"It sounds like you feel stronger, Dave...like you feel more confident." Bonnie sat across from him, leaning forward in support of his expected response.

"It's still hurts like hell...I still cry every day." His eyes began to mist up. No longer assaulted daily by disgusting and horrific memories of his and his sister's abuse at their uncle's hands, Dave nevertheless still felt vulnerable. Bonnie had him writing in a journal all that he felt and sensed; not so much a documentation of the abuse, since the details didn't vary much now from memory to memory. Joan had joined them for a session before she returned home, and their time together was "productive."

"Go ahead, Dave. It's alright. Look at Joan. Is she judging you?" Dave lifted his head from his hands, his tears ran like a stream down his face and his nose was running. Bonnie handed him a box of tissues.

"Davey...come on, look at me." She actually reached over and grabbed his chin. "You tried, honey...you tried really hard, but he was too big,' he being their abusive uncle. "There was nothing you could have done." Joan had said this several times, but here, in Bonnie's office, Dave had started to feel the weight of guilt lift off his shoulders.

"I know," Dave said, choking back a sob. "But...he fucked you, god damn it! I should have stopped him...I wanted to." Dave's fists balled up in anger, which was good. There might be some who expected Dave to forgive his uncle. That's really not for them to say. It might be important in the long run for Dave to release any bitterness that he harbored toward his uncle, but then and there, anger was part of the process of healing. He was moving away from the misplaced guilt and shame; realizing that he had been powerless to stop his uncle from hurting them both.

“Dave, why don’t you share what you wrote in your journal about Karen?” Bonnie said, pointing to the notebook in his lap.

Without comment, Dave picked up the journal and began reading where he’d bookmarked the entry.

“I think I know why I …why Karen’s been around for so long.” He wiped the tears from his face with his sleeve, forgetting the box of tissue next to him on the table. “If…if I look nice, maybe he’ll leave Joan alone….maybe if he wants to…” Dave choked up, and stifled a sob. Karen had become much more than just a way to protect him and Joan, but he continued.

“I can remember him looking at us…trying to decide.” Karen was speaking now, her voice soft and tentative. “I stood up and said…take me…take me.” She wept and looked at Joan, who was crying now, almost as hard. Karen looked at her and said,

“He made it a contest….like we wanted him to…” Karen’s voice spoke Dave’s words.

“Like we wanted him to fuck us.” She wiped the tears from her face and said,

“I…didn’t….but he would have….Had to be me….” Dave and Karen together expressed the shame of it all; the irony being their uncle hurt Joan anyway.

“No….” Joan cried out. “Davey….you didn’t have to…he hurt you…” Both Joan and her brother had competed, almost like at the end of Spartacus, where the only way he could save his friend from a brutal death was by killing him quickly. The survivor; the chosen one would suffer the most, so Davey/Karen had been sacrificed to protect Joan.

“You….you….I know you didn’t want to….I know it wasn’t your fault.” Joan looked at her brother and felt so much guilt herself for being the one who was “rescued,” as if less abuse was any better than what her brother went through.

Karen composed herself enough to continue.

“I know why I hated Marta….” she cried but still read the journal.

“I hated myself…I was a fucking pervert…I hated the dresses and the clothes…what kind of man was I? How could I do that to myself?” She and Dave spoke as one. “Then I realized that I liked dressing…that I was just like everyone I ever made fun of….I hated myself…I still hate myself for what I did.” Dave looked at Joan, as if to plead for the forgiveness she had extended long ago.

“Honey….you did what you had to do….and it changed you.” She thought as she said it that it was not a good thing to say, and she quickly added. “But Karen is a good thing…there’s nothing wrong with her…there’s nothing wrong with you, Karen.” Now it was Joan who pled, but not on her own behalf, but for the part of her brother who had a premature, unhealthy birth.

“You are supposed to be here…it’s not just because of Uncle Dave,” she said, uttering that name for the first time since they began to talk. “I think Karen was going to be…she was already in the plans for you….”

Dave interrupted her.

“You don’t know that…she might as well just go away…you’re safe now…”

Joan leaned forward to embrace and comfort him, but Bonnie waved her off softly. That might seem almost callous, but in this process, perhaps, Joan was trying to be protective. A good and noble and sisterly act at another time, it was not helpful here, since Dave and Karen were gaining strength, and her hug at that moment might have caused them to lapse back into a helpless mode. She patted him on the leg instead and sat back slightly, but still maintaining eye contact.

“Oh, honey, no…don’t go away…I love you. You are…” Joan began to weep, worried about that part of her brother who had helped the little boy cope with the horror, but more than just help, she had become a part of her brother that needed to live; a sweet gentle part of the whole person, not sweeter or kinder, mind you, but different in a special way. It’s been said by this author concerning others, but I think it suits Karen especially.

“She was born for all the wrong reasons, but grew up for all the right ones.”

“I’m just getting to know you, sweetheart…please know that. You are just as important and precious to me as…as Dave is. Everything good about Dave includes you…you have to know that…you have to believe that. If it weren’t for Dave and Karen…you both saved me.”

Years of misplaced guilt don't fade away merely at the acknowledgement of innocence. Rather, it is a process to be walked out with the help of others; understanding family, friends, and people like Bonnie whose sole purpose in life was to help bring clarity, order and understanding to those brought up in the chaos of abuse.

"Was there really anything you could have done, Dave?" Bonnie said. More of a statement than a question, but he answered anyway.

"No...no.' His voice trailed off and he wept, only softer, his tears more out of relief than anything else.

Almost as if she had heard the suggestion that Bonnie only thought, Joan said,

"Dave...I am so proud of you. You took everything he threw at us and you still kept trying to fight him." She was remembering how Dave took a beating for her. That it failed to stop their uncle was almost irrelevant at this point. He needed to know that he did everything anyone could have done, and that it was no one's fault that their uncle succeeded in his evil. And as awkward and unfamiliar as it was for Joan, she had to relinquish own her role as Dave's protector.

"I am so blessed to have a brother like you. You are such a good man, Dave. If you hadn't been there to protect me, he would have killed me...He would have kept doing what he did. You saved me, Dave."

She went to hug him once again, glancing over at Bonnie who nodded. This hug was supportive, in a healthy way that began to restore them both, affirming them both, actually affirming all three, if you will. A small, tender beginning, but a beginning nonetheless.

You Raise Me Up — Words and Music by Brendan Graham and Rolf Lá¸vland of Secret Garden

For I will restore health to you, and your wounds I will heal, declares the LORD…
Jeremiah 30:17

Next — A Very, Merry Unbirthday!