3
“You Can Call Me Daddy”
Not only did Mary promise to help me and to become my friend, but she kept her word about everything she promised. Besides being my daily companion, Mary helped me lose weight. She taught me how to dress better and to look sexy around boys; she built up my self-esteem so that when—and only when—I was around her, I felt good about myself.
In a world where I’d been able to count on nobody but myself, Mary was reliable. And she won over my mother because she would say to her, “I’m going to take Kat to . . . What time do you want her back?”
No matter what time my mother set, Mary always had me back on time and usually a little early.
We walked everywhere in the area. “This will help you lose weight,” she said. “We’ll walk a lot every day.”
I especially remember the day we stopped in the middle of a bridge near our hotel. “I’m your friend, Kat.”
“I know, and I love you.”
“I’ll always be your friend.” She touched my arm. “You can talk to me about anything.”
I believed her—that was part of the grooming process, for me to trust her without questioning.
I couldn’t get used to the idea that Mary had chosen me to be her friend and wanted to spend time—a lot of time—with me and only me.
However, that day something odd happened while we were walking through a residential area. She pointed to a ranch-style house, which was much like the others in that area. “That’s where my boyfriend, John, lives.”
She explained that he was one of her boyfriends and that I would soon have boyfriends who loved me, just like she did. Before I could ask any questions, she grabbed my arm, and we crossed the street and stood in front of the man’s house.
She cautioned me to be quiet as we walked right up to the window of his bedroom. He was a grown man, maybe forty years old, stretched out on the bed sleeping. He was naked.
“Oh—he’s—he’s not wearing—”
“That’s just the way John likes to sleep,” she said. “I know you’re not used to seeing naked men, but it’s all right.”
As we moved away, she said, “I love him. And one day we’ll be together.”
“If he’s your boyfriend and you love each other, why can’t you be together?”
“Yes, we are in love.” Mary smiled before she added, “and one day you’ll have boyfriends like John.”
I listened as she told me how much she loved him. Then she told me some of the sexual things they did together.
“But if he’s your boyfriend, why aren’t you married?”
“His mother. She doesn’t approve of our being together.”
Mary continued to talk, but something bothered me—it just didn’t feel right. I wondered why his mother wouldn’t approve. “Why doesn’t she like you? I think you’re wonderful, and if you’re in love, you should be together.” To my thirteen-year-old mind, it seemed only natural that if you love someone you should be married. I felt angry that my special friend couldn’t be with her true love.
Mary must have seen I was upset because she hugged me and said, “It’s all right. It will work out for us. But for tonight, I’m going over there to give him pleasure.”
“What does that mean?”
Mary explained that she would sneak into his house and they would do things in his bed. I still didn’t understand—it sounded too grown-up for me.
We started walking and soon the mood turned light again, and I stopped thinking about the naked man on the bed. Mary walked me back to the hotel. “I’m going to leave you and go back to his house alone,” she said, “and take care of my man.”
Mary and I went out during the daytime while Mom was at work.
My mom was extremely naïve; however, she did ask questions, such as “Where are you going? What are you going to do? When will you be back?” At first, Mom was skeptical. She reminded me that Mary was grown and I was a child—and like any thirteen-year-old girl, I resented being called a child. Around Mary, I felt grown-up. She let me wear her shoes, borrow her things, and that made me feel as if I were beginning to look and act like her, my role model, idol, and hero.
Soon after our friendship began, Mary took me down to the pool. She pointed toward one of the most handsome men I’d ever seen. “I work for him,” she said, although she didn’t say anything more about her job.
I was so focused on his kindness toward his children and his beautiful blue eyes and good looks that I didn’t think to ask what she did. The man was tall, blond, and broad-shouldered. He was in the pool, playing with his two little children. He threw them up in the air, caught them, and dropped them into the pool. As I watched, I wished I had a dad like him who thought spending time with me was important.
When Mary introduced us, he smiled, held out his hand, and said, “My name is Chet, but you can call me Daddy.”
He introduced me to his three-year-old son, and the girl was a year younger. Even though my own dad was crazy and abusive, I knew all dads weren’t like that. He was playing with his kids, so in my mind he was a good man. He turned away from us to play with the children again. I liked the casual way he related to his kids.
He’s the kind of daddy I wish I had.
That particular morning I was hungry, and as often happened, Mom didn’t have any money for snacks during the day. While Daddy was playing with his kids, I asked Mary if I could have a dollar to buy taco chips. Early in our friendship, she encouraged me to ask for money when I wanted a snack.
Instead of handing me a dollar as she’d always done, she said just loud enough for Chet to hear, “He’ll give you anything you want.” She nudged me toward him. “Just ask.”
“Could I—could I have a dollar?” I asked him, reluctantly. Even though he was a stranger, he seemed like a nice, friendly man. Besides, my best friend told me I could trust him.
“Of course.” He reached over to his wallet that was at the edge of the pool and pulled out a dollar bill. “Here,” he said.
I reached for the money, but he held on to the dollar for a few seconds and smiled. Before he let go, he said, “But one day you’ll owe me.”
“What does that mean?”
“Don’t worry, Kat. You’ll know when that day comes,” Daddy called and smiled again. “And I don’t want you to say no.” He winked and said, “You owe me now.” Even though he seemed to be teasing, the words didn’t sound quite right to me. Daddy turned back to his waiting kids and played with them again.
As Mary and I walked away, I asked, “What did he mean by that?”
“Stop worrying, he’s just playing.” Mary laughed, but the laugh sounded different than it usually did. Maybe a nervous laugh—I’m not sure. I was confused because I could tell he was serious. Perhaps that’s why I never forgot his words.
Daddy must have seen the worried expression on my face, because he waved and smiled again at me, the way he did when he played with his children.
As I ate the chips, I didn’t ask Mary again about what he meant, but something didn’t feel right. However, I reminded myself, I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to do. My immature, thirteen-year-old mind couldn’t imagine what he would want me to do anyway. It was only one dollar. How would he want me to pay that back?
Even though I didn’t understand what he meant then, the day came when I would.
Mary was grooming me, of course, but I didn’t realize what was happening. The process took about a month. By then, I had absolutely no doubt that Mary loved me and would do anything for me.
Most mornings we continued to meet at the pool. She sat beside me and we chatted about my family and what I wanted to do when I grew up.
One day she asked, “Do you like boys?”
I was a little embarrassed but admitted that I did, although I didn’t talk about any boy in particular.
“What kind of boys do you like?”
We talked about several boys I knew, but I also told her I never got the attention of the boys I really liked.
“I’ll help you with that,” she said and patted my arm.
The next day she introduced me to a boy named Ralph who used to do flips at the pool to get the attention of the young girls in the hotel. Mary and I talked about him because the girls thought he was cute.
Ralph was handsome and muscular, and I thought he was probably Mary’s age. He had a warm, disarming smile. Sometimes he looked at me and winked.
“Ralph likes you,” Mary said the following day.
“He doesn’t!” No older boy had ever liked me before, so her words stunned and excited me, but they also scared me a little.
“Yes, he does, and he wants to spend time with you.” She smiled before she said softly, “Would you be interested? He says he wants to talk to you. Alone.”
I hadn’t been alone with boys before. I was intimidated. “What will he think of me? I probably don’t know how to do the things he wants me to do. You know, the kinds of things you know how to do.”
“There’s nothing to worry about,” she said. “He’s a nice boy. And don’t forget how many other girls would like to be alone with him. But he wants you.”
Although flattered by her words, I hesitated. After Mary pressured me several times, I finally said yes.
“That’s wonderful.” Mary hugged me. “You’ll like him. I’ll talk to Ralph today and arrange for you to meet.”
The next day, Mary and I walked up one floor and down the hallway. Ralph was waiting outside one of the rooms. An older Haitian maid, who worked at the hotel, stood in front of the door. Mary handed her money (I didn’t see how much it was), and the woman turned and unlocked the door. Ralph gestured for me to go inside.
To my surprise, the room was dark and I could see nothing. Just then, the laughing voices of a boy and a girl made me know we weren’t alone. As my eyes adjusted to the dark, I saw two double beds. Kids (probably teens) were in the far one. Their laughing and giggling made it seem they were having fun. They paid no attention to us.
Ralph winked at me and took my hand. Gently, he led me to the vacant bed and motioned for me to lie down. I obeyed him, but I felt uncomfortable. He sat on the edge of the bed and talked to me in a soft, quiet voice. “Have you ever been with anyone before?”
“No,” I said. I knew what he meant, and I was scared. I could feel my body stiffen as he stroked my arm.
He leaned closer and I could smell alcohol on his breath. “Everything is going to be all right,” he said in a soothing voice. He stroked my hair and his hands slowly moved down my body.
I began to cry.
“Have you ever had sex before?”
“No! No!” I said, and my crying grew louder. I couldn’t help myself and I became even more frightened.
Ralph was gentle, although I sensed he didn’t really want to be in the room with me. “It’s okay,” he said, then took my hand and helped me out of the bed. He opened the door where Mary and the maid waited outside.
“She’s a virgin,” he said, and his voice sounded cold and indifferent.
Mary smiled, obviously pleased to hear those words. They talked softly, their backs to me so I couldn’t hear.
But I was out of the room and that made me feel better. I was relieved because I didn’t have to do anything.
At the time, I had no way of knowing that they wanted to make sure I was a virgin before they did anything else. Even though I didn’t know it, in those days selling a virgin to a man was worth several hundred dollars. Mary wanted to make sure I was who I said I was. Apparently, my fear and crying convinced Ralph.
He waved good-bye and walked down the hall, away from us.
Mary put her arm around my shoulders. “It’s all right, Kat.” She smiled, and her voice sounded like she was still my friend. “Oh, there’s one thing you can do for me.” Her blue eyes focused on me and I felt warm and loved.
“Anything.”
“I want us to play a game—a fun game. In this game, you’re going to be the bride, and there is a man in the hotel who wants to be a daddy to you. And you are the only one he wants.”
“Only you.”
Once again, I felt chosen. I was extremely naïve and didn’t even think about the difference between being a bride and his being my daddy. Mary had tapped into my great need for a kind, loving male figure in my life.
“It will be a lot of fun, I promise you. We’ll do it tomorrow. And when we meet, I want you to wear a white dress. Do you own a white one?”
I nodded. “Well, sort of.” I described it to her and said it was made of denim and didn’t have much shape to it.
“That’s fine. You’ll have fun.”
Seconds later, Mary’s mood changed to fun-loving friend once again when she asked, “Hey, want to get something to eat?”
In retrospect and with maturity, I now understand what was going on. She wanted to make me feel secure again about being with her. As she had before, Mary laughed when I said something funny.
“I’m sorry for the terrible life you’ve had. I want to be your friend—and you can trust me.”
I did trust her. Why wouldn’t I? She liked me.
Mary acted sorry for what had happened with Ralph. She didn’t apologize, but she kept telling me that everything was going to be all right and for me not to worry.
Mary talked enthusiastically about our new game. “Meet me in the stairwell tomorrow afternoon around five o’clock, and then we’ll have fun.” She could probably see the trust and vulnerability on my face. Just before she left me, however, she said, “But you can’t tell your mom. All right?”
“Because it’s a special game and we wouldn’t want to ruin the surprise for her when you come home with all of the new stuff you’re going to get.”
“But why can’t I tell her?”
“Your mom won’t understand, and it’s a little complicated to explain,” Mary said as she slipped her arm around my waist. “You can tell her you’re going to be with me for the evening.”
“Okay, as long as I can tell her later. Will that be all right?” I asked.
“Yes, that will be all right then.”
I went back to the room and was excited about the game we were going to play. I was going to meet a man who wanted to be a father to me. It sounded wonderful because I would finally have a father—a man who would love me. Because he loved me, of course he would be nice to me, take me shopping, and I could do the things other kids got to do. I would be normal.
The next morning when Mom saw me getting dressed up, I told her I was going to spend the day with Mary.
“I hope you’ll have fun together,” were her last words to me.
We didn’t have much money, and I had only the one white dress. Mom had bought it for me months earlier so I could look good when I went to a special event with my father.
After Mom left, I put on her blush and other makeup and fixed my hair with her curling iron. I wanted to look pretty for Mary’s sake and to impress the nice daddy-man.
That morning I had no idea that the game could result in my mother never seeing me again.