Connie May Fowler - When Katie Wakes: A Memoir

A TRIBUTE TO THE
HUMAN SPIRIT.
Vero Beach Magazine

Connie May Fowler is a powerful storyteller. It is a measure of [her] gifts as a writer that she can take something intensely personal and infuse it with such insight and clarity that it becomes illuminating and universal.

San Antonio Express News

Amazing That [Connie May Fowler] could rise out of the seemingly bottomless pit of violence and tell her story with such compassion and restraint is a feat as artistic as it is heroic. But perhaps more amazing is that a story of such extreme circumstances could be written so eloquently that its events and emotions will resonate in the relatively calm and ordered lives of most readers.

The Orlando Sentinel

Gripping Fowler writes with honesty and eloquent simplicity. [This] is an intensely personal story but one that illuminates universal themes. It is about empowerment and love. Its raw candor might disturb some, but its power is sure to inspire others.

Bark magazine

An act of profound courage An intensely intimate memoir Fowler seems driven to confront her past in order to transcend it. [Her] direct, straightforward narrative is seductive in its simplicity. Fowler is a testament to the will of the human spirit.

Booklist

In this unique personal narrative, Fowler offers an eloquent look into the mind of a battered woman. A novelist with a poetic voice, Fowler paints a rich, vivid portrait, by turns terrifying, haunting, gritty, dreamy, and starkly rational.

Publishers Weekly

From popular novelist Fowler, a searing and finely crafted memoir of youth and adulthood stunted by abuse Insightful, generous, and perfectly pitched.

Kirkus Review (starred review)

ALSO BY CONNIE MAY FOWLER

Sugar Cage

River of Hidden Dreams

Before Women Had Wings

Remembering Blue

A Ballantine Book
Published by The Random House Publishing Group

Copyright 2002 by Connie May Fowler

Readers Guide copyright 2003 by Connie May Fowler and The Random House Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. Published in the United States by Ballantine Books, an imprint of The Random House Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York, and simultaneously in Canada by Random House of Canada Limited, Toronto.

Ballantine and colophon are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.

Ballantine Readers Circle and colophon are trademarks of Random House, Inc.

www.ballantinebooks.com

Library of Congress Catalog Control Number: 2002096794

eISBN: 978-0-385-50541-3

This edition published by arrangement with Doubleday, a division of Random House, Inc.

v3.1_r1

For Mika and Katie
and for the women unable to find a pathway out
then, now, and always

I TS IMPOSSIBLE for me to thank the many people who haveknowingly or notshepherded me to where I stand today. So I humbly offer this listincomplete in scope and gratitudeof a few special people and one dog. I believe that without them, this book would never have been written.

Deb Futter and Joy Harris, two avenging angels, whose passion for the story and truth never wavers.

Mika Fowler, my dear husband, best friend, confidant, and critic, whose strength, wisdom, and humor forever carry me out of the past and into a life I love.

Dr. David Kahn, whose friendship and advice buoyed me during some of the most trying times in the writing of this book.

Dale Copans-Astrand and Dr. Per Astrand, dear friends whose laughter, grand food, and infectious cheer are always good medicine.

Kelly Otte, a warrior princess if ever there was one, whose dedication to battered women is unparalleled and whose friendship and erudite advice helped me to heal and to find the strength to tell the truth.

Rhonda and Robert Heins, wonderful friends who have selflessly allowed me to experience what life is like with good parents.

Heidi Swanson, a friend of many gifts, who transforms chaos into order with a magicians flair.

Pamela Ball, whose comments regarding a few pages written long ago became my compass.

Heather Nicoll and George Pequignot, two sweet souls to whom Mika and I are forever grateful. Thank you for introducing us. Thank you for casting a light on the pathway out.

Jerry Morgan, whose friendship, then and now, exceeds all expectations.

Deborah Bax Freeland, whose intellect, humor, and life experience is both beautiful and terrifying and binds us forever as sisters.

My mothers childrenDeidre Hankins and Jimmy Friendwhose pain is only hinted at in these pages and whose strength of character and joy have always inspired me.

My fathers childrenAubrey May and Hendra Conradbeacons in the dark fog of our past and today cherished siblings.

My parentsHenry and Lenore Maywhose tragic lives and unintentional sins never extinguished their childrens love for them.

Miss Vivian, Olga Barnes, Patty Davis, Kathy Clark, Scott Morse, Randall King, Johnny Mae Marshall, Dr. Stephen Meats, Dr. Mark Lono, and Carolyn Dotyall dear people whose generous gifts of friendship and guidance led me forward.

Lloyd Kramer, Kate Forte, and Oprah Winfrey, whose belief in my story enabled me to think of myself in a new and positive light.

The many good folks at Doubleday, including Anne Merrow and Amy King, whose diligence and talent are deeply appreciated.

And of course there is Katie, whose life inspired this book. You are missed.

Brother John, can you see the hopeless daughters,
standing there with broken wings?

DANIEL LANOIS, THE MAKER

T HIS MAN I SHARE A LIFE WITH the one who beat me last night, the one who is thirty years my senior and unemployedhas pocketed the spare change off the dresser and pilfered a twenty out of my wallet and headed over to Salinas, a bar down the street, to get tanked up.

I support the two of us with my weekly earnings as a hostess and bartender at Bennigans. I know this is insane, but right now I havent the resources or mental gumption to leave. For all intents and purposes, Im all he has. I provide shelter and food and make his car payment. He drives a slick silver Audi with fancy hubcaps that have the heft and glint of money.

I am not proud of my situation. I am twenty-six years old and have a college degree. I should be out there busting my butt in the job market, hustling for dollars and influence. After all, what did Newsweek dub 1984the Year of the Yuppie? Where is my ambition? My confidence? English lit isnt the finest degree to haveto get ahead these days you need an MBAbut I can string sentences together. I can tell a story. I used to be able to do things. I used to be able to look a challenge in the eye and say, Go for it. But not anymore.

And thats where he comes in. He promised to make me into somebody. The first time we spoke when it was just the two of us, he sat at the bar at Bennigans nursing a scotch and soda and said, You need me, kid. Ill show you the ropes. Its your choice.

He twirled his cigarette lighter on the smooth surface of the bar as if we were playing spin the bottle. He slapped his palm on top of it, and when he lifted his hand the ignition end was pointing in my direction.