Karis New Life Pt 02

A Rose Called Miracle

Book #4, Part 2

Author's Note: This is the fourth and final Book of 'A Rose Called Miracle'. This is fiction. All characters in intimate situations are over 18. Any resemblance to real people, organizations, businesses, or events is simply a coincidence. As with the first three books, it is made much more interesting by people of different races, religions, and sexual preferences...And I still believe the world would be a better place if Douravia really existed.

KARI'S NEW LIFE

**No matter how hard the past, you can always begin again." Buddha

*****

I told Dr. Landwood the whole story: abandoned at birth, foster care neglect, kidnapped and sold to a whorehouse, forced to clean up the mess when girls were killed or maimed, sold to be tortured to death, escape, three years of virtual homelessness. Then that first feeling of joy when meeting Brett, begging to be enslaved, signing the draconian slave contract while knowing Brett wouldn't really do those things, the magnificence of Beethoven, surrendering my virginity to Brett, spanking and massive orgasms, restraint and denial, tattoos and piercing, marching naked in the house, the gathering, my reliance on restraint to sleep. Then my growing adoration of Brett. My first job, multiple attacks, the idyllic private island, the loss of our house. Meeting Valerie, getting married, adopting Valerie. Life is absolutely perfect. Then Thanksgiving at the Hellsens. The spur-of-the-moment decision to get our DNA tested because one woman said Val and I looked alike. The hideous results, INCEST! I had unknowingly married my full brother; we had jointly adopted our half-sister. The devastating decision to leave because I was selfish and couldn't bear to live with Brett platonically. The bus to this city. The transient hotel and the hands and money in my pants at the restaurant. My attempts to hide my whereabouts. Harassment by prospective employers...until Ms. Quinlan took me in.

I was completely wrung out and had to stop and catch my breath.

"Well," Dr. Landwood paused and chewed the end of her pen, "How are you feeling, right now, don't think, tell me how you feel"

"Relieved. Lighter. I'm surprised I'm not crying; I've done so much of that the last 7 or so months."

I fell silent. Dr. Landwood looked at a notebook she'd pulled from somewhere.

Dr. Landwood's phone chirped, "Damn, I thought it was turned off." She picked it up, "Dr. Landwood. Hey. We're doing really well. Give us another hour, then you can come back. Okay, give Mazie and the kids my love." She put away the phone...after shutting it off. "I apologize for the interruption. That was Dora; seeing how we're getting along."

"I think we're doing pretty well. I'm still trying to recognize how you broke through and got me talking; when I've been so closed for so long."

"The key is exactly what you said, I just gave a little nudge to get you talking. I said very little. I think you've reached a point where you're ready to deal productively with your issues. Honestly, from Dora's description of your behavior yesterday, I expected a blubbering, crying, shell of a woman. Whatever happened yesterday, after the TV breakdown, you've suddenly moved beyond that trauma. What do you think happened?"

"On the TV I saw that miserable bitch congresswoman publicly tormenting and harassing my ex whom I still love with all my heart. Then I opened that manila envelope...did you see it on the corner of my desk? Anyway, it contained the annulment decree, the adoption renunciation decree, notice of a restraining order against me, and a fairly harsh letter from Brett and Valerie's lawyer. That was my lowest point...I think if I'd read that at my apartment I'd probably be dead now. Ms. Quinlan's presence saved me. But after that, hidden in the envelope, I found a letter from my daughter...I mean my sister. Hang on, I'll let you read it." I ran to my desk and grabbed the envelope and returned to Dr. Landwood. I handed her the letter. She put on a pair of glasses and read.

"What an incredible girl. You say she is your sister, adopted daughter?"

"Yeah. Our experiences in life are remarkably similar. We didn't find out about the blood relation until just after Thanksgiving last year when everything went to hell."

"And your ex and the congresswoman?"

"Yeah. I...Shit! I don't know. I freaked at what I saw on the TV. The man I loved...love...loved was being attacked in public. I was wrecked. Then Valerie's letter revealed the truth; those two are dating...even rumors of a wedding...I was humiliated at how much I cared...I had to...not forget him, that won't happen. But it's time for me to move on and make a life for myself."

"Good. Better than good. Does that explain the haircut and color?"

"I guess it made me feel free enough to do what I felt like. Brett is trying to move on. I can do the same. I don't have to worry about pleasing him anymore."

"Are you going to cry now?" The doctor asked me.

"No. I hurt, but no tears...at least not right now."

"You're a strong woman. I'd like to teach you a technique for the really tough times."

"Okay?"

"Tell me if I'm wrong. You still love your ex, Brett as a husband and lover, not as a brother."

"You're not wrong."

"And your worst times come when you think about bad things that have happened; losing him?"

"You're not wrong."

"Here's what I want you to do. Refuse to focus on the bad. When a bad memory starts to pull you down, force it away with a good memory."

"Can I think of Brett and Valerie?"

"Of course; but be careful about using Brett. It could easily morph from good to bad and dig your hole even deeper. You're apart but you'll never forget either one. Force a good memory. Ready?"

"Ready?"

"Tell me about the day you received your DNA results?"

Don't think, don't think, don't think, shit! I'm crying again. "Come on Kari! Good thoughts!" Dr. Landwood prompted me, "Your DNA?"

Deep breath, think of my wedding. My beautiful dress. The pleasure of Brett putting the ring on my finger. Francesca and Elizabeth smiling at me. "I'm okay." I opened my eyes and looked at the doctor. "I'm okay." I repeated.

"What did you think about?"

"Our wedding."

"Okay. What other happy things can you use?"

"Well...I love my tattoo. That makes me happy."

"A tattoo? I'll admit I didn't picture you with ink. May I see?"

"Sure." What the hell, the doctor already knew everything about me. I stood and stripped off my blouse and bra and turned my back to the doctor."

"Oh, my word. That's amazing. It looks so real."

"Thanks." I started to put my clothes back on.

"May I ask a question?" said the doctor. I nodded as I slipped my arms into my bra straps.

"Doesn't it bother you that you have to look in a mirror to see your tattoo?"

"Not at all. While we were designing it Brett and I..." Shit! I was on my way down the hole again. Wedding dress, smiles, Francesca and Elizabeth... Deep breath, "Sorry, I'm okay. What was I saying?"

"Tattoo design?"

"Right as...we...designed it...I originally wanted it on my left chest and breast, and then continue as a sleeve down my left arm. But...I...decided that it would be too much to look at every day for the rest of my life. So, I asked to have it on my back. That way I only look at it when I want to or need to."

"It is remarkably lifelike. If I had the slightest inclination to get a tattoo, which I don't, I'd want something like this. Thank you for showing me. Now, back to business. I think, after today, I'd like to see you at least twice a week for the next month. I want to help you develop and practice techniques to manage your reactions to your memories and stressors. One question: when you feel yourself 'going' how to you refer to it?"

"I think of it as 'falling down the rabbit hole'." Wedding dress, Wedding dress, Tropical Island, Cats Playing, playing nude in the water, Valerie laughing with Cats. I breathed deeply. "I'm sorry. I'm okay." I sighed.

"Yes, you are. You're doing fine. Relax now and take a few deep breaths."

I was buttoning my blouse, getting ready to tuck it in when Ms. Quinlan knocked and walked in. She stared, "Who the hell is this? Sheri, what...Noonan? Jesus! Your hair!" Then she recovered and looked amused, "Okay, what have you two been up to while I was out?"

"I was showing DOCTOR Landwood (I hoped she picked up my disapproval of her deception) my tattoos."

"You have ink? Really? Let's see then." I took a deep breath and unbuttoned my blouse and stripped off the bra again. "Whoa! Impressive." She turned to Dr. Landwood. "Did you two have a nice chat? Get to know each other?"

"We did. Kari definitely has issues; but nothing she can't deal with." The doctor answered.

"I hope you'll forgive me," Ms. Quinlan looked genuinely sheepish, "But I knew if I'd just made an appointment to go see Sheri in her office, you'd find a way to bail."

"You're probably right. When I realized what Dr. Landwood was up to...I had a couple seconds of anger...but I had already told her so much...I just went with it. I realized how fragile my mental state had become. Thank you for your concern. By the way, Dr. Landwood wants to see me at least several more times; when would be a good time for another of your kids to have a fever...or maybe a cough?"

She smiled. "Sheri?"

"I want to see you in three days so we can assess your progress and reinforce what you've learned. I also have some homework for you."

"Homework? After Ms. Quinlan works me to death all day?"

"I'm sure she does. She is such a heartless taskmaster!" She had a happy laugh. "I want you to begin researching the subject of relaxation, things like meditation, yoga, exercise, etc."

"When I first met...never mind...I wanted to try yoga, but I just was too busy ensuring that the house and I were perfect."

"Well, make time to do your homework. We'll talk more." The doctor left. Ms. Quinlan didn't pry; we each just got down to our day's work. We didn't have any outside appointments that day to distract us; but I was on the phone about 75% of my time making appointments for the next couple weeks.

I had to resort to my 'good memories' a couple times during the afternoon. The worst episode happened while I was researching relaxation. While browsing the web, I stumbled onto a news site. Their lead story was the bitch congresswoman's committee--accompanied by a photo of her and Brett dancing at some big D.C. charity gala. The caption stated they were engaged to marry in early September. I was deep down the hole before I was able to drag up the memory of Nora trying to get the crab off her paw. It took me a bit to catch my breath.

I left the office at 5:30. I called a rideshare and asked to go to the nearest mall to do some clothes shopping. I thanked the driver. I checked the mall map and made my way to a high-end woman's store. A very helpful clerk asked what I had in mind. "A few party dresses I can wear to get drunk and howl at the moon. I also need a very nice cocktail dress for a formal dinner.

The cocktail dress was easy; floor length, dark green, long-sleeved, high collar, backless. I fell in love with it as soon as I saw it. I pointed, "That."

"But we have several other..." She never finished.

"That's the one. Now, let's find my party dresses. Those I want slightly more 'conservative': lighter colors, lighter fabrics, flowers, full coverage front and back, and short skirts. I think it will be fun to show off my legs for once." Naturally, once I had the dresses, I had to find coordinating heels...and panties and bra...and a purse...and then some earrings.

My license arrived in eight days. I felt relieved to have it and know I could travel; I also felt like I'd permanently broken one more bond to my old life. The trip to New Orleans approached rapidly. We stayed very busy with showings and sales. I'd also had several more sessions with Dr. Landwood. During the first, she hit me hard by asking about the engagement of Brett and the congresswoman. I dropped into the hole so fast I almost lost it. "Think Kari, think." The doctor prodded as I fought my way out of the cloud. Then as soon as I told her I was alright. She hit me again by telling me how good she thought they looked together. I caught that attack faster. When she pushed my buttons for the third and last time, I had my memory of dancing and playing naked in the warm salt water all ready. I barely acknowledged the hole.

We discussed how I was progressing. I told her about a studio that offered a 6:00 AM Hatha Yoga class for beginners. The instructor, Zenovia, a Filipina, taught the basics including pranayama (breathing), meditation and asana (yoga poses). Plus, it was vigorous enough that I was getting some good exercise. I bought a good-quality mat, and a DVD of the routine so I could also practice at night in the apartment.

At our next session, Dr. Landwood moved her chair so she was almost uncomfortably close; I tried to move my seat back, but I was already against a wall. "Kari, I have one more question, after that we'll be done for this session." She looked me straight in the eyes. "When Brett marries the congresswoman, how will you feel?"

Oh Jesus, I felt like I'd been shot between the eyes. The rabbit hole opened wider than I'd ever seen; but Valerie, Nick, and Nora were right there for me. I concentrated on how hard I laughed the time Nora and Nick attacked Val's ankles. I got control. "Wow! You almost got me." I smiled. "As awful as I felt separating; I hoped my ex could move on and find love. I don't know if it's wishful thinking or a psychic vision, but I don't trust that woman. The few pictures I've seen of them...she looks happy...my ex looks...I don't know the word...but he looks unwell; and it's like his mind is somewhere else. I know better than anyone what love looks like on his face. This isn't it. Plus, he just plain looks like hell."

"I notice you avoid saying his name?"

"His name is a hard trigger. Saying 'him' or 'my ex' aren't as emotionally aggravating."

"One more question..."

"That's what you said last time."

"Your response surprised me; that doesn't happen very often. I saw your eyes go wide, your entire body sagged, and your pupils dilated. I honestly thought I'd have to catch you and intervene. But you snapped back immediately. I was very proud of you; but I want to know what memory you had ready?"

I told her about Val, Nick, Nora, and the attack. That's how we ended the session.

I was walking back to my apartment when I realized that I owned a DVD, but no DVD player. Smart. I changed direction and headed for the pawn shop; maybe I'd get lucky. I stepped inside, Ink Boy was there. "Good evening Ma'am. How can I help you?" He greeted me politely.

"Ink Boy, it's me," I spread my arms, "You know...Tattoo girl."

"Tattoo Girl?" He hustled out of his enclosure and approached me, "Holy...I didn't recognize you. You look amazing. Fuck! You look incredible. You're perfect, an absolute vision." Well, that made me feel 10 feet tall. He asked why I stopped by.

I told him I was looking for an inexpensive TV and DVD player and asked if he had anything. He showed me around and I found a smallish flat-screen TV and decent player. Ink Boy and I negotiated for a few minutes and agreed on a price: $100, a 10-minute show of the tattoo, and ink boy could touch with both hands--just the tattoo, I reminded him as I picked up a K-Bar knife from his display counter. It seemed like a fair deal.

"Hey Tattoo Girl? I have a counterproposal," He said as I loosened my bra.

"What is it?" My suspicions woke.

"Let me take a picture of your tattoo. From the back, obviously; don't show your face. If you want to hide that stunningly gorgeous hair you can."

"And? What's in it for me?"

"$25 and the TV and player are yours."

"$20. And you swear on the soul of your first-born child that no one else sees the picture unless I say so."

"Deal." We shook hands. "Hey! Wait a minute. Do you have security cameras running?"

He reached in his pocket and pulled out a remote. "Yes. But I swear I shut it off when you're here. I'm not an asshole like that."

"Okay." I relaxed, stepped into the small, secluded alcove, removed my blouse and bra, and started timing the 10 minutes. I did not cover my hair. When we finished. I realized I couldn't carry everything. "Hey Ink Boy, can I leave the player here and pick it up tomorrow afternoon?"

"Yeah, by the way, my name is Walter. Would you like me to carry it for you? Or give me your address and I'll deliver it?"

"Thanks Walter; not necessary. Tomorrow will be fine. Oh, I'm Kari by the way."

We shook hands again, I finished dressing and headed back to the apartment with the TV. I am not a whore; I am not a whore; I am not a whore. I hurried down the street. I heard running behind me, "Kari! Wait up!" It was Walter. "I wanted to give you this. I've been holding it for a couple weeks." He handed me a rolled-up magazine and took off back to his shop. I kept the roll tucked under my arm until I got back to my apartment.

The magazine turned out to be a copy of one of the tattoo industry's leading publications. I wasn't particularly interested but I thumbed through it...twice. The second time through, I saw an announcement I'd missed. It gave the dates and times for a tattoo industry convention to be held right here in our city. Underneath the dates was: 'Special Appearance by Artist Wanda Stiletto. Demonstrating a new photo-realistic tattoo technique.'

I idly wondered if Walter had made the connection between Wanda and me. I checked the dates: it started a week from Friday. I pulled out my phone and looked at the schedule. Wanda's presentation was scheduled for Saturday at 7:00 PM. My guess was that it was a featured event. I used the app on my phone to buy a ticket.

Over the next 10 days Ms. Quinlan and I did seven exhausting showings; but we got offers on all seven properties; sales agreements on four; and closed on two others that we'd been working for a couple months. It was a profitable time. To celebrate, Ms. Quinlan invited me to join her and Mazie for dinner at a nice local restaurant. I thought I had declined; but that evening they simply showed up at the apartment; came in; and told me to get dressed up because we WERE going out. "And you WILL have a good time!" Mazie ordered as we got into their car. "By the way, I absolutely adore your new hair. It is you. I can't imagine a more perfect look."

At the restaurant, a nice Italian place, the food was excellent. Ms. Quinlan and Mazie indulged in a couple bottles of wine. I had a nice veal chop and calamari followed by espresso and tiramisu. Ms. Quinlan's office coffee was much stronger than the espresso. After all the wine, my two dining companions were very happy, giggling, and decidedly impaired. I insisted on driving them home. They offered to let me sleep on their sofa for the night; but I thanked them for the wonderful evening and called for a rideshare back to the apartment.

I called for another rideshare on Saturday to get to the tattoo show. I got there early so that I could explore a little. The exhibitors catered mostly to the artists; but I found a jewelry display. I bought another pair of helix hoops and a couple of very large hoops for my earlobes. After I paid, I used their mirror to put in the new giant hoops. A couple months earlier, I'd made the decision to let my nipples, navel, nose and clit heal. Those piercings had not been my choice.

I also found a booth offering special tattoo skin moisturizers; I bought two bottles of the stuff along with a special applicator the sales guy promised could comfortably reach any spot on my back. As I paid, somebody came over the intercom announcing Wanda's presentation was about to begin. I wandered over to the entrance to the presentation stage and showed my ticket.