THE STORY OF A GIRL – EXCERPT – 2011 NANOWRIMO COMPETITION

(This is an excerpt from my novel – The Story Of A Girl – for the 2011 National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) competition .  Please bear in mind that this is a very rough draft.  Entrants have only 30 days to write 50,000 words.  Once the competition closes, we go back and edit… edit… edit… edit… and then, edit some more!  Please feel free to comment below.  Thank you.  VMLS)

THE STORY OF A GIRL

By Veronica Marie Lewis-Shaw

March 13, 2007 – Dr. Kay’s Office-Downtown Portland

“I don’t know… I don’t fucking know!  Do you get that?”  My voice has risen to a shout… almost screaming… my face is hot… tears streaming down my cheeks.  Through my blurred vision, I see my tormentor… seated in her chair… calm… serene… ever-present notebook in her lap.  Dr. Kay Underhill, M.D., Ph.D, Psy.D, and a few other letters of the alphabet after her name… both my tormentor and my savior.  Right now… the former.

~~**~~

I first began seeing Dr. Kay Underhill the second week I was in Portland; this was at Tina’s insistence.  At first, I was very resistant to her request, having had a bellyful of therapists and incompetent, judgmental (one so-called professional actually believed that lesbians‘asked to be raped, by the choice they made about their sexual preference’) social workers – who if anything, had set me back – back in Boston, where I had ended up after Dr Craig ‘smuggled’ me out of the hospital and away from the authorities.  He had heard and believed enough of my story to understand that what I needed was the kind of professional help that I was not going to get in police custody.  Dr. Craig (not his real name) risked his career to help a stranger, believing that justice delayed did not mean justice denied.  He will forever have my gratitude.

Initially, I went to Dr Underhill only because I had made a promise to Tina that I would get help.  We both had the sense to realize that we were not going to be able to ‘fix’ me completely… that I needed professional help… caring, professional help.  Dr. Kay Underhill has a reputation exceeded by few of her peers.  Looking back, I realize that Dr. Kay, as she preferred to be called, ‘soft-balled’ me the first couple of sessions.  But, if she hadn’t, I probably would not have continued seeing her.  I gained a lot of insight into her those first few sessions, allowing me to open up to her and trust her; that she wanted to help me.  I owe my life as much to Dr. Kay as I do to Tina.

That doesn’t mean I always liked her.  Today is one of those days.

~~**~~

Why do you keep asking me this… why?  You’re supposed to be helping me… this isn’t working… it isn’t working, damn it!  Oh god… I can’t do this… I can’t… please… please…”   The breath is gone from my lungs; there is nothing left to push the words out… my anguished voice fades to a whisper.  Exhausted; I fall back on the over-stuffed leather sofa, hunched over… my face in my hands… the hysteria of a few moments ago replaced now with quiet sobs.

Time passes… the tears stop… an occasional hitch in my chest as the anger and the fear slowly seep out of me.  Slow, steady breaths… let everything go, Veronica… just breathe… don’t think of anything else… Dr. Kay’s words come back to me… again.

More time passes… the only sounds in the room are Dr. Kay’s pen scratching on the lined pages of her notebook, my measured breathing, and the soft tick of the grandfather clock standing between the two floor-to-ceiling windows of Dr. Kay’s fifth floor downtown office.

“It’s been six months.  I still can’t…”  I stop… my voice choking… “I still… we tried again last night.  Everything was going so well.  A wonderful, romantic dinner… candlelight… Miles Davis on the stereo… wine in front of the fireplace… it felt like we were the only two people in the world.  The rain seemed to carry the sounds of the city away…human and machine noises floating along the curbs and down in to the storm drains… taking away all the sounds of humanity… save for the two of us.

God, every time I look into Tina’s eyes… every time she touches me… the scent and sound of her washes over me… I am almost over-whelmed at the love that I have for her… I love this woman so much!  And, I feel her love in everything she does… every word… every touch… her hand on my cheek… her kiss… her smile.  From the very first moment, there has never been a doubt.  So, why can’t I…”  The tears threaten to start again.  I look up at Dr. Kay.  She looks back at me… I see warmth and compassion in her eyes, not the clinical detachment of the therapist who had been ‘treating’ me back in Boston.

“Veronica… you have been through an ordeal that most people could not begin to comprehend what it was like.  You still have the physical scars, and you will carry those for a long time.  But, they will go away… eventually.  What makes you think your emotional scars are going to heal any quicker?  Do you think Christina does not understand this?  Do you think she does not know how much you love her?

What are you really afraid of, Veronica?  Why are we here today?”  Dr. Kay sits back in the big, overstuffed rocker-recliner, setting her pen and notebook down on the table beside the chair.  She crosses her legs, smoothing the knee-length grey wool skirt over her lap.  She waits… patiently.

The grandfather clock ticks its metronomic beat.  I look over at the tall windows… shades raised.  There is a reddish-orange hue in the western sky; the sun setting a little later each day as we approach the vernal equinox… Spring.

Spring… a time for new life… new beginnings… new hopes… new promises.  Next Tuesday is the first day of Spring.  The following day marks Tina’s and my six-month anniversary.  We have yet to fully consummate our relationship.  And, that is why I am sitting here in Dr. Kay’s office, instead of at home, having dinner with the love of my life.

“I don’t know… I’m… I’m afraid…”  I stop again… and then, the words come in a rush, as if some great force were propelling them from my mouth.

“I’m afraid this is as far as I can go…the intimacy… my mind won’t let her in any further… and I’m afraid that Tina will see this as a lack of trust… despite everything I say… everything I do… how much I love her and trust her and everything… she will see this and think that I really do not… porque se eu realmente a amava e confiava nela a maneira que eu digo eu faço, eu poderia … eu … dou-me completamente a ela!”

In the rush to get the words out of my mouth before my brain can register what I am saying… this dark, secret fear I am giving up… and stop me, I have lapsed into Portuguese.  Dr. Kay says this is a defense mechanism.  She holds up her hand… fingers splayed.

“Veronica… slow down… shhh… shhh… slow down… in English… please.”  Her voice is calm.  In the six months I have been seeing Dr. Kay, I don’t think I have ever heard her raise her voice.  My words trail off and almost without thinking about it, I began taking slow, deep breaths… it has become a conditioned response in me.

We sit in silence for a few moments… my steady respirations bringing a calm back to me… her steady gaze holding me… the barest hint of a smile at the corner of her mouth.

“We tried again last night.”  I have been seeing Dr. Kay for six months, and I still can’t get past the euphemisms.  “To, you know…”  I falter, looking for the words.  I can’t say ‘make love’ or ‘have sex’, because we do those things… after a fashion.  But, there is an incompleteness… on my part, at least.

~~**~~

To put it bluntly, I couldn’t stand to have my quim touched, let alone penetrated.  Rape and repeated brutalization, along with everything else, tears away trust and intimacy.  And it can take a long time for the scars to heal enough to regain that intimacy… to be able to trust another.  Some women never do.

For a long time, my body was like a war zone, and Tina did her best to navigate around the minefields… to find some neutral territory upon which she could begin the long process of rebuilding the intimacy that two souls need to survive.

The first month we were together was the hardest… allowing the woman I had fallen hopelessly and completely in love with, to see my naked body… to see the scars… the ravages of the ordeal that almost claimed my life.  This was the woman who, without words… with only her hazel eyes gazing into the dark pools of mine, wrapped her love and compassion around my tortured soul, and began to heal it.

Before I would let Tina see me without my protective armour…. cotton and wool fibers woven into the thick, dark fabric of the clothes I had begun to favor increasingly after I had escaped my captors (this was another line of demarcation of my life before and after the ordeal… before – light, open, colorful, life-giving articles of wear… and, after – dark, thick, impenetrable garments)… we talked.  Or rather, I talked and Tina listened… for many long days and nights… as the story unfolded of my six month-long ordeal at the hands of two psychopaths… one of whom had been my boyfriend in high school.

~~**~~

November 1, 2011 PSU Campus, Starbucks

I put the coffee cup down on the table and look over at Alice… watching her… waiting for her reaction.

“Wait a minute, Ronnie… where are we?  This isn’t the beginning.  I thought you were going to start with that last summer in St. Louis, before you went off to college?  Shouldn’t you start at the beginning?”

Tina’s baby sister Alice, now my sister-in-law, and I have ensconced ourselves in the two big over-stuffed armchairs in the back corner of the Montgomery Street Starbucks, on the PSU campus.  Alice is attending Portland State University and has an apartment on campus, in the same tower complex as the coffee shop we are sitting in, as a matter of fact.  But… and not for the first time since the rains began this fall, the heat is out in Alice’s apartment, so we have availed ourselves of Tomas’ hospitality for the afternoon.

One of Alice’s classes is Creative Writing, and I promised to help her out with an assignment.  The best way I know… is to tell a story.  Alice already knows most of what I am going to tell her today; and yet, I am still a little nervous at the prospect of baring my soul further, a little fearful that Alice will think different of me after this.  We have grown so close this last year and a half though; I think this is the right thing to do.  And, as Dr. Kay is fond of saying… “… Fear will not take you anywhere.”

“You’re right, Alice… this isn’t the beginning… it’s somewhere in the middle.  These are just the first words that came to me.   I can’t start at the beginning, dear.  If I do that, I will never finish the story, because I know what happens.  I need… I have to… I have to get back to that place… that time… the only way I know how.  You know me… a straight line between two points is never how this girl works.”  I raise the steaming cappuccino to my mouth, smiling over the top, at my sister-in-law.

“Okay, I can understand that… I do the same thing sometimes.  So, this session with Dr. Kay that you were just telling me about… this was an important one, wasn’t it?”  I nod my head a little, and Alice continues.  “I thought so; otherwise, you would not have started with it.”  Alice is silent for a moment, I can’t quite see the thought behind her eyes… and then, she continues.  “You said you had been seeing Dr. Kay for about six months, so this must have been around the time that you and my sister…”  Alice’s voice trails off with the realization… our eyes meet… the secret is passed.  We look at each other for several moments… knowledge and understanding passing between us.

“Yes… that was… umm… that was a breakthrough… yes, a very important time in our lives.  I had a horrible nightmare that night… the worst in a long time… it brought my demons back… but, it also brought to me the realization that my demons had never really gone away… I had only succeeded, partially as it turned out, in hiding them.  I had hidden them in the only place I knew… the only place I was intimate enough with that I thought I would be safe from… where no one else could see them.  I hid them deep inside me.  I thought that if I pushed them far enough back, I would be safe.

And, I would have been safe, except for one thing… I fell in love with your sister.  Tina gave me back my life… she showed me that I could love again… and more importantly, she showed me that I could be loved… that I was loved.”

We sit in silence for a minute, both of us thinking about what I just said, and then Alice gets out of her chair and steps over to mine.  She leans down to me, still seated… her arms outstretched.  We hug… a little awkwardly, but a hug, nonetheless.  When Alice hugs, you can really feel the love… she is a wonderful, giving person.

“You looked like you needed a hug, honey.”  Alice sits back down and picks up her cup. “What was it like… the first time you met Tina?”

“It’s funny you should mention that, sweetie… I was just thinking the same thing.  I think about that day every time I am in an airport… every time I hear ‘our song’.”  I lean forward a little in my chair… Alice does the same.  I close my eyes for a moment… my mind going back to that day.

~~**~~

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About VeronicaThePajamaThief

Bio: Veronica Marie Lewis-Shaw Born in Lisboa, Portugal to parents of Portuguese/Russian descent, Veronica Marie and her wife, Christina Anne, call the Pacific Northwest home, where the couple are “still very much on honeymoon!” When not teaching and finishing her own studies for a Masters in Sociology, Veronica writes fiction, primarily noir - "I love dark!". Her long fascination with noir fiction prompted Veronica to try her own hand at writing fiction several years ago. She has been published in Pulp Metal Magazine, The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology, the horror anthology 100 Horrors, from Cruentus Libri Press, Nightfalls: an End of the World anthology, Drunk On The Moon 2: A Roman Dalton anthology and Gloves Off: Near To the Knuckle's debut anthology. Veronica has also appeared in the inaugural issue of Literary Orphans magazine and her horror/urban fantasy short story SOUL TAKER was recently chosen for inclusion in Lily Childs' february femmes fatales, an urban fantasy/horror anthology. Veronica counts among her mentors - Carole A Parker, Lily Childs, Paul D Brazill, Richard Godwin, Joyce Juzwik and Vicki Abelson. She is currently working on the third draft of her first novel – a memoir – as well the second draft of her first fiction novel, a fantasy novel and the publication of a collection of her flash fiction and short stories. Lily's The Feardom and Vicki Abelson's Women Who Write Facebook writing group have both been a tremendous source of support and inspiration for Veronica. Veronica’s writings can be found athttp://veronicathepajamathief.blogspot.com/ andhttp://veronicathepajamathiefwritespoetry.blogspot.com/, andhttps://veronicathepajamathief.wordpress.com/
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2 Responses to THE STORY OF A GIRL – EXCERPT – 2011 NANOWRIMO COMPETITION

  1. Lily Childs says:

    Oh, honey If you’ve not done any editing then this is rolling out beautifully. I like how you take the reader back and forth – terrifying us with what happened and the fear of giving in to what will happen. As this appears to be completely autobiographical I’m nervous about being ‘allowed’ to see through your window to the intimacy of every relationship you discuss here; it makes for very edgy reading and I admire your bravery.

    I only found one line that might need rethinking: “an ordeal that most people could not begin to comprehend what it was like”. It stumbles a little, but I’m sure it’ll smooth itself out at the end.

    Good luck, keep at it – you’re doing great!

    Lily/x

  2. Oh, Lily… thank you so much! Your comments are greatly appreciated!

    When I first started giving serious thought to writing this, and believe me… that made for some sleepless nights; I realized that the only it was going to work for me was in flashback… going back and forth. Of course, the danger here is in losing the reader. We shall see how it goes. Like I told Alice… if I started at the beginning and just wrote through everything as it happened, chronologically… I would never finish.

    There was a little editing done here… still more to do, though. I can’t seem to keep my ‘self-editing monkey’ down, which is going to bite me in the bum later if I’m not careful. It is a bad habit, but try as I might, I can’t help going back and doing some editing. Of all the stories I have written, only a very small handful made it completely through the first draft without me going back and ‘tweaking’ something.

    Yeah… I am having trouble with that line too. Dr. Kay said something really profound… at least, I thought it was at the time… but now I can’t seem to catch exactly how she said it. I’ll work it out. 🙂

    Thank you so much for reading this, Lily!

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