Chapter 118: Mimi XVI—Personal Demons
Debbie had been almost in a fit of hysteria when Michele had seen her for lunch on Saturday. Michele, for herself, had been amused by it all. How the hell did Mike Modano get himself traded here of all places? She knew he must have been behind it somehow. Now poor Debbie was terrified, thinking that Modano would be here and again pressing unwanted attentions upon her. Michele had assured her that they would have a nice talk with him to clear things up and that of course she being the captain’s wife, would Mike really dream of disgracing himself within his brand new team?
That had helped calm Debbie down somewhat and they had enjoyed the rest of their lunch. Still, Michele wasn’t so sure if she believed herself. After all, Mike had been unstable enough to send those gift baskets. What wouldn’t he stop at? She was sure the team would have a talk with him. It would be interesting but not so much that they couldn’t handle it.
Think of it as amusement! Michele thought cheerfully to herself as she felt Patrick’s mouth kiss her cheek. He had an early practice that morning and he thought she was still asleep she supposed as he got dressed and left. She couldn’t wait for him to come back so she could learn each and every detail of how it went. How would Joe remain in the dark about this?
Then of course, she remembered the other part of the trade. Kirk Muller? How could Pierre have asked for him? He knew how Patrick disliked him and... well he didn’t know it all of course. Even Coco didn’t know all of that. How could she blame Pierre for anything when he didn’t know. It was years ago, wasn’t it? Almost ten years perhaps. How could so much time have passed?
Still years heal everything doesn’t it? Michele reasoned to herself. They were all older and different. And above all, this wasn’t Montreal, and Joe was the captain and would be for a long time yet. Even Muller wouldn’t dare say a word against how Joe ran a team, and no one ran a team better than Joe did. Joe kept everything safe... boring... but safe.
Michele closed her eyes trying to drop back to sleep before the little ones came hopping into the room and then Muller’s black eyes flashed into her brain and she sat up quickly, her pulse racing. The phone was ringing. Almost contemplating yanking it out of the wall, angry at whomever was calling at six in the morning, Michele picked it up.
"Hello?" she said with an irritated yawn.
"Michele?"
She recognized the voice and a sweat prickled on her skin. "What do you want?" she asked quietly, thinking that perhaps she was dreaming.
"Look I’m sorry to bother you, we just got in you see and I wanted to be able to catch you at home, I’m sorry to wake you up," he said.
"What do you want," she repeated in a stronger voice.
"I need to talk to you," he said. "It’s really important, can I see you sometime today?"
"That important?" she said.
"Look I’m staying in the A---- M--- Hotel, room 121, just please say you’ll drop by sometime, it won’t take but a few minutes." he said in a persuasive voice.
Michele sighed loudly and thought about it before she answered. "I’m dropping the children off at a birthday party," she said. "I can come over around three o’clock, is good enough?"
Michele kissed the children as they went scampering into The Kennedy house where the Kennedy twins were having the party. She watched them disappear into their house and then Mrs. Kennedy came out, waving at her. "Mimi! Come on in!"
"Oooh," Michele said, selecting her brightest voice. "Non I cannot! I have some things to do; I will pick them up later. Have fun and don’t let them eat too much junk food!"
"But it’s a party!" Mrs. Kennedy laughed, "That’s all I have!"
Michele smiled as big as she could and waved at her as she drove away, her cheeks relaxing painfully. Her chest was hurting again, her ankle tickling. All points in her body were just uncomfortable as she drove into Denver looking for the hotel. Why of all things would he want to see her? When had they ever had any type of real acquaintance with each other outside of casual knowledge? She knew that she didn’t want to see him. Her gut told her that it would be better if she didn’t.
She stood outside of the hotel room, staring at the number for a moment before she knocked on the door.
"Who is it?" she knew that voice.
"Room service," she snapped. "Now open up."
The door opened and Michele met eyes with Chelios he didn’t say anything. "Who is it?" Michele said crossing her arms. "I said three did I not? And it is three."
"Yeah," Chris said quietly. "It’s three."
Michele frowned looking at him. He looked shy and sheepish, as far as she knew he had never looked like that to anyone, especially to her. She glanced around the inside of the hotel room and didn’t see anyone. "Kirk’s out with the guys," Chelios said as if he knew what she was looking for.
"Kirk?" Michele repeated feeling a nervous twinge.
"Maltby," Chelios said. "My roommate."
"Oh," Michele said. "What did you want to tell me?" She wanted to be gone, especially now that she knew he was alone.
"Come in, please," Chris said stepping back into the room.
Michele stepped back into the hallway and shook her head, his eyes looked sincere enough but she still didn’t want to. "Non," she said. "Just tell me what you want."
Chelios shoved his hands in his pockets and looked at the carpet. "Look you don’t have to be scared of me, there’s nothing I would do OK?" And then he looked back up at her, an earnest nod of his head.
Michele saw the reason in that. What would he do? So she stepped into the room, making sure to keep the doorway behind her. Chris gave her a small smile, an almost sad one. He then reached into his duffel bag and pulled out a small box, toying with it in his hands. "Hey, so you’re not worried about what they would think, you coming up to my hotel room?"
"They?" Michele asked wrinkling her brow.
"You know, rumors and all that stuff, that’s how they get started." he said.
Michele shook her head before she understood what he meant. "Oh!" she exclaimed. "Non, non, this is not Montreal. I am not recognized outside of my circle of friends, is OK. Patrick is the only one who gets attention here, and John Elway’s wife, not me."
Chelios nodded and again tossed that small box back and forth in his dark hands. He seemed to be nervous, the way he was fidgeting. And he really wouldn’t make eye contact with her. "That’s good," he said again looking away from her. "I don’t really want to cause any trouble for you."
Michele swallowed and put her hands on her hips, she was becoming impatient more than anything. She still couldn’t figure out what he wanted and she hated being in the dark. "What is it?" she said, trying to hold the edge out of her voice.
"My wife told me to, she said... she said it would make me feel better... You know to get it out of my system," Chelios finally said, looking at his hands and the box. "She’s tired of my temper lately, and nightmares."
"Nightmares?" Michele whispered, knowing now she shouldn’t have come.
"Yeah, I’ve never had them before," Chris said, still not looking at her. "I don’t usually dream, but they’ve been real bad lately and she’s sick of it... and the other night, I..."
He stopped talking and swallowed hard, like men do when they’re refusing to cry. Michele didn’t want any part of this and she turned to walk out of the room. Chris was quick to brush past her and close the door, leaning his large body against it. He smelled heavily of cologne and whisky, a combination that Michele feared.
"What did you do?" she asked, willing herself not to panic, hating herself for coming. Keep him talking....
"I woke up, and she was clawing me... I had her in my arms and I was screaming at her, and then I woke up," he said, looking past her. "I could have hurt her because of a stupid fucking nightmare!"
It was getting hard to breathe, and Michele didn’t know what to do only that she didn’t want to hear anymore of this. She had no time for this!
"And," Chris continued. "And I refuse to be responsible for hurting her like that, she told me that whatever it was I better get rid of it, before she just takes the kids and leaves. And that’s what I’m going to do."
Instinctively, Michele put a hand to her throat, not liking the sound of this.
"I’m getting rid of it now!" Chris said and he took a step forward. Michele remained frozen as he pulled the top of the little box and reached in it with his fingers, pulling it out... holding it out to her.
"Oh..." Michele breathed frozen shock slicing through her veins. "Oh... God... No.."
"Take it!" Chris said, "Just take it!"
Michele shook her head, her heart hammering inside her skull, tears burning her eyes. Every point on her skin felt as if it were bleeding, or perhaps she had broken into a sweat. Chris finally made eye contact with her, his eyes dark and almost wild now as if he were a little unhinged as well. His huge, dry hand grabbed hers and pushed the cold stones of the bracelet into her fingers. Michele made a fist with the bracelet still in her palm and she squeezed it wanting it to just crumble into dust and fall away.
"There," Chris said in a voice like a whisper. "See I’m giving it back now. I shouldn’t have kept it for so long. I know that, but I just couldn’t look at it, I couldn’t bring myself to give it to you without remembering... and it belongs to you, Patrick gave it to you right? Well it’s back in your hand now and everything will be alright..."
"Alright?" Michele exclaimed feeling her voice strangled, high, and almost alien. "Everything will be alright?!"
She tore her gaze away from Chris and opened her palm, looking down at the stones glittering on the bracelet and the pendant off the clasp. Sapphires, diamonds and rubies, only now she was making the connection, bleu, blanc, et rouge. Something bigger than her always bigger than her, a monster looming over her head...
"How dare you!" she cried and she slapped Chris hard on the face making him stagger away from her, his hand on his cheek, his eyes hurt. She could walk out now, the door was free but she didn’t. She was livid and she couldn’t just walk out. "You don’t deserve peace!" She screamed and she slapped him again on the face and balling her fists battering at his chest. Her fists were so small and his chest, like any hockey player’s was thick and muscled. More than likely he wasn’t feeling a thing from her but she didn’t care. "You don’t deserve closure thinking that a bracelet will make everything alright you stupid..." She began to slap him again in the face and he kept backing away from her not making a sound until finally he did make a noise like a sob and he grabbed both of her wrists in his hand, closing it.
"Stop it!" he yelled in French. "Goddammit that hurts! I can hurt too!"
"I want you to hurt!" Michele screamed back not caring who heard her, hoping everyone would hear her. "I want you to hurt!" And she concentrated on putting her weight into a kick onto his shin.
"Fucking BITCH!" Chris howled in pain and he swung her around, easily lifting her up into the air and flinging her onto the bed where he pinned her. He was so large and heavy, so much bigger than her that Michele knew he had her now, she could barely breathe under him much less defend herself. She exhaled loudly in frustration.
"I’m trying to do that right thing!" Chris said, his grip hurting her wrists as he held them down, his lips at her ear. She was drowned in the heavy scent all over him. She was drowning... She could feel his black hair tickling at her cheeks. "I’m giving it back to you I thought you would be grateful!"
"Let go of me!" Michele screamed, enjoying the sound of her voice. "Now!"
"Stop screaming!" he hissed, "The whole building will hear you! Calm down!"
She inhaled; glaring hard at him, preparing herself for the mother of all screams, suddenly understanding the tyrannical power Jana enjoyed when the little girl had a tantrum. Before she could let it out though, Chris clamped a hand over her mouth, still pinning down her wrists with his other hand. She let out a growl that turned into a moan.
"Please stop it," he said in a whisper. "I am not hurting you, now please when I take my hand off, please don’t scream again."
Michele sighed and relaxed, indicating her calmness to him. Her throat hurt too much to scream anymore anyway, and her head was beginning to hurt. "Why now?" she whispered, feeling more tears sliding down the sides of her face, collecting in her hair and her ears. "Why now? I was perfectly fine."
"Fine?" Chris exclaimed. "Fine! If you were fine you wouldn’t have just thrown a tantrum like you just did on me once you saw the damn thing. None of us are fine!"
"Oooh!" Michele growled. "I tell you if you hadn’t have shown it to me I could have gone on..."
"I heard what you did to Patrick," Chris interrupted her, startling her. "Where did you bite him hmm? Where? And it was in your sleep wasn’t it?"
Michele’s eyes went straight to the small slice of a white scar on Chris’s throat, it was hardly visible now, hidden almost by the line of his chin.
"If I let you go now," Chris said quietly, "Will you promise to stop slapping me?"
Michele looked back at him. How dare he be calm now! "No," she said. "I will hit you as long as I’m free."
Chris sighed and looked away, looking at nothing she supposed. He was staring at the wall, looking back into time maybe. "Were you dreaming?" he asked.
"Yes," Michele replied staring again at his neck. "I was."
"And you bit him where?"
Michele lifted her body as much as she could underneath his weight and she placed her lips over the scar on his throat. "Here," she whispered.
"I knew it," Chelios said in a gasp and Michele could feel him harden underneath his pants. How pliable men were, she thought and she rubbed her leg up the outside of his thigh, she could feel his breath stop.
"You don’t need to do that," Chris whispered, his hands tightening on her wrists.
"You don’t want to do that."
"I don’t," Michele whispered pulling her other leg over his waist, "And you don’t want me to, neither of us want to do it."
"Oh God," he moaned as she nipped her teeth over the scar. "Don’t!"
"Then let me go," she hissed.
"Stop hitting me."
"Non, I won’t."
"Jesus!" he gasped and jumped off her body. Michele rolled onto her side and curled up into a fetal position, closing her eyes and hating him. "Why do you do that? Why have you always felt you need to do that?!"
"You let me go didn’t you?" she snapped. "It was a necessity!"
"No!" Chelios cried. "You’ve always been like that! Flaunting yourself like that as long as I’ve known you! Stop playing some little victim and cop up to the things you’re fucking responsible for and the things that you brought upon..."
"Don’t you dare lay everything upon me again!" Michele yelled back flying forward and swinging at him again. Chelios was ready for her and he caught her fist and twisted her arm around in front of her, squeezing her to his body to hold her still. "Always try to make me feel guilty! Always you men you STUPID MEN!" Gritting her teeth she kicked at him again missed and Chris had her on the bed all over again.
"Stop it!" he yelled, drowning her in hot, liqoured breath, droplets of spit hitting her face.
"No!" she yelled. "God above he was a baby! A BABY!" She closed her eyes, inhaled, and then said in a quivering, shaking whisper. "You’re forty now? Eh? Think about it, all of us we were babies, little ones. And he was RAPING him! RAPE!"
"No!" Chris said in a moan and Michele opened her eyes seeing that his were closed.
"Look at me, open your eyes!" His eyes opened and she wriggled a hand loose, sliding it on his smooth dark cheek. "Open your eyes to it, Chris. I loved him so much and he tells me the things he should not, the things all of you ignored. Are you telling me it was Mario’s RIGHT to RAPE him? Are you telling me it was his duty to be raped? And I am supposed to shut up, spread my legs for him and pretend I do not hear this? Is that it?"
"No," Chris said, tears starting in his eyes, "No you don’t understand we have the..."
"Damn The Code!" she snarled. "Damn it! I followed your code I should have called the police the moment he told me and when... I could have called them and that was the right thing to do! Instead I listen to him, I play by his rules and I am condemned and sneered upon, I am blamed because all I did was try to protect the boy I loved from that SWINE! All because of a code of silence that it so precious? That is what you blame me for, that is what you try to make me feel guilty for? He was raping a baby Chris can you not understand this?"
"Mimi I...."
"Don’t call me that!" Michele snapped. And she felt the tears starting to drop upon her face, his hot tears. "Do any of you even understand what rape is? Sometimes I don’t think I do, I admit I am just as distorted as all of you. I don’t even know who I really am sometimes. I don’t know where morals begin, where badness starts or where it’s born. I am no judge."
"No you’re not!" Chris said, fighting to keep sobs from his throat. "You’re not my judge!"
"All I know," she said. "Is that I do not deserve all of the blame for this, for your nightmares, for your need for closure. That is all I know and you thrust it upon me, all of you! Telling me I should have known better. Known better than what? Trying to defend us?"
Chris sobbed finally and dropped his face down upon her throat, the way a little boy would. Force of habit had Michele run her hand up into his hair, letting him sob, like any little boy. "Sometimes I think," she said quietly, "That it would be so much more peaceful for all of you if women just didn’t exist and you were creatures that belonged to each other. In a strange, disrupted world, that’s where you would be happy."
"Oh God," Chris sighed and he rolled off her, covering his face with his hands.
Michele sat up, noticing the bracelet glinting on the floor. She picked it up, the feel of it still alien in her hand and she tossed it onto Chris. "Keep it, look at it, give it to your wife, choke on it, die with it. I don’t care, I never want to see that again."
She rapidly fanned herself with her hand as she left the hotel room stomping out of it. Coming up the hallway she recognized Kirk Maltby and she quickly looked away from him trying to push by him.
"Hey!" he said brightly. "I know you! Aren’t you..."
"Piss off!" she snapped.
Maltby stopped her, holding onto her arm his eyes trying to place her. He wasn’t really holding her that tightly but Michele didn’t care. She slapped him, she might as well. "French bitch!" Maltby exclaimed. "What the hell was that for?!"
"Let go!" Michele yelled. "I am sick of you!"
"Let the lady go pal!"
Both Michele and Maltby looked up and saw a blue uniformed cop standing in the hallway his hand on the holster of his gun.
"Woah," Maltby said. "Look I just ran into her right now and...."
"Bullshit," the cop said. "Just got a call from someone on this floor saying some woman was screaming rape. Step away from her."
Michele sighed and put her hands over her eyes, realizing the mess this could turn out to be. "Non, non," she said. "I am alright, he was doing nothing yes?"
"Yeah," Maltby said brightly, "What she said!"
"Ma’am step over to me," the cop said.
Michele sighed, composed herself and looked at the cop with a smile, walking to him. "Listen, is alright! Just an argument and not even with this man, he was only kind enough to ask how I was. He needs no trouble. Let us forget this yes?"
"You were yelling rape ma’am," the cop said, "We can’t just forget that."
"Rape, rape," Michele said thickening her accent. "Is that the wrong word yes? I am mad and I yell wrong words sometimes, I get confused nes pas? S’il vous plait let us forget this, I am alright now, everything is."
"Well," the cop said relaxing a bit and standing loose. "I won’t feel better unless I can walk you out of here."
"Mon Dieu!" Michele exclaimed, falling into character and feeling it too. "Such a wonderful boy, of course, how nice of you."
The little ones didn’t sense anything wrong as they hopped into the car, chattering and squealing about how fun the party was. Michele cooed to them and asked questions she didn’t hear the answers to. It was Jonathan who seemed worried, and he placed his hand on hers briefly as she was driving. "Mom are you OK?" he asked.
"Of course!" Michele said in her brightest voice. "I need a nap badly though, am just sleepy."
"Oh," Jonathan said. "Yeah I guess I’m tired too."
Patrick was snacking in the kitchen when they came home, Gigi dancing around the table begging for scraps. "Look!" Patrick laughed. "She can catch them!" And then he began throwing pieces of ham into the air for the puppy to catch to the delight of the children.
"That’s nice," Michele said quietly before she dragged her feet up to the bedroom. She was now feeling pain all over her muscles, in her wrists, her legs, everywhere she had struggled against Chelios. She was exhausted and she wanted a bath... no a shower.
She slid off her coat, dropped it on the floor, and kicked off her shoes. Not even having enough strength to stand up again she just sat on the bed and rolled off her nylon stockings.
"What’s wrong?" she heard Patrick’s voice as he came into the room, shutting the door behind him.
"Nothing," she whispered.
"I can smell him on you," Patrick replied.
Michele’s stomach turned. "What?"
"I can smell him, who is it?" he said standing in front of her lifting her chin with his fingers. "I can smell him all over you."
"On me," Michele whispered, looking up at him, "But not in me. He was never in me. He was never."
"What happened?" he asked leaning over, kissing her and Michele wrapped her arms around him, squeezing her fingers over his hard back.
"I need you so badly right now," she whispered grabbing one of his hands and pressing it on her thigh and sliding it up her skirt. "Just tell me you need me."
"I need you," he whispered and slid onto her. He was actually soft with her; she could see the confusion and curiosity in his eyes and the softness of his kisses. She needed him to be gentle and he was but still it hurt. There was something raw and bleeding in her, whether it was her body or her soul or now it was both. Seeing that bracelet, seeing him again, it all had ripped her apart. She closed her eyes for the brevity of the encounter, not exactly feeling anything stronger than just wanting his body with her, and wanting him to sleep next to her.
It would be an evil day tomorrow, Michele thought staring out at the setting sun as she lay in bed, Patrick snoring. The feel of him was still slick and warm between her thighs and she still hadn’t taken a shower. She had just been laying here, her clothes tangled around her. It will be an evil day.
There was a light rapping on the door and Jonathan came slinking in. "Mom?" he whispered, tiptoeing to the bed. "You OK?"
"Mm-hmm," she whispered. "I’ll make some dinner soon."
She could see the frown on the boy’s face, he crawled onto the bed, and she hugged him to her. Jana and Frederick soon followed, bringing a grunt out of Patrick as they cuddled onto his body. And then Gigi yipped and launched herself on as well.
Michele closed her eyes and thought to herself. Tomorrow will be an evil day, just remember this moment here and now.
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