Saltar's Point (7 page)

In Sacramento she had met a local DJ named Darrin Tretcher, or just “Treatch” to his friends, the two had hit it off immediately. Darrin had dreams of cracking into the big media markets like San Francisco and Los Angeles, claiming that Sacramento was merely a pit stop on his path to fame and fortune. But Darrin was naturally big into the local music scene and it brought with it a cast of bizarre friends and a raging drug habit.               For six years his drug usage increased before the habit finally robbed Darrin of the ambitions that had attracted her to him in the first place. He lost his job at the local station and began dealing marijuana and methamphetamine out of their small apartment in order to support his worsening addiction. An ensuing drug deal gone badly had prompted two masked men to break into their bedroom one night while they slept. The intruders had bound them both and pummeled Darrin to a pulp, leaving him with a broken arm, rupture spleen, and several skull fractures. The entire time Abby lay bound and gagged, forced to watch the horrific event. They never reported the incident, fearing for their lives and worrying that getting the police involved would incriminate Darrin for trafficking. Every night after that was spent in sheer terror, thinking the men would come back and finish what they had started.

Abby convinced Darrin that it was time to get clean. He checked into a rehab center and began the painful detox. His rehab was filled with night terrors, vomiting, the shakes, the sweats, and intense physical pain, through it all he was determined to kick his addiction, if not for himself then for Abby.  He emerged clean and sober from his three-month stint at the center. Abby convinced him that it was time to leave Sacramento and start over, Darrin agreed and Abby was looking forward to their new life together. It was 1991 and they decided to move to Seattle where a growing media market and exploding music scene led by the grunge movement would offer Darrin a better chance to land a DJ gig, but then just three days before their scheduled departure Abby returned from buying milk and bread at the supermarket to find Darrin unconscious in a pool of vomit, severely bleeding from his nose. He had overdosed on a speedball, a mixture of cocaine and heroine. The paramedics were unable to revive him and he died on the way to the hospital.

Undaunted Abby moved north to Rainier Beach, a small suburb on the south end of Seattle. The neighborhood though rough, felt like home to her. She took a job as a cashier at a convenience store, earning just enough money to pay her modest rent and put food on the table. After a year her boss sold the store to a local Korean man who staffed the store top to bottom with members of his own family. The nepotism resulted in her termination and Abby was forced to look elsewhere for employment. Although cashier jobs were in abundant supply, none of them were willing to match the generous wage her former employer had given her. Facing eviction, Abby was left with no choice and took a job as an exotic dancer at a local gentlemen’s club, the Dancing Bare. The tips were good and she was able to afford a bigger apartment and purchase a car for the first time in her life, but the degradation that came along with being a stripper left her feeling empty inside. Six months into her employment she met a thirty-six year old self employed electrician named Jack Darrow.

At first Jack seemed much different than the men she had dated in her past. He was soft-spoken and mild mannered with a dashing smile and kind eyes. He quickly became a regular, purchasing lap dances from her and always tipping generously. His witty remarks and sense of humor brightened Abby’s nights and soon she found herself watching the door as she danced on stage, hoping that Jack would be in that night. The nights he did come in, Abby found herself spending all of her breaks at his table listening to his stories and watching him smoke cigarettes and drink rum and coke. He seemed happy and content to eek out a modest living doing individual contract work and Abby had long ago stopped looking for a man with big ambitions, opting to settle for one who would treat her like a lady. They were married four months to the day that Jack Darrow first walked into the Dancing Bare and plopped down twenty dollars for a lap dance. They eloped in Vegas, and although the wedding was nothing like the one she had pictured when she was a twelve-year-old girl, Abby was happy for the first time in a long time.

The first couple of years of their marriage were good ones. Jack was able to find steady work, and Abby was content to be a wife and homemaker. The next three years however, had been nothing but a living nightmare. Jack’s drinking had gotten worse and he began to get violent, often striking and beating her for no reason other than to assert his dominance over his submissive wife. He spent every night at the bars drinking, carousing, and starting fights. One particular night Darrow started an outright brawl at O’Leary’s Pub, a popular hangout for local toughs. The dispute started over a five-dollar game of pool, when the man Darrow was playing accused him of cheating. Darrow promptly hit him over the head with his cue stick, splintering it into a thousand pieces. A no holds barred brawl ensued sending three men to the hospital. The bouncers, fed up with Darrow’s actions, dragged him outside in the back alley and beat him till he was black and blue, knocking out his front tooth in the process. They called the cops and Darrow was charged with drunk and disorderly conduct and spent the night in jail. Abby bailed him out the next morning, and when they got home he wasted no time beating her into unconsciousness for as he put it “meddling in his affairs.” A month later he would finally go too far, striking her with the backhanded slap that would forever change Abby’s life.

She sat in her wheelchair overcome with emotion at the painful memories. Abby was thirty-five now but you wouldn’t know it to look at her. Her shoulder length brown hair was mostly gray. Since the accident she was unable to exercise and her once alluring figure had slipped away beneath a layer of fat. The wrinkles and lines on her face told the story of a woman who had lived much more than her thirty-five years. This was the fate she had destined for herself. She had plenty of opportunities to leave but she chose not to. A decision she would regret for the rest of her life.

Despite it all she still loved Jack Darrow. It was crazy she knew, but she loved him nonetheless. Perhaps because she was drawn to bad boy types, possibly because she had no other family left, or maybe simply for reasons that could not be explained, but deep in her heart she knew she would always love him. Regardless of that love she still had a great resentment for what he had done to her, and Abby was determined to live as long as she possibly could if for nothing else than to remind him every day of that fateful night. She was the bane of his existence now, and the constant care he had to give her was the cross he had to carry.

Abby felt a stirring deep in her bowels. Well speak of the devil. It’s time for Mr. Darrow to do a little care taking. The intercom was located by the door on the east wall, approximately twenty feet from the windowsill. This is not going to be easy she thought. Abby forced her hands back on the wheels and began the tedious process once again, working her way slowly to the intercom. The intercom was located four feet from the floor and in order to reach it she had to maneuver the chair so that one wheel was parallel to the wall. It’s just like parking a car she thought, only one with four flat tires and no power steering. She turned one wheel and then the other straining and grunting in the process. Slowly the chair began to turn parallel to the wall in a slow pirouette, a dark ballet on wheels. Abby strained as she reached for the button, her arms exhausted from the prior exertion. Just a little further. Finally her trembling fingers depressed the button.

“Jack, I have to go to the bathroom.”

In the basement by the boiler Jack Darrow turned his head. The damn intercom was blaring again.

“Ack Iaffa go ew a afroom.”

Jack Darrow placed his fingers to his temples, massaging his pounding head. That fucking intercom was going to be the death of him. He depressed the button. “Hold it. I’m busy.”

Abby strained for the button again. “I can’t, I’ve got to go now.”

The intercom crackled. “Iant, I’fe gof ew go ow.”

Each word was a rusty nail driven into Darrow’s skull. He took a deep breath to calm himself then pressed the button again. “I’ll be right up.”

Darrow stormed down the hall, irate at the current distraction. He made his way to the elevator, and pulled the handle. The elevator sprang to life with a jarring start. Abby was beginning to test his patience. He drummed his fingers on the brass rail, impatient with the slow progress. At last the elevator came to a stop and he made the sharp left, working his way over to the grand staircase. He bounded up the stairs. At the top he took a sharp left and strode down the hall to Abby’s room. Inside he found her sitting idly in her chair. He glared at his wife.

“Shit or piss?”

“Number two,” Abby said meekly.

Darrow sighed and grabbed the handles on the wheelchair. He steered her out of the room. In his haste and lack of patience he banged the wheelchair off the hallway walls.

“God damn it.”

Darrow maneuvered the wheelchair to the bathroom located just down the hall. He knocked the door open with his backside and pulled Abby through. He worked the chair over to the toilet.

“Unbutton your pants.” The command was laced with disdain.

Abby fumbled with the top of her pants, her hands working vainly to unclasp the button. Darrow lost his patience; grabbing Abby’s pants he pulled down with ruthless force. The button popped free of its thread and bounced across the tile floor. Grabbing the top of her pants he forced them down over her thighs and worked them down to the ankles. Abby sat naked and exposed waiting for her husband to assist her onto the porcelain throne. Darrow was anything but gentle. He grabbed her waist and hoisted her from the chair, causing her legs to dangle limply and bang into the side of the latrine. He plopped her down. Mercifully Abby couldn’t feel the bruises forming in her muscles. When she was finished Darrow jerked her off the toilet and spun her around bending her over the toilet, her knees rested on the tile and her face hovered precariously over her own defecation. Darrow removed a wad of tissue from the rack, biting his lip and holding his breath he wiped her clean.

EIGHT

The restaurant was quaint. A small Italian café located in East Bremerton, just forty minutes from Saltar’s Point. Ellie took a sip of wine, a pinoit grigio from Eastern Washington. The wine had gone to her head, lowering her inhibitions.

“You know Randall, I’m not sure you quite understand the implications of the task you’re trying to take on.” Her cheeks were flushed from the alcohol.

“And just what is that?”

“Me. I’m a formidable opponent.”

“I didn’t know we were at odds.”

“Oh we’re not at odds.” Ellie leaned forward, her lips precariously close to Randall’s ear. “But we are on dangerous ground.”

“And what’s that?”

“Our second date. Second dates are key. If it goes well then the relationship definitely has potential.”

“And how do you think it’s going?” Randall said, already knowing the answer.

“What do you think?” Ellie said as she leaned across the table kissing him softly on the lips. Her breath hinted of wine and pesto, an interesting combination Randall thought to himself. “Tell me something. When we were kids did you ever have any feelings for me? Romantic feelings.”

Randall blushed. “Jesus Ellie. You were five years younger than me.”

“I’m still five years younger than you.”

“Yeah but there’s a big difference between eighteen and thirteen.”

“You know every day I tried to dream up ways to get you to notice me, hoping that you’d come to your senses and dump Cheryl.”

Randall flinched at the mention of her name. He took a sip of wine hoping that Ellie didn’t notice.

“More bread?”

The restaurant was nearly empty and their waiter had been hovering around their table annoyingly all evening. Randall waved him off.

“Oh God Randall, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to open up old wounds.”

“Hey it’s all water under the bridge. But I’m flattered anyways. I had no idea you felt that way about me.”

“Well you were the only person in Saltar’s Point who didn’t know.” Ellie put a ravioli in her mouth. “I mean I practically worshiped the ground you walked on. When you left for college I was devestated. It took a while for it to sink in, but I woke up one day and realized that you were gone, and I felt abandoned and vulnerable. You always looked out for me.”

“If I remember right, you pulled an even quicker vanishing act. I came home for the summer after my sophomore year and you were gone. People were worried about you.”

“Yeah well I was a little worried about myself.”

“Why did you leave Ellie?”

The question was stunning in its bluntness.

“You know, people talk, about things they know nothing about. I guess I didn’t want to feel like the subject of a tabloid everyday for the rest of my life.”

“Ellie, it wasn’t that big a deal. Girls get abortions all the time.”

“Not in Saltar’s Point they don’t.” Ellie was flustered now. “You know what, I’m not really hungry anymore. Can we get out of here?”

“Sure, of course.”

He paid the tab and they exited to Randall’s Jeep. They drove in silence for quite some time. Ellie looked over at Randall studying him in the moonlight.

“That wasn’t the only reason you know.”

Randall didn’t follow. “I’m sorry?”

“The abortion, it wasn’t the only reason I left town.”

“You know Ellie it’s not really any of my business and I’m sorry…”

“No please Randall, I have to get something off my chest. I’ve been carrying this weight around for a long time and it would be nice to tell somebody.”

Randall listened quietly. Ellie paused for a second, measuring her words. She was unsure where to begin.

“Do you remember Joe Riley, he was my age and lived just down the block from me?”

“I think so. Skinny kid blonde hair.”

“Yeah, that’s him. Well anyways shortly after you left we started dating. At first things were going well and then we started to have some problems. Nothing major, just some petty jealousy, arguments over small things, you know immature kid stuff.” Randall remained silent, content to let her talk. “After about a year we broke up and I was really upset. It seems stupid now but when you’re sixteen it seems like it’s the end of the world. I was determined to do anything I could to get him back. So then one night he calls me and invites me to this party that he and a couple of his friends are going to up in Anacortes, and I was really excited. So we head out to this party and I must have drunk, six, seven beers. Anyways I was wasted; I mean I could barely walk. So Joe starts taking care of me, and he’s being real sweet saying how he’ll look out for me and all that. So he says come on I’ll take you home, and I thought it was just going to be me and him but when we get to his car his two friends are waiting for us and Joe says that he’s going to give them a ride home too.” Ellie’s voice was trembling now. “Anyways I remember that the car ride is awful, the bumps in the road are making me sick and Joe has to stop every couple of miles so I can throw up. And I’m not really paying attention to where we’re going. The next thing I know we’re at his friend Andy’s house, and I start to get nervous, because he’s twenty-two and I don’t know him. So I ask Joe what we’re doing there and he says that they want to smoke some pot and it’s cool because Andy lives with roommates, and there are no parents to bust us. Well I figure what choice do I have? He’s my ride home and I just have to wait while they smoke their pot. So we go in the house and they break out this big bong and they start smoking away. They ask me if I want any and I say no. I was already so drunk that I didn’t need any pot. I ask Andy if there’s a place where I could lay down and he says, yeah you can take a nap down in my room. At this point I don’t care I just need some place where I can lay down and get some rest. Well his room is located in the basement of this small house, and I have to go down this flight of stairs and it’s dark and I’m scared. This house was real old and the stairs are creaking as I’m going down them and I’m starting to think that this is a bad idea.” Ellie was tearing up now, overcome with emotion. “So I get down to his room and it’s so dark and I can’t find the light switch and I remember that the carpet was crunchy when you walked on it. I had taken my sandals off and I’m stepping on this disgusting carpet with my bare feet. Then I think to myself it’s probably better if I don’t turn on the light because I probably don’t want to know what I’m walking on. Finally I find the bed and I’m really disgusted by it so I don’t crawl under the covers, I just lie on top. After a while, I’m not sure exactly how long, Joe comes in and asks me how I’m doing, and I say fine Joe.” Ellie is weeping openly now, wiping the tears away from her face with her hands.

“Ellie are you okay?” Randall was starting to get concerned, not liking where this story was going.

Ellie drew a long breath steadying herself. She began again. “I’m fine. Anyways Joe says that he came downstairs to take care of me and that he’s real concerned about me because I don’t look so good. He gives me some water to drink and he says I have to drink it all because I’m dehydrated and it will make my head stop pounding, so I drink the whole thing. And I swear Randall, I can’t prove it but I swear that water was laced with something because all of the sudden I start to feel real good right? And I’m thinking all I needed was a little water. Then Joe asks me if I want to get back together, and I’m really excited. I say of course Joe. Then he says that if I want to get back together with him I have to do something for him. And I ask him what, and he says.” Another sob escapes Ellie’s lips. She forces herself to regain control of her emotions. “And he says, that I have to have sex with him and his friends. I know it’s a bad idea, but I’m so drunk and I’m feeling good from whatever it is he put in that water, and I want to get back together with him so bad, so I say okay. Okay Joe, I’ll have sex with you and your friends if that’s what it takes to get you back. So his friends enter the room and they turn on the light, because Andy says that he wants to see me while he fucks me. So it’s Joe and Andy and this friend of theirs, Brandon I think his name was. So these guys all get naked and I’m making out with Joe and they start taking my clothes off. Next thing I know I’m naked and all three guys are touching me and putting their fingers inside me and I start to get scared. I mean really scared, and my adrenaline starts pumping and this brings me right out of the trance that I was in. Whatever it was that Joe gave me to make me zone out is gone. Now I’m thinking what the hell am I doing? This isn’t me. So I start yelling for them to stop, that I’ve changed my mind. I’m yelling stop I don’t want to have sex with them, but they’re not listening. So I start screaming and Joe tells me that if I don’t shut up that he’s going to kill me and dump my body in the woods and that no one would care because I was just a stupid slut.” Ellie’s hands are trembling badly now. “So I start begging, I’m pleading please stop, please stop. But they don’t.”

Randall is shaking now, consumed by rage. “And you didn’t press charges?”

Ellie shook her head. The tears are almost unstoppable now rushing down her face in a torrent of emotion. When she speaks her voice is nothing but a whisper. “I was ashamed. I put myself in that position and I didn’t want anyone to know what happened to me. I thought they would judge me, call me a slut just like Joe had said. Two weeks later I missed my period. I went to the drug store and got one of those pregnancy kits, praying to God that I wasn’t pregnant, but already knowing in my heart that I was. Of course it was positive. So there I was a sixteen-year-old girl, pregnant and unsure of who the father is, the only thing I knew for sure was that he was a pot-smoking rapist. I didn’t feel that anyone would understand, I didn’t have anyone I thought I could talk to. I didn’t know what to do.” There was a long uncomfortable silence. “So I left.”

Randall made the turn onto Main Street, not knowing what to say he drove in silence.

“Jesus Ellie. You can still press charges. Go after these assholes. I’ll help you.”

“I already thought about it. About five years later, when I was older and more confident, I started to get angry, and I wanted to make them pay. I wanted them to suffer for what they did to me. So I consulted a lawyer and I told him what happened to me, but he said that the most I could go after was rape in the third degree, because I had initially consented. He said that the defense lawyer would pick me apart because I was drunk, claiming that any testimony I gave would be unreliable. Plus rape in the third degree is a class C felony and the statute of limitations in Washington for a class C is three years. I missed my window.”

“Ellie I don’t know what to say. I had no idea.”

Ellie was silent for a moment, her thoughts swirling about her head. “You don’t need to say anything Randall. Just being with you and getting this off my chest helps more than you could know.”

“I’m sorry Ellie. I wish I could have been there for you.”

“You’re here now.”

“Too little, too late I’m afraid.”

“It’s never too late. Randall,” another awkward pause. “I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

“What about Aiden?”

“He’s with Cletus, probably having the time of his life. It will give them a chance to bond, besides I told them that I might not be home tonight.”

“That was optimistic thinking.”

“I’m a glass is half full kind of gal.”

The inside was immaculate. Pretty impressive for a bachelor Ellie thought to herself. The living room was sparsely decorated though. Why don’t men have any desire to accentuate their living space? She made herself comfortable on the couch.

“I’m sorry Ellie. All I have is a cabernet.” Randall called from the kitchen.

“That will be fine.”

Randall’s house was small, a modest three bedroom house with a single bathroom. But it was charming in its own way, and more than that Ellie felt good about being there. The house definitely felt inviting and safe, or maybe it was just being in Randall’s presence that made it feel that way, Ellie wasn’t sure but it felt right, and the security she was feeling now hadn’t been present in her life for far too long.

“I apologize that it’s pretty cramped in there, I use the desk for meeting clients, but it really intrudes on the living space.”

The desk sat adjacent to the couch on the left hand side, facing the front door. A small lamp, a penholder with three pens in it, and a stack of folders were the only items adorning it. A television resting on top of a wooden chest, a few paintings of landscapes, a coffee table, and one dead fern completed the rest of the room. Poor fern never stood a chance Ellie mused quietly to herself. Randall returned from the kitchen with two glasses of the cabernet. He sat down next to Ellie and handed her a glass. Ellie was smiling again, the retelling of the horrific event having faded from her mind. Randall had that way about him though, always able to make her forget her worries.

“So what about you Randall Jackson? What brought you back to Saltar’s Point?

“What makes you think something brought me back?”

“No one ever returns to Saltar’s Point by choice.” She sipped her wine eyeing Randall the whole time.

“Cheryl was close to her parents, and she didn’t want to leave.”

“Oh God Randall, I’m sorry.”