Mysterious-Lee

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Note to readers: This article is part of "Robin's Personal Memories Project"
 
The information on this page is from my personal history and memories
and should NOT be used for any reason other than reading enjoyment

Escape

This is a story, a true story, about a very talented artist named Monica. When I met Monica, she was working at a masssage parlor in Berkeley. Yes, she had given me many massages, none with a happy ending – LOL.

I first met her through a mutual friend, loRRett; They worked together at a massage parlor in Berkeley. She went by "Lee" but her name was Monica. She was a lady of talent: she was an artist.

She was living with a gentleman who was a drug dealer, even though she had never used hard drugs because she was afraid of needles.

His demeanor, from what I was told, was that of the narcissistic, paranoid tyrant who enjoyed beating on women. We used to joke that he would hit her because the name of the day ended in "Y". Monica once told me he had lost or misplaced his drug/Money stash. in hiss mind, he just knew that Monica had taken it and hid it somewhere. He then proceeded to beat her for an hour, trying to get her to disclose the location of his stash. He knew, in his mind, that she had taken it and hid it somewhere, threw it away or had sold it to one of his competitors.

She took two weeks off to mend and heal. I saw her after her sabbatical and she was still sporting bruises and was still stiff and having problems getting around.

I met with Monica after work to discuss the idea of Lee disappearing from her condition. I told her that if she wanted to vanish, she would have to walk away from everything for several weeks. She indicated she wasn't ready to do that "right now", and went back to her life, such as it was.

She confided to me that she really needed to escape from him. He always took all of her money and was basically holding her captive.

I told her I was willing to help with her escape.

She said it would take a few weeks to get everything ready to leave. My answer was to take your purse, and nothing else, and walk out the door. She replied that she was not ready for that. I told her that if and when she was, she could call me anytime, day or night, and I would be there.

About a month later, she called me from her work and told me was ready but had to go home pick up some things. I reminded her that was to carry her purse and nothing else. She said she had a back pack that she had already packed, and that she REALLY needed the contents. She would go there after work. I would go to the area of her home and park. If he was not there, she would call me. I would pull into the driveway and honk my horn once. She would exit the house, enter my car and we would immediately depart. She asked our destination and I responded that it would be best if she did not know until we were on our way. Secrecy and security, you know. oh, the things you learn by reading books, watching spy movies and playing "capture the flag" as a teenager.

I had already discussed this problem with Susan and she was aware of the situation. Monica and I madde a side trip to the "Doc in the box" for some remedial help/first aid. "Boyfriend" had lost his stash again and took it out on Monica. He had grabbed her by her hair and dragged her around the house - she had several places where her hair has separated from her skull. He had beaten her with household broom and needed a wrist brace just to function. He had extinguished cigarettes on her breast, chest and hands. Burn ointment and bandages took care of that problem. I really wanted her to call the police but she said she would have to confront him directly and she was not ready for that right now. Besides, she'd always do that later.

BackDrop was housed in space on Old Middlefield Road so the back bedroom in the house on Wyandotte Street is actually fitted out to be a bedroom. Monica spent the better part of an hour in the shower, allowing hot water to wash away the pain. And, oh by the way, she cried a lot.

Susan loaned her a bathrobe and some clothes to get by for the night. She asked for a couple of aspirin and retired to the back bedroom.

She slept for about 36 hours straight. I would stick my head in the bedroom just to verify that she was still breathing. When she finally woke up she asked for a bowl of soup and something to drink, which we provided. she returned to the bedroom and spent the next 24 hours dozing and crying. Again, I would check on her occasionally.

For the next few days, she would spend long periods of sleep, interrupted by a quick trip to the bathroom, the refrigerator, slam down a few pills and return to her bed. Suddenly this cycle changed: she would spend long periods of time sitting on the side of the bed, head in her hands, crying. When approached, she would wave you away.

The following day when I looked to see if she was okay, she was sitting on the edge of the bed and laughing like hell.

I seriously thought that the poor child had "jumped the tracks".

I quietly withdrew and returned in about an hour. She was still laughing.

"So, Monica, how are you doing", I asked.

"I am doing really, really well and I want to thank you and Susan."

"This is not the first time, nor are you the first person, that we have done this for."

She started to laugh again and I asked her where in lives the humor.

Monica said, "When I was in the 'real world' I got myself beaten up, burned and mistreated. so I want to go someplace safe, hide for a few days and recuperate. Where do I go?" she stood, did a cute little dance complete with jazz hands and says, "I go hide in an S&M club".

Recuperation

Dominant-lee
by Monica

Monica spent about a week to 10 days walking around the neighborhood and coming to grips with her life. Susan and I talked to her about her future. We had many good meals – usually high-protein and a lot of vitamin E and "vitamin R".

She said that she was a painter in the past and wanted to get a few things so she could start painting again. We made a quick trip to Michael's and I bought the things she wanted/needed. She would sit in the back patio with her brushes, easel and canvas. Damn, she was actually pretty good.

I was at that time just starting my 1999 "Chain Store"[Note 1] business and she agreed to do the artwork for my catalog. As true irony, I made more money selling the catalogs than I did selling the goods in the catalogs.

I loaned her a little money and we went to my bank and we opened a joint account.

Monica worked on staff that BackDrop, answering phones, doing sessions and just being a wonderful person.

Reaching Out

Monica did quite a few paintings, all of them good. She did the painting above the fireplace in the Wyandotte house.

It represents a scary thought that I have had for years. I would like to "adopt" two kids about age ten; one boy and one girl. I wish to home school them and teach them "EVERYTHING" I know. When they reach twenty-one of age, at which time I will turn them loose on the world.

"Robin's Fantasy" was never finished. The piece depicts me, sitting on a throne. I am a Leo, a sun sign. My extended right hand was to depict me releasing two doves to the sky; one with a blue ribbon, the other a pink ribbon.

That painting was lost to me in 2018, but I still have a photo of it. I still maintain that fantasy.

One day, she jokingly said she would like to become a professional artist. I joking suggested she should take a nom de plume. She said she would like to take her mother's name, "Lee". from that day forward she would title & sign every painting with "Lee". The painting above the fireplace was titled/signed "Master-lee" which was inspired by a story I called "Robin's Fantasy". There were many others including "Breathless-lee", "Dominant-lee" and her own self-portrait "Mysterious-lee".

The Bad News

After she had been with us for about two months, she contacted "The Boyfriend".

"Oh Honey, I miss you so much. Oh honey I'm so sorry I hurt you. Oh honey. I will never do that again."

Monica told me that she still loved him and that she would like to try to make it work again. We packed up all of her belongings and I drove her back to Berkeley.

That was the last time I saw her spoke to her.

About two months after her "rescue", I got a call from the Emeryville Police Department. They asked if I knew her as they had found one of my business cards in her wallet.

She had been found dead in the mud flats next to the Bay Bridge. She had been tortured, and do I mean tortured.

"Someone" had applied burning cigarettes to a large portion of her body. She had been beaten with something akin to a baseball bat. They had injected her with a large quantity of heroin/cocaine. They wrapped her body in something like barbed wire or razor wire and dumped her in the mud flats.

I am not saying that "Boyfriend" had anything to do with her death, but I believe she was murdered -- she was very afraid of needles.

I still think of her occasionally. I miss her talent. I miss her ...

Notes

  1. All of the drawings in the catalog were done by Monica

A Personal Note from Robin

This article has been based on true facts.

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