I close the door and drop my running gear on a table nearby. Taking my seat on the piano bench like before, I look at her. She looks the same; everything's the same as last night. She stares intently at me and I stare back, waiting for her to begin.
"Hello, baby boy." She's using her physical voice now and as when I first heard it, it's soothing and beautiful. Nevertheless, I really resent her using that term with me; I've long ceased being either a baby or a boy. Well, I may be Anastasia's "baby" but that's totally different. I know that mothers always consider their children babies, even when they're grown, but this woman is no longer worthy of the privileges of motherhood.
"Please don't call me that," I tell her. She looks hurt but I don't care. Her feelings are nothing to me compared to what I suffered because of her.
"That's fine, Christian. Do you want to hear what I have to tell you?"
"Not really, but if I must, then let's get it over with. I've had almost two weeks of sleepless nights and I'd like it to end. I'm really only interested in my birth father's name. If you give me that, then I think our business here is done. Come to think of it, I can probably get that information from my real mom."
Again, the pained look appears in her face but she continues, "Yes, I'm sure she can provide you with the name but I know what he's been doing and I have some insight into what he might be planning."
"So? I'm sure my security team can find out that information as well." I've just made a decision and stand up so I can leave the room. "You know what? Fuck this shit. I don't need you and your miserable excuses. You've disrupted not only my life, I can live with that, but you've disrupted my family's life and I'm not going to live with that. Thanks for the warning. Now leave me alone."
I walk to the door and just as I'm about to reach for the handle, she's there, standing in front of me, blocking my way. What the fuck? Did I just get transported to one of the Twilight movies?
"What are you, a fucking vampire?" I shout at her. "Get out of my way!" Instead of the pained expression I expected she looks angry.
"No! You have to stay and listen to me. Please, Christian!"
"I don't have to listen to shit! LEAVE ME ALONE!" And as I go to reach around her for the door handle she does the last thing I'd expect – she places her right hand flat on my bare chest.
Several things happen almost at once. I'm paralyzed. Images come flooding into my brain, just like they did the last time she touched me, only worse, much much worse, ugly images that lead to mental terror. I don't just see the horrors of my early childhood, I also see my wife and son being hurt; they're crying and afraid, and I can't reach them.
My haphephobia, which never completely disappeared but is only somewhat under control thanks to Anastasia, rears its ugly head and I start to panic. Her hand is still pressed to my chest and it feels like a hot iron, burning into my core; I almost expect my skin to start sizzling. I see her face and while it's still physically beautiful, it's taken on a menacing look. Oh, god, please make it stop!
Somehow I manage to grab my head with my hands as if I'm trying to block out noise but the only noise is inside my head – my childhood self screaming, Ana crying, Teddy wailing.
Finally, she takes her hand away and I sink to the floor, spent and breathless. I'm gasping for air and muttering "no, no, no" over and over. I curl up in the fetal position and slowly bring my breathing under control. After what seems like ages, I'm calm enough to sit up and cross my legs into the lotus position. After sitting with my head hanging for what seems like an eternity, I look up and find her sitting in front of me, her legs out to her right and her left hand on the floor. The menacing look is gone from her face and she's watching me closely. When we've made eye contact, it looks like she relaxes; she leans back against the door and puts her hands in her lap.
She's much too close to me so I scramble backward until I feel a piano leg behind me. I lean against it and try to bring my heartrate down. As I look at her I realize that my anger with her has turned to loathing. Every submissive that I've whipped and flogged and humiliated passes before my eyes and every single face morphs into hers. This, this sorry excuse for a mother is the reason I'm fifty shades of fucked up.
"I'm sorry, Christian," she starts and I immediately stop her.
"Don't. Just don't. Tell me what you have to say and then just leave me the fuck alone."
"Okay, then please hear me out. I'm sorry for the images you saw but I have to make you understand the urgency. In spite of what you believe, I need to protect you and your family, especially my grandson. I can only do that by convincing you of the seriousness of the situation. And you need to know what happened in your early years."
I shake my head to clear it some more and give her a "come on" gesture with my hand. This has to stop and it looks like the only way that'll happen is by letting her have her say.
"As I started to tell you last night, you and I were living in a cheap basement apartment when our lives went from bad to worse. I'd gotten a promotion to shift manager at the restaurant and while it brought in a little more money, it meant less time to spend with you. I didn't worry too much since Lynn, our landlady, was taking good care of you. How I wish I'd left well enough alone.
"Between you and the job and looking in on my father, I had zero social life. Even if I'd had time for dating, the experience with your father left me soured on men. Then Cal started working on my shift. He started hitting on me almost from the beginning but I ignored it, much like when your father pursued me. Unlike your father, Cal seemed dangerous from the start. Tattoos weren't as popular then and he had a bunch. That and the fact that he rode a motorcycle gave him a 'bad boy' image.
"What wore me down was the fact that I had no wheels. He offered to give me a ride home one evening and I was just too tired to wait for the bus and too tired to argue with him. From that moment on, he gradually wormed his way into our lives.
"First it was the lifts home. In spite of his image, he was very sweet at first, at least to me. He never liked you being around. That should have been a warning sign for me but I was so lonely and overwhelmed I didn't see it. Thank God for Lynn, she was the grandmother you never had."
I roll my eyes at this but she's so absorbed in her narration she doesn't notice. My butt is starting to ache from sitting on the floor so I get up and move to one of the wing chairs near the sofa. She pauses to watch me and when I'm seated and looking at her, she continues.
"Long story short, he ended up moving in with us. Lynn and her husband, Joe, were not happy about that but since we paid the rent on time and were quiet, they really couldn't complain. Lynn tried to warn me that he was no good but stupidly, I didn't listen.
"Oh, god, there were so many warning signs and I refused to heed any of them. In spite of working at a minimum wage job, he always had weed on hand. He was always going to the phone booth on the corner to take calls. He also left the apartment at odd hours and wouldn't tell me where he was going. When I asked him, he'd tell me it was 'business.'
"I started smoking weed with him, mainly because he wore me down but also just to relax. Alcohol didn't sit well with me and with all the pressure I was under, it was the only way I could get to sleep sometimes. That was just one more turn in my downward spiral. Lynn and Joe objected to the stink of pot and threatened to call Children's Protective Services on us. Cal had had enough of them and finally we moved in the middle of the night.
"The place we moved to was worse than where we'd left but Cal said a business associate owed him favors so we weren't paying rent. It was here that I made the absolute worst mistake of my life. I let him talk me into trying crack."
She sighs and looks away. I think maybe this is the end of her story but then she stands and walks over to the sofa. After sitting down she resumes.
"I was hooked from the first hit. The high was like nothing I'd ever experienced. Looking back, it amazes me how quickly I became addicted. Nothing mattered except finding a way to score that next hit.
"By this time we'd both lost our jobs at the restaurant. He got caught stealing and was fired. Luckily they didn't press charges. I missed so many days without calling in that they told me not to come back. Then I learned that he wasn't owed any favors, he was the one who did the owing. He'd gotten involved with the 8 Mile crowd; they were the ones supplying him with the weed and crack. Even the apartment was theirs.
"I remember the night he suggested I 'earn my keep.' We didn't have any crack so I had a joint instead. When he said a friend was coming over, I thought they were just going to drink or play cards or something like that. I was sitting on the couch, playing with you. His 'friend' sat next to me and started stroking my hair. I looked at Cal like 'what the fuck?' and he said, 'It's okay, baby, this is just a favor for me.'
"Even in my pot-induced stupor I rebelled. Cal came over, slapped me, and said, 'Do what he wants, bitch.' I started crying and that set you off. He grabbed you off my lap and took you in the other room. His 'friend' then proceeded to essentially rape me. He was big and rough and when he was done I was sore and bleeding. As he zipped himself up, he reached into his pocket and threw me a rock. I smoked it immediately while he stood there and laughed. I didn't care, I just wanted to get rid of the pain and humiliation.
"When the john left, Cal came back into the living room. The sweet guy who'd hit on me at the restaurant was gone, permanently. The real Cal was a cold-hearted bastard who only wanted to make easy money and get high. I was his ticket to that.
"From that point on, my life was a living hell of rough painful sex and brief crack-induced highs. At first, I managed to get myself together enough to take care of you but by the end, I just didn't care anymore. My father died, alone and uncared for, because I stopped looking after him. I watched Cal abuse you and I did nothing. I couldn't see any way out and took what I thought was my only option. The overdose was no accident, Christian."
Her voice drops almost to a whisper as she says this. She lowers her eyes and shifts in her seat. As her story progresses I feel the anger growing inside of me. What a sorry excuse for a human being! I feel nothing but contempt for this, this ghost, apparition, whatever the fuck it is. I feel like I could whip her with all my strength and it would not in any way be an erotic act.
"You left me alone and starving," I growl at her.
"I know. I thought Cal would turn you over to CPS. I had no idea he would be gone so long. I thought of calling your father but I didn't know how to get in touch with him."
I've had enough. Her last statement brings me back to why I'm really here.
"So what is my sperm donor's name? I believe that's the point of all this."
"There's more to it than just his name, Christian, but I guess you'll have to see that for yourself. His birth name is Gary Lesourd – l-e-s-o-u-r-d – born in Detroit, Michigan in 1964. He uses aliases. Don't be fooled by what people tell you about him; he's dangerous and wily. I won't be visiting you every night but I will be here from time to time until you're out of danger."
She stands up and walks toward me. I'm afraid she'll touch me again so I stand up, too, and walk around to put the chair between us. We lock gazes and she reaches out her hand to me. I just continue to stare at her and slowly she starts to fade away until there's no one there. As I turn to look at the clock, I hear her voice – Be careful, Christian! I love you, baby boy. I snort at this; apparently she didn't love me as much as she loved cocaine.
It's almost five so I put on my running gear. Before leaving I give Taylor a call to relay the information I just got. I'd like him to do some preliminary research while I'm out but he insists on accompanying me. As we run I give him the whole story as I got it from the apparition.
When we're back at the house he goes to his office to see what he can find and I head to the kitchen for breakfast. Ana's there feeding the baby; she raises her eyebrows when she sees me. While I eat I tell her everything I heard. She's about to start asking questions when Taylor walks in the room.
"Sir? According to every source I've checked so far, Gary Lesourd's been dead for fifteen years."
I don't fucking believe this.