One Mother of a Porn Star: Prison of Lies

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The Ice Man Cometh

The day of reckoning for Roland had arrived. I met Board Certified Family Law Specialist, Kevin Freeman, in the court hallway. He briefed me on his plan. I will ask full reimbursement for your dental bills; Roland must pay half of all house expenses and payments, until you are able to sell the property. Your part of the house settlement will be three-quarters, since you put the most money down to purchase the house and paid all the bills and house payments, after Roland was laid off. He would like to speak with you alone, prior to going before Judge Hawkins.

That request caught me by surprise. I have nothing to say to Roland anymore.

Debbie, if you refuse, Roland’s attorney might try to make a big deal about it, if you decline his request. I will stay within 15 feet of you, since I’m certain that being near him again will bring back your horrible memories of that night.

I heaved a long sigh. Alright.

Kevin walked down the hall and spoke with Roland and his attorney. Then, he followed Roland partway down the hall and waited on Roland to approach me. Instantly, he sat too close to me. I moved away. He pushed closer. I held up my palm. Don’t get that close to me.

Babe, I want to apologize for what I did to you. Please forgive me. I want you back. I’ve always loved you. It was the alcohol that night, not me.

I am through with you. I’m lucky to be alive today, no thanks to you.

Without you, my life means nothing.

I bit my tongue. "With you, I have no chance of survival."

He teared up and begged, I will do anything you want me to do, if only you will agree. I’ll even continue to see Betty.

You’re just afraid you might go to jail. No one treats a loved one the way you beat me up and tried to kill me. We are over!

Suddenly, his Little Monster returned. He bellowed and spewed hate at me. "I want my fucking bed back, bitch. No other guy is going to sleep on my bed."

Like hell. You gave me that bed. It stays with me.

He jumped to his feet. We’ll see about that.

Go right ahead. That’s just another reason why I won’t be with you one more day. Your word means zero! A gift is a gift.

He stormed back to his attorney. Kevin followed him. I watched from a distance, as Roland’s arms began to flail. His voice grew louder. Soon, Kevin returned with a paper that Roland’s attorney handed him. He sat beside me. I need to ask you about Roland’s claims against you.

What? I did nothing to him. My face flushed in anger.

Even so, I must read his list of claims and hear your answers, so I can give them to Judge Hawkins.

Let’s hear them.

Roland claims you attacked him. He was merely defending himself.

Bull crap!

Did you try to hit him in the head with his liquor bottle?

I dumped out his remaining alcohol, so that he couldn’t get any drunker and put it in the sink. That’s when he grabbed my wrists the first time.

He claims you staged the whole thing to get out of the relationship.

Sure, I did. I beat myself up, spread blood everywhere in our kitchen, cut my own wrist, yanked the phone out of the wall and tore up my own teeth. He’s absolutely nuts.

"He claims you are the only one who was ever bothered by his drinking."

What a joke. The judge can ask my psychotherapist about that. He saw Betty with his son several times. Betty heard a lot about his family issues, besides his drinking. There’s his hot temper; he waved a gun around and his daughter called 911. He went into nasty tirades to demean me, and probably did that to his ex-wife and two children.

Roland said that the only reason you bled was because you have thin skin.

As I told you, ‘I was wearing three thin, metal bracelets. When he grabbed my right wrist, each bracelet cut me deep. Roland is a lifetime golfer with extremely strong hands. He’s taller and outweighs me by a lot.

Kevin shrugged. None of that surprises me.

I handed him my final dental bills for a total of $423. Plus, I gave him the copy of a bill to repair our garage door that Roland damaged to the tune of $280.

He shook his head. He’s quite a gem. I have copies of the police department’s pictures of all the bruises he gave you and your photos of the blood spatters scattered around your kitchen. Roland forgets, I also have a copy of your 911 phone call for help. We can hear him screaming at you through the locked door when he yells, ‘I’m going to kill you, bitch! Open this door!’ He’ll be lucky if he doesn’t get jail time or public service.

That won’t do him any good. He needs to attend A.A. meetings every day.

Judge Hawkins can definitely arrange that for a limited amount of time. You stay here, while I go speak with the judge. Kevin approached Roland and his attorney. They quickly entered the courtroom doorway.

I glanced at my watch. It was two p.m. I reached in my purse and found a folded piece of paper I had forgotten about. It was a short, typed message from my brother explaining the God Bag he had mailed me a few years ago. As I waited for the verdict on Roland, I reread what Matt sent to me that day and thought about its meaning.

GOD BAG - "As children bring their broken toys, with tears, for us to mend; I brought my broken dreams to God, because He was my friend.

But, then instead of leaving Him, in peace to work alone, I hung around and tried to help, with ways that were my own.

At last, I snatched them back and cried, How can You be so slow?

My child, He said, What could I do? You never did let go!

I bowed my head, when I heard footsteps. I looked up to see Kevin. Debbie, it is all settled. Roland agreed to refund you for your dental bills, the garage door bill, everything you were out financially while he was unemployed. He must also pay half of all your monthly taxes and utilities, until your home is sold.

Thank goodness. Now I can move on with my life and put this disappointment and pain behind me. I stood to shake his hand.

One more thing. Roland cannot come within 50 yards of you or your home for six months, per Judge Hawkins.

I smiled, That will give me some peace of mind.

He asked that you make a list of anything of his in your home. Once you have that list, gather the items, and have someone bring the list and items to me on a pre-scheduled day. He must sign the list as accurate. I will return his items to him. Later, you can drop by to pick up the signed paper.

Perfect. That won’t take me very long. Again, thank you for your help.

He gave me a wink, turned and left.

In ten days, I had scoured our home for items that belonged to Roland. I found five golf club items, a set of dishes, one portable radio, two suitcases, a skillet, binoculars, caller ID, one case of cassette tapes, two boxes of gun shells, his mother’s mirror and two metal cabinets. Then, I opened the drawers on his side of our bed, and I chuckled out loud. My humor was at play. I added to my list, four X-rated movies that he bought and five different vibrators. I smiled, as I placed those items inside a big trash bag. He told me that Helen would never watch an X-rated movie, much less allow the use of a vibrator. I hope she sees the list! After all, she did get Roland fired to cause us huge financial problems and then tried to get him back. Well, she can keep his sorry ass!

When I had everything boxed and placed in our two-car garage, I phoned Stacy and asked him to help me deliver them to Kevin’s office. As we left Kevin, Stacy looked at me with a puzzled gaze. What was in that black trash bag?

Read items 13 to 18 on this copy that Roland had to sign in front of my Family Law Attorney as accurate. I handed him my list. He read it and burst into laughter. That’ll learn him. Stacy returned my list with a chuckle.

I hope Helen sees it. I’d love to be a fly on the wall, if he has to explain those items to her. I bet he’ll destroy that list.

Who cares about him, Mom? Time for you to move on with your life.

I hugged Stacy. "Thank you for being there for me through this nightmare. I never heard a word from Crystal, and I know you called and told her what happened."

Yeah, I did.

A few days passed. It was time for me to drive to Mother’s house, check on it, cancel newspapers and have the grass mowed, so it would look as if someone was actually living there. During the drive, my mind kept reliving Roland’s assault; our happy times in high school; our special dates; our intimate times together at the lake or a drive-in. I have always heard it said, Be careful what you wish for, you just might get it. I can certainly vouch for that. Even though we lived together over three years, I knew I could never marry him.

Later, I drove back toward my home, but first, I decided to stop by Harry’s nursing home to check on him. The instant I entered the lobby, the lady at the desk said, Our administrator, Patsy Green, needs to speak to you about Mr. Harry.

I felt numb. What has Harry done now? I can’t find another nursing home that will touch him. I sat on a hallway bench and waited for Patsy to appear. Within minutes, she sat beside me. I have to tell you what Mr. Harry has done.

I closed my eyes. Let’s hear it.

Now, please understand that these things happen in nursing homes all the time.

Is he hurt? Did he hurt someone?

No. He’s fine, as far as someone with Alzheimer’s and Sun-Downer’s Disease can be. She paused for a moment. Mr. Harry and Mrs. Thomas were found sitting on her bed, stark naked and fondling each other.

I was not prepared to hear those words. I began to weep non-stop. She patted my hand and tried to console me. Finally, my pain-filled voice uttered, I recently buried my mother, because she tried to take care of Harry and it caused her to die of a heart attack. It’s unbearable to hear that he is doing this. It’s more than I can take.

She nodded. I completely understand.

He was never nice to me, except when he was drunk. He was a hateful, miserable old man. My mom would still be alive today, if only she had told me what he was doing to her. Would you speak to her family and ask them to consider moving her to another nursing home? Had I been the one who walked in and found them, I don’t know if I could have handled it.

Yes, of course, I understand. I will definitely approach her family about your request.

I dried my tear-stained cheeks and closed my eyes, as I spoke to her. I promised Mother I would take care of Harry, if she passed first. I intend to keep that promise, no matter what. A week later, I returned to check on Harry. Patsy left her office and approached me, before I could enter his room. Mrs. Thomas was moved to another nursing home yesterday.

Thank God!

Please remember, Mr. Harry may find another lady friend here and take a liking to her. It happens more frequently than I can tell you.

I understand. It was just that I had barely buried my mom. Thank you for speaking to them for me.

We peered into Harry’s room. He was fast asleep, so I drove to work.

When I entered the side door at work, Lori motioned for me to see her in the lunchroom. Debbie, you just missed a call from the nursing home. Here is their phone number. She handed me a note.

I just left there. I hope he hasn’t found another girlfriend.

She looked shocked. What did you say?

I’ll tell you later. I hustled to the lunchroom phone and called Patsy.

Ms. Austin, I am afraid Mr. Harry fell and hurt his hip.

Is it broke?

No, but it is bruised. We put him back to bed and have a large icepack on it.

Do I need to do anything?

No ma’am. I just wanted to let you know. He’s already asleep.

Thank you for calling me.

I hung up, motioned for Lori to follow me to the ladies room and filled her in on Harry’s escapade and his fall.

One day, I received a flyer in the mail from the screenwriting club I had joined months ago. It was an invitation