. And I wanted, so badly wanted, Cola, but I’d have to get through this one alone.
Andy waved the gun in front of my face and whispered, “Loosen up.”
For the next two hours he gave orders, turning me into an object once again. While tossed around, beaten, strangled, and forced to have sex with men I never met before, I stared at white walls. I tried to block out the pain, both inside and out.
But it stung and ached every time I breathed.
I tried to hold my breath.
I thought he loved me. I thought he wanted to be with me forever. To take care of me. Help me become someone special.
But the gun against my flesh told me otherwise.
I wanted to curl up in a ball. But I couldn’t. Andy made sure I couldn’t. So the rest of the night shredded every last piece of the girl I used to be. Sadie laughed and had fun being abused while Taylor vanished behind the fun, curled up inside, and watched white walls until they turned black.
I woke up in Andy’s bathroom aching from head-to-toe. I glanced around the room and noticed dried blood painted on my legs and hands. I couldn’t part my feet, couldn’t separate my hands, which I realized were tied together and roped around the back of the toilet.
Sadie laughed.
Taylor died in that moment, while Sadie laughed again, an icy, liberating, unruly laugh.
Andy opened the bathroom door. “What is going on in here?”
I laughed.
“I’m serious, Taylor. You’re not allowed to leave this house until you show me that I can trust you.”
“Stop calling me, Taylor.”
“I’m not calling you girlfriend. Not unless you prove you are worthy of the title.”
“I didn’t mean that.” I rolled my eyes. “My name is Sadie.”
“Right. Well, Sadie, until I can trust you I’m watching every move you make.” He turned to leave the bathroom. “Oh,” he turned back to me, “don’t roll your eyes at me.”
He closed the door and I rolled my eyes.
“I’ll be back in three hours,” he said from behind the door. “You’ll need to get ready for a video.”
I looked at the blood on my knees and laughed.
I’ll never understand the word star in porn star. Doesn’t even make sense.
I laid my head on the tile floor and for the next few hours I dreamt of getting back at Andy.
Chapter 27
Ally
Jessie finally came home. He pulled into the garage the same time I pulled out to meet with Dad. Without looking at him, I drove off. Enough emotions clouded my vision because of Dad. I didn’t need a heated conversation with Jessie. Besides, I didn’t know how to tell him about Sean.
I drove down our street wondering why Jessie married me in the first place, but then stuffed my crinkled thoughts away and opted for better thoughts, like what Dad would smell like, what he’d look like, if he’d have the same gentle eyes and crooked smile.
For thirty-five minutes I pictured his face and carried conversations with him in my head while sweat covered my body. And I even blasted the air conditioner.
When I parked at Double Rock Park I scanned the parking lot and all the cars. No one. Strange for a summer day. I turned the car off and leaned forward to peer around a set of bushes, but saw only empty picnic tables. No one around except a family on the playground.
I watched the husband run up and down a slide with two toddlers, looked like twins. The wife, standing by with a pregnant belly, laughed with her hand over her mouth. Picture perfect. Even blonde.
“Why do you hate me so much, God? What did I do?” I said to the clouds.
I settled into my seat and stared at the family on the playground, wondering if I’d ever have kids, wondering if Mr. and Mrs. Perfect were living a lie too. Did her husband laugh with her and the kids all day and then slip down stairs while she slept to masturbate while drooling over images of other women?
Probably, I thought.
Probably made me feel better. I counseled enough married couples to realize that probably wasn’t unrealistic.
I looked out the car window as a rusty car pulled up next to me.
Dad?
I turned away, pretending not to see. Pretending. Pretending. So much pretending. I never realized how much I pretended until now.
I looked back and didn’t see him.
Guess it wasn’t Dad anyway.
I wiped my hands on my skirt to dry the sweat, then turned back to the other car.
A man’s face appeared at my window.
I jumped back and screamed, but no sound came from my mouth. With my hand over my heart I looked into the man’s eyes. He smiled, a crooked smile that creased the gentle lines around his eyes.
Daddy.
My heart softened, but thumped louder and faster. I could do nothing but sit there and stare at him. Little Ally. I felt like little Ally again, waiting for Daddy to scoop me up and tell me he loved me, to tell me he never left, that my life wasn’t a nightmare.
I looked down at my hands, clasped on my lap, then back to Dad. Watery eyes stared back at me. And he never looked away from my eyes no matter how many times my eyes darted across his face.
I looked at his hair, his face, his lips, his eyes—and I saw myself. He pointed to the door handle. I laughed and blinked a few times, then grabbed my purse and opened the door. He pointed to the ignition.
Oh, the keys.
The way I felt when Jessie and I met, all those butterflies—the good kind—came back. And made their presence well known.
I got out of the car and stood next to Dad. He looked the same, save a few gray hairs.
When I closed the door I stood and waited for him to say something.
He said nothing. Just smiled.
I repositioned my purse on my shoulder and looked at my toenails, then back up to his smile again. I wanted to breathe in and out, you know, like they make women on TV do for Lamaze classes, but I needed to make a good impression.
Dad took my hand.
So many thoughts played and paused in my mind. Everything from anger toward Mom to wondering if Dad thought I was pretty.
Thoughts passed, scene after scene, while I avoided Dad’s gaze.
Then, shining in the rays of dusk-dyed light, I saw it.
A wedding ring on his left hand ring finger.
I looked into his eyes again. A tear rolled down his cheek and into the stubble on his jaw.
“Allyson, I’m sorry for all these years,” he said, squeezing my hand.
Tears burned the backs of my eyes, but I held them in. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”
He smiled and nodded.
I cupped his hand in both of mine, but I wanted to wrap my arms around his neck and never let go.
He looked behind him and cleared his throat. “Let’s go sit down.”
As I followed Dad I stared at the ring on his finger.
We walked in silence until we reached a picnic table. He sat down and I sat across from him. Still unable to meet his gaze, I looked down and pushed my cuticles back.
“You’re wondering about my wife, aren’t you?”
I looked up.
“I saw you looking at my ring.” He seemed to speak softer than I remembered, like a sweet southern man with an exaggerated s and everything.
“Yeah.”
He twisted it off his finger and handed it to me. “Look at the engraved words.”
“No, no. I’m sorry for prying.”
“Look.” He held the ring in front of me. “It’s okay.”
I spun the ring in my fingers and read the words engraved on the ring.
Edward & Jeannie Forever
. Confused, I looked at him for an answer. He smiled and reached for the ring.
“Just because she signed the papers,” he said, “doesn’t mean I did.”
I looked at him, maybe blinked a few times, replayed his words in my head, then handed him his ring.
“I made vows to your mother thirty-seven years ago. She can break them all she wants, but I don’t plan to.”
“You mean . . . what?”
“I love her, Allyson. That’s never changed. Never will.”
“But all she’s done.” I raised my voice. “This. She’s lied, betrayed you, she’s made a mess of my life. How can you possibly forgive her, much less still love her?”
Dad pointed to the clouds. “Because He forgave me.”
I shook my head back and forth. Clouds were the last things I wanted to look at. None of this made sense. Yes, Jesus forgave us. I knew what Dad implied by that. Bible verses were engraved in my head like the names on Dad’s ring. Forgive. Seventy times seven. Love is patient and kind. Yes, I knew all the verses that pointed toward selflessness, but Jesus wasn’t a doormat!
God couldn’t expect me to be faithful to Jess no matter how many times he betrayed me.
Dad put his wedding ring back on. I remembered taking off mine, wanting to give up, to move on, to find someone who treated me better.
How, I screamed inside, how could Dad still wear that ring?