DADDY Carley's Diary

By Jackie Laberif

Carley Kingston is a young hermaphrodite individual who struggles to survive the sinister acts of her unstable mother who refuses to see her as a girl because of her penis. Although Carley receives love and protection from her Daddy and Nanny, her mother Veronica psychologically abuses her. The story, narrated through flashbacks in the form of memories, is part of Carley's diary, which is delivered to a law firm. However, the diary isn’t addressed to anyone's attention. When it arrives, it gets the attention of young forensic psychology doctoral student, Lori, who just started working at the firm. Lori gets her friend Vicki, an administrative assistant, to join her in solving the mysteries.

Carley is the youngest of triplets and daughter of Dr. David Kingston, a brilliant cardiologist. Her unstable mother, Veronica Kingston does not hold back her resentment for Carley for developing invisibly inside her along with her two sisters Casey and Carey--not showing up on any ultrasounds. Veronica punishes Carley for crashing into her perfect world unannounced. At age sixteen, Carley experiences the happiest time in her life as she anticipates her parents’ potential divorce. Carley looks forward to the time that she and her nanny will no longer live under the same roof with Veronica. But her happiness is cut short when a traumatic event results in Carley falling into a three-year coma. She wakes in a mental institution and discovers that everything had changed in her life, including her Daddy. When she is released, her father takes her to live in a house that she has no memory of. When the door opens, Carley sees Veronica. She looks back to her father, but he is no longer there—but is it all real? Carley passes out. She wakes in darkness, in a state of dissociative amnesia, left to figure out what’s real in the unfamiliar world she now lives.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jackie Laberif
• Release date: Mar 29, 2016
• ISBN: 9780997255218

Jackie Laberif

Dr. Jackie Jackson writes under the pen name, Jackie Laberif. Jackie is a native of Tarboro, North Carolina. Professionally, she is the CEO of a nonprofit youth services organization and founder of Boys Leadership Alliance, a non-profit program for boys ages 6-18 in Coastal Virginia. She is also a part-time professor and doctoral dissertation chair for an online university. Jackie earned her Ph.D. in Human Services with an emphasis in Counseling Studies from Capella University, Masters of Arts Degree in Community Agency Counseling and Bachelors of Arts in General Studies-Psychology from Hampton University. Dr. Jackson is a proud member of Delta Sigma Theta Sorority, Inc and the Friends of Hampton Roads, Inc.She is the mother of two adult daughters and the grandmother of two grandsons (Tyrese and Omari) and a granddaughter (Winter Selene) that she adores. She resides in Yorktown, Virginia, USA with her husband and her fluffy friend Chanel.

Book preview

DADDY

Carley’s Diary

A novel

by

Jackie Laberif

Jackie Laberiff, LLC

Publisher

Yorktown, Virginia 23693

www.jackielaberif.com

[e-mail]

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2016 by Jackie Laberif

All rights reserved.

ISBN: 099725520X

ISBN 13: 9780997255201

Library of Congress Control Number: XXXXX (If applicable)

LCCN Imprint Name: City and State (If applicable)

No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

To Tyrese, Omari, and Winter, my inspiration.

CHAPTER ONE

I was startled when my cell phone rang. I picked up the phone and saw the words, ‘Dad calling,’ flashing on the screen. I pushed the answer button. Hey Dad, what's wrong? Is everything okay? I said, sounding half fretful, half admiring.

Good morning sweetheart! Everything is fine. I wanted to wish you a great day today, dad said, sounding chipper.

I lifted my head up off the pillow to see the time on the clock on the nightstand. Dad, its 5:30 a.m. here, which is just 2:30 a.m. in LA. Why are you still up? I uttered in a muffled voice.

Dad laughed, I wanted to be the first to greet you this morning to get your day started.

After chatting with Dad briefly, I pushed the end button on my cell phone. Reminiscing how time dragged by, as the ceiling fan slowly turned I reflected back on how I got here. My father and I stumbled upon the quaint charm of Great Falls, Virginia while visiting Washington, D.C. and kayaking on the Potomac. I’m a Southern California girl who fell in love with the small town and its quaint village center, on the east coast, not far from the Potomac River Bend.

I continued to lie in my bed, looking up at the ceiling, smiling as I thought about my friend Vicki Lambert. What is this about? Vicki asked when we first met a year ago. A petite, blonde valley girl relocating in these sticks by herself? I know one thing, you won’t keep that perfect dark Cali suntan that you’re wearing, Barbie. But let me know when you start ‘whitening up’ again. You know these woods hides the sun. We can drive down to McLean and you can get baked golden brown again in the Tropical Tanning Spot's oven twice a month. You need to keep wearing that tan girlfriend, it's fabulous!

Vicki is outspoken on any subject and she questions everything. I remember her telling me, Girl, I’m not a lesbian or nothing, but you got some pretty big, blue eyes. Let me see. Are you wearing contacts? And are those your real lashes? Looking closer, Vicki said, I've never been to California. So, tell me, is skinny, dark tan, golden blonde hair the real deal, or is that the image they give us on TV of the Beverly Hills rich Barbie dolls? I bet you’re from Beverly Hills, aren’t you?

Vicki is a lot of fun to be around. She’s a comedian without meaning to be. Making people laugh is effortless when she’s around. When I told her that I had my Daddy’s eyes, she asked, Girl, where your Daddy at? I’m not into old white men, but—wait a minute. I don’t like anything old! But—now with a man with eyes like yours, I might change my mind. So, your Daddy still got those eyes, girl?

I told Vicki about my father attending college in a small colonial town about two hours east of Washington, D.C., and that he still was in contact with his fraternity brothers on the east coast. When I mentioned that I wanted to move to the D.C. area, my dad called his friends to look after me. No matter how old I get, I’ll always be his baby girl because I’m his only child. My mother died when I was 5 years old.

I never forgot this quiet spot near the Potomac River Bend where Dad and I went kayaking a few times. I remember it being a short drive west of Washington, D.C. I loved the beautiful trees and the large houses hidden in the hills. I wondered who lived in the large houses with the long crooked driveways that ended high in the invisible hills away from public view. I wondered about the secrets and if the trees could speak, what would be the story.

When I first arrived in D.C., I got a small place in the city. I drove from D.C. to Great Falls often to clear my head of the noise of large trucks, buses and honking car horns, to enjoy the sounds of nature. I especially love the sound of water flowing downstream and the sounds of water voyaging over the rocks and gushing down, as if endless buckets of water were continuously pouring down from the rocky surface. You can hear the rushing sounds as the water sprays, splashes and cascades causing turbulence in the opening below. I was drawn to the sights and sounds of the waterfalls and the songs that the insects sang as I hike to sit near the river bend.

I hungered to hear the buzzing, chirping and whooshing of small birds, roaming all around me as I hike through the woods. It became a ritual to end my waterfall visit having my favorite chicken wrap and a glass of Virginia white wine at the nearby Cul-de-sac Village Café’.

During my 5th visit to the café’, I opened the door and my eyes meet the same middle age woman that I have greeted on every visit. It was the usual. She brandished a big smile. I smiled back. Before I can take my seat near the window, she yelled out, Howdy! You’re having the Mediterranean chicken wrap, with couscous, with a splash of lemon juice, fresh herbs, veggie chips and a glass of Riesling today?

She cites my exact order. I simply answer, Sure. Thank you, as I take my seat. Nothing changes whenever I visit the Cul-de-sac Café’. I eat the same menu item and sit at the same table near the window in the left corner closest to the exit door. I can’t explain why I’m so predictable. There were times that I wanted to try something different from the menu. I only saw the menu once. It was on my first visit. After that, I never spoke up and asked for a menu because the lady behind the counter effortlessly recited my usual menu item and its ingredients verbatim. She does it in a way that makes me feel that the chicken wrap is what is best for me.

On this visit, I brought along my ‘Winter Storm’ novel by Jackie Laberif to read while I ate and enjoyed the view, before my drive back to D.C. The novel is about a little girl who is trapped in another world that separates her from her mother's touch. I was drawn to the book because I secretly longed for my mother's touch. But I always hid my feelings so I didn’t worry my dad. I sat looking at the words in the book.

The quietness and stillness of my thoughts were disrupted when a talkative African American lady, who looked to be around my age, walked in the café’. She walked through the door and before the middle-aged, fragile White lady could say anything, the talkative lady yelled out, Hey Miss B!

I had been to the café’ 5 times and I didn’t know the lady's name. I watched as they interacted with each other. Miss B had a larger smile brandished on her face, different than the one she gave me. I watched as her smile changed to a questionable look, Vicki, what are you doing here on the weekend?

The beautiful, golden brown lady was well dressed in a tailored, bright royal blue, fitted dress and black patent leather shoes. The shoes had spike heels that click-clacked as they made contact with the marble café’ floor. She displayed a confident persona as she walked towards the counter. Her presence in the café’ was so striking that it yelled, Look at me! Her black hair was flowing, bouncing body curls that blew as she walked briskly. The fitted dress accentuated her small waist, extended hips, and protruding derriere.

When she reached the counter, she turned her head slightly to the left, apparently to get a view of her surroundings. We made eye contact. Vicki smiled and said, Oh, hello there!

Her makeup was flawless. She was a Janet Jackson kind of beauty. As Miss B handed her the menu, she said, Yeah, the firm is open today, so, I came in to help with a deposition that has to be ready on Monday morning.

After placing her order with Miss B, Vicki click-clacked across the floor towards me with her hands extended. Hey, I'm Vicki Lambert. I have never seen you around here before, are you new to the area or just passing through?

I was ecstatic to talk with her about moving from California to the east coast. Vicki only worked in the quaint town and there was no doubt that she didn’t fit in. Honey, I’m a D.C. kind of girl. You run from the noise. I run to it every weekend, she said laughing loudly at herself. She continued, the only reason I’m here is because I work at Ross, Rhodes & Associates Law Firm. We’re the only law firm in these hills.

Unlike me, Vicki is a funny, talkative city girl who makes it known that she doesn’t like the suburban life of Northern Virginia and has no interest in hiking and kayaking. I think we were both intrigued by our differences. We exchanged phone numbers that day and became the best of friends. Vicki helped me find a condo not too far from the Cul-de-sac Café’. I was elated to finally move out of D.C. to the secluded town so I could enjoy the natural music of the leaves blowing, water flowing and the singing of insects and birds.

I’m an avid reader. I remembered when Vicki saw all my novels, she asked, Have you read all these books? She continued jokingly. I do enough reading at work. I’m not interested in reading anything else. The people I come in contact with at work are audio versions of novels of every genre imaginable. We get the drama, the thrillers, the scary movie, the crazy romance —you name it— you will read about it in a deposition or hear it when they tell their crazy stories.

Then she told me about a position that opened at the law firm. You’re not doing anything but spending your rich Daddy's money; you should apply for the job so you can work at the law firm with me. There is an opening now.

I applied for the position and got it.

* * *

A short time later it was a beautiful, sunny spring day in the quaint town of Great Falls, Virginia. There were no clouds in the clear blue sky. It was my first day on the job at Ross, Rhodes & Associates Law Firm. While in the reception area, the receptionist stepped away from her desk briefly. As she left, the phone rang. I picked up the phone and greeted the caller, Good Morning. Thanks for calling Ross, Rhodes and Associates Attorneys at Law. How may I assist you?

The front door of the law office opened and in walked a mysterious young lady. Her small body appeared fragile, even though it was hidden underneath the black attire that adorned her. A large brimmed, black floppy hat covered the young lady’s head. Her black-framed sunglasses had dark lenses that hid the color of her eyes. She was dressed in a long flowing blouse worn over a matching lightweight, plain-woven sheer black skirt. The only thing that shined was her ruby red lipstick, unusually bright as it reflected off her dark clothing and pale white complexion on the bright sunny morning.

The elusive young lady dressed in black was the first client I personally encountered on my new job. I watched her walk into the office hesitantly and somewhat fearful as she looked around the small reception space. While I was on the phone, I gave the client a slight nod and motioned that I would be right with her.

The woman has a large envelope in her hand. She walked slowly toward me and placed the envelope on the receptionist’s desk and walked quickly out the door, ignoring my request to give me a brief second to assist her. The mystery girl’s exit was just as elusive as her entrance. I noticed immediately that the envelope wasn’t addressed to anyone. I quickly placed the caller on hold, grabbed the envelope and hurried out the door to stop her. Outside, I looked to my left and right but didn’t see any sign of the lady in black. I scanned the landscape thoroughly, wondering how someone could disappear so quickly.

The law firm is situated in a cul-de-sac with Victorian style buildings that enclose the area giving the appearance of a cozy courtyard. My favorite café’ is next door to the office. I thought maybe she went there. I rushed and opened the door to the café’, quickly scanning the room to see if the lady in black was in there. Miss B stopped with an alarmed look on her face. Good Morning, Lori? She stopped wiping down the counter top for a second to make eye contact with me. Is everything okay? Can I help you with something?

I told Miss B that I was looking for a lady that came into the law firm, left an envelope, and it wasn't addressed to anyone. I needed to know who to give the envelope to. Miss B again started wiping her countertop. No woman been in here this morning. Just a few construction workers for breakfast wraps and coffee stopped in. You're the only woman I've seen today.

I thanked Miss B, closed the café’ door and walked back to the office, holding the envelope in my hand, still hoping I’d see the woman dressed in black. I walked back into the law firm and stood where the woman had stood. I was confused because it was as if the lady disappeared into thin air.

When Vicki returned to her desk, she asked me about the caller I’d placed on hold. I was consumed with the young lady that I’d briefly encountered. I nonchalantly relayed the details to Vicki. It’s a client who has some questions about consultation times and fees. I was glad that Vicki was taking care of the caller. I felt the weight of the large white envelope in my hands and, engrossed in thought, walked slowly into my new office.

I had recently completed my graduate degree and I was pursuing my doctorate in forensic psychology part-time online. Dad was taking care of me financially, but my new job at Rhodes, Ross & Associates Law Firm was good because I needed real work experience, not just textbook theory stuff. I needed action and I believed that I would get some experience at the law firm.

I smiled as I thought of how I had somewhat followed Dad’s career path. Dad is a successful forensic pathologist in Los Angeles. My mother died when I was 5. Well, most of the time, Dad says she died, but the truth is, she was murdered and it’s still an unsolved mystery that haunts dad. Unknown to Dad, her death haunts me now, also. It's been just Dad and me for 20 years. He never re-married, although he has dated plenty of women over the 20 years.

I wasn't interested in becoming a medical doctor. I’m driven by ‘why’ and ‘how’ in a different way than Dad, but in a lot of ways we’re the same. We both immerse ourselves in suspense and mystery. It’s part of our DNA.

Turning the envelope over in my hand, I was intrigued. It didn’t take long before I decided to open it. I sat at my desk and cautiously opened the envelope. There was a large stack of unbound pages that looked like a manuscript. Some of the pages were typed and others were handwritten. I inquisitively flipped through the sheets and confirmed that it was an unbound manuscript. It’s amazing how I was just thinking about my dad when the first word that leaped out at me was, Daddy, on the title page of the manuscript.

I thought out loud, Aw, she mistook the law firm for a publishing house. I noticed that the first page had slid to the side of my desk. I picked it up and see that it was hand penned on a sheet of lined notebook paper. The tiny, meticulous penmanship caught my attention. The writing was unusually neat, tiny, and perfectly written. The lettering was so small that I had to pull the paper close to my face to see the words.

As my eyes focused, the first two words Dear you, rang out in my head as if someone yelled them out to me. Captivated, I began reading the tiny, neatly printed handwritten letter.

"Dear you,

I’m unsure about many things. But I think my sisters have two dads that share the same heart and body. But I only have the one Daddy who loves me and I love him. I want my Daddy to love my sisters like he loves me. My sisters are crying out to me for help. How do I help my sisters without hurting my Daddy?

I recall being told when I was a little girl, to pray to the Sky Daddy—that invisible Daddy in the sky. As I looked to the Sky Daddy, my sisters detestably responded that the imaginary Daddy in the sky allows fathers to create Hell for their own children. So for them the sins of God are just as disturbing as the sinister acts of our Daddy who has become a monster.

But I still ask my sisters to pray. My sisters ask, Why pray to an entity that has the ability to stop the pain and hurt, but withholds his power and allows the Monster Daddy to continue to exist? So, my sisters do not trust the Daddy in the sky to deliver them from the brutal hands of their Monster Dad.

Once my sisters said to me, For undetermined times of the 25 years of our lives we have experienced vicious acts at the hands of a Daddy who is supposed to love and cherish us. Where is the Sky Daddy when the Monster Daddy comes out? Where is our Help? Should we continue to look to the male-controlled world that we’re trapped in that governs and controls itself while our mother looks on as if she’s numb to the horror?

I ask, Where is the Help when everyone that truly loves you leaves you alone? When you’re left guideless like a blind girl left in the middle of a deserted place and told, ‘Go forward and survive’. What does one do when she can no longer determine the day from night and what is true from what is false?

I continue to pray, looking up, toward the universe. I follow the instruction that the Sky Daddy puts back in my memory— a lesson that was taught to me by Maria, the only woman who loved me like a mother should. In my mind’s eye, I see and hear her saying, ‘Write down your story and one day your story will reach the Helper’.

Because I can no longer determine what is true and what is false, I hope the person who is reading this letter will understand my story and guide the blind girl in the deserted place. I know that our connection is a divine arrangement by the Sky Daddy, who my mother Maria worshipped and taught me to believe and have faith in. I know you will come to rescue me as I struggle to understand the world I exist in while asleep and the world that I exist in when I’m awake.

There is only one me. It’s as if I live in two worlds at the same time. I pray to the Sky Daddy that ‘You’ are my designated Helper—the Helper that will search for truth and understanding and then guide me to what is real and true. Then that truth will set my sisters free from the sinister acts of the Daddy that I love and I’ll be given understanding for the obscurity of the dark suffering in which I live.

Are ‘You’ the Helper that will bring illumination to my dark world so that I can find my way to the truth about DADDY?"

C.K.

The letter was fascinating to my soul. I felt a connection to C.K., and I wanted to know more. I was anxious to read the manuscript, but I didn’t want to jeopardize my job. I went to the front to share the experience with Vicki and asked her if it was a normal occurrence for someone to come in and just leave envelopes that aren’t addressed to anyone?

Vicki read the note and with a smirk on her face said, I told you that this place was its own bookstore full of crazy novels. Yes, we have crazy novels being delivered by some crazy people. So, it just sounds like another nutcase to me. I tell you what—just leave it up here, and I’ll ask the attorneys if they were expecting an anonymous package, and, if not, we can just trash it.

I agreed with Vicki to hold the package while she inquired whether any of the attorneys might be expecting it, but I asked her to return the package back to me instead of trashing it.

Every day at the office I asked if anyone claimed the envelope. By Friday, Vicki declared that she had reached out to the entire staff. She handed the envelope back to me and said, Knock yourself out!

I didn’t say anything to anyone, but I’d been haunted by C.K.’s letter. I wanted to read the story to study the case. I’m mystified, I said when I picked up the package from Vicki. This chick practically stumbled into the office dressed like she’s coming from a funeral, completely obscured except her screaming red lipstick and left this. She was like a ghost; she just disappeared. This story is meant to reach someone and she wants action. This is meant to spur something—to uncover something.

Vicki nonchalantly responded, Wow, it’s your first week on the job, and you got your first novel from a crazy ghost lady. Run along and read the crazy book. I told you I like audio versions.

I said excitedly, This story is a mystery I want to unravel. I can’t get it out of my head. Do you think C.K. was the person who dropped this off? The way she came into the office to deliver the envelope and then just disappeared into thin air was mysterious. I want to find out more about this family and what’s happening—something seems sinister. I wonder if this is fictitious. Is there really a man out there committing heinous crimes against his family?

Vicki responded, Okay. Okay. Calm down Investigator Barbie. Are you on a first name basis with C.K. already? You’ve only been here a week and you’re already like a squirrel chasing a nut. C.K. sounds like she’s a nutcase that’s going to turn you into one. Relax. It’s the weekend! Don’t you have a date or something? You’re a gorgeous Barbie! Go out and have some fun! Get laid or something. You’ve been working hard all week.

I prepared to leave the office for the weekend. As I walked by Vicki’s desk, I held up the envelope and told her, This is going to be my date tonight. I’m going to enjoy a nice bottle of wine and curl up and read what I think is the mystery of the year.

* * *

Once home, I pull out the pages of the unbound manuscript from the envelope and I look at the title. "Daddy: Casey, Carey, and Me." I imagined that the ‘me’ was C.K., the name signed on the cover letter. I wondered if C.K. was the young lady that came into the office and dropped off the envelope or was it Casey, Carey or a carrier? In any case, I figured from the title that C.K. would be the narrator of the story of Daddy. I took a sip of wine and gently flipped the page to Chapter One and began reading.

Casey, Carey and I lived in Freemont, Louisiana. Although Casey is my eldest sister, all three of us were born on Friday, April 13, 1990. I came into the world unexpectedly 45 minutes after Casey was born, so I’m the youngest of the triplets. Our parents are Dr. David and Veronica Kingston.

Daddy’s parents were prominent physicians who died in a small engine plane crash his first year in college. Daddy is the sole heir to their multi-million dollar estate. His wealth made him and Veronica the unlikely couple because she grew up in poverty, having lived in a small trailer home in a dilapidated trailer park in Virginia. Veronica didn’t talk about her life because she was ashamed that her mother was a prostitute. It was no secret that her mother was the woman that young guys used for their sexual gratification. The talk is that Grandma Bassett was arrested a few times for having sex with several minor boys for money. She had to register as a sex offender. Veronica never talks about her mother or her father.

Daddy doesn’t talk about his parents, either. I learned later that he’s disgruntled because before they died in the plane crash he discovered that he was adopted, and the secret to his birth mother died with them that day. Daddy’s father and mother were both medical doctors, Drs. William and Joan Snowden. Daddy didn’t share their last name. We have no extended family. We grew up not having grandparents or any other biological relatives around. But we do have Daddy, a tall, dark, curly haired, handsome, and highly intelligent family man. And there is our mother, Veronica, his blonde beauty. The image of them together is picture perfect, but their life isn’t a pretty picture.

Daddy became a physician, like his adoptive parents and is now a well-known Cardiologist at Freemont Memorial Hospital and a distinguished faculty member at the local medical school. His articles and books about heart health makes him a sought after guest speaker at conferences all over the world.

My Daddy’s wealth has afforded Veronica Bassett Kingston the lifestyle she dreamed of as a little girl. Daddy’s inheritance to a multi-million dollar estate, his private practice, his position at the hospital and the endowed chair teaching at the Freemont Medical School afforded the family many privileges.

The handsome doctor with his beautiful wife is an ideal life in a fairytale castle. It’s unimaginable that peace and happiness don’t dwell inside the beautiful mansion. It is difficult to imagine that the blonde beauty, Veronica Kingston is a wicked witch and the cruel culprit of the woes and sadness. The staff at Freemont Hospital and the medical school admired her. They spoke highly of how she’s the perfect, loving wife and mother to Daddy and her twin daughters.

Yes, I said twin daughters. You see— I’m the invisible daughter. Yes, we are triplets, it’s true. But because of my invisibility to my mother, I’m invisible in the world. I have come to know many things because Veronica refuses to see me. She doesn't whisper negative things about me so I won't hear them. Veronica doesn’t hold back. She blasts her hurtful words about me when she's arguing with Daddy because she doesn’t care that I hear them. It doesn't matter if her words hurt me because I'm like a harmless ghost who lives in her beautiful haunted mansion. She’s glad that the harmless ghost is lurking around because it's her hurtful words that she hopes will perform the exorcism that will eventually kill my spirit and purge me from her