Chapter Seventy-Three
Bobbie lifted the crystal vases and figurines from her china cabinet and laid them out on the dining room table in preparation for washing them and buffing up their brilliant shine. Lulu was seated on the floor, with a dust cloth in her hand, concentrating on working her little fingers to dust the intricate carved woodwork on the base of the china cabinet as well as the generous wood baseboards surrounding the walls.
"And how is school going, Lulu-belle?" asked Bobbie. Bobbie thought that Lulu was missing her mother. The small girl had been following Bobbie around all weekend, and she was actually happy to be put to work so she could stay close to her aunt.
"I love school!" exclaimed Lulu. "My teacher says I'm smart even if I didn't go to kindergarten. I'm in the best reading group now." Lulu looked up at her aunt with a wide grin and shining blue eyes. "I have a new friend," she said shyly as she glanced down at her dust cloth.
"You do?" asked Bobbie. "Tell me all about this friend."
Lulu's eyes lit up. "His name is Geoffrey. He sits behind me, and he used to bother me all the time in class and pull my hair and poke me. He made me mad and I punched his arm. He said I punched too hard and one time he cried. Anyway, he came up to me at recess and gave me a candy bar. He said he liked me now and didn't hate me anymore. So now we play together all the time, and he swings me on the swings real high. We hold hands if we sit together in the auditorium."
"It sounds like you really like this Geoffrey," Bobbie commented as she gradually recovered from her surprise. I'd forgotten how early they start this boyfriend/girlfriend stuff, she thought. I'd better keep my eyes and ears open.
:"Oh yes!" said Lulu. "Aunt Bobbie? Can Geoffrey come to dinner one night? I want to go rollerblading with him and Lucas."
"Well, we'll have to see, Lesley Lu," said Bobbie. "No promises, but if Geoffrey wants to come over, I'll need to call his mom and talk to her first to make sure its okay."
"I know," said Lulu. "He has a weird last name. You can find it in the phone book. That's what Geoffrey said."
Bobbie looked down at her niece and was filled with gratitude that she was whole and healthy and adjusting so well to her new environment. She knelt down by the small girl and gathered her into her arms, squeezing her tightly. "I love you so much, Lulu. You're my sweetest, bestest girl."
"I love you, too, Aunt Bobbie," Lulu replied happily. "You're my bestest aunt in the whole world."
The two settled into contented silence for a few minutes, and then Lulu spoke up. "Aunt Bobbie?" asked Lulu as she rested on her side, pulling the dust cloth along the baseboards. "I know you told me that Lucky isn't in jail, that he's in the hospital. Is he dead?"
Bobbie dropped the crystal vase that she was holding onto the wood dining room table. The vase made a loud ringing sound as the wood absorbed the force of the blow. Bobbie stood there with her eyes wide and mouth open until she quickly recovered and tried to answer the girl. "No, honey, Lucky isn't dead. Remember I told you he's sick, that's why he's in the hospital so he can feel better and then come home one day. We're not sure when that will be, but he's okay. He's not dying."
Lulu's blue eyes filled with painful tears that only made her eyes sparkle even more. "I don't remember him," she said sadly. "I can't hear his voice in my head anymore or see his face. I used to hear him say things to me in my head when I laid in bed at night, but now it's all gone," she wailed.
"Oh honey," replied Bobbie sympathetically. "Let's go sit down on the couch and talk about this." Bobbie led the small girl to the living room and guided her with a gentle hand on her shoulders. "Come sit in my lap," she instructed. Lulu climbed into her lap, and Bobbie wrapped her arms around her niece.
"I made you a photo album with many family pictures, so you could visit your family by turning the pages," she said. "Would you like me to make a big, framed picture of Lucky that you can hang on your wall? That way you can see him whenever you're in your room. And, if you're lonely for him, you can look his picture. Would that help?"
Lulu continued to cry silently and nodded her head wordlessly. She rested her head against Bobbie, and Bobbie cupped her niece's head in her hand. "I'm sorry, Lesley Lu," she said softly. "I know you miss your brother. We all miss having him around." Bobbie reflected that Lulu hadn't seen her brother for two years, ages ago in the lifespan of a six-year-old girl. There were no recent posed portraits of Lucky, in fact, the most current was three years old - his sophomore high school portrait that was taken before his kidnapping. Bobbie only had a small photo, but she was sure she could have it blown up larger. Any family videotapes were seemingly lost in the divorce and subsequent imprisonment of Luke and Laura, and Bobbie's most recent family videos were over five years old, when Tony had been interested in using his camcorder. She rocked Lulu in her lap and worried about how to bring this family back together.
~*~*~*~
Bobbie dialed the number and waited impatiently while it rang. "Kevin," she said with relief. "This is Bobbie Spencer. I'm having a problem with Lucky's sister, Lulu. She's only six years old and is upset because she can't remember her brother - what he looks like or sounds like. We don't have any recent photos of Lucky, so she doesn't even have that. Her next checkup at the hospital is in a few days, and I want her to see her brother then so she knows that he's alive and recovering. Can we make arrangements for a visit?"
~*~*~*~
Lucky rose abruptly from his seat in Kevin's office. He turned away and gripped his sides with his hands. His right leg shook with the agitation of his suppressed emotions. He turned his head slightly and said, "I have something I want to talk about, but you have to promise me you won't tell anybody."
Kevin replied, "Whatever you say is confidential."
"I don't want you to look at me!" said Lucky intensely. "You have to turn away."
"What do you want to talk about?" asked Kevin. "I can look down at my desk blotter. Will that help?"
"You'd better," said Lucky with a scowl. "Or I'm outta here." Now that Lucky had a captive audience, he was quickly losing his nerve, and he brought his hand up to cover his aching forehead. His head was killing him. He was so tired - he'd had terrible headaches ever since his accident, and they seemed to get worse when he was stressed. But something had been on his mind for a long time, weeks actually, and it was wearing him out keeping it a secret.
"Okay," said Lucky as he worked up his courage to approach the subject. He started playing with the ends of his hair, twirling them around his finger and releasing them. "What I want to know is if I'm gay," he spit out, the words as distasteful to him as sewage spewing from his lips. He suddenly felt like a wet noodle as his whole body rippled with fear and shame. "And if that's why all these men, um, wanted me. As if they could tell. Because that's what the men in the compound said, that they could tell I wanted it, and maybe that's why those other things happened…you know, when I was a kid."
Lucky's eyes pooled while he nervously nibbled on his fingernails. He felt the despair welling up inside, but forced it down and tried to remain calm. "Don't look at me," he commanded again with his finger pointed, as if Kevin hadn't heard him the first time. He tucked his head down and concentrated on reading all of the boring book titles in Kevin's bookcase. "I didn't want it, I told them, I tried… I really did try to escape, honestly, but...uh…it didn't work and now…um…I don't know. I've only been with men and maybe that's the way it is even if I don't want it? Otherwise, why would they come after me then? Huh? I've never, you know, had sex with a girl." Shit shit, shit, thought Lucky. Oh shit, why did I bring this up? Maybe I don't want to know.
Kevin cleared his throat and was careful to look down at his desk. He picked up his Mont Blanc pen and flicked the top off, pressing the pen point on his calendar and doodling geometric symbols on it. "The fact that you were victimized sexually by someone of the same sex doesn't make you gay," he explained. "Sexual preference is determined by you, not by someone else. From what you tell me, you prefer women. When you've had the opportunity, you've pursued women. Isn't that true?"
Lucky nodded. "Yes," he said in a small voice. "I wanted to be with Elizabeth," he said sadly. "But then I was kidnapped, and the rest is history." Lucky started fiddling with various books on the bookshelf in front of him.
"You felt comfortable with the idea of having sex with Elizabeth?" asked Kevin.
"Sort of. She was recovering from being raped, so I didn't feel any pressure to put the moves on her or anything. We took it slow, so it felt okay - for both of us. I liked being the one to help her. We got to know each other as friends first, and it was comfortable. She didn't bother me or touch me or anything, which was good. I didn't want to do anything either at first."
Lucky laughed "I kept creeping into the drugstore, looking at the condom display, but some old lady always walked up behind me shopping for a laxative or a cute girl was at the check-out counter. It never happened." He sighed and shook his head. "Guess I missed my one opportunity."
Kevin smiled as he tried to avert his gaze away from Lucky. "I thought you had a girlfriend, Emily Quartermaine," he said. "What happened?"
Lucky's face flushed, and he lightly kicked at the base of the bookcase. "She sends me cards," he said in a soft voice.
"And do you reciprocate?" asked Kevin. "Do you write her letters?"
Lucky coughed and rubbed the back of his neck. "No."
"Why not?" continued Kevin.
Lucky shrugged. "I don't know."
"I think you know," replied Kevin. "What are you afraid of?"
Lucky got angry and hissed, "I'm NOT afraid of anything." He huffed and puffed and muttered to himself until he reconsidered and shrugged again. "She might not like me anymore since I've been in here so long," he said as he swept his arms around the room. "I don't want the same thing to happen like with Elizabeth," he explained. "I'd rather dump her than be dumped I guess."
"And how would that make you feel better to dump someone that you care about?" asked Kevin.
"I'd be the one in control," Lucky said hurriedly. He gritted his teeth. "No one is going to do that to me again."
"It seems like that control comes with a heavy price tag," commented Kevin. "You can't always control other people. Do you want to be alone the rest of your life? Is that what you really want?"
"Maybe," said Lucky. "You didn't answer my question," he countered. "Am I gay or not?" Lucky folded his hands under his arms and turned around to face Kevin. His whole body felt like it was on fire as he awaited Kevin's answer.
Kevin flipped his pen back and forth on his desk blotter several times before answering. "Truthfully, Lucky, you're the only person who can answer that question. But, from all of the conversations that we've had, I'd say you are very interested in the opposite sex. What do you say?"
"Then why do I think about the men and what they did to me?" Lucky strangled out as he fought back his tears. "Why do I think about them when I…uh…touch myself, you know?" His blazing eyes bore into Kevin, who raised his head to look at Lucky.
"Lucky, the body has no moral conscience," he explained. "If someone was sexual with you, even in the context of abuse, the memory, the experience, is imprinted in your physical brain. The thoughts and physical reactions are natural, although unwanted. As you talk more about what happened and work through it, the thoughts should be less intrusive. And, as you have sexual experiences that you initiate and enjoy, those good memories will nudge the bad ones aside to some degree."
Lucky grew very upset and started shaking. "Why did you make me remember what happened to me when I was a kid? I would have been better off not knowing!" he yelled with a red, scared face. "Now I have to carry this with me all the time!"
"You were already carrying it," explained Kevin. "The nightmares, the voices, they were your memories. You had no ability to manage those intrusive thoughts and feelings when they were suppressed."
"Like I have the ability to manage my life now," Lucky sneered. He frowned, rubbed his forehead and let out a deep sigh as the pain frazzled his nerves. "Okay," he said, "So I'm not gay. But, I'm not normal either."
"Who is?" said Kevin. "You have control over how you choose to deal with the circumstances that life has handed you. No one can take that away from you."
Lucky squinted in confusion as Kevin's face suddenly blurred in his vision. He let out a soft sound, and the room started dizzily spinning away from him. He felt overwhelmed by a fearful sensation, and his right knee buckled, sending him to the floor with a resounding thud. His right arm and leg twitched for several seconds, and he rolled over on his side, the wave of tiredness conquering him and forcing him to close his eyes.
Kevin jumped up from his chair and raced over to Lucky. After a quick glance at him, he moved over to his desk and picked up the phone, dialing several numbers. "Jim," he said. "It's Kevin. Could you come down to my office? It's Lucky Spencer. I think he's had a seizure."
~*~*~*~
Dr. Jim Perkins stopped in the doorway of Kevin's office, his cheeks flushed from running down the hallway. He looked concerned as he knelt by Lucky's body and opened his medical bag.
"He started swaying, then fell to the floor," explained Kevin. "His right arm and leg twitched for about ten or fifteen seconds, then he closed his eyes."
Jim lightly shook Lucky's arm. "Lucky," he said. "What happened?" Lucky opened his eyes halfway, but didn't move. "Tired," he said slowly as he closed his eyes again.
"Let's get you to a chair," said Jim as he pulled Lucky up into a sitting position. He lifted Lucky up, and Lucky walked unsteadily to the chair. Jim conducted a quick neurological exam and took his blood pressure. "I think you've had some type of partial seizure," he explained. "You need to rest. Can you walk with me back to your room?" Lucky nodded, and Jim and Kevin helped him out of the office.
~*~*~*~
"He's due for a follow-up neurological exam next week," said Jim as he and Kevin stood in the hallway outside of the locked ward. "I'll see if we can bump it up and get him an appointment tomorrow," he said.
"Is this because of his recent injury?" asked Kevin.
"It's hard to say," replied Jim. "He's had two head injuries and concussions in the last five months. Hopefully, he hasn't developed scar tissue that's interfering with his brain's electrical activity. Or, it could be that his brain is just healing from its recent trauma. The nurses have been alerted to watch him for any additional seizures and to make sure he doesn't fall or hurt himself. He really needs to see a neurologist soon, though, just in case it's something serious."
Kevin looked worried. "None of the meds that he's on have seizures as potential side-effects. I'm concerned about this."
Jim's face looked tense. "Let's wait
and see what the neurologist says tomorrow and not buy any trouble."
~*~*~*~
Lucky slept for the next seven hours, refusing lunch and dinner when the nurses woke him and tried to get him to eat. Finally, a nurse came in and insisted that he sit up and drink some water with his evening medicine. Lucky was as crabby with her as she was with him. He gulped down the pills and water that she gave him and promptly fell flat on his stomach. He pulled the pillow closer to his body and closed his eyes.
~*~*~*~
Two hours later…
Lucky woke up disoriented, not sure where he was or why he was still wearing his sweats in bed in the dark. He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. After resting for a minute and allowing his brain to unscramble, he stood up and walked slowly to the bathroom. He felt lightheaded and confused when he turned the light on. As he felt himself sink to the floor, he threw his left hand out and stopped his fall with a firm, white knuckle grip to the porcelain sink. A sickening roll of nausea swept over him, causing him to heave.
.