Beyond Belief (32 page)

He looked very wary as I approached. I beckoned to him so that we could talk, but he glanced at the two people watching him, who were eying me suspiciously. I signaled to him to come anyway. His guards looked at each other, and then looked away, meaning they would pretend that they didn’t see. They were just Cadets, after all, not as hard-core as the people in CMO who were watching me. My tears started welling up as he came over.

“I am so, so sorry,” I whispered to him. “I never meant any of this to happen. I begged them to leave you out of everything, and I feel horrible that I got you into this.”

He cut me off, taking responsibility. “Oh, my gosh, this is not just your fault,” he said. “Don’t even say that. I feel like I’ve ruined everything for you. You are on the CMO EPF now,” he said apologetically, gesturing to my uniform.

Just then, little Steven walked up. “What is going on here?” he asked with the seriousness of a police officer, but the voice of a little boy. He was only ten and about a foot shorter than me. It would have been hard to take him seriously in any situation but, as my guard, it was downright disturbing how authoritative a little boy could be when given a little bit of power. Martino put his hand on mine briefly before he turned to go. The two boys watching him were his friends, and he was likely to be safer after this brief chat than I was.

Now that Martino had left, I looked at Steven pleadingly, hoping he would not say anything. Steven had been my friend prior to all of this. I had even saved him from the wrath of Julia once, and hoped that he would return the favor, but no such luck. A few minutes later, he was on the phone reporting what had happened. About thirty minutes later, someone had driven the Org car to the Quality Inn to get me. School was over before it had started; I was no longer allowed to go there.

The cycle felt impossible to defeat. Even if I behaved perfectly, things would keep coming up that pulled me back. It was exhausting.

Finally, after months of me being a stain on the face of the universe, my CO asked me what was stopping me from getting through my program. I was honest. I told her that I couldn’t get over some of the claims that had been made about me: that I ran to my parents on every whim and that I had been the cause of the closing of the Ranch. I also took issue with the amount of flap my using the phone had created. I told her that, from what my Ranch friends were telling me on the down low, they called their parents at Int all the time.

I requested a conversation with Aunt Shelly. She agreed to talk to me, seeming both reluctant and relieved, as if she had wanted to talk for some time. The meeting took place in one of the auditing rooms in the WB. Shelly was curt and standoffish when she came in, greeting me with a hello instead of her usual hug.

After telling her about my progress, I got into my disputes of the claims against me. When I began getting specific, she became very angry.

“I took time out of my day to talk to you, and now you just want to tell me I was wrong? Even if some claims against you aren’t absolutely accurate, plenty of things in your ethics file
are
.” She let that sink in before continuing in a softer tone, “In my opinion, your troubles stem from misunderstood words on course, specifically those in
Vol Zero
, and you just need to go back and clear them.” This was her way of acknowledging that it wasn’t all my fault or simply because I was a bad person.

I thought she would leave it at that, but she had a warning about men, too: “Many guys who are hungry for power and eager for information marry CMO girls for this purpose and wind up bringing the girls down. You need to watch out for that, because it’s been proven in history.”

Although she didn’t say as much, I could tell that I would be somewhat pardoned now. The part about men suggested that she thought some of this was Martino’s fault, that I was his unsuspecting victim and should stay away from him and clear my MUs. Shelly even gave me a hug after we talked.

Miraculously, the next day, the attitude about me had changed. Aunt Shelly had obviously been receptive to at least part of my self-defense, because she seemed to have had a change of heart that quickly spread to everyone around her. Initially, she had wanted to make it known that it wasn’t acceptable to disagree with her and get away with it. On the other hand, I thought her anger might have been obligatory, as though, perhaps, my uncle was the one pissed about my fraternizing and Aunt Shelly had to display the anger or she’d be in trouble herself. Whatever the underlying cause, she must have been tired of being mad at me, because she certainly calmed down.

Now, instead of being viewed as the enemy of the group, I was seen as having made huge steps toward recovery and on my way back to being in everyone’s good graces. At the time, I simply accepted the change for what it was—a welcome relief—but looking back, it represents as clear an indication as anything about just how much sway Uncle Dave and Aunt Shelly had over people. For months, I’d been tormented and insulted. I’d been embarrassed and harassed. I’d been put in my place and told that I was the lowest of the low. Yet, in spite of all that, it took just one conversation with Aunt Shelly to put things on a path to improvement. While the situation worked to my benefit in this case because Aunt Shelly clearly had a soft spot for me and decided to forgive me, it also made me afraid of what could happen if Uncle Dave or Aunt Shelly simply didn’t want to forgive someone.

None of this forgiveness meant I was excused from having to repeat the CMO EPF; however, I was allowed to have brief conversations with my friends from the Ranch, although I was still not allowed to fraternize. Soon, many of the kids from the Flag Cadet Org came on the EPF, including Martino, Jasmine, and Cece. It was cool, because my Flag friends made great friends with all my Ranch friends, especially B. J., who had been struggling since coming out from the West Coast. They took him under their wing almost as a favor to me. I was finally allowed to graduate in November 1999, having been on the CMO EPF for five months.

B
ACK AS A GOOD-STANDING MEMBER OF
CMO, I
WAS GIVEN A
new post, Flag Crew Programs Operator. Flag Crew was five hundred people strong and responsible for running the five hotels and four restaurants that the public Scientologists who had come to Clearwater for services used. Each hotel had its own maids and maintenance, and the restaurants had hosts, servers, cooks, dishwashers, and busboys. As programs operator, I ran programs to resolve organizational dysfunction.

I loved this post far above and beyond being on full-time study. I had a job, which was all that I had ever wanted. I wasn’t holed up in a course room all day but had freedom to walk around the building. I got to meet new people, make friends, and feel like I was producing something. My boss, the operations chief, was a really cool guy. He was smart, helpful, and reasonable and appreciated that I was a hard worker. Occasionally, I was scolded for wearing my civilian clothes inappropriately. For PR purposes, we were allowed to wear civilian clothes on Sundays, but my CO often had to tell me to put on something less tight and better suited for my position, as I was not a little girl anymore. For my part, I didn’t think my clothes were out of line.

I hardly saw Martino anymore. After he graduated from EPF, he was posted as someone who carried pre-Clear folders to and from the case supervisors, but that was not my area, so I rarely went there. Once or twice, I did try to go through the hotel to see if I might run into him, but I never did. In spite of everything that had happened, I was still in love with him and still thought about him all the time. I heard rumors that other girls liked him, so I figured that he was probably caught up in that. I also knew that he had been threatened with the RPF if he messed up again. Still, I remained close with our mutual friends.

Christmas 2000 came and went, just another Christmas spent away from my family. Gone were the years of flying out to Int for the Beer & Cheese Party and the ski lodge trip with the Miscavige family. I hadn’t spoken to my parents since July, before I’d gone on the CMO EPF, although I did get occasional letters, more from Dad than Mom. I don’t know why, but them being back together gave me a sense of stability, making me feel like things were a little bit more like they had been before Don and before Mom’s RPF. I guessed they both saw Mom’s affair as something that had happened as a result of them being separated for so long. For all practical purposes, it didn’t really matter, because I saw them so rarely.

As time went by, I became more successful at keeping Martino out of my thoughts. I switched my school day so that I wouldn’t run into him on Sundays. During course time, I started sitting near a kid named Wil, who was tall and cute. I could tell he liked me, because he always saved me a seat. Cool and funny, he also played guitar, which of course impressed me. I liked talking to him, because he always listened. He hadn’t grown up in the Sea Org, so I was fascinated when he would tell me about his life in the Wog world.

I never felt the same way about Wil as I had about Martino, however, even though I was moving on. It was all good until one day after school when I was waiting for the bus back to the Hacienda with everyone else. Wil, waiting with me, was holding my hand to see me off. All of a sudden, I saw Martino race by, clearly trying to avoid the sight of us. We no longer had the same school day, so it was really weird. I hadn’t seen him in ages. The following week, I was walking into the course room and over to my seat near Wil. Sitting on the other side of him was Martino, a huge grin on his face. I had deliberately changed my school day to avoid him and stay out of trouble, and now he was sitting at my table. I was annoyed and even a little angry with him. I felt that he had just become disinterested in me, and I was hurt by that, although it could have been that the reason he was avoiding me was that he was trying to stay out of trouble. Whatever the case, I was trying hard to get over him, and I believed I was.

Martino seemed to be enjoying all the discomfort he was creating by being there, which made me even more annoyed. I grabbed Wil, and we moved next door, but Martino moved, too, again sitting right at our table. I wanted to strangle him, but even Wil seemed to think it was a little funny but awkward. I just couldn’t figure out why Martino was doing this. I had finally moved on, and he was intruding. I decided to act as if he wasn’t there.

The next week, things got worse. I had recently gotten word about Justin, whom I hadn’t heard from in well over a year. A Ranch friend visiting Flag had recently spoken to him and had his number. I decided to call him during lunch.

The area code was L.A., so I figured he must be living there. While he was out of the Sea Org, I thought he might still be a Scientologist to some degree. Some girl who answered the phone put him on. When he said, “Hello,” he was not excited in the least, even though I was practically giddy. At first, he acted as if he had no idea who I was. Eventually, after prodding and probing, he came clean.

“Look, I don’t give a shit about my family. They don’t mean anything to me. You’re with Ronnie and Bitty doing their thing and I don’t want anything to do with them, either.”

“But, Justin, I’m not with them. I haven’t spoken to them in forever. What does your problem with them have to do with me?”

It was no use, though; he couldn’t be reasoned with.

“I don’t give a shit about them; I don’t give a shit about you. I don’t have a sister.”

And, with that, he hung up the phone.

I was devastated. I had no idea what had just happened or why, and I had taken a risk by calling him.

When I got back to class, I was barely holding it together. Though I hadn’t spoken to Justin since he’d left the Sea Org, I never expected our first conversation would be like that. I never expected the anger that he had. His words confirmed my worst fear when he walked out of Flag almost two years earlier: that he was lost to me. Worse, it was of his own choosing.

Wil was oblivious, but Martino, who was back to sitting at our table again, could see I was upset and asked me what was wrong. I tried as hard as I could not to cry as I told him about the phone call. Martino was empathetic and said, somewhat jokingly, that he was going to kick Justin’s ass, which made me laugh because my brother was so much bigger than Martino. For his part, Wil sat quietly, not even part of the conversation. When he went to the bathroom a few minutes later, Martino put his hand on mine. I could have moved it, but I didn’t.

The rest of the day went by quickly. When it was time for the bus, Wil tried to kiss me goodbye, but I dodged it, causing him to ask me outright if it was because of Martino. I lied and told him it wasn’t; I just wanted to slow it down.

For the next week, I tried to avoid Wil, but he simply could not be avoided. Wil kept paging me and cornering me. Finally, he had a libs day and was not in school, which left Martino and me alone to talk. We were back in sync in no time, talking about everything and commiserating. Now that he was a Sea Org member, he wasn’t scrutinizing Scientology in quite the same way, but that was fine with me—I wasn’t, either. And that difference didn’t change how comfortable we were around each other. When we walked around, he leaned into me, just as he always had, and all of my feelings rushed back. Later that week, I just had to tell Wil that I still had feelings for Martino. He was sad and had suspected as much. He was really upset when I broke it off with him, but I preferred to tell him rather than string him along.

After that, Martino and I went back almost to how things had been before everything fell apart. At school, we’d sit next to each other in the course room with our legs intertwined under the table, and during breaks we’d talk to each other. Once again, school day was my favorite day of the week.

One afternoon, while we were waiting for the bus, we talked about how not being able to date was such a drag. We were both in Sea Org, so we should be allowed to. The issue was that Aunt Shelly and Anne Rathbun forbade it. It was all unspoken, but she essentially had determined that he was bad news, so I was constantly being watched. I had already done bad things with him, so for me to go back to him would show that I hadn’t changed.