Too Little, Too Late (6 page)

By this time, her father’s young companion had also composed himself enough to pull up his trousers and light a cigarette. “How long have you been working for the studio?”

“Three months,” she replied.

“Had I known such a beautiful young woman works in public relations, I would’ve started making excuses to visit.” Her father’s tone was silky as he glanced at his companion.

Kate was taken aback. It sounded like he was making a pass at her! Panic made her hands shake and this time, she was unable to prevent her tray from toppling over, sending glasses and filthy ashtrays flying onto the priceless rug.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Bauer! I’ll clean it up right away.” Mortified, Kate dropped to her knees and began collecting the fallen glasses.

“Leave it,” ordered his companion. He gave Karl a pointed look and her father went and locked the study door before turning to Kate.

“It’ll just take me a minute to clean this up,” she told him hastily.

In the weeks leading up to this party, Kate had imagined several different scenarios as to how her meeting with her father would go but none of those scenarios had included finding him in a compromising position with another man. And now that the disgusting image was firmly fixed in her mind, Kate couldn’t get past it. Especially with her father’s companion staring at her like that. He looked to be half her father’s age, for God’s sake. She just wanted to get the hell out of there.

Concentrating on the messy carpet, Kate didn’t notice her father move. Suddenly, he was on top of her, roughly pushing her onto her back and covering her mouth with his own, making it impossible for her to scream. His tongue rammed into her mouth and with every excited breath, he expelled the disgusting taste of stale cigars and alcohol, making Kate gag. Strong hands urgently tore at her stockings and underwear and before she could stop him, he was inside of her, thrusting into Kate with the finesse of a battering ram. Minutes later, her father rolled off of her so his companion could take his turn. After he was done, her father came at her again, this time from behind, covering her mouth with his hand to stop her from screaming in pain. When he was done with her, he threw a fistful of cash at Kate before casually buttoning his fly.

“If you so much as breathe a word of this to anyone, I’ll kill you,” he told her with a quiet menace. He unlocked the study door before giving Kate a belated greeting. “By the way, welcome to Hollywood.” With that, both he and his companion slipped out of the study.

Heaving herself up on shaky legs, Kate saw that the cigarette ash was now embedded in the intricate pattern of the rug, along with an alarming amount of her blood. Luckily, she had the presence of mind to pick up the hundred dollar bills he had thrown at her before rushing to the nearest washroom to throw up until there was nothing left in her stomach. Stuffing some toilet paper between her legs to stem the flow of blood, she composed herself enough to leave the mansion without drawing attention to herself. She was bruised and battered and her head was reeling in disbelief.
How many other women had they raped before buying their silence?
 

Kate bled steadily into the night. She called in sick the next day and two days after that, she moved. She never set foot inside the studio again, afraid her father or his companion would show up looking for her. Kate found a shabby, furnished bachelor in a two-storey walkup off Sunset and spent the next few weeks living in fear of being discovered. Her bleeding after the rape turned into bouts of sporadic spotting and after two months of this, Kate finally worked up the courage to go to a clinic. The doctor’s announcement left her stunned.

“I don’t understand.” Kate was verging on hysteria. “How can I be pregnant if I’ve been spotting?”

“It happens,” the doctor told her gravely. “Sometimes, it’s a sign of fetal distress, but in your case, everything appears to be fine.”

“So why can’t I have an abortion?”

The doctor chose his words carefully. “Pregnancies may be terminated if the situation warrants it.”

“Surely rape must count as one of those situations!”

“It does but in your case, it’s too risky. No doctor in this city would risk his medical license to perform an abortion on you.”

“Then I’ll go to Mexico,” she told him in desperation. “I’ve heard all it takes is a few pesos and the right connections.”

“Do you really want to risk dying in some filthy Tijuana tenement?” asked the doctor angrily. “Because I guarantee that’s what will happen. Your blood doesn’t clot properly which is why abortion is so risky.” His eyes became more compassionate as he watched her turmoil. “You shouldn’t have to go through this alone. I’ll give you the name of someone you can speak with. Promise me you’ll go and see him.”

Kate nodded, but with her rapist’s threat ringing in her ears, she knew she couldn’t risk it. She couldn’t go to the police and even if she could, what would Kate tell them?
That she’d been raped by her father and his lover?
No. This was her own private hell, certainly not one she could share with anyone else.

In the weeks that followed, Kate shut herself off from the rest of the world, only going out when it became absolutely necessary. She began dreaming of Lilly again, something she hadn’t done in years, but this time, they weren’t the nightmares she’d previously had. When Kate woke up after having one of them, she was oddly comforted. She lived frugally and as her pregnancy wrought subtle changes to her body, one thing became very clear to her. Her baby was going to be born, whether she liked it or not.

***

Her daughter was born in September of the following year. Kate named her Sonja, after her mother. Labor was long and painful and after seventeen hours of making absolutely no headway, Kate’s daughter was delivered vaginally with the aid of forceps. Although she was immediately smitten by the angelic little creature with the huge blue eyes and tuft of blond hair, it soon became apparent to Kate that her little daughter was different from all the other babies in the nursery. While other babies cooed, cried, gurgled or wailed, Sonja lay quietly in her bassinet, watching mutely and never demanding the attention of the nurses like the other babies did. When Kate held her, Sonja would lie passively in her arms, staring at Kate with her big blue eyes.

As soon as she was strong enough to work, Kate found a job as a hand model. Aside from having to keep her hands out of the sun and away from harsh detergents and bleaches, it was undemanding work and paid better than the studio. She started off doing freelance but then her agent landed her a contract with the department store giant,
Mastonson’s
, modeling their newest nail polishes and gloves. A contract meant more money—and Kate needed every dime of it to pay for the full-time nurse who looked after Sonja while she was working. Evenings were a constant struggle as Kate worked tirelessly with her daughter to improve her mobility and motor skills that lagged behind those of other babies her age. The only time Sonja seemed to have any animation at all was when she heard the music from one of her toys, a small piano Kate had bought for her in a rummage shop.

By one, Sonja was able to roll, rather than walk. Convinced that something was wrong with her daughter, Kate took Sonja on a series of consults with pediatric specialists. The last specialist finally confirmed that Sonja, her beautiful baby with the angelic face, was severely autistic and would never be able to mentally function beyond that of a child.

The doctor suggested several sanitariums where they cared for children with severe mental retardation but Kate would have none of it. It was bad enough Sonja was the by-product of a violent rape; she certainly wasn’t about to abandon her to some institution. But in the months that followed, Kate grudgingly came to realize that Sonja’s doctor had been right. Her daughter needed specialized, round-the-clock care she simply could not afford to keep providing. Between the nurse’s exorbitant fees and the necessary physiotherapist’s visits, Kate barely had enough money at the end of each month to pay her rent, let alone to eat. With a heavy heart, Kate reluctantly consulted with Sonja’s pediatrician and arrangements were made to have her daughter put into a facility in Woodland Hills that specialized in the care of children with mental retardation.

Six weeks later, Kate tearfully brought Sonja and her suitcase full of clothing and toys to Woodland Hills. She spent the afternoon making her daughter’s new room as personal as possible. She lovingly placed Lilly’s necklace around the neck of Sonja’s favorite teddy bear before perching it on the dresser beside her daughter’s small piano. Sonja would stare mesmerized at the coins on the necklace as they twinkled in the light. Kate added a picture of her and Sonja to the other side of the locket. As dusk fell, Kate was encouraged to say her goodbyes so Sonja could settle in to her new routine. Choking back her sobs, Kate left her beautiful daughter, bitterly noting that her departure had barely registered on Sonja’s face.

After she got home, Kate couldn’t stand the silence in the empty apartment and quickly turned on the television, cranking up the volume almost as far as it would go. A sob caught at the back of throat but she resolutely swallowed it. Marching to the hall closet, she armed herself with a cloth and furniture polish and meticulously cleaned and polished every surface until they shone; as if by doing so, she could erase every last vestige of her daughter’s existence.

The ten o’clock news came on as Kate was on her hands and knees under the sofa, trying to retrieve one of Sonja’s discarded soothers.

“The race for the governor’s mansion heated up today as Irving Johnson threw his hat into the ring as California’s newest gubernatorial candidate. While this handsome young man may not be a household name just yet, his stepfather certainly is. Karl Bauer’s made no secret of the fact that he wants his stepson seeking public office and with his clout in the Hollywood community, it’s expected that Irving Johnson will have no shortage of high-powered Hollywood backers to sustain his bid for governor of California.”
 

Kate’s heart raced as she scrambled from under her sofa and quickly perched on the edge of the coffee table, barely breathing as she intently watched the news report unfold.

“KZXL caught up with Karl Bauer in the grand ballroom of the Hanley Hotel, in downtown Los Angeles earlier today, where he stood proudly watching as Irving Johnson made his announcement.”
 

The camera had cut from the reporter’s bland features to footage from the hotel taken earlier in the day. Her father was standing on a stage and a cheer rose through the crowd as the camera quickly panned on the handsome young man striding towards the podium.

“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. My name is Irving Johnson and I’m here to announce my candidacy as the next governor of California!”
 

American flags waved wildly as a unified cheer rose through the packed ballroom of the Hanley Hotel. Kate was oblivious to all of it as she stared in horror at the handsome face on her screen.
California’s newest gubernatorial candidate was more than her father’s stepson; he was also the other man who had brutally raped her.
 

1963

“Have I not been saying all along that Uncle Alex knows best?” asked Alex Vardan, Kate’s agent for the past six months. “The bottom line is acting classes eventually pay off in spades.”

They were sitting in his shabby office in Venice Beach, Alex behind his huge desk littered with mountains of photos and Kate across from him, in a battered chair that had seen better days.

She smiled at him indulgently, “You may have mentioned it once or twice – or even fifteen times, if I recall.” She shifted to a more comfortable position. “So, what’s the job? A print ad for Bulgari watches?” she joked.

He took her question seriously. “Better.”

She cocked her head to one side in disbelief. “How can it be better than that?”

“It’s a movie offer.” Alex took a slug of his warm soda, waiting for her reaction.

“A movie!”

“Yup. And you’ve got until tomorrow morning to decide,” he explained. “I know it’s not much time to think about it, but they need a decision right away since they plan on shooting your scenes on Friday.”

“I’m assuming I’m a last-minute replacement, right?”

“As a matter of fact, you are,” he told her candidly. “The actress they’d hired for the part was involved in a terrible car accident which left part of her one side paralyzed, I’m told. Anyway, she can’t do the part.”

“That doesn’t give me much time to think about it.”

“What’s to think about?” Alex asked her. “The movie’s set in medieval England and from what I can tell, it ain’t no comedy.”

“Great,” Kate told him jokingly. “I hope they don’t intend on cutting off my hands.”

“I don’t think so.” Alex frantically searched through the mounds of paper on his desk until he found the script. Flipping through it quickly, he came to the passages that had been highlighted by the studio. “They need your hands for the banquet scene. Back in those days, they apparently didn’t have any need for cutlery. Personally, I think eating with your hands is disgustingly barbaric, but that’s just me.” He looked up to make sure he still had Kate’s undivided attention before going back to the script. “Anyway, your hands are going to be used for the close-ups of the queen’s hands.”

“What’s wrong with her hands?”

He shrugged dismissively. “Who knows? Maybe the queen’s a nail biter with liver spots or maybe she’s got four thumbs. They’re going to do close-ups of your hands during the banquet and then again as you grab the sword you’re going to use to kill the king.”

“In other words, my hands are going to become lethal weapons.”

“In a manner of speaking,” he acknowledged with a grin before handing her the script. “Remember, everyone’s gotta start somewhere and Zifarelli’s willing to pay you the bucks to do it on such short notice.”

Kate glanced at the script. The movie was called
The King’s Trojan Horse
and the director was none other than her father. Her hand shook as she handed the script back to Alex. “No thanks.”