Beyond Belief (22 page)

We flew to L.A. and drove to the base. Mr. Headley delivered me to my parents’ apartment and left as soon as Dad walked in, giving us some privacy.

“How are you doing?” he asked, as he reached over to hug me.

I tried to maintain my composure but as I opened my mouth to respond, I felt the tears start to stream down my face. A jumble of thoughts and emotions poured out of me, as I told him how worried I was about Mom and how I still hadn’t been able to reach her. I also shared my horrible session administered by Mr. Townsend.

“I’m sorry about that,” he said, looking me in the eyes. “But what happened with Mr. Townsend was a standard procedure in a situation like this, uncomfortable but necessary.”

I pulled back, irritated that he took her side but also confused: standard procedure for what? Before I had time to turn the question over I got my answer.

“Your mom has been having an out 2D,” he said matter-of-factly. Essentially, this meant she was having an affair. As shocked as I was, I realized that this had been my fear all along. This was why I’d been afraid she was on RPF and why I’d become so upset about not being able to speak with her. This was why Mr. Townsend had been checking me for a withhold—to make sure I hadn’t known anything about Mom’s behavior.

“With who?” I asked.

“Who do you think?”

“Probably Don.”

“Yep, that’s right,” Dad said. “Did you know this was happening?” The way he asked the question made me think he was accusing me of conspiring. I thought back to my session with Mr. Townsend and how intensely she’d checked me for a withhold. Only now, I could see that she’d been making sure I didn’t know anything about my mom’s behavior.

“No,” I responded, “but they were really close, so it made sense to guess him.”

Even to me, it had been obvious that they were more than friends. But I had no idea it had gone this far.

I had a mental panic about the consequences for Mom. Those who went “out 2D” were looked upon as the worst of the worst. My mother was someone whom I had always looked up to. Despite what others undoubtedly thought about her now, I knew she had done many good things for the Church and was still very capable. I wasn’t about to forget that. But knowing she had done something as blatantly forbidden as out 2D made it difficult to rationalize.

I purposely blocked as many feelings as I could. I separated myself from my emotions and tried to act completely logically, and do what was right and necessary, not just react. Here was a situation where my TR Bullbait training became particularly useful. It had taught me how to suppress my feelings and react not emotionally but rationally. I had to disconnect my mind from my feelings. Even in regular situations, something way less significant than learning your mother has been having an affair, if you reacted or got upset, other people would tell you to get your TRs in. If you got into an argument or got upset, you were told to use your TRs to keep cool. With my father’s news, I used my TRs to disconnect. At that moment, the approach was helpful.

While I attempted to keep my feelings in check, Dad proved unable to control his and started tearing up. He told me that he felt like the last two years of their marriage had been a lie, and that Uncle Dave had been nice enough to pull him aside to tell him about the affair himself. I gave him a sympathetic hug, as it seemed the right thing to do.

“Where is Mom?” I asked, knowing well that policy stated an out 2D resulted in getting “beached.” The policy, written when the Sea Org was still on the ship, meant that the transgressor would be left on a beach. Now the person being punished usually went to the RPF.

Dad confirmed this was the case, “She’s on the RPF, where she should be,” he said without much warmth.

“Is she doing okay?” He seemed shocked by the question, as if it didn’t matter.

“I think so, but her well-being hasn’t exactly been my concern. She completely betrayed me,” he told me. “But, don’t worry. In the RPF, they get meals and have a place to sleep, so I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

I had always been a compassionate person who felt for people when they got in trouble, even if it was of their own doing. It only made me feel worse knowing that wherever she was, she was likely being treated very poorly, without any of the importance or amenities to which she was accustomed. Dad, however, and somewhat understandably, seemed to think she deserved it. He must have put out of his mind that their relationship had begun with their committing an out 2D before they were married.

Dad told me he was in the process of going through Mom’s possessions and packing them to send them to storage, as she wouldn’t be needing them again, and asked me if I wanted to help. People sent to the RPF usually spent years there. Even two years was considered a short stay. As we started going through her closet, Dad would hold up a piece of clothing and say, “Do you want this? She’ll never need
that
again,” insinuating that she was going to be gone for a long time.

It was hard to know how I should react to all this. If I were following Scientology, the proper response would have been to hate her immediately, not because she’d jeopardized our family but because she’d broken Scientology rules. What worried me, though, was that I didn’t hate her; sure, I was upset with her, but I didn’t
hate
her; in fact, I still loved her. I knew that this wasn’t the proper feeling to have, so I kept my feelings to myself.

My silence didn’t stop Dad from asking why I wasn’t crying. He told me that Uncle Dave asked him how I would respond to the news, and Dad had told him that I would go apeshit. It annoyed me that he thought he knew me well enough to make such an assumption. Also, telling this to my uncle and making me sound like some sort of child, when in fact I was a Sea Org member now, just as he was, irritated me equally.

After an hour of going through Mom’s belongings, Dad had to return to work, at which point Mr. Headley came back, giving me a hug and telling how sorry she was. Her sympathy made me tear up a little, as I felt as though she really cared.

A few minutes later, Aunt Shelly opened the door.

“Hey, I heard you took the news like a champ!” she said. “Good for you!” She gave me a hug, and we walked outside to talk.

“Your mom is okay, and she’s going to be okay,” Shelly told me. “She always claimed to be the strongest woman on the base, so she will be fine with the MEST work they have to do on the RPF.”

When I told Aunt Shelly that I was worried about my mom and that I didn’t want her to be sad, she became much less complimentary.

“Did you know,” Shelly continued, “that the reason your mom wanted to send you back to Flag for your auditing classes was that she was looking for a way to stay in touch with Don?” Those words landed hard. I didn’t know if they were true, or just an exaggeration on Aunt Shelly’s part. While I was still stomaching that news, wondering whether it was true, Shelly tried to explain why the RPF was the right place for my mom, stating that she had a history of this, and making it clear that she strongly disapproved of my mother’s behavior.

Aunt Shelly and I also talked about my future. She said she was excited about me becoming a messenger, because she wanted me to get through my training so I could come back and work at Int. I loved that she envisioned me working where I had always dreamed I would be. We talked for an hour or two. She told me stories of growing up and working for LRH and what it had meant to her to be a messenger for him at the age of nine. Our time together ended and we hugged and said goodbye.

For the next couple of days, I spent time with Mr. Headley at Int. She took me around the base and showed me all the cool things that had been happening since I left. The Int Base was spread out over five hundred acres. It had been a resort before the church purchased it in 1978, and still had a huge man-made lake, a castle, and an irrigation system that kept everything lush and green in the hot California desert. The entire property was surrounded by razor wire and hundreds of security cameras, some hidden but many in plain view. The recently added structure Mr. Headley showed me was a mansion called Bonne View. It had been built for the day LRH returned and was ready for occupancy. “Like in another body?” I asked her, wondering how and when he would be returning.

“I guess so,” she replied, not seeming sure of the details, either.

We were given a tour of Bonne View’s interior by Stacy Moxon, a member of the household unit. This small section of CMO was on standby to take care of LRH’s personal needs the moment he came back. The house was gorgeous, with brick walls and fireplaces, was surrounded by elaborate landscaping. It was by far the nicest building on the base.

Taking in the full scope of Int was eye-opening, but I quickly grew tired of being there, reminded of the news of my mother’s indiscretion and my father’s grief. A few days before, I’d wanted nothing more than to escape to Flag; now, after everything that had happened, I was relieved when it was time for Mr. Headley and me to return to Clearwater. It didn’t matter to me what was going on in Clearwater or what my complaints had been with the CMO; I just wanted to leave Int and all those problems behind.

Nonetheless, Dad insisted I return to California for Christmas; I did so reluctantly, staying at the Ranch for most of the week. At first, I was annoyed with staying at the Cadet Org because I was supposed to be a Sea Org member, but my dad didn’t view me that way. But after a while, being there made me long for my days before the CMO. I felt a connection to my friends at the Ranch. They were the people who really knew me. I had grown up with them, and they implicitly understood who I was.

At the annual Christmas Beer & Cheese Party, I was with some of my Ranch friends when Dad came up to me and quietly pulled me aside.

“Uncle Dave wants to see you,” he said, his voice brimming with urgency. “He is in the billiards room.”

I nervously found my way across the dining hall to Uncle Dave’s private room. When I arrived he started asking me questions about how I was doing, not really seeming to listen to the answers. After few moments he apologized.

“I’m sorry, Jenny, for being so distracted. But I wanted to talk to you about something important.” He let a pause pass between us as though he wanted to see how I’d react to his words. As they settled into the air, he continued, “Your mother has been asking me to see you.”

I was a bit surprised, as I hadn’t heard anything from her in months. But when my dad said Uncle Dave wanted to speak to me, I figured it was somehow related to my mom. Uncle Dave seemed to be the only one who had access to her. Even though I was not angry with her, I could not get over the awkwardness that I would have to endure by listening to her confession about her affair with Don if I saw her.

Turning over Uncle Dave’s words, the truth was that I didn’t want to see her. It wasn’t because I knew that’s what Uncle Dave wanted to hear, but because I didn’t want to have to see her and talk about everything. I didn’t want to sit around, rehash what she had done, and have to confront all the confusing feelings that this conversation would inevitably produce. I wasn’t mad at her; I just wanted to avoid the emotion of the situation, as I’d been taught. I wanted things to be normal.

“I honestly don’t really want to see her,” I said to him. “I hope she’s well, and I want her to just get through the program. Once she’s done with the program, we can put this whole ordeal behind us. And none of us will ever have to think about it again.”

“You’re right, Jenny,” Uncle Dave said, seeming relieved. “She does need to get through the program—that will be best for her. Maybe hearing that you think so will motivate her. At this point, she hasn’t been cooperating.”

I wasn’t surprised that she wasn’t cooperating. On one hand, she was a senior level executive who’d risen through the ranks and knew that following orders was the easiest path; on the other, she was a tough, often headstrong woman. The question was how far she’d be willing to go in her resistance. She knew as well as anyone that there were few alternatives. The only options were completing the RPF or leaving the Sea Org for good.

“I want you to write her a letter,” Uncle Dave instructed, “so that she can see that this refusal is coming from you and not me.”

He gave me some paper and I started with, “
Dear Mom . . .
,” but I didn’t know what else to write. Uncle Dave gave me some suggestions, but he didn’t want the letter to sound like it was from him. In the end, I kept the correspondence short, telling her that I still loved her, but I just wanted her to get through her program, as that would be best for both of us.

“Thank you, Jenny,” Uncle Dave said with a smile when I’d finished writing, “I’ll make sure she gets this.”

The day before Christmas I became extremely ill, and wound up spending Christmas day in bed. I had a high fever, swollen glands, and vertigo. Dad came to visit me and brought me a packet of Emergen-C and some cough drops. He even brought me an enema bag, telling me that Aunt Shelly said it was a good idea. I thought it was disgusting and told him as much.

The day after Christmas, Dad said I was booked to fly back to Clearwater. He wanted me to come to the base to say goodbye to Uncle Dave and Aunt Shelly, even though I was still sick. We waited in the reception area of their office for a long time until they came out to meet us. Uncle Dave hadn’t known about my illness, so there was a bit of an uproar about the possibility of his getting sick. With that, he hurried back into his office, and only Aunt Shelly said goodbye, but not before insisting that my flight be rebooked for a few days later, so that I had time to get better.

C
HAPTER
S
IXTEEN

ON THE EPF

N
INETEEN NINETY-SEVEN BEGAN WITH ME RETURNING TO
F
LAG
just shy of my thirteenth birthday and determined to forget about the previous months. For the first time, I didn’t want to see either of my parents; I just wanted to push through my duties at the CMO and find my place.