Two Feet Below

"And what are your feelings versus your suspicions towards her," she continued prodding. "Are you angry, and has that grown or subsided since yesterday?"

"I'm not there yet," I said.

"I'm worried about what else your brother has planned. It's the way my mind works, I guess. I compartmentalize very effectively. It's what makes me good at my current job. I do have some anger toward myself, though. Why didn't I see what he was doing? Why wasn't I able to protect the woman I love? When he made me swallow his disgusting fluids, did I gag?"

That's not anger, Marshall," she quickly replied. "That's grief mixed with feelings of inadequacy. When you start to feel those feelings, I want you to do me a favor. Can you do that?"

"What?" I asked her, not especially interested.

"When you feel like that, I want you to think about how many couples he did similar things to on a cruise ship over fourteen years before he was finally caught. That's all. Just to provide some perspective on your situation. It won't change his heinous actions or your own guilt about stopping him.

But over time, it will help you realize where to draw the lines of being a victim. That's what you are, Marshall: a victim, plain and simple."

I thought about that, just a little, as we walked back to Margaret's suite. A man in an expensive suit was waiting in the lobby, and when he saw us he rose and walked in our direction.

"Mr. Provost," Margaret greeted him, obviously knowing the man. "Is that what I think it is?"

He nodded slightly, turning his attention to me. "Mr. Stevens," he said, joylessly, "I wanted to look you in the eye, and express my humble apologies. I usually enjoy my work, but there are times, like these when I question humanity."

I didn't know what to say, and he seemed quite sincere, so I just nodded. He turned towards Margaret.

"I've consulted others in my firm, and some close colleagues," he began. "The specific instructions from my client were three videos, three days, one day apart. We cannot see any good reason to prolong this considering the level of pain it's intended to inflict. I'm giving you both of these last two now. One day isn't going to make any difference, and my client is deceased. I have no knowledge of the specific content, only a summary."

He turned to me again. "Any future contact between us, Mr. Stevens, will need to be done through an attorney of your choosing. Please do not reach out to me directly." He waited for me to respond, and when I did, he turned and walked away.

Margaret looked at me apprehensively.

"Let's get this over with," I said.

We sat again, in the living room of Margaret's suite - all the same, necessary implements surrounding me.

I was hoping I could keep the soup and sandwich down, but I didn't hold out much hope of that.

I took a long sip of the whiskey. It burned, but also felt good going down. Margaret pushed the clicker after inserting the DVD.

"Hello again, Marshall," he said. "I'm no longer among the living, but I sure hope you're still alive. I promise, just a little more shock and awe, and then we'll end with some good news."

The bastard thought I might commit suicide. Fat chance of that.

"Where to start?" he continued. "So by now, you understand my level of contempt for you. It wasn't until I knew I was terminal that I began to have second thoughts... no, not second, but other thoughts. I started to feel guilty, in the wake of my humanity. I felt guilt for the first time, about my actions towards you and all the others. It was... confusing and... difficult.

"Oh, well, that's a story for another time. See, I was so damned mad at you - jealous too. I knew I had the ability to cause further damage, but at the same time, I didn't want my Rebecca to share in your pain. That's when it hit me. I went and had a few medical tests done. Imagine my surprise... well, here let me show you."

The screen changed. Becca was in a strange house - probably his house. She was again just staring at the ceiling. She was staring at the ceiling because she was on her back, lying on his wooden dining table. She was nude from the waist down, including her feet. He was holding one in his hand, ghoulishly massaging it, as he stroked himself. This time, the camera wasn't in his hand, but it was close enough for him to capture the vile details. My wife was touching herself too. Not in any way I'd ever seen her do to herself. She was methodically rubbing her clitoris with one forefinger, with no extra effort or emotion.

Theodore was staring at her foot as he rubbed it. After a few minutes of watching the torture, Theodore moved forward, pushing the head of his cock into my wife, and I could tell he was coming inside her. She didn't seem to care one way or the other. His seventy-year-old cock was at that moment, the hardest it was going to get, even with a pill, and he used the opportunity to press further into her. The scene ended quickly. Theo's smirking mug replaced the scene that was destined to end my marriage.

"You see, Marshall," he said, smiling, "Those tests confirmed that I was still fertile. Fruitful. Potent. Certainly not like I once was, but still, even with a one in twelve chance I had to try. My sperm count was low, and my swimmers were, how shall we say, lazy. At least I could compete with you for my love, and wouldn't hurt her in the process. You'll understand that later.

"In case you're wondering," he kept at it. "I'd put Rebecca under almost every day, asking her if she made love to her husband the night before. When she answered in the affirmative, I gave her a morning-after pill, just to put us on even footing. Even footing..." he laughed a diabolical laugh out loud.

"Yes, I suppose it's time to put all my cards on the table." His laugh dissipated, as he became visibly uncomfortable. "Yes, I have a foot fetish. Yes, I have an anal fetish, but I would never do that to my Rebecca."

Something about him saying 'my' Rebecca, tipped me over the edge. I threw the bottle of whiskey at the TV and it exploded in sparks, and glass flew in every direction. Margaret flinched but said not a word. When my rage subsided, I looked at her. "I... I'm sorry." That's all I could say.

"I know," she nodded and said thoughtfully. "Come 'on, let's get some air." She reached for my hand; not something I expected her to do for a man who'd just lost it like that.

Together, we walked two blocks and stopped in a park I knew of, but had never spent time in. We both sat on a picnic table looking over the lake. Okay, it was a pond, not a lake, but it was still serene, and it was helping me to calm down.

My wife, after everything else, had likely been impregnated by a monster. I couldn't get the images of her playing with herself, in some way, preparing for him - preparing to accept his rotten seed. Margaret seemed to understand my dilemma.

"Are you thinking about him, or her?" she asked quietly.

"I don't understand how she could let... I don't... I can't. I mean she let him do that to her." I stumbled for the words.

"No, I don't see it like that," she told me. "You saw her face, the same as I did. You can't possibly believe she was aware..." I cut her off, angry again.

"Stop trying to placate me, damn it!" I yelled. "You saw her masturbating, same as him. You say you're here for me, but all I've heard from you so far is sticking up for the two of them."

"That's not what I'm doing at all," she raised her voice a bit. "Look, I don't think she was in a state of consciousness that we could reasonably say she knew what he was doing.

I can't accept that. She loves you. There are things that I find... Sorry, I'm getting ahead of myself. We can get through this. Let me help you."

She suddenly sounded unsure, and that refueled my rage. I wanted everyone to feel as I did. I wanted my pound of flesh. The entire thing was so well planned out. I was a victim by default - maybe the only one unaware.

"Why are you doing this Margaret?" I asked skeptically. "The truth?"

"Because, Marshall," she replied. "It's my nature. My brother knew me all too well. I realized early on, when I was dragged into this thing, that I would need to see it through. I couldn't have it dumped on me, and then just dump it on you and Rebecca in turn.

He used me, just like he did you.

He put almost unlimited resources in my lap for that purpose."

"So what if I just strangled you right here and now," I said, ignoring her statement, "and called it even? An eye for an eye. I stop his game, and I stop the inevitable outcome he hopes for."

"You could," she answered without emotion, "although I hope you don't. But I've prepared for that too. Some of my former colleagues are familiar with what's going on, although I kept your names from them. They know I'm with you now and what to do if I don't check in with them regularly each day."

When I didn't respond for several moments, she continued. "Marshall, right now we have to get through the rest of this. My brother has successfully and probably purposefully done this in such a way as to jumble and attack all five stages of grief simultaneously. I'm watching something I've only read about in textbooks play out right in front of me. But, I'm determined to see this through with you. I won't leave you until you're in a good place, I swear it. Then we can discuss how to approach your wife because she's going to have to experience all the same emotions. I expect it will be far more difficult on her, even if it's only pure guilt for allowing him to get away with what he did to her."

As I sat and contemplated, Margaret was on her phone, making some sort of arrangements with the hotel management to have the room cleaned. She gave instructions, which I only heard, but paid little attention to. When she was finished she came and sat down next to me at the table.

Staring off at the water, as I was, she asked, "Are you going to be okay to go back in a while, or should we just talk about what's already transpired?"

I contemplated that question. I didn't think I could take anymore. I wasn't sure what else there could be. He'd effectively taken everything from me, made me powerless to retaliate, and stripped me of my dignity. I decided to unburden myself of that to Margaret. She listened intently.

"I'm sure that's exactly how you feel right now." She said. "I'm equally sure it will take some time, no matter what else he has planned, for you to regain your sense of self - to feel normal. But I assure you, right now, you're feeling and acting exactly as most anyone else would under the circumstances. That makes you normal, by definition.

"Let's get some room service ordered," she continued after a short pause, "and see what else we're dealing with. I can't imagine he has anything left to cause more damage than has already been done."

As we walked back, I decided that I didn't want any more food. Well, not a full meal. I worried that there would be more videos of him with her, and I'd be back to leaning into a commode. There was a little Asian noodle carry-out on the way back, and while Margaret order a string bean chicken bowl, I just went for a side of fried rice.

We got off the elevator on her floor, but she steered me to a different room. She'd stopped at reception but I didn't notice why. I gave a questioning look.

"The previous room will need... some maintenance." She said that with a little smile.

I took two stiff drinks and slammed them, against Margaret's advice. I poured a third and set it on the table. All of our belongings had been moved to the new room, including those damned DVDs. She put the same one in that we'd been viewing, and clicked play.

"Believe me, Marshall," he started again. "I wanted to show you all the videos. That's how much I hate you. You don't deserve that, but alas, that's the way it goes.

Rebecca and I did it six times in total. Six times, Marshall - over a month and a half. It happened exactly the same way each time, and that's what ultimately swayed me to leave them out of this movie. I'd rather you imagined those other five couplings. I hope you struggle with those thoughts. Did I make love to her? Was it the same? Did she suddenly come to, professing her eternal love for me? Did I awaken her on purpose? Those and more, are all legitimate questions. Spend the night mulling it over, Marshall. Tell me I'm not allowed near your wife or to spend time with my love, will you? Well, who's the better man now, asshole? I've had her just as you have. And now, she has a child."

The DVD stopped abruptly. I was so fried, I couldn't even react. I downed the third glass, and then ate some of my rice. What a cathartic combination. Half an hour later, I asked Margaret to put in the last DVD. She asked if I was sure. "Do it," I told her.

Theodore was sitting on the front of his desk, instead of behind it. The phone or camera was propped against something directly in front of and below him.

"So I'm the most despicable person on earth," he said, more solemnly in this video. "I suppose so. As I said, I have obsessions. Obsessions and fetishes. Feet and other men's wives, among many others. Rebecca was my obsession, from day one. Only after my terminal diagnosis, did it grab me. She wasn't going to be mine anymore. Who would care for her, when I was gone? I worried a lot about that. I hadn't ever thought that through. As much as it pains me, the man I hate is also the man she loves dearly.

What a conundrum.

"So," he went on, "I decided to do the only thing that was available to me. I would punish you, and then I would hand my love over to you, to love and cherish, just like you'd promised on your wedding day. I had many thoughts about how that would unfold. You could turn your hate for me against her. I'd have to do everything I could to protect her, pre-hubris. If the child was mine, I'd also have to take steps to protect her too.

"However," he continued, "if you agreed to love her, for better or for worse - if you could put Theodore, the monster, aside and try to live a happy life with Rebecca, then I had to prepare for that as well. That's what the third video is about, Marshall. It's time to decide."

I needed another break.

Margaret sensed it too and paused the DVD. She asked if I wanted anything, or to talk. I turned her down on both counts. Indifference was settling in now. Margaret was right. All five stages at once, swirling endlessly and relentlessly, choking my mind.

"I fucking hate him," I said to nobody, even though there was only one person in the room.

Margaret only nodded her affirmation.

After a bathroom break, I splashed some water on my face and went back to the living room. "Margaret, go ahead and play the rest," I requested. "I don't have much more in me. I want to finish it right now."

Theodore's voice came back to life. "... so let me tell you what I've planned.

"It's likely you're not bonding with your daughter. That's because I planted a suggestion into your subconscious that you would be forced to raise another man's child and would be powerless to do anything about it.

The real father would be a man you despise. You see, the power of suggestion is far greater than the power of hypnosis, and not just for you. Every person who owns a television suffers from that power for as long each day as they watch it.

"Still," he continued, "the child could be yours as easily as it could be mine. I know what you're thinking, but again, I'm ahead of you.

Among the few final legal things that will take place this week, is a court-ordered paternity test. The results will come to you only.

"Again, Marshall, I'd understand your primal need for some sort of vengeance, and since I'm no longer within reach, I can also understand you may feel a need to lash out at Rebecca.

If you do, I've already arranged to go public with my love affair with her, and believe me; it's intended to cause you maximum shame and regret. You'll be the laughingstock of your town - maybe the country. You know how much the media loves a juicy sex scandal. I admit that will hurt my love too. But I've also taken steps to see that she's well cared for, during those dark times.

"My sister has some documentation in her possession that's to be opened and read only after you view these three videos. It will detail my amendments to my last will-and-testament. You can only communicate with my attorney, through one of your own.

That's for Rebecca's protection, but also for yours."

There was another pause.

Theodore looked down at his hands.

He was wringing them nervously. He looked a little... what? Unraveled. I found it to be odd.

"Let me show you something," he said unsure of himself. "I know what the real question is in your mind. This is how it works. Understand, I've planted dozens of suggestions into Rebecca's mind over the years, just like I did to you. They're implanted in your subconscious. You aren't aware of them, but with the right help, they can be removed. I won't show you that, because well, that would be breaking an oath to others like me."

The screen changed. Theo was with Becca and her friend, at Becca's father's house. They were simply talking nonsense. Theodore said "Isn't it... two feet below?" Both girls looked like anyone you've ever seen that was suddenly put under hypnosis. Becca's arms became very relaxed at her side. Her friend had a soda in her hand, and she immediately set it on the counter.

Both girls passively walked to the sofa, and removed their shoes, without further direction. Theodore moved the ottoman in front of them, and they both put their feet up. Becca looked exactly as she did when the phone rang on our... my home security tapes.

She answered, and then seemed to carry out a preordained set of instructions. In that case, opening the door and letting Theodore in.

Another scene appeared.

Becca had her toes in my mouth as I lay on our bed. Theodore was fishing around in his pants, probably getting his dick out. The camera moved up and toward Becca's face and she wore the same blank expression.

Finally, in another scene, the camera was moving violently, like someone was running or fumbling it.

In the background, Margaret and I could hear a frantic "Two feet below. Two feet below! Wake up!" Then the phone was aimed at a floor - my kitchen floor. I could plainly hear my own voice in the background, saying, "What the fuck is this?"

The scene cut abruptly.

Theodore was back at his desk.

"Remember, Marshall, Rebecca didn't do this - I did. She fell into my trap, like so many before her. So did you."

I looked over at Margaret, who'd stopped listening and was reading through the paperwork from the envelope.

"It's decision time," he said. "And always remember, Marshall, I..."

Margaret clicked the video off. I looked at her questioningly.

"It's over Marshall," she said. "If I know him, he was only looking to get one last jab in."

I just sat there. I knew I should be reacting... doing something, but I couldn't think of anything. Margaret looked up at me and motioned for the bottle. I poured us each a glass, splitting what was left.

"Okay," she started, "here's the gist of what he's done. First, Ted has put aside a sizable chunk of money for me, if I will help Rebecca and you for the foreseeable future. He's talking about getting both of you the best psychotherapy money can buy, and asking me to assist with that.

"I've already started that on my own, anyway. Don't want or need his money. That can go to you and your wife. Ted has left over four hundred thousand in an offshore account to pay those mental health professionals. He's..."

I raised my hand to stop her. "We don't need his money, or any mental prodding, damn it,"

The pitiful look was back.

"Marshall, I understand," she spoke over me, "that this is a lot to take in. I'm not talking about what you or I are doing. Only what he's done. We'll discuss an action plan in depth over the next several weeks. There's more here."