Monster

Monster

“He what?”

“He had sex with her.”

‘But… But she was his student!” And a vulnerable adult at that.

Monica’s head spun. She had so many questions and didn’t want to know the answer to any of them. How could he be so stupid? How did Mum know? Why would he think he could get away with it?

The question of why Monica’s Mum had chosen to tell her now was easier to answer. Today, Monica’s Dad had remarried. It had been a small ceremony. Just the celebrant and two friends to act as witnesses. Although Dad had told her his intent, she had not known the wedding would be today, until he had phoned and said it was done. In some ways, Monica was sad not to have been involved, but in others… Well… It was very much Dad’s style. No fuss. No standing on ceremony. Just get things done.

As well as phoning Monica with the news, he must have also told his closest friend Sean, who held some unrequited feelings for her mother. Figuring out Sean’s intentions by dumping this news on her would have to wait for another day…

Monica’s Mum would have been seething. She was a complicated woman with an unfortunate history. Mum and Dad had a rocky relationship, tumultuous throughout, at Monica’s expense. They had finally split, or split with finality around ten years ago, when it appeared that Dad had finally settled on a new partner, rather than cycling through the available local ladies, when Mum was elsewhere. He had been with his girlfriend for all of this time before proposing; he appeared to have settled.

Monica didn’t believe that her Mum wanted to be married to her Dad anymore; it wasn’t jealousy that drove her. It was rage. How dare he move on with this degree of irrevocability; with this formal declaration of intent, while she was still picking up the pieces from their broken life together. She hated him. And now she had been driven to make Monica hate him too.

The ramifications of her Mum’s statement slowly unfurled in Monica’s mind. Using her professional learning as a forensic psychologist, she knew that some men and women were attracted to and had sex with people that they should not. Her Dad had been a house manager in a charity that helped young adults with mild to moderate learning difficulties become established in a tenancy of their own. They acted as a stop-gap, allowing the students to safely (hah) leave the confines of their parent’s or carer’s home, and teaching them the life skills that allowed them to take on their own address and live confidently and competently within the community.  

The student in question was Christina. At first glance, it was not immediately apparent that she was afflicted in any way that would make psychologists or society label her as disabled. Loud, sassy and opinionated, Christina could hold her own in conversation and functioned well in most one-to-one scenarios. However, problems became apparent in terms of her ability to focus and concentrate on anything that did not interest her and in her lack of social inhibition. Christina was used to getting her way and acted in a bullish manner otherwise. She was not averse to verbal or physical aggression towards others, was highly sexualised around males that she found attractive and had learned from her parents that childish tantrums got her what she wanted.

Christina would not, Monica believed, have been coerced into doing something she did not want to do. Given the recent revelation, this was something of a relief. Nonetheless, Christina WAS vulnerable and had been abused by someone in a position of power over her. Immoral. Illegal. A disgusting display of dominance. Monica’s father.

Professional insight aside, Monica’s thoughts and feelings welled up to the surface and erupted from her in physical form; deep racking sobs and countless tears. Monica also knew that a person who was unable to stop themself from having sex with a vulnerable someone in their charge might have other sexual proclivities they might not be able to stop (or worse, choose to act on). Had other students been affected? And what of Monica’s daughter? Currently only 14 months old and toddling with intent. She would never be able to leave her daughter unattended with her grandad. The thought was devastating.

Monica hung up the phone. She cried and cried, cycling through the emotions of grief, anger and disbelief. She had lived with her Dad in that house, surrounded by those students. Being involved in a venture such as that had shaped her childhood and caused Monica to realise how important it was that people cared for each other, and that great things were achievable with the correct help and support. To have those childhood memories sullied by the news was heart-breaking.

She HAD lived in that house. Six days a week, for five years. She had never suspected a thing. Admittedly, Monica had not been on the lookout for issues, let alone matters of that nature. And there were other workers… Her Dad was employed within a small group of 5 experienced staff, all with different roles within the charity, but most there on a daily basis. And Christina talked. So much. Monica had oscillated between loving Christina’s stories and sometimes just needing to walk away; she had no filter and a seeming inability to let anything go.

How could this have happened and Christina keep the secret to herself? Mum said she walked in on them… together… But when were there not other staff around? Perhaps Monica’s Dad had threatened violence, but again, there had been no sense of that within the home. The questions began to mount up, and they did not stop coming.

 Six months had passed since the day of the wedding. And the phone call.

Monica had not spoken to her father. He probably thought she was just peeved at being told about the wedding after the fact. She had dodged his calls and not responded to his letters. She had not spoken to her mother either, except for the briefest of phone calls, quickly curtailed with a shoddy excuse.

Monica had cried so much in the intervening months; she imagined herself to be a dried-out husk on the inside. She could not tell her partner. The shame of it was too much. She could not tell her friends, most of whom were from childhood, and stayed at her house as kids.

While Monica took delight from her daughter, now 20 months old and well past toddling, this was soured by the knowledge that she could never let her spend time alone with either of her grandparents.

One of them was a monster, and Monica did not know which.