Beneath the Surface

by Tara Marlow

  Now, the room was quiet but for the hospital machinery buzzing and beeping around them. Grace stood, stretched, and left the room. She needed coffee. For most, it provided a jolt of caffeine. For her, it was comfort. This pain was too close to home.

  From out of nowhere, she thought of red walls, a red suitcase, and a phone. Jesus, where had that come from? Her nightmares were still present, but she’d not had one in the last week. At Lowell’s, she could finally sleep through the night. But the nightmares were still on her mind since they began eight months ago.

  She followed the hallway back toward reception. The cafeteria was on the other side of the hospital. When Grace turned the corner, she froze. An older man, dressed in a dark grey suit, stood at the counter screaming at the receptionist. His face was dark, both in colour and intent, and she knew instantly it was Lowell’s father.

  “Where the hell is my wife? I want to see her. Now!” His baritone voice boomed through the halls. Grace looked behind her, back toward Lowell’s mother’s room, relieved to see the empty corridor.

  “What is wrong with you? My wife. Nellie Kanu. Where is she?” The voice was laced with something she knew all too well. But he wasn’t slurring his words. No, this was undiluted rage.

  Grace turned on her heel and ran back to the room, away from the monster. She needed to warn Lowell.

  18

  “Lowell, wake up,” Grace hissed, rocking his arm gently, then looking toward the door in a panic. She looked back, shook harder. Lowell’s eyes opened, focused on her.

  “Your father is here. In reception. He was screaming at the woman behind the desk.” Lowell snapped wide awake. He rubbed his eyes and saw his mother coming awake now. She must have heard her too. She looked worriedly at Lowell.

  “Don’t worry Mumma, I’ve got this.” He stood straight, pulled his wrinkled shirt down, kissed his mother’s forehead and walked toward the door. There, he met his father.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” his father snapped, trying to push him aside, but Lowell held up his hand, blocking his entry, and stared at his father. Grace, standing by his mother’s bed, quietly reached over and took Nellie’s shaking hand.

  “I said, what are you doing here? You are not welcome here,” his father roared. The nurses at the desk looked up at the disturbance, one picking up the phone discreetly.

  “I’d say the opposite is true, Father. You’re the one not welcome here,” said Lowell, his voice steady.

  “Oh, you can go to hell, boy. Who do you think you are, telling me where I can be? She is my wife!”

  “Men do not beat the women they love. They protect them.”

  “Well, you’re not a man. We’ve already established that fact,” his father’s voice hissed at him, his eyes boring into Lowell’s. He tried again to get past, but Lowell held his ground. There was movement by the elevators.

  “I do not wish to see my husband,” Nellie said, her voice barely a whisper, but it was loud enough for all to hear her message.

  “I have a right to be here,” his father bellowed, then looked directly at Lowell and added, “She’s mine.”

  Something about that sentence made the hairs on Grace’s neck stand up. She looked to Nellie. Tears shone in the woman’s eyes. Defeat reflected in them. Grace untangled their hands and walked toward Lowell, standing behind him.

  “Who the hell are you?” Lowell’s father shifted his attention to Grace.

  “It doesn’t matter who I am. But these two people? They are not possessions. Not something you own. They are people. Loving people. Caring people. People who deserve love and understanding. And they deserve respect. Your son is an amazing person, an amazing son, and an amazing friend. You are an idiot for throwing him out. But maybe that’s best because he’s a much better man than you appear to be. Nellie has expressed she doesn’t want you here, so you need to leave. Now.”

  She didn’t know where the words came from, but she meant every single syllable. She stood taller behind Lowell. His father’s anger intensified. She expected a fist, a backhand, something, but the nurse and two security guards walking toward them got his attention.

  “Sir? You need to leave. You are not on the approval list for this patient,” the nurse said, brandishing her clipboard like a weapon.

  “Like hell I’m not. I’m her husband, for God’s sake.”

  “Sir, you need to leave,” the security guards moved closer. Lowell’s chin jutted out defiantly. Grace stared the man down.

  “Then you can take the useless woman home with you. She’s not welcome in my house. Especially if she supports the likes of you. You can all rot in hell.”

  And with that, Lowell’s father turned and stormed past the security guards, but they followed him down the hall.

  Nellie broke out in tears and Grace stepped aside to let Lowell go to her.

  “I’m sorry Mumma. I thought it was the best thing,” said Lowell, taking her hand, kissing it. Grace bowed her head, trying to disappear from the scene.

  “Come here, my girl,” the woman whispered. Nellie and Lowell were looking right at her. Their faces held the same look, but she couldn’t read its meaning. She screwed up. Shit. She felt the sting of salty tears on her lashes. Had she made things worse? What sparked her to speak up?

  “I’m so sorry. I am so, so sorry. I didn’t mean…” Lowell stepped toward her and pulled her into a hug.

  “Thank you Jelly. Not only for coming with me, but for that, what you did there. You are a brave woman, braver than I ever believed. Thank you for sticking up for us. For being on our side.”

  “Well, sure. I mean, you’ve been there for me and…. But I hope…”

  “Stop there,” he said, and led her back to his mother’s bed. The woman opened her hand again and Grace took it. The woman squeezed her fingers.

  “Zaki. Call Aunty Sharn. She’ll know what to do.”

  “Aunty Sharn?” he asked, surprised. His mother nodded. He looked to Grace.

  “She is my mother’s oldest friend. We moved to Queensland when we first moved to Australia to be near her. She and my mother grew up together in Nigeria, before my mother moved to England. I think I was about ten when we moved south for my father’s job.” He glanced back at his mother.

  “You stayed in touch?” His mother nodded. “Then Mumma, why didn’t you call her before this?” His mother simply shook her head, but Grace understood why she stayed silent.

  Staying was too hard to explain.

  With his mother’s phone in hand, Lowell left the room to call his aunt.

  “Why do you call him Zaki?” Grace asked. It was a strange nickname. There had to be a story behind it.

  “It means sweetness in Hausa, my mother’s Nigerian language,” she explained. “He’s been sweet since the day he was born.” Nellie smiled at Lowell, standing outside the door, his face now in a broad smile.

  “You know how Lowell always likes to call people funny pet names? Well, he got that from me. Now, child. Tell me the story of why he calls you Jelly.” Grace looked to Lowell and smiled, then told his mother about her own nickname, the one she’d finally come to accept with affection.

  * * *

  “You know Zaki, I was just thinking of the last time we were in this hospital together,” Nellie said when Lowell returned.

  “That was a long time ago now,” he said, looking pained, handing her back her phone.

  “You looked broken in this hospital bed,” she continued, her eyes finding his. She glanced at Grace, as if to ask a question.

  “It’s okay Mumma, she knows what happened.”

  “I thought you were dead when I walked into this room,” she said. “You had everything wrapped in bandages. Your right leg, in that cast, and elevated. And your face? Sweet Jesus. You were unrecognisable. But I knew it was more than that. Deeper than that.”

  “I almost died Mumma. He didn’t hold back. But it wasn’t his fists that nearly killed me. His hatred broke me. It took me a long time to get past
his awful words. I only wish he didn’t take that out on you.” Lowell said, his voice carrying the guilt he so clearly felt. “I actually believed, coming out to you both, that it would free me. But it did the opposite. I felt more trapped by what he said to me than before. Took me a long time to realise his words weren’t my truth.”

  “I know you were in hospital for a long time,” his mother said. “I know it was more than just broken bones that kept you here. Then I heard...” Her voice cracked. “I heard you tried to kill yourself after that.”

  Grace looked down at the semi-colon tattoo on Lowell’s wrist.

  “You should have filed charges, Zaki. Your father was expecting the police to show up at the door every day. For weeks.” Lowell looked at his mother with tears in his eyes. When he’d explained that time to Grace, he told her he could’ve ended his life, but he chose not to because of his mother. Grace was thankful for that for so many reasons.

  “I couldn’t press charges, Mumma. Not while you were still there. And I knew he had connections. Neither of us would be safe if I did,” Lowell said, squeezing his mother’s hand. “It was hard enough getting letters from you and not being able to reply. I’m just grateful for our lunches. I’m sorry he found out about them.”

  “Well, that’s in the past now. Sharn and Jerome have a nice little granny flat out the back of their house. Sharn has been trying to get me to move in there for years,” Nellie said. Lowell looked surprised. “Oh, she knows everything. And don’t worry, I’ll be safe there. Jerome has also been hinting he has his own connections. I haven’t mentioned them to your father in over twenty years. He’ll never suspect I’m with them.”

  As Grace listened to their conversation, she recalled when Lowell first told her about the lunch rendezvous with his mother. They each drove four hours, every other month, just to have lunch together. Grace didn’t know how he did it with his busy life, but it never fazed him. The bond they shared was too important to them both to worry about such things. She wondered what her own mother would have done to protect her.

  * * *

  Two nights later, with Sharn and Jerome heading north with Nellie, Lowell and Grace headed south toward home. Lowell was relieved to know his mother was in excellent hands. By the time his mother’s oldest friends arrived, Sharn had arranged everything. The doctors would release Nellie to the hospital six hours north, under Sharn’s care. Sharn, a retired ICU nurse, assured Lowell that privacy laws would not allow either hospital to disclose anything to Lowell’s father. The transfer was seamless.

  “I think we need some tunes, Jelly. Your choice. Just no hip hop,” said Lowell, his tone much lighter. “I just need something to keep us driving until Sydney.”

  “You know, I can drive if you need me to. I mean, I don’t have my license, but I know how to drive.”

  “Why don’t you have your license then?” He looked over at her, the oncoming headlights highlighting their faces.

  “I don’t know…” she responded and realised there was no reason for her not to have her license now. Before, her father said it was so they couldn’t be tracked. But now she felt that whoever was after them, they were after her father. Not her.

  “Lack of funds, I imagine,” he suggested. She nodded, letting him think it was financial. What would be involved in getting her license? Would she need identification? Surely, they needed something. That was a problem. She only had fake papers.

  19

  A pounding came at their door. Grace almost dropped the bowl she was drying. Lowell looked at her, suds covering his hands in the sink. Shaking her head, she quietly placed the bowl on the counter.

  “Are you expecting Daniel tonight?” he asked quietly. She shook her head. “I’m not expecting anyone either.” He wiped his hands and walked to the door. He peered through the peephole and pulled back fast, turning to her.

  “Police?” he mouthed. Grace felt the wind go out of her lungs. On instinct, she threw down the tea towel and rushed into the bathroom to hide behind the door. Lowell opened the front door.

  “Good evening. Sorry to bother you. We’re looking for a Grace, ah,” the officer paused, “Thompson. Does she live here?”

  “No, but we’re friends.” Grace was relieved to hear Lowell was savvy enough to lie about where she lived. She was grateful for his protection.

  “May we come in?” he asked. “We have a few questions.”

  Then silence. Shit.

  Grace heard footsteps on the wood floor. Two sets. One wearing police-commissioned boots and the other wearing… heels? The door closed behind them. Her heart raced. Why were they looking for her? People only came looking for her father. Had something happened to him? Or had Miss O’Donnell called the police after all?

  “Is Miss Thompson here with you? We have some questions pertaining to her father,” the policewoman asked.

  “No, not tonight. Is there something I can help you with?”

  “Are you Mr. Kanu? You’re the one on the lease here?”

  “That’s right.” Grace hated herself for putting Lowell in this situation. Especially after everything he’d been through over the last week. And how did they even find her?

  “Grace’s father, Mr. Thompson, has been arrested. Her name came up in our conversation with him. He said his daughter had, ah, ‘flown the coop’. To be honest, it’s taken us a while to find her, but we have some questions we need to ask her. We finally tracked her down through school records. She, um, lists this place as her address?” They were being vague. But what was her father arrested for? It had to be drug related. It was surprising he hadn’t been caught already. “If you can ask Grace to call me. We’d like very much to speak with her.”

  “Of course. I’ll let her know.” When the door closed after the officers left, Grace let out her breath. Now she had to face Lowell.

  She tiptoed out of the bathroom and peeked around the corner toward the front door. Lowell watched through the peephole. She jumped when he turned around quickly.

  “Want to take five guesses what that was about?”

  “I heard.”

  “He’s been arrested. You’re safe.” For tonight, she thought. Her father would wonder if she was the one that called the police. He’d accused her of doing that in the past. They’d evaded the police many times before. It would spark his need to find her. She looked at her cuticles, picked at some skin edging up. The shame she felt was unbearable. She couldn’t look at Lowell.

  “You need to call them. They left a card. They’ll be back if you don’t.” She nodded, working her ravaged fingers. How could she avoid them? What questions could they have for her? Did she need to run? She didn’t want to. She’d found safety here. Life was good. A trickle of warm blood blossomed, giving her a moment of comfort.

  “I’ll call them tomorrow morning.” She worried the police would still be outside, waiting for her. She had to work out what to do before morning. Normally it was her father deciding what to do, when to run, but now it was all on her.

  “Jelly.” She looked up at Lowell. “I’m right here. I can protect you.” She doubted that, but it was nice to hear he was willing.

  “You were brave with my dad. I know you have it in you. Now, you need to stand up to John, just as you did with my father,” he said, then returned to the dishes. If only it were that simple.

  * * *

  Grace was wide awake before the sun came up the following morning. She tried not to move until she knew Lowell was awake in the lounge room. No matter how quiet they tried to be, once one was up, so was the other. There was no room for privacy in the tiny space.

  “Lowell,” she whispered into the morning light.

  “Yeah, Jelly?” he responded. His voice sounded deep and croaky, like he got as little sleep as she did.

  “I’m going to call them this morning. I need to know if he’s going to come after me.”

  “Why? Wait, I need the loo.” He threw his bed covers back and padded to the bathroom in his boxer briefs and a
n AC/DC t-shirt.

  When the bathroom door closed, Grace got up, dressed, made her bed quickly, then walked into the kitchen to put the kettle on. It was almost boiling by the time Lowell emerged, looking a lot more awake than he’d sounded minutes before.

  “Cups are ready… just need water. My turn,” she said, then walked to the bathroom. She felt guilty leaving Lowell to deal with the police the night before. No, she wouldn’t bring him any further into it.

  Lowell handed her a steaming cup of coffee when she returned.

  “So, you’re calling them? Want me to stay with you?” She nodded.

  “I’m sorry to have done that to you last night. Me, hiding, I mean. That wasn’t fair.”

  “I get it. Who knows what the manipulative bastards in our lives would do?” Grace looked at him with gratitude and took a sip of her coffee. Maybe he understood? At least some of it.

  “I’m your friend, Jelly. Friends help each other, remember?” Lowell walked over to the table where they kept their keys and bags. He retrieved the officer’s card and handed it to her. She read the card.

  “This… the policewoman is a detective. From Victoria.” Her voice was faint.

  “Yeah, I noticed that too,” he said, sipping his coffee. “Seems odd, don’t you think?”

  Whatever it was, she needed to understand what her father was doing and what he had dragged her into.

  * * *

  “Hello, I’d like to speak to Detective, um, O’Neal, please? Oh… my name is, um, Grace Thompson. She came to my friend’s apartment last night and said she needed to ask some questions about my father?” She paused. “His name? John Thompson. Yes, that’s right. Her card says Victoria Police, but this number was handwritten on the back of the card. Yes, I’ll hold.” Her hand was shaking. Lowell sat on the floor watching her. She tried to smile at him, but she knew it came out like a grimace.