To The Unsung Heroes

I pull into a parking space of the small shopping center that houses my therapist’s office. The drab brown buildings loom before me as I sit in my car dreading the next hour of my life. Today’s the day. I’d been seeing this therapist to help with my stress levels and anxiety, PTSD as some would call it, from the various traumas in my life. My ‘98 Honda CRV’s dash says its five minutes until one. I guess I should head in now and get checked in. I get out of my car and walk toward office 2A. Opening the door, I enter the brightly lit reception area with its yellow walls and paintings of flowers and smiling people. I walk to the front desk where the perky receptionist, wearing her dark purple scrubs greets me with a bright smile.

“Do you have an appointment?”

“Yes, I have a one o’clock with Dr. Sims,” I answer.

“Name?”

“Belle Connor.”

“Birthday?”

“Twelve-Sixteen-Eighty-Nine.”

“Alright Miss Connor, have a seat and we will call you back shortly.” I don’t even make it to one of the plush seats in the waiting area before the door next to reception opens. “Belle Come on back,” Dr. Sims smiles at me. Anxiously, I follow the doctor down the long corridor to her office. My hands are trembling as the typical overwhelming panic starts to consume me. ‘Maybe I should turn around. I don’t think I can do this. I really hate talking to people. No, scratch that…. I hate people in general.’ My inner monologue keeps going as I choose the couch as my seat for today’s session as it’s the kind of couch that engulfs you. I love the comfort it brings as if I am being enveloped by a fluffy cloud.

I politely refuse the bottled water she offers as she opens her notepad and asks, “How are we feeling today?” Counting my breaths to calm my nerves, I glance around the room that has become so familiar to me. I focus on the bookshelves with psychology books, self-help books, and others that neatly line the shelves along with a few knick-knacks, that are against the far wall. There’s no desk in the room, just the comfy couch, a large leather chair, a smaller cloth chair and a coffee table in between.

I turn my attention to Dr. Sims. She’s wearing her signature pearls which compliment her forest green wool sweater and dark slacks. Judging by the smile lines on her face, anyone would guess that she is in her late thirties or maybe early forties.

“Today’s the day Dr. Sims.”

“And what day is that, Belle?”

“I’m going to tell you a story Dr. Sims. I need someone to know. I think.” I pause for a second unsure. “I’m ready for you to know.”

I took a few breaths again wishing the churning in my stomach would stop but knowing that it wouldn’t. Willing away the emotions that threatened to make telling my story impossible I began my tale.

“It was spring of 1991 in Landstuhl, Germany. In a suffocatingly small, two-bedroom apartment lived a small family of three. Laurence Wendt was a Sergeant for the US Army. He was short in stature, only five foot two inches, with green eyes and dark brown hair. He had a warm, approachable look about him. He was a simple, quiet man, but anyone would tell you he was devoted to his family. His wife Avril, however, was a polar opposite of Laurence. With her ice blue eyes, long dark black hair and at least five inches taller than Laurence, she didn’t have that inviting demeanor. Rather, she looked as though she would bite your head off should you dare speak to her. She was demanding and complicated, always greedy for more than Laurence could provide. The third member of this tiny family was Belle, their two-year old daughter. Belle was a small child for her age. She had her Pa’s green eyes and her momma’s dark hair though it wasn’t quite as black as her mothers, more like a dark chocolate color. To Laurence, Belle was his happy place with her adorable misspoken words and bright curious eyes. To Avril, she was her salvation. She was the one thing that got her through the day.

Belle’s room had barely enough space for her bed. A small closet held her few clothes, mostly oversized t-shirts. Her bed was clad in blue sheets, with a small, square, pink blanket. Her only toy, a red and yellow drum from Santa normally sat waiting for her attention, resting near the foot of the bed.

The living room wasn’t much bigger. It housed a donated loveseat that looked as though the seats would cave in at any moment and a tv that sat on a milk crate with a vhs player on the linoleum floor below it. The kitchen had the same compact feel with its limited cabinets, stove, and refrigerator. Regardless of the minimalistic lifestyle, the family made the best of what they had.

Everyday little Belle, in a worn shirt two sizes too big, would toddle over to her Pa when he arrived home from base after a long day in the motor pool. She’d climb in his lap and start singing gibberish, wanting Laurence to play the guitar along with her singing. Most days he would oblige and play “Old Macdonald”, or “Mary Had a Little Lamb” for her while she tried to sing along and dance to the vibration of the strings. Other times he would go straight for a bottle of whiskey. Regardless, every night Avril would call them to the table and every night Pa would rise from his chair uttering the words, “alright Peewee, it’s time for dinner.”

After dinner Belle would splash around in the tub as her mother washed her hair and bathed her before bedtime. Avril would sometimes put extra bubbles in the bath to watch her giggle and try to catch the white foam. These were happy days and the memories that helped Belle get through the next year of her life.

In the fall of 1991, the Sergeant and his family received orders to return to Fort Riley, Kansas. Their living situation improved exponentially as they moved into a house on base, which was probably twice the size of the flat in Germany. Belle’s room could swallow her old room and still fit three of her beds. Though the space looked rather empty with the meager belongings that Belle had, she played on the fresh new carpet, rolling back and forth across the room, something she wouldn’t have been able to do in any part of their former residence.

Shortly after returning stateside the Sergeant was informed he would be deploying overseas. Avril and Laurence started quarreling often. She would argue that there would be no one home to help her with their daughter and how there wouldn’t be enough money for them to survive on while he was gone. It was always the same two arguments; Belle and money. Avril would never be happy with what she had, she always wanted more than Laurence would ever be able to give.

Eventually it came time for Laurence to ship out and he gave his Belle a squeeze and said, “You be good Peewee.” She had no clue that she wouldn’t see her Pa again for a very long time.

With Laurence gone, Avril had the freedom to do as she pleased. She started hiring sitters to watch Belle at night so she could go to party with other military members that lived nearby. Avril started drinking regularly and began experimenting with drugs. The monthly support check that was supposed to go toward family necessities was being used for drugs and alcohol. At times she would forget to hire a sitter and Belle would be at home alone in her dark room crying from fear and hunger. The inevitable day arrived, and Avril and Belle were evicted from the house on base. Avril had been sleeping with another Sergeant who was being relocated to Florida, and she chose to go with him. She wrote a bad check for $10,000 dollars, packed a few things, and flew with Belle to Fort Myers, FL to be with her new beau.

Things did not last long between the new man and Avril as her drug use became more frequent. He eventually threw her out of his house with not so much as worry for either of their well-being. Avril and Belle found themselves living out of a run-down, pay by the hour motel. In order to feed her habits, and occasionally her daughter, Avril succumbed to the lure of easy money found in a life of prostitution. Her pimp, Jake, would sometimes watch her Belle for her while she worked and sometimes she had to sit in the bathroom while mommy made noise in the bedroom. Belle liked when she could sit with Jake. He let her watch cartoons and would give her cereal to eat.

One evening in the summer after Belle’s third birthday, one of Avril’s regulars was going to stay the night. Avril asked Jake if he could watch her daughter for the night, but he had other business to attend to. The regular, a tall man with tan skin, long black hair and dark eyes, said to Avril, “Let the kid stay. It’ll be fine.” Avril, just looking for enough money to get her next fix, told Belle, “You know where to go”. Belle went to the bathroom and sat next to the toilet with a paper doll she received as a gift from Jake and played quietly knowing that if she made any noise while mommy was working, she wouldn’t get any dinner that night. An hour or so later, Belle was told she could come out and get ready for bed. Belle climbed onto the couch bed since she knew that mommy liked using both beds in the room for work. The regular turned down the sheets in the second bed and told Belle, “How about you sleep here tonight kid?” Avril was in the process of getting high and wasn’t paying any attention as Belle happily climbed into the bed that was offered. The regular climbed in bed with Avril and turned on the old motel television.

About twenty minutes after Avril had passed out, the regular got out of bed to use the restroom. Belle was still awake and watched him, cautiously wondering if he would hit her for not being asleep like some of the other men mommy worked with. He came back in the room and walked over to the bed Belle was in.

“You should be asleep little one,” he told her. She closed her eyes and pretended to start snoring. The man chuckled and pulled the covers off her. “I’m going to sleep with you tonight,” he told her. She looked over at her mommy who was in a drug addled stupor, not knowing what to do.

The next few hours of Belle’s life went by without so much as a sound because the man told her if she screamed, he would hurt her mommy. Belle had so many questions going through her head as she tried to understand what was happening.

Why is this man hurting me? Why must I be quiet? Will he hurt mommy?

Belle laid there and cried soft, silent tears, careful to not upset the man. She didn’t want him to hurt her more. All she knew was that everything hurt. She just wanted him to stop. She wanted her mommy. Finally, the man stopped and left her alone in the bed and returned to bed with Avril. She turned to her side facing away from the mean man and cried herself to sleep.

Belle awoke the next morning to her mommy yelling at her, asking what she had done and why she had made the man leave. Belle just cried. Avril glanced over her and realized there was blood all over her shirt and the second bed. Realization hit Avril and she sank to the floor, sobbing. There was a knock at the door and Avril didn’t move. Belle heard Jake outside and went to let him in the room. Jake looked at Belle and cursed Avril. “She’s three,” he shouted. “How could you let someone do this to her?”

Avril apologized to him and cried “I don’t know what happened. I must’ve fallen asleep before he left.”

“That’s no excuse Avril,” Jake raged. Belle just sat on the edge of the bed as they went back and forth, Avril with her excuses and Jake yelling.

Jake ended up calling social services. It was a Monday morning when a man in a gray suit and white shirt came to the motel door. He didn’t look scary like most of the men who came to the door. Belle could see Jake down the hall watching the man talk to her mommy. The Gray Suit man turned his attention to Belle and asked her “Would you like to go get something to eat?” She looked up at her mommy who was crying. Avril whispered gently, “Go on princess.” Belle looked at the man who then said, “We will be right back.” She took his hand and walked to his car. He buckled her in, and she struggled to see out the window. She sat on her feet so she could look. She saw her mommy waving as the man drove her away.

The Gray Suit man was very nice. He took her to McDonald’s and got her a Happy Meal. She had never had a Happy Meal. She enjoyed the crunchy ovals that came out of the red square box. There was a playground at this McDonald’s too. The Gray Suit man let Belle play for a bit before he told her it was time to go home. Again, she sat on her feet in the car to see out the window. There were tall buildings and green trees and a lot of pretty houses with big yards and white driveways.

The Gray Suit man pulled into a driveway in front of a medium sized, sky-blue house. He told Belle, “I want you to meet someone.” She walked with the man to the door and a man with blonde hair and blue eyes and woman with brown hair and blue eyes opened the door. The Gray Suit man introduced her to the man and woman, “This is Belle.” Then he turned and got down to her level in a crouch and said, “Belle you are going to live here for a while.” Belle looked at him, not understanding, and said, “I want my mommy.” Tears welled up in her green, almond shaped eyes. The Gray Suit man said,” I know, but your mommy is very busy right now and so she needs you to be a good girl and live here for a bit.” Belle looked at each face that was watching her and pushed past the man and woman into the house. She didn’t know where she was running but she finally found a room with a bed and crawled under the bed.

She cried. She didn’t know where her mommy was. She didn’t know where she was. About ten minutes went by before she saw feet near the end of the bed. They were small feet, not big ones like big people have. Belle saw a girl in a pink shirt with yellow flowers on it get down on the floor. Belle had never been this close to someone near her age. The girl had brown eyes and blonde hair. She told Belle, “Don’t be afraid. You can come out now. Will you play with me?” Belle looked at her and decided she didn’t look like a mean person. She crawled out from under the bed and the girl introduced herself as Jane. Jane had no idea that she was the first child that Belle had ever encountered. This was the start of something new for Belle.”

“What happened after you were put in foster care?” Dr. Sims asked. I look at the doctor, grateful she didn’t ask about the traumatic event first.

“A lot of the next few years are a blur. I tend to remember the bad more than the good,” I explained. Dr. Sims makes a note on her legal pad then looks at me.

“You refer to your abuser as the regular, and the social services individual as the gray shirt man, can you elaborate on that?”

I hesitated.

“Belle, we can continue this next session if you don’t want to continue today.” I thought for a minute, debating if I should stop while I was ahead.

“No. If I don’t tell you everything now, I won’t feel up to telling you any of this at a later date.”

“Alright, whenever you are ready.”

“I don’t remember either man’s name. The man who hurt me,” I pause and take a breath, “I don’t know how else to refer to him…. His greasy dark hair and face haunt my nightmares to this day. He is ingrained in my memory. The gray suited man was my hero, my rescuer. I just see the images of them in my head.”

The doctor made a few more notes then changes the subject. ”What do you remember about the house the gray suited man brought you too?”

“I remember playing with Jane a lot when I was little. Until Mom and Dad got Charity and Damon, then I played with them.

“Tell me about Charity and Damon.”

“Charity and Damon were a brother and sister from a family with drug issues. Charity was two years younger than me, and Damon was my age, but a few months younger than me. I remember Mom and Dad crying some nights because they were worried they wouldn’t be able to keep Charity and Damon. They did finally win in court and got to keep them. I was five.”

“Had your foster parents completed your adoption yet?”

“No, not yet. My adoption didn’t go through until I was six. I recently found out that Laurence didn’t even fight for me. Avril at least tried to get clean and sober for a minute, but I guess it was just too hard. When she signed the papers, Laurence did too. I got to see her once after I was adopted. She died from an overdose. She wasn’t the best mom, but she did one good thing for me and that’s what I choose to remember about her. She gave me a second chance at life when she signed those papers”.

“I notice how you differentiate between Laurence and Avril and your new parents. You don’t think of Laurence and Avril as your mom and dad?”

“No. They may have brought me into this world, but they have never really been parents. Lynn and John are my parents. They are ones who raised me, loved me as their own and taught me wrong from right. Don’t get me wrong. I still love Laurence and I talk to him now and then, but he isn’t the one who taught me to ride a bike or took me down to the gas station for a candy bar after a good day at school. Everyone makes choices. He chose not to fight for me and to be honest, I still don’t know what to do with that information.”

“I see. Well, Belle, it looks like we are out of time for today, but I would like to hear more next week if you are feeling up to it.”

“Thank you, Dr. Sims. I will see you next week.”

* * *

To this day, I will never be able to thank the nameless Gray Suit man from social services who came and rescued me from the situation I was in. I don’t have a way to express how grateful I am to John and Lynn who made me a permanent part of their loving family. Even the therapist that sat with me and allowed me to pour out my life’s traumas every week for a year. These people are unsung heroes who helped give me a real chance at life and they deserve so much more than I will ever be able to put into words.