by Tara Marlow
“I don’t know. I remember seeing some papers laying on his bed once, but that was a while ago.” What were those papers, she wondered?
“They looked official,” she continued. Surely their birth certificates would be amongst the pile. She would have to go back there. Back to the apartment. She hadn’t been there for weeks. She hadn’t heard from her father either. Would he be out of jail by now? What if he was home when she went in? A feeling of dread filled her.
“Are you okay?” Lowell asked. He picked up the sudden shift in her mood. She’d ignore the vibe she was feeling. She needed to focus on getting her birth certificate. But what would that mean if she found it? She went by a different name now.
“It’s okay. We’ll go over together and find it.” Lowell squeezed her shoulder reassuringly before walking back to the kitchen.
“No, I need to go by myself,” she was quick to say. Blend in, she thought. “He doesn’t know about you, remember? I want to keep it that way.”
“You’re not going alone Grace. That part of your life is over.”
“Yeah, I know but this is something I need to do alone.” If he knew about Lowell, he could find her. “Besides, I know what he’s like. I know how to handle him.” Lowell scoffed.
“I can handle it. If you want to wait at the corner for me, fine, but I am getting the paperwork on my own.” When Lowell wouldn’t give in, she finally explained to him her fears of her father finding her. He still didn’t like it, but he relented.
* * *
The following afternoon, Daniel drove Lowell and Grace to her father’s apartment. Grace argued she could do this alone. She didn’t want either of them involved, but the pair ganged up on her. Two to one, Lowell quipped. She wasn’t happy about it at first. She didn’t need them there. But she had to admit, it was nice to have the support.
“I’ll be five minutes. Max,” she said when Daniel parked in front of the apartment block. “I am pretty sure I know where the paperwork is. If my father is out of jail, he’s usually not home at this time of day. I just hope my key still works. It probably will. He’s too lazy to get the locks changed. Probably wouldn’t even think to do that. And I doubt the place has been leased already. Right?” She was rambling. Her frayed nerves prickled her skin, but she wanted to get this over with. She opened the door to the truck and jumped out on to the footpath, leaving her bag with them.
As she approached the door, she slowed her pace, her head bent to hear any sounds within. Things sounded quiet inside. She pushed the key in but needed to jiggle it a bit to work. It had rusted even more over the weeks she’d been away. When the lock finally clicked, she pushed the door open and was immediately assaulted by the smell of vomit and urine. She covered her mouth, but she could smell something else. That same smell she couldn’t quite place before. A half empty beer bottle sat on the floor by the couch. Odd. Her father never left beer behind. Things had changed and not for the better. But the place was empty, thank God. Maybe he was still in jail and this was left over from… before.
Focus. While she’d never actually seen a copy of her birth certificate, she figured her father must have hidden it somewhere in his bedroom. With her heart in her throat, she stepped into his room, acutely aware of every sound. She looked in the cupboard and found a shirt, half hanging from a hanger. She reached to fix it, but pulled back. He’d know she’d been in the room if she did that. She took a step back to see if there was anything on the shelf above. Nothing.
A woman, yelling at her kids outside near the clotheslines, startled her.
She kept looking. Empty beer cans were strewn around, the stale liquid puddled on the stained carpet. The stench made her nauseous. She opened the top drawer of the battered chest of drawers. Shuffling through a short stack of faded shorts, she found nothing but a joint.
She tried the next drawer. There was a single t-shirt in it. She went to the bottom drawer and pulled it out. Nothing in it. Maybe there was something underneath? She pulled the drawer out all the way. Now on hands and knees, she reached into the underbelly of the dresser. Her hand touched cold metal. She recoiled from it as if it was a snake. She looked down and gasped. A muzzle pointed toward her, as if lining her up.
A gun. What the hell was her dad doing with a gun? Her eyes zeroed in. There was something laying underneath the gun. Papers. Bingo! She reached in to grab them when a loud bang hit the front door. Shit. Shit. Shit.
She hurried to return the drawer. Grace fumbled, missing the guiding rails. She tried again. It dropped in her hand. Keys scraped loudly against the lock. She heard the keys drop to the ground. Someone swore in frustration. Then a fist pounding against the door in anger. Her father. He was out of jail. Oh God.
The drawer finally caught and slid in. She looked around to make sure nothing else was out of place, then ran toward her old bedroom out of habit. Maybe she could hide there while she waited him out.
She wasn’t fast enough.
“What the… What the fuck do you want?” Her father’s eyes tried to focus in on her.
“I ...”
He lunged at her, his hands quickly tightening around her neck, vice-like. His bloodshot eyes stared crazily at her. His breath was rank, and she noticed his bared teeth were tinged grey.
“Stop…” she squawked, but the words were halted when his fist came up hard to the side of her head. She saw stars. He released her throat and stomped away. She collapsed to the floor, gasping, trying to catch her breath.
“Look what you’ve done to me.” His voice was laced with venom. He guzzled at the half empty bottle of beer. Draining it, he shook it, like he expected it to magically refill. When it didn’t, he threw it against the wall. Glass shattered.
“That day. Remember that day? That day ruined my life. You, you little bitch. You ruined my fucking life. And then you thought you could just leave, didn’t you?” She didn’t know what he was talking about. Or even who he was talking about. Did he think she was her…mother? Grace flashed to the red suitcase. She tried to pick herself up. She had to get out. Her head was pounding, her throat bruised. She reached up to her neck, feeling the pain.
John stomped back over to her and picked her up by her arm, almost ripping it out of its socket.
“Where the fuck have you been? Whoring around again?” She mumbled no, but he either didn’t hear her or didn’t care. His hand drew back, and she reached up to push him away, but she wasn’t strong enough. Whatever he was high on had given him super-powers. The force of the blow, a backhand across her face, brought blood into her mouth. She flew back, knocking over a nearby chair. Before she could think, he yanked her head back by her hair. His eyes scared her more than ever.
“What was that, bitch? Admitting you’re a whore?” he slurred. John dragged his hand slowly along her torso, then bent forward, deeply inhaling her scent. “You smell like a whore.”
Her blood went cold. His next punch was straight to her midsection, causing her to double over. He yanked her upright by the hair again and grabbed her crotch. He clenched. Hard. The shock stunned her.
“Giving it away to whoever wants it? Yeah, you always did that, didn’t you Zoe? Fucking whore!”
He pushed her forcefully away and she tripped backward, over the upturned chair. Her head hit the floor with a thud. Blood spilled from her mouth. Blackness followed.
24
“I figured I would be straight in and out. I didn’t think he’d be there,” Grace said, laying in the hospital bed. She had woken in a panic an hour before. Child Services would surely be called. But would they? She was over eighteen. She was an adult. No, they wouldn’t be called now. She looked to Lowell, who stood next to her bed. Daniel stood at the end, clenching the bedrails. Both looked like they were trying to contain their anger. She looked back again to Lowell and narrowed in, trying to focus. She was in agony. She couldn’t deal with any more rage. John had been enough. She had her own feelings to deal with. Fear mostly. Fear her father would find her again and kill her
.
And yet, she still did not know how she got to the hospital.
“The last thing I remember was him pushing me, tripping over the chair.”
“You’re going to be okay, Jelly. You have a concussion, so you’ll have a doozy of a headache for a while. A dislocated shoulder. Two broken ribs. When we came in, he was… kicking you.” Lowell’s eyes flicked to Daniel, but Daniel was silent, quietly seething.
She nodded. Tears began forming. She tried to brush them away.
“So, you know, nothing different from before.” Lowell looked at her and tried to smile. But it was more of a snarl. The smile didn’t reach his eyes. He was trying to make light of the situation. He knew how it was.
“He knocked me to the ground, kicked me in the hip, I think. That’s the last I remember. He hit me a few times. Hard to the side of my head.” She reached up to the bandage. The pain killers numbed her, but her head was still throbbing. “That’s all I remember. Nothing until I woke up here. I don’t remember you coming in.”
Lowell looked at Daniel again. What was that about?
“Well, it’s a good thing we did,” Lowell said. Daniel gripped the end railing so hard, his knuckles were white. He’d yet to go near her, as if afraid to touch her. She didn’t know what that was about. He cleared his throat.
“When can I go home?” She asked Lowell, hoping it was soon. She didn’t want her father to find her here.
“I don’t know. Not today at least. But, let me go ask,” said Lowell, squeezing her hand for good measure.
“Daniel,” she said, once Lowell left the room. He avoided her gaze. “I’m sorry you got caught up in this.”
“It’s not your fault, Grace.” He walked toward her, pulling a chair over to the bed. “It’s never your fault.” She knew that and was surprised when he took her hand. Emotion hit him. He lay his head down against her leg and sobbed into the covers. What was going on? She let go of his hand and stroked his hair while he sat crying for a long time.
“They say...” Lowell walked in and stopped mid-sentence. Daniel sat up, wiped his nose across the back of his sleeve.
“Hey, it’s okay. It’s a lot to take in.” Lowell looked to Grace. She was just as perplexed as he was.
“Yeah. Yeah, it is. I’m sorry, Grace. I didn’t mean to lose it on you. It’s just... when I walked in and saw you...”
Lowell jumped in.
“I’m sure seeing you laying there completely blacked out would scare anyone. Anyway, the doctors said they want to keep you overnight for observation. The police are waiting to get your statement, but I asked if they could wait until you’re home before they ask you anything. They’re, um, cool with it. Just need to call them when you’re settled.”
Daniel looked at Lowell with gratitude. Seriously, what was going on with them? Her thoughts were muddled. Was there more going on that they weren’t saying? Their looks were… weird. No, she was reading into things. Lowell was always up front with her. He’d tell her if there was something going on. She was just confused. It had to be the painkillers.
“The hospital needs your details. We knew your name, address. Obviously. But they asked for your birthdate. We didn’t know it. I said you were seventeen. We convinced them Daniel was your next of kin. I was going to claim it, but it’s pretty clear I’m not.” He smiled at her, this time more genuinely. She tried to smile back but picked up on the one thing they didn’t know.
“Eighteen,” she mumbled.
“What?” Lowell looked confused. “What’s eighteen?”
“I am. I’m eighteen.”
“When did that happen? I thought that was going to be a big event?”
“The day I moved in with you. It was my birthday.”
“Geezus Jelly. Why didn’t you say something?” he asked. He continued speaking, but she tuned him out. She had failed. She had no identification. No Medicare card. She’d now have to work out how to pay the hospital bill. Shit.
“I didn’t get the birth certificate,” she said, laying her head back in defeat against the pillow. She felt dizzy.
“Probably the least of your worries right now,” mumbled Daniel.
“Where’s my father now? Do you know?” she asked Lowell softly, her eyes becoming heavy. She had to know where he was. He’d find her here. But she was losing the battle to the medication.
“In jail. Where he belongs,” said Daniel.
* * *
“How does she deal with it... all this bullshit? How could she put up with her father’s crap for so long?” She could hear Daniel speaking as if he was far away, but her eyes wouldn’t open. She could smell Lowell’s aftershave in the room. He was still there too. Good.
“I feel helpless,” Daniel continued. “This is worse than before.” Before when? Before, when he found her at the café all bruised? Was this too much reality for him?
“I don’t know if I can do this, man. She needs so much more than I can give her.”
“She needs our support, Daniel,” Lowell said. “Especially now. She’s never mentioned this… to me, anyway. This sounds like it was the first time he tried something like this with her.” First time trying what? She didn’t know what Lowell was talking about. Knocked her out? No, this wasn’t the first time her father had done that.
“I’m just glad the doctor gave her a sleeping pill,” Daniel said.
“Yeah, maybe her mind can rest a while, too. She’s been having some insane nightmares. She started telling me about them recently.” Her mind flashed to the red suitcase. Then the phone. Then the gun under her father’s chest of drawers. Why did he have that? It was illegal for him to have a gun. Had he used it before?
“Shit Lowell, I don’t know, man. I’m so...”
“I get it. It’s a lot to deal with. It’s a lot for Grace, too. Now the cops are involved, it will get harder. Especially since she doesn’t remember that he…”
“I just don’t know if I can give her what she needs Lowell. I ...”
“What? What does that mean?” Grace heard someone pacing the room. Was it Lowell? No, he still sat beside her. She heard him breathing. It must be Daniel.
“Look, I know this is shitty, but I need to get away. Think. I need to deal with what happened. I need to…”
“Are you fucking serious right now?” Anger simmered in Lowell’s voice. But there was more. Disappointment? It sounded more like disgust. Why? She was confused. What was Daniel saying? Graced willed herself to open her eyes, but the drugs were too heavy.
“Look, Lowell. I don’t know what to do. I am so fucking angry I want to pull the skin from my own bones. Just beat the motherfucker to a pulp, but I can’t do that. That’s not right for her. I need to be strong, but I’m not sure I’m strong enough right now. I don’t think I’m calm enough to help her. Right now, I want to whisk her away somewhere safe, but even then, I don’t know if it’s the right thing for her. I don’t know what to do...” Daniel’s voice cracked. “Seriously, man. I need to just get away for a bit. Think. It’s just...”
“Wow. I didn’t see this coming,” said Lowell after a while. Or had she fallen sleep? She didn’t know.
“Fuck, I’m really sorry, Lowell. I just don’t know what...”
“Whatever. I’ll stay with Grace. She’s safe with me,” Lowell said icily. She needed to ask what was going on. Come on eyes. Open. Open. Open. She could hear the words being said, but she couldn’t make sense of them. “I’ll do what’s best for Grace...”
“Really, I’m sorry,” said Daniel. He sounded a long way off.
“Whatever, Daniel. Go do what you need to do. We’ll be here, sorting the shit storm out. The doctor recommended that counsellor for her. I’ll get her there. One thing. Does she know about Kate?” Lowell’s tone was monotone. Stone cold.
Wait what? What was the shit storm? This wasn’t any different from her father’s usual behaviour. A counsellor? What was that about? And who the hell is Kate?
“She knows I had a girlfriend b
efore, but that’s all she knows.”
“So, she doesn’t know about the suicide?” Whose suicide? Kate’s?
“No,” Daniel whispered. “It was never the right time.” For what?
“Yeah. Sure.” A chair scraped next to her, and she heard Lowell mumble, “fucking asshole.” Then he left the room. Daniel came closer. His breath brushed her cheek. She felt his lips on her forehead. He was breathing faster than normal. What was going on? The pacing started again. Then silence.
Daniel whispered, “I’m sorry, Grace. It’s just. Well. Lowell is a much better man than I am.”
25
Blood. Everywhere. She was running along a trail when it suddenly changed into a street. It was dark. Very dark. Lights lined the street, but it was still pitch black. Rain. Just a drizzle. Her father dragging her along. Daddy, you’re hurting my arm. Then blood again. In an intricate pattern over the kitchen tile, like a spider web. Now the blood was like lava. Thick lava, flowing toward her. The nightmare changed again. Lowell was there. Jelly, he whispered. Jelly. Jelly. Jelly. She was back in the closet again. She was five. It was dark here, too. She could hear yelling. No. Screaming. Stop. Stop. Stop. She looked down at the phone. What was the number Mummy told her to call? Did she have to ring Nanny? Will Nanny come and help? She was just there today. Nanny said she’d be back. When will she be back? Is she coming before Daddy hurts Mummy? The blood again. Blood in the hallway, dribbling out of the red suitcase by the front door. The door was red too, with glass in it. There were pretty glass flowers in the door, and it was wide open. They were running down the street again. Her. And her father. Then the closet again. What was the number she was meant to dial? She jabbed at the phone. No. No. No. She looked at the phone again. Nanny was there. She was carrying the red suitcase. Come home to me, sweetness. You’ll be safe here. Back in the closet. She held the phone again. It felt cold. Then again in the dark street, being pulled along by her wrist. A woman was pulling her now, not her father. But it wasn’t her mother. And it wasn’t Nanny. Who was it? Jelly. Wake up Jelly.
