Thursday morning, Adam, Christian, Matt, Jeff, and Glenn show up on our front porch. "We're here to give you support," Glenn explains to me. I have no choice but to gladly let them stay. When I ask them how they found out, none of them say anything. I bug them all morning and afternoon until Matt confesses, "It was Mark and Vince. They wanted us to help support you when you need it most. We would've done it had we known straight from you, anyway."
Just as I'm about to question Mark, the doorbell rings. I open the front door to see Andrew, John, Ron, Dennis, and all four McMahon's. "Let me guess," I say to them. "More support?" I watch guilty smiles surface on their faces. I smile back, thank them for being here for me, and let them in. Dinner is hectic, but much fun.
Friday morning, more wrestlers show up, and most of the rooms become filled. The day is full of joking, mishaps, and just plain fun. By the end of the night, I'm spent. "I sure hope no one else is coming," I say to Mark as I sit on the bed, brushing my hair "We haven't got the room."
Mark stands up from searching in his things still in his suitcase, and replies, "I'm sure no one else is coming, unless they were able to change whatever plans they had." He walks over, and sits beside me. My head is turned away from him as I brush the underside of my hair. I feel one of his arms settle around my waist, and the forearm of the other rests on my leg. When I look down, I see the most beautiful diamond ring I've ever laid my eyes on sitting in his upturned palm. "Will you be mine forever?" he whispers into my ear. Just as I'm about to say something, he adds, "I know it seems stupid to ask this the night before this trial, but I couldn't wait another minute."
Swallowing the oncoming sob, I turn to face him. Hot, stinging tears manage to escape my eyes and run down to my chin. "Oh, Mark," I say, "you know I'd love to say yes, but I can't." I watch as his smile fades, and I see the question in his eyes. "There are things that no one, save for Rita, knows about me that I have to say in court tomorrow. I just think you should hear it all first before you decide if you want to spend the rest of your life with me or not."
Mark nods, and his fingers curl around the ring into a fist. The pain that I have to put him through tomorrow hurts my conscience so much, and I can barely stand to see him hurt that much, either. I put my hands on his fist, and bring his clenched hand up to my lips. "If this trial wasn't happening, and my father hadn't shown up, I would've said yes right away," I tell him. "I just want you to have a fair chance to see what my past was like, and to see if you can deal with it."
Again, Mark nods, and pulls me closer to him with his arms. "I know," he sighs. "You're just being fair." He stands up, pulling me up with him. "It's time for bed, missy. We've got things to do tomorrow." He smiles, and gently kisses my mouth. I pull back slowly, and climb under the bedcovers with him.
********
The house is abuzz with activity even before I wake up. When my eyes open, I turn to my side to see if Mark is awake, but he's not there. The bedside clock shows that it's a quarter to ten. Quickly, I dress, clean up, and exit the room. As I walk down the hall, I hear murmuring voices coming from downstairs. Stepping lightly, I sneak down the stairs and through the living room, realizing the voices are coming from the kitchen.
I hide behind the wall near the kitchen opening, and quiet my breathing to be able to listen. "Rejected," Glenn says, "by a woman no one knew 'till she walked in to your shop, drunk." This comment is followed by laughter, and I bite my lip to keep from laughing as well.
"Not completely," Mark defends himself. "She told me that there are things she has to tell the court today, and it'd be better for me to hear them before deciding. So it's not total rejection."
Some murmuring begins, and Vince says, "How bad could it have been for her? She's an independent, young woman who fears almost nothing."
Mark replies, "Bad enough to keep it a secret from me."
A collective "Oh" is said, and I close my eyes tight. 'I'm hurting them all,' I realize. 'This is gonna be difficult.'
Taking a deep, cleansing breath, I walk into the kitchen with a small smile on my lips. "Morning," I say to them, and they reply the same. "Why didn't anyone wake me up?"
No one can coherently put a sentence together for a few seconds, then Steph replies, "Because you needed that sleep. God knows we don't want you going to that trial looking like you hadn't slept in a while."
A weak excuse, but it sounds almost sincere. I give them a questioning look, and they all smile unsurely simultaneously. I roll my eyes to the ceiling, and say, "What am I gonna with you all?" They break into fits of laughter, and I join them.
An hour later, we leave the house in a long, strange caravan of limos, taxis, other expensive cars, and a motorcycle. The short drive to the courthouse is almost silent and unbearable. When we finally pull into the back parking lot of the courthouse, I let out a quiet sigh; this is not gonna be easy at all. The old, gray courthouse looms high in the sky, almost threateningly. As we walk into the building like the weird group we appear to be, cold blasts of air penetrate through the heat of the day, chilling my spine in more ways than one.
For the next fifty minutes, I pace the floor, wringing my hands, and twisting my hair around my fingers. I can't sit still, fearful of being in front of a bunch of people, as well as my father, the man I hate the most in the world. As it gets closer and closer to noon, my anxiety begins to take over. I begin chewing on my nails, something I've never done before. Mark takes notice of my actions, and takes my hand away from my face. "It's going to be all right, Jess," he tells me, then kisses my hand.
"I hope so, Mark," I tell him. "I'm a wreck." Mark nods, and leads me to a bench. We sit down.
Finally, a man calls out for those involved in the Curtis case. We all shuffle into the courtroom. The room is filled with people, and I spot Rita and Michael to the left side of the space. A man in a business suit comes up to me. "Miss Jessica Curtis?" he inquires. When I nod, he says, "I'm your lawyer, Mitch Basst. Will you come with me, please?" I nod, and give Mark a quick kiss before following the lawyer to the front of the room.
As soon as I'm seated, the bailiff tells us to stand. The judge ambles out, and sits in his position before allowing the rest of the room to sit. After much talking over the case with the lawyers, the judge says that this is an extremely unorthodox way of handling this case for there would just be testimonies and no cross-examinations. The defending lawyer calls my father to the stand. When asked to describe everything he's been through in his life, my father gives this lame account of how we were almost always living the good life, and that the tragic murder of my mother put us all over the edge. Throughout his false testimony, I just get shocked again and again by what he comes up with, everything completely untrue. After going on and on, the defending lawyer sits back down, and the judge tells my father to go back to his seat.
Mr. Basst stands up, and calls me to the stand. I go up to the little box, making me feel like I was in the penalty box at a hockey game instead of in a courtroom. I'm sworn in, and Mr. Basst walks over toward me. "Miss Curtis," he begins, "you are the daughter of the defendant, is this correct?"
"It is," I simply reply.
"If you would, Miss Curtis, please tell us everything that you've experienced in your life concerning your father and such matters," Mr. Basst says to me.
I nod, and take a deep breath. 'This is where is gets hard,' I think to myself. I look over the group of people in the room, seeing my wrestling family standing in the back. "Before I was six, my life was like what any normal child had: parents who fought sometimes, toys that I couldn't give up, school, friends, and TV; all the basics to being a kid. We lived all right in our house in Seattle." I begin. Unsure of what else to say, I continue. "When I turned six, it all changed. My father began drinking, and everything my mother did was never good enough. She worked hard to keep the house clean, made meals three times a day, and made sure I understood my schoolwork. She was almost like a superhero to me.
"My father didn't seem to care, though. He got fired from his job, found a new one, but lost it just as fast. This continued for months. Finally, my mom had to get herself a job just to pay the bills and keep us in good health. She did get a good job, too, and kept it for years. My father became jealous because she earned more money than he ever did. It tore at him until he finally snapped.
"When I was nine, my mother went out of town for a week during the summer for a business meeting. I had wanted to go with her, but she told me I had to make sure my father didn't go hungry; I had learned to cook a few easy things like pizza and macaroni and cheese. So she left, and I stayed with my father. That first night was horrible. I cooked up some rice and stuff for our dinner, and when we ate it, he kept looking at me with a weird, almost wild look. It made me nervous to sit next to him.
"Hours later, after I finished washing dishes and watching TV, I went upstairs to go to sleep. My father intercepted me on the way to my bedroom, and told me to come with him. I did what any normal child would: I obeyed. He took me to my parents' room, and closed the door tight, locking it. I remember asking him, 'What's going on?'. He turned from the door, looking at me with the same look from dinner, and replied, 'You'll see.'
"I was scared, but he didn't seem to think I was a little kid anymore. He picked me up, put me on their bed, and undressed me. He undressed himself, and laid down next to me. I still remember crying out, and telling him that I wanted to go. He didn't hear me. All he cared about was touching me in ways I knew were wrong for that age. He took my hand, making me feel his body. Before I knew it, he was forcing me to have sex with him. It hurt badly, and I was crying, screaming, sobbing, but he was deaf to it all. Only cared about himself.
"The rest of the week was the same. He forced me into sex every night, whether he dragged me to his room, did it in mine, or the bathroom; it didn't matter to him. Each time, he'd tell me what a good little girl I was, and that it was normal. I just knew I wanted my mother home. When she finally did come home, I clung to her, and followed her everywhere almost. To be away from my father was a big must for me.
"Whenever my mother was out of the house, if even to shop for food, and I wasn't with her, my father would force sex with me. Sometimes, when she was gone for a few days, he'd invite his drinking buddies over to 'get themselves some'. It was disgusting, and I couldn't stand it. I told my mom, but she never believed me. She just said that I watched too many day-time talk shows. I could never prove it, either.
"When I was twelve, it got much worse. My father got so drunk that whenever my parents fought, he'd beat on her. She'd get huge bruises, bloody cuts, and black eyes, but she never called the cops on him. She said she didn't want to break it all up, and that he was just going through a phase. I never believed that, though. I think she was too scared to do anything. I was the same way; I didn't tell anyone for fear of getting taken away from my mother, the only person I trusted besides my best friend.
"She went out of town once for a vacation with her friends, and she left me with my father. Again, he forced me to have sex, no matter how much I protested, screamed, and beat on him to make him stop. He had this unending sex drive, and just as fast as one session was done, he'd start all over again. The night after my mother left on vacation, he called his friends over, and they had their ways with me. Once they left, my father started on me.
"Then the bedroom door opened, and there stood my mother. Her mouth hit the floor as soon as she saw what was going on, and my father fumbled to put his jeans back on. They began fighting, and left the room, yelling at each other on the way down the stairs. I hurriedly put my clothes back on, and followed them. My mother said she was going to take me, and leave like she should've a long time ago. My father told her she wasn't, and grabbed her by the throat. He then took out a pocketknife, and stabbed her with it. I screamed out, and began crying as I watched him stab her numerous times before letting her limp body drop to the floor.
"I raced out of the house to my best friend's, and called the police. They arrested my father, and took both him and my mother's body away. I stayed with my friend after that. My friend's father took me to my mother's funeral, which was quite beautiful. A few days afterward, they released my father because there wasn't enough evidence, even with my statement. I had to move back in with my father, and it only got worse.
"During the day, I would stay with my friend and her father, who I adopted as my own. At night, when I came home, my father forced me to have sex with him and his friends. No matter how much I protested and threatened to call the cops, they'd tie me down, and force themselves on me anyway. My only sanctuary was going to school, and staying at my friend's house until I had to go home to make dinner.
"When I was fourteen, I had met this guy whom I started dating, making sure my father didn't find out. We had been going out for a few months when I brought him home with me, and we snuck out to the tool shed. He handed me a bag of his drugs, and told me to hold onto them for him, and I said I would. My father suddenly opened the shed door, yelled at us both, beat him up, and dragged me into the house. He told me he'd teach me for going behind his back. He beat me severely, then forced me into painful sex.
"Thankfully, he had been drinking, and passed out quickly. I got dressed, called the cops, and hoped to God that my father wouldn't wake up. They came quickly, arrested my father, and took me with them. When they searched me, they found the bag of drugs I had forgotten to put away. I knew I was in trouble, but I just wanted to stay away from my father. The trial came, and I told them everything that happened that night. They convicted him, and sent him to an institution. As they were taking him from the courtroom, he sneered at me, and said, 'I'll get you back for this, you bitch.'
"As I had no where to stay, they sent my to a foster family, with a drug inspection every three months. I became a brat, a criminal of sorts, and caused hell for any foster family, and I was back at FairFax, the place where all kids were when they didn't have a foster family, more times than not. When I finally turned eighteen, I took all the money I had, bought a plane ticket, and moved to Houston, where I knew my friend had moved to. I showed up on her doorstep one day, and she let me move in with her. I got an okay job, and started a new life for myself.
"My mother had left me a large inheritance, but I didn't know about it 'till a lawyer friend of my mother's found me, and told me that since I was eighteen, it was mine. With that large amount of money, I bought a huge house, and moved out of my friend's place. It was a brand new start for me. I did everything in my power to bury the past, and to make sure it never resurfaced again.
"More recently, a few months ago, my friend told me some guy kept calling for me, asking where I lived. It scared me because I knew it could only be my father. For the next month and a half, nothing happened. Then, while I was home alone one afternoon, my doorbell rang. When I opened it, there stood my father on my lawn. He said he broke out of the institution, and he'd been tracking me down for some time now. I told him to leave, and that my boyfriend would kill him. He laughed, said some derogatory and disgusting comments of the past, and doubted that I even had one. My boyfriend then walked up and threw him on the lawn, telling him that he'd better leave while he still could, and my father ran away.
"Two months later, he shows up again while I'm waiting for my boyfriend to return. He started making advances toward me, and I swung at him, but he caught my wrist. Then he twisted my arms behind me, and began nuzzling me and kissing my neck. I was able to get away by kicking him in the groin, and ran down to the basement. When he came down, I hit him over the head with a dumbbell, and I tied him to a chair, locking him in the basement. I call my friends' house, and asked them to call the cops. They did, and the police came to the house immediately to take him back. He threatened to get my head whenever he could." I look up into Mr. Basst's gray eyes. "That's what lead us to today."
With my story finished, I realize that tears are coming out of my eyes; I had been crying throughout the testimony. Mr. Basst nods, and says, "Thank you." He goes to sit back down, and the judge tells me to step down. I step out of the little box, and sit back down next to the lawyer.
The judge says, "With both testimonies said, the jury will now decide the verdict, which will happen over a ten minute recess." He then pounds his grovel on the stand, and steps down and into a little office. The jury walks into a little room beside the jury box. I look around at this point, wiping my face, and stop when I see my father glaring at me with unmasked hatred. "I'm gonna get you!" he mouths toward me, and I quickly turn away.
Someone taps me on the shoulder, and I turn around to see Rita. "Hey," she says.
"Hey," I reply, and give her a quick hug.
"It must've been difficult for you to say all that," she says softly, "especially with Mark and the others listening."
I nod. "It was," I reply. "I wanted to stop so many times, but I figured that if I did, then he wouldn't get put away again." I catch a glance toward the standing group, seeing them squirming and talking to each other. "It was like I wasn't telling it, but reliving it again. It hurt so much." I tell her.
"I know," she says, and gives my hand a gentle squeeze. "It'll all be over soon." I nod, and sigh heavily. Rita goes back to her seat next to Michael, and I turn back to the front.
Minutes later, the jury files back in, and the judge climbs back to his seat. "Have you come to a verdict?" he asks the jury.
The foreman of the jury replies, "We have, Your Honor." He walks up to the stand, and hands an envelope to the judge, then sits back down in the jury box.
The judge opens the envelope, reads the verdict, then says, "Will the defendant please stand?" The defending lawyer and my father stand up. "The jury of the court has decided that Mr. Joe Curtis is guilty of all charges, and is sentenced to life without parole in prison in Fort Lauderdale, Florida. Case dismissed." He then pounds his grovel again, and steps down.
I watch as two security guards come into the courtroom, each grabbing one of my father's arms, and force him to his feet. As they pass by with him, he gives me another look of unmasked hatred. They leave through a side door, and closes it tight behind them. I stand, shake Mr. Basst's hand, and he holds the little, swinging door open for me. I walk down the aisle-way, meeting Rita, Michael, and the rest of the group in the back. Rita gives me a big hug, and says, "You did it! You got rid of him for good!"
I give her a weak smile, and reply, "Yeah, I guess so." I look around, noticing that Mark isn't in the group. I grab Glenn by the arm, and ask, "Where's Mark?"
"He left a little bit ago, after the judge said the word 'guilty'," he replies. "He said that he needed some fresh air or something." I nod, trying not to look disappointed, but Glenn sees through it. "He's probably just a bit upset, and he wanted to cool off before he faced you again."
Again, I nod, and follow the group out of the courthouse. We reach the back lot as I scan the area, looking for Mark, and notice the motorcycle is gone. "Looks like he couldn't stand it here," I say to myself. I catch up with Rita as she and Michael head for the exit. "Rita, can you guys give me a lift home?" I ask her. "Mark went off with the motorcycle or something."
"Sure," Rita says, and I hop into the back seat. We lead the procession to my house, where the cars line the street up and down. As I step out of Rita's car, I realize that Mark isn't here either. Rita sees my discomfort. "Don't worry," she assures me, placing her arm around my shoulders. "He'll come home. It is kinda shocking, hearing all that happened to you for the first time."
Just then, a few of the other wrestlers come up, asking about how I could stand all that was happening to me back then. I reply, "I dunno. I was a little, dumb girl. I'd rather not talk about it anymore." I walk briskly into the house, noting the one tear that had managed to escape from the corner of my eye. The others follow soon after.
We sit around, snacking on the fresh vegetables, fruit, and regular snacks I had brought out. Rita brings out a couple of bottles of champagne to celebrate, and forces a glass into my hand. "C'mon, Jess," she urges, "it's a time to be happy, not sit and sulk."
I give her a small smile, and take a sip of the champagne to satisfy her. She leaves me alone to serve the drink to the others. I want to be happy and celebrate, but I can't. Mark hasn't come back yet, and I don't know what to think. I should've known my story would scare him off, that it'd hurt him hearing it just as much as it hurt reliving it. 'Why wasn't I more sensitive?' I ask myself. 'It was selfish to not tell him sooner.'
The little celebration party stretches into the late evening hours, mostly because Rita keeps bringing out champagne. Around midnight, I decide it's too warm in the house, and go to sit out on the porch steps. I gaze about at the night sky, recognizing a few constellations. A chilly breeze begins to blow, and I welcome it, tilting my head back so the wind could blow through my hair.
A lone headlight appears in the dark, and I know it's Mark finally coming home. I watch as he passes by on the motorcycle, turns the corner, and parks in the driveway. As he dismounts from the vehicle, I call out, "Hey, Mark."
He looks over to see me sitting alone, and comes toward the porch. "Hey," he replies, and sits beside me.
I look back at the night sky, and say, "Where'd you go? I was about ready to think that you'd gotten in an accident or something."
He sighs, and responds, "I had to go think. I didn't realize it had gotten so late. Sorry to make you worry." His answer is clipped with a bit of anger.
I turn to look at him. "Tell me what's wrong, Mark," I tell him. "Let me know what's going on."
He looks at me, his green eyes almost full of anger, but there is something else. Fear and love. "Why didn't you tell me about all that?" he asks, his voice emphasizing his discomfort.
"Mark, listen to me, okay?" I say to him, placing my hand on his. "It was difficult enough reliving it in the courtroom, and knowing that you were hearing it was hurting me more, because I knew I was hurting you." I take a deep breath, and look back out at the yard. "It was buried so deep inside that I couldn't remember it. It was a past that I didn't want to tell about. Then, when Rita got those calls, it was being dug back up, like the living dead were coming out of their graves."
Mark still doesn't look pleased, and says, "Didn't you think I could handle the truth?"
I give him a weak smile, and reply, "It didn't look like you handled it, by running out like that." He frowns deeper, and turns away. "You don't know how many times I wanted to tell you, but I didn't because of the fear that you'd run. I knew men like that; once they found something out like that, they'd run, never coming back."
I stand up, straightening out my jeans and T-shirt I had changed into after we came home. "You know," I tell him, "you're not the only one that hurts right now. Having you hear it for the first time with so many others hurt worse than having to remember it all. The fact that you left without telling anyone where you were going scared the hell outta me." I step up to the top of the porch, and walk to the door. As my hand rests on the doorknob, I turn slightly toward Mark again. "I'm glad we found out that we're both pretty damn stubborn when it comes to our secrets," I say to him with a cold tone. "They have champagne and stuff in the house, when you're ready to go in." I walk into the house, closing the door behind me.
Rita manages to get to me quickly. "This is one great celebration," she tells me. "I've got to call the sitter real quick, okay?"
"Yeah, sure," I reply. "I'm just gonna go to bed. This day's just been really stressful, and I need some sleep." Rita nods, and I go up the stairs.
Just as I reach my room and have changed into a shorts and tank top pajama set, Mark loudly shouts, "Jessica Curtis, get back down here right now!"
"What the hell does he want now?!" I ask myself, quite irritated and tired. I stop at the top of the stairway. "What?" I call back, letting my annoyance come out in my voice.
"I'm not done with you yet!" he replies, and I notice that the music has stopped, and no one is talking.
I begin to descend the stairs, replying, "Is that so? It didn't seem that way. You said two sentences to me, and I told you how difficult it was for me. We agreed how stubborn we are when it comes to our secrets. Wasn't that enough?" I stop midway down.
"No, it wasn't," he arrogantly responds, and points to the carpet at the bottom of the stairway. "I want you down here so we can finish what we started."
I raise my eyebrow slightly at him, and reply, "So now you want to talk?" He nods. I shake my head, and quietly chuckle as I step down a few more steps. "It seemed that you didn't want to talk, turning away and all." By now, I've reached the bottom, standing in front of him, and I look defiantly up into his eyes.
His hard look suddenly breaks, replaced by a soft smile and a glint of mischief in his eyes. "I didn't mean arguing," he says, then takes my hand with one hand, and with the other, pulls out the diamond ring. "I still want to know if you'll marry me."
I look at the ring, shocked, then look back up at him. "You mean, after all those nasty comments I just made coming down, you still want to spend the rest of your life with me?" I ask, astonished. Mark just nods, chuckling at my surprise. I shake my head, suddenly realizing that I had been a complete fool; I had forgotten all about the proposal. Finally, after calming down and taking a few deep breaths, I look up into his eyes. "I will, Mark," I simply reply. Mark smiles, and places the ring on my left ring finger.
A loud cheer goes up, and I finally see that everyone was watching. I laugh, and look at all of the others; they are all smiling, laughing, shouting out congratulations. I feel Mark's arms come around me, and I return his embrace. "I'm sorry about all those nasty little remarks," I whisper.
"All forgiven," he replies, and kisses the top of my head.
