by Mary Jaine
"Barbara...you said Barbara was...my mother?" I began, "how was that even possible, she lived with us, why didn't...?"
Ayesha cut me off.
"Because he was an evil, psychotic, rat-shit bastard, that's why!" she screamed, and I cowered down in my seat, suddenly afraid of this woman who'd suffered so much at the hands of my father.
"He took that poor woman away from wherever he found her, he gave her children to keep for himself, he terrorised and abused her, and he killed her, that fucking piece of shit killed her because she tried to help your brother! That fucker sat right where you're sitting, drunk as a skunk and told me all about it, how he killed her because she went through his papers, how he made it look like suicide, and he gloated about it, he was proud of what he did, everything, what he did to her, what he did to your brother, what he did to me, he thought he was the fucking King Shit of the Western World, like he was some kind of superstar...!"
She abruptly cut her tirade short and laid her head in her hands and cried, huge, gasping sobs as she let it all out, and me, I sat there like a moron, too shocked and disgusted to move, too ignorant to know what to say, just numbed and paralysed by the horror of what had happened to this woman and her life because of my father. One fact that kept clanging inside me, however, and would not be quieted; he'd killed Barbara; he'd killed her and boasted about it, she hadn't committed suicide, it was him, he'd killed her, she was my mother, Bobby's and mine, and that hadn't stopped him, it hadn't even slowed him down, he'd still tied that rope around her neck and watched her choke her life out and did nothing; he was a murderer, he murdered my mother...
I found myself stroking her shoulder, her back, trying uselessly to comfort her, unable to do anything else, because I didn't know how, I didn't know how to reach out and comfort a fellow human being. I didn't know how because he'd done that to me, he'd made me less than a human, just a shell with no understanding of how to be a real person, one with proper feelings, and empathy, and compassion; I truly didn't know how to express compassion or sorrow, because he didn't have those, so he'd never taught us; in a sudden, stinging epiphany I realised I was even less human than the stray dogs I'd seen rooting in the dumpsters and squabbling in the streets, I had none of the gentler emotions, the only inheritance I had from that man was a lack of basic human emotions and connections so profound it passed all understanding. I was a golem, a walking shell, a vacuum, I knew nothing about anything, not even how to try and take someone's pain away, and that realisation stunned and horrified me.
Ayesha's hand squeezing mine woke me from my heartsick woolgathering. Her face was grey, but her features composed, tear tracks staining her cheeks but she was calm again, she'd said what she needed me to hear, and the crisis point had been passed. She took both my hands, looking into my eyes, concern and compassion in her eyes, and I realised she was concerned for me, for what she'd made me see.
"Richard, I'm...I don't know what to say to you, I thought you needed to know this stuff, but I'm sorry you had to hear it, if that makes sense; I know it's not your fault, or your brother's, I showed you my anger and it wasn't your fault, none of it was. Please forgive me, I hated you for what your father did, and I was wrong. It's gone now, it's all over, but now you know, and maybe we can, I don't know, move on together. Will you forgive me?"
I nodded, not knowing what else to say, and she cupped my face gently with her warm hands, a faint smile on her lips.
"So much like him, yet nothing like him at all..." she murmured, "maybe there's hope for you, so now we have to ask, 'what are we going to do with you, Richard Davies?' Come, sit with me, we'll talk, and when your sisters come home, we'll talk like a family should, yes?"
I let her lead me back to the sitting room, going slowly because she needed to lean on her walking cane, into the less confrontational and homely atmosphere, but my mind was still churning with all I'd learned, the things I now knew about where I was from, and what I was. I think Ayesha divined some of what I was thinking, because she sat on the sofa next to me and took my hand while she gazed silently at me.
"Yasmin trusts you," she said out of nowhere, startling me out of my thoughts of Barbara, Nicky, what had been done to them. "What..? I blurted out and she smiled that faint, enigmatic smile of hers.
"Yasmin. She likes you. What's more, she trusts you; she thinks you're OK."
I must have looked puzzled, I certainly didn't understand her, but her hand on my arm was gentle, and she didn't seem mad at me anymore.
"Let me tell you something about my girls, Richard, about your sisters," she began. "They're scared; Yasmin is scared all the time, she's jumpy and nervy, and Shereen tries not to show it, but she's just as scared; they've been scared all their lives, but it's a funny thing; since you've been here, and they've been helping look after you, a lot of that has gone; it's like it's clicked down a couple of notches. Not all of it has gone, that's going to take time, but enough that it makes me wonder what they're seeing. Everything that happened, what they saw, what happened to them, Yasmin is finally getting past it all, and I know you don't understand this, neither do I, but I think it has a lot to do with you being here."
She sighed as she leaned back, her eyes looking off into the distance, seeing things I never could.
"Your father left some deep scars in her, and Shereen, well, you saw for yourself; they know he's been locked up forever, but they're both still very frightened; what he said and did left strong and lasting memories. Yesterday and last night, for the first time, I saw Yasmin starting to let that all go. She needs a positive male influence in her life, and I think that could be you, if that's what you want; I don't want to pressure you, but just you being here has made an incredible difference in her, because now she knows that not all the men in her family are like that man, and she likes you, she even trusts you; this morning, before she even thought of herself, she just had to look in on you and make sure you were alright, that you were still here, that her big brother was still here and hadn't slipped away during the night."
She grinned as she squeezed my hand gently.
"She's happy now, she knows she's got a big brother now, if you'll be that for her, and she's feeling truly safe for the first time ever. If for nothing else, then thank you for that, Richard, you've made a big difference in her, and I'm happy."
She paused to brush my hair back off my forehead with her fingers, a gentle, intimate gesture.
"Even Shereen's coming around, now she's gotten past the memories a little and accepted that you are indeed her little brother, that you're not like that man, and that in your own way you're just as injured and traumatised as she was. Remember one thing; Shereen's always had to be the strong one, the protective big sister, but she needs you too, I can see that, and if you let her, she'll probably care as much for you as she does Yasmin. Both your sisters need you; you may be a complete stranger to her, but there's something about you, and no matter how hard she pushes back against it, Shereen knows you're part of this too, part of her and us. She can be so hard-headed at times, and she probably can't even admit it to herself right now, but it's clear to me you being here makes her feel safe too."
She gave me that enigmatic smile again and once more flicked my hair out of my eyes.
"Remember, and keep it top of mind, Richard, she won't let go of the 'big sister' thing easily; she's been the big sister to Yasmin all her life, and now she's going to be your big sister too, and she'll push it; that's just the way she is, so try and not push back too hard; don't let her walk all over you, but give her space to be your big sister, and she'll include you and make sure you know you're part of this family."
This constant harping about the girls always being scared had struck a chord inside me; if my father, the man they'd been afraid of (with good cause, I had to admit, if half what I'd been told was true) was in jail and wasn't ever getting out, what did they have to be scared of? Something she'd said earlier had registered but I couldn't winkle it out, but it gave me a feelin
g of vague, unformed dread; there was something else here, more evil still waiting to be revealed.
"Why is Yasmin so scared?" I asked, unwilling to ask the question but unable to let it go and Ayesha stared at me, her forehead knitted, before nodding slowly, like she'd had to make a hard decision.
"I told you, Robert Davies, your...her father, threatened to...sell her to his friends, whatever they were, and she doesn't know I know, but once, he nearly...he nearly..." she paused to clear her throat, her eyes bright and scared. "She got away, Shereen and her, they got away from him before he could...do anything, but only because he was so drunk...they think I don't know what happened, don't tell them; let them tell you when they're ready. That's why Yasmin feels so drawn to you, that's why you make her feel safe, because she already trusts you; she sees something in you that makes her believe you won't let anything happen to her. I hope to God she's right..."
The sound of the front door opening put an end to our conversation, along with a warning glare from Ayesha. The sitting room door opened and Yasmin poked her head around the door, her eyes lighting up as she grinned cheekily at me.
"You stayed, good, I hoped you would!" she chirped, "Mummy, is Ricky going to stay for a while?"
Ayesha smiled at me. "I don't know; is Ricky going to stay for a while?"
I stared at her, nonplussed, and Yasmin raised her eyebrow and nodded, so I nodded back.
"Yes, I'd like that very much...if it's not too much trouble...?"
Yasmin stepped fully into the room and I got my very first proper look at her, uncoloured by any state of apprehension or puzzlement, and I have to say I was awestruck; my little sister was gorgeous! Her long, thick hair, flowing in tumbled curls almost to the small of her back was a rich mahogany-red, not Titian, nor auburn, but a lustrous, red-bronze somewhere between the two. Her eyes were like her mother's, a vivid green-hazel, and so bright that, like Ayesha's, they appeared to be lit from behind. Her skin was a pale olive with a faint golden blush, pale and sleek, giving her a lush, exotic look, and she was tall and slender, with a tiny waist and small breasts (and I blushed guiltily as I realised I was thinking about my kid sister's boobs!), her long, slender legs encased in skinny jeans that showed off the curve of her hips and long thighs, and her round, firm little bottom. I realised with a sudden burst of insight just how hot my kid sister was, the thought followed closely by wondering if she had a boyfriend, and a quickly suppressed snap of jealousy at the thought, which made no sense to me; she was my sister, I should protect her, yes, not feel jealous of boys who might be dating her!
"Ricky Davies, you're my big brother, you only just got here, and you look like you need a good feed and a good sleep, so no, it's not too much trouble, we'd be glad to have you here, isn't that right, mum?" she grinned, her grin widening into a big smile when Ayesha grinned back at her.
"You're welcome to stay, Richard, you seem like a nice boy, your sisters and I would be glad of the company. Stay as long as you like."
"Shereen...what does Shereen think, she doesn't like me much..." I mumbled, and Yasmin beamed at me.
"All sorted, Ricky, we discussed this last night while you were out cold, whatever that...that man did, it wasn't you, you're not the enemy here, so she's fine with you staying here, don't worry about her, just let her boss you around a bit and you'll be fine."
"Anything else I should know...?" I asked, and again Yasmin grinned at me.
"Just take it easy around her; she'll let you in, just give her time, OK? You're her kid brother, remember? She's just raring to push you around, just go with the flow."
As if on cue, I heard the front door open, and Shereen call out "Mum, I'm home!"
The sitting room door swung open and Shereen stepped into the room, giving me a quick once over, then, in a classic 'double-take' her eyes locked on my face and her eyes widened.
"Jesus, you look like that...wow, wow, just look at you, it's scary..." she stammered, her face flushing.
Yasmin leaned over and poked my arm, grinning at her sister.
"Ricky Davies, meet your big sister, Shereen Shahida, and Shari, meet your kid brother and my big brother, Ricky Davies; please try not to kill him, I haven't finished with him yet!"
*
Ayesha kept me occupied for the next hour or so talking about Nicky, Bobby, our family life, why I thought dad had made such a big secret out of not letting Barbara tell us she was our mother, but it was gentle, none of the hurt, pain-filled, angry inquisition of earlier. I found her easy to talk to, warm and motherly, and that confused me; heretofore, gentleness and simple human warmth hadn't played a big part in my life, although, on reflection, that was what Barbara had always had for Nicky; it was a sobering thought that I could have had that too, for want of just a little compassion on my side. The jarring realisation just how easily I'd let what could have been the best thing in my life just slip away hit me hard, and for the first time in my life I cried, mostly tears of guilt, but a with huge sense of loss, too as Ayesha held me close. I did glance up once to see Shereen staring at me, her expression unreadable, but that hard edge was gone, and her eyes were soft and reasonable.
After a time that felt like seconds, but could have been a lifetime, I felt her ruffle my hair gently, and when I looked up, startled, she grinned at me.
"You have nice hair for a little brother, Ricky," she grinned, "later, I'll trim it for you if you like, but it's kind of nice just like this..."
I remembered Yasmin telling me that at some point Shereen was going to make it clear she was my big sister, so I guess that was her way of marking my card. It didn't trouble me, I could get used to having a bossy big sister, especially one as lovely as Shereen!
Yasmin stuck her head around the door and grinned at me, and looked over at Shereen with a quizzical eyebrow raised; Shereen glanced at me and nodded slowly back at her; obviously some kind of conversation about me had been going on, and agreement had been reached, but about what? I soon found out. Yasmin came into the room and tugged my sleeve.
"Come with me, Ricky, I'll show you to your room, we'll get you settled in, then we all need to talk, OK?"
Yasmin ("call me Yaz, Ricky, everyone does...") led me down a flight of stairs into what must have been a basement once, but was now a comfortable-looking lounge area/rec room, with several big, softly upholstered chairs and a large, overstuffed couch, and a big-screen TV and DVD entertainment system, and on one side a small but comfortable guest bedroom with a compact en-suite bathroom.
"We thought you'd be comfortable down here, Shari and I use it to laze around, and mummy had an intercom installed from here to the kitchen so she could call us, so if you need anything just push the big button and whoever's there will answer."
She grinned cheekily and rubbed the material of my shirt between her fingers.
"There's closets in the bedroom, but you don't have any proper clothes, and you can't keep wandering around in these grungy old things, so we're going shopping later, you, me, and Shari; you need some basics and a good haircut, you look like something out of Buttville, the place where style went to die in its sleep, so if you're ready, we'll have some lunch, and then we're heading out to Westfield, let's see about getting you togged-up; you're with us now, strange new brother, gotta look the part!"
I tried to demur, saying I'd work out something but Yaz just looked right through me.
"Shut up Ricky. Shari's decided, and when she decides, it stays decided, so just let her do this; it's part of her saying sorry for going off at you, and she wants to dress you up a little; you're her project now, so just bite your tongue and say 'yes, Shari, no, Shari, three bags full, Shari' like a good little brother; can you do that and not piss her off?"
I could feel my face flushing, but I nodded.
"I'll try..." and Yaz grinned happily, hugging me closely with her head against my chest. I was kind of puzzled at her sudden affection for me, but it felt really nice, so I shut up and 'went with the flow'.
"Good,
now let's get some lunch, we need to talk to Shari and mummy, then we'll head out, and don't look so worried, it'll be fun!"
*
Shopping with my sisters was a next-level experience, in more ways than one; we seemed to run through a dizzying number of stores, names I'd never heard of, crammed with clothes I'd never dreamed of, but wherever we went heads turned and ogled the two beautiful bronze-haired goddesses tugging me from store to store, and I have to admit to more than a twinge of jealousy at the thought of other men looking at my new-found sisters that way; how bizarre is that?
Shari grinned knowingly whenever she glanced at me, like she knew what was going through my head, and even Yaz seemed to be aware, judging from the cheeky grin and tug on my arm whenever I looked at a man looking at her.
"Calm down, hun, it's just guys being guys, nothing wrong with that!" she'd smile, but I noticed she kept her arm through mine. I found that especially endearing, that and the way both girls would suddenly grab my hand and lead me to something they wanted me to look at, or try on, or just hold up against me. This intrigued me. Growing up, I'd hardly ever had fashionable clothes; strictly functional was the most my father would stretch to, and the concept of wearing clothes just to look good was kind of a new idea and hard to get my head around; cheap jeans and plain cotton shirts was all I ever wore, all I had, and strictly utilitarian.
However I felt, though, both girls had me trudging in and out of the men's fitting rooms while they eyed me up and down and nodded or shook their heads and sent me to go and try something else, fitting me into a particular image of me they had in mind.
While I was trying on some jeans, I stepped out to see what they had to say, and Yaz was alone, obviously Shari had gone off somewhere, and there was a youth, maybe late teens or early twenties, talking, or trying to talk to her, and she was trying to ignore him. He didn't see me coming up behind him, but the look on Yaz's face told me she didn't want him talking to her, and when he put his hand on her arm is when I stepped in. Yaz looked up at me and grinned.
