She lets out a humourless laugh at my terrible joke and bursts into tears. I throw my arm around her shoulders. “Hey, we’ll get through this together. We’ll get a house, sell pies by the side of the road and raise this kid together.”
“I’m not keeping it,” she whispers.
“You sure this is what you want?”
“Come on, Ana, you really think I’m Mummy material?”
“I think it doesn’t matter what I think. If you want to do this, I’ll be there with you. If not, I’ll help you look into your options.”
“I already made the appointment.”
“When?” I slide my fingers through hers and clasp her hand tight, the way we used to do when we were little and our only worries in life were running away from boys in the playground trying to catch us in a game of catch-and-kiss.
“Monday week.”
“I’m driving you.”
“Okay.” She rests her head on my shoulder again and we stay like that until the sky outside the window turns dark and her parents call us down for dinner.
Elijah
My eyes dart around the visitors’ room and I scan every face before finally coming to rest on a familiar pair of clear, blue eyes, so much like his daughter’s. Bob sits at a round table, his chunky arms folded against his chest and a wistful smile on his face. I know he’s thinking I wish he wasn’t sitting there alone, but when they said I had a visitor today I wouldn’t let myself believe it would be her. I’m not sure my heart could handle that hope being crushed once I found out she hadn’t come. Still, it’s good to see a familiar face.
I smile and the cut on my lip opens up again. It’s probably a good thing she hasn’t come. I’m already sporting a fat lip and a nasty cut over my left eyebrow from the shit storm of a fight in the yard yesterday. I don’t need to land myself in any more trouble, and beating the other prisoners’ faces in for looking at my woman the wrong way could see my parole offer for good behaviour revoked.
The guard plonks me down in the seat opposite Bob and moves to stand near the wall to watch over his band of criminals.
“How you doing, son?” Bob asks and his eyes zero in on my face.
“Can’t complain, no one would fucking listen.” I smile and hiss when my lip opens up again.
“They treating you alright?”
“What, this?” I point to my face. “Just a couple of playground bullies. They got theirs, and now they’re both in isolation. I’m keeping my nose clean, though.”
“Good, good.” Bob nods. His eyes are unfocused, like he’s thinking long and hard about something, and then he snaps his attention back to me and says, “I brought you something.”
“It’s not a gorgeous blonde is it?”
“No. But it’s a picture of one.” He glances at the guard and indicates with his hands that he’s going to pull something out of his pocket before reaching in and placing three photos on the table before us. The first is one of Sammy and Ana huddled on the couch, stuffing their faces full of popcorn. Their attention is focused away from the camera, it’s a candid side-on shot. Ana’s not wearing any make up, her hair is piled on top of her head in a messy bun and she has popcorn all down the front of her shirt, but there’s a smile on her face that’s the most beautiful fucking thing I’ve ever seen. Sammy’s head is in her lap and her hand rests gently against his hair. There’s so much love in that one tiny gesture that my heart practically splits open. I miss her so goddamn much.
The next photo looks like it was taken immediately after the first. Ana’s attempting to hide under a blanket while Sammy pulls it off of her. Her face is contorted into a grimace, but it’s still as beautiful as ever.
The third is Ana alone. The light around her is grainy and quite a bit darker. She’s asleep on the couch with her hand curled under cheek and her face slackened in sleep. There’s the barest hint of cleavage on display, her t-shirt is rucked up around her chest exposing her flat stomach and the short shorts she’s wearing show every perfect inch of her lean legs. She looks perfect and so completely fuckable I feel my cock twitch in my pants. I shift uncomfortably, clear my throat, and shoot Bob a questioning look.
“Hey, I’m not handing that one over lightly. That’s my daughter you’re erecting a fucking tent for under this table, but I know how you feel about her and I know what you did for her, so I’m making an exception this once.” He’s blushing. Fuck, I wish I had a camera so I could immortalize this moment forever. It’s funny how much has changed between the two of us. It’s hard to believe this big, blushing mountain of a man is the same guy who bailed me up against a wall and warned me away from his daughter. Now he’s visiting me in prison and handing over pictures like this.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he grunts.
“How’s she doing?”
“She won’t admit to it, but I think she’s hurting bad.”
“I’d give my left nut to talk to her. Just to hear her voice, just once.” In the months that I’d been inside I’d used my one phone call a week to talk to Bob. Seems kind of irrelevant when he visits every Sunday anyway, but I have no one else to call, and sometimes the need to speak to someone on the outside even about the most trivial of things was so great you’d sell your soul for the experience. I only ever called when I knew she wouldn’t be there to answer. Once no one had picked up and I hung on, just to listen to the message she recorded.
“If she wants to talk to you she’ll come visit. Until then, you gotta let her deal with this shit the best way she knows how.”
“Yeah, I know. I just wish she’d deal a lot quicker.”
“Court case is this week.”
I nod because this isn’t new information to me, and every time I think about her having to face that scumbag, knowing I won’t be by her side, I wanna attack every guard in this place and smash down every wall that’s keeping me locked away from her. “You’re going, right?”
“Finally getting to see that animal locked away? You bet your arse I’m going.” His eyes turn a darker shade of blue and he starts gritting his teeth. A muscle in his jaw pops.
I know how hard it must be for him to not dish out his own form of punishment when he sees that little turd-burger around town. If I were on the outside it would take a fucking miracle for me to let him walk away. I guess, in a way, it did. That night, if I hadn’t been thinking of Ana and what she’d think of me if she saw me like that, I’d have put a bullet right between his eyes and never looked back. Ana saved me from spending the rest of my days locked in a cell.
“You thought about what you’re gonna do if he gets sentenced to serve time here?”
“When,” I add.
“If. The evidence might be concrete but Turner’s got a big old pile of money and they’ve hired the best defence attorney in the state. He might walk away from this unscathed.”
“Then it’s a good thing I’m up for parole in three months.”
“Son,” Bob begins.
“Yeah, I know. I just can’t have him out walking around after what he did to her, you know?”
“I know, son, but you can’t be saying shit like that in prison either.”
I glance down at the pictures in my hands and sigh. “God, I miss her so fucking much.”
“It may not seem like it, but she misses you, too.” He follows the line of my gaze and gives me a consolatory clap on the shoulder. “She hasn’t been the same since the two of you broke up.”
I inhale hard through my nose to keep the tears at bay. After Mum and Lil died I went over half my life without ever tearing up, but since I met Ana it’s like a fucking dam opened up and every couple of months I’m bawling my eyes out like a fucking pansy-arse girl.
“Ah, hell kid,” Bob says when I finally lift my head and jam the heels of my hands into my eye sockets to keep them from leaking. “It breaks my heart to see you kids hurtin’ the way you are. She’ll come around, you’ll see. You just work on keeping your nose clean and you tell
that parole board whatever you have to in order for them to sleep better at night and you’ll be home in time for Christmas.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, though the thought of spending another Christmas alone held little appeal. At least inside I’d be spending the day with others. Despite what Bob had said, I was pretty sure that if Ana hadn’t come around by now, there was a good chance she wasn’t going to. It was just another of life’s losses that I’d have to get used to, but as I sat there, staring down at her picture and talking to her father, the kind of father I’d never had, I realise that getting over Ana Belle will be hardest thing I’ve ever done, and the lure of the white line no longer calls to me the way it used to.
“Christmas,” I say and shake my head in disbelief. “Can’t wait.”
Since I met Ana my whole life feels as though it’s spiralling out of control. If I could hold on to her, even just for a minute, I feel like maybe it would slow down long enough for me to get my bearings, but the spinning never stops and neither does the hurt. I smile like I’m excited about coming home, but all I feel is numb and pain, like the two are trading blows in the ring. Truth is, without Ana, I have no home. And that hurts more than any of the losses I’ve encountered so far.
Ana
The day of the hearing was quite possibly the worst day of my life, next to the day my mum died—and the day Scott held me down and stole my virginity after pulverising my face, that is. Holly had stayed over the night before, but even her usually cheerful disposition was absent today. Instead, it was like a black cloud had settled over the Belle household and there wasn’t a chance in hell it was going to lift.
I’d made the decision to allow my lawyer to speak on my behalf, and would be waiting out the verdict here at home. Despite my bravado in the supermarket, I couldn’t stand the thought of facing Scott again and I didn’t trust myself not to go postal if the judge let him walk free. Our evidence was concrete, the police had collected DNA and sperm samples from underneath my nails and from the rape kit, and they’d also taken photographic evidence of the bruises he’d left on my face and body. I needed to have faith in the system. I needed to know that the humiliation and horror of having strangers poke and prod at me wasn’t all for nothing.
Holly and I walk into the kitchen and my entire family stare up at me with wide, pitying eyes. My dad is fully dressed for court. He and Kerry will be sitting in on the hearing. I wanted to be the girl strong enough to face her attacker and watch as they carted him off to jail, but I’m not. I’m just trying to deal with what happened the best way I can, and I hope there’s no shame in that.
Dad walks over and pulls me into his arms, engulfing me in the smell of leather and his aftershave. He doesn’t say a word, but after a minute I felt his big body shaking with unshed tears, and the carefully constructed wall inside me holding everything together just crumbles.
Gut wrenching sobs tear from inside me and fill the room with their weak and horrible sound. I shake and sink to the floor and Dad sinks with me. He never once lets me go and he never says a single word, but I feel safe and loved inside his embrace so I cry out every tear I have for what Scott Turner had done to me, and I cry some more that the man I love is behind bars and that my best friend is pregnant with an unwanted baby and the fact that my mum isn’t here to hold me today like she should be.
And then I dry my eyes and I rise and I pour myself a bowl of cereal that I don’t eat, and I sit down on the couch with my best friend and try to pretend that today is just like any other.
* * *
Five hours into our chick flick marathon, Holly runs screaming and tearing through the house to throw up the ten zillion calories she’d just consumed. I want to throw up too, but for different reasons. I should get up and make sure she’s okay, but my whole body feels numb and I don’t think standing would be the best thing for me right now. Just as she’s coming back from the bathroom, my phone vibrates against the tabletop. We both freeze as we stare down at the screen displaying my dad’s picture.
“You gotta answer that, Ana.”
I tuck my hands beneath me and gently rock from side to side. I don’t know if the swaying is helping or making me feel worse but right now I’m a ball of nervously sick energy, and it’s the only thing keeping me sane and not hurling my phone at the wall. “I can’t.”
Holly snatches up the phone and says, “Hey Bob. No, she’s here. She’s just having a hard time dealing. Uh-huh, okay, I’ll let her know.”
She hangs up the phone, sets it back down on the table and takes my hand in hers. She gives me a sad smile. Tears spill over her lashes and onto her cheeks and I feel bile rise up my throat. “Seven years. No parole.”
The relief I think I should feel at hearing those words doesn’t come. I’m glad he’s being locked away, but no amount of time behind bars will ever bring back what he took from me and what he will continue to take every time I think about lying down with a man. There is no amount of years great enough to make up for what he’s sentenced me to.
Ana
One Month On
The phone rings for a fourth time and I contemplate not answering, but I know I have to. I’ve already spoken to Holly three times this morning, one more and I’m going to be late, but I can’t not answer, especially not today. In just a few short hours, she’ll be taken into a room to have her baby aborted. I can’t even imagine what she might be going through, the fear and uncertainty she must feel. If I could switch places with her I would, in a heartbeat. I hate to think of my best friend going through this all by herself, and that’s why I’ll be gluing myself to her side for the entire day. I will not let her go through this alone.
I pull the receiver from the cradle and press my ear to my shoulder to hold it in place while I pour some Nutri-Grain into a bowl. “Hello?”
There’s static over the line and then I hear a click and a smooth husky voice fills my ear. “Ana?”
I sit down hard in the kitchen chair, knocking over my bowl full of cereal. There’s milk running all over the tabletop and down onto the floor but I can’t move to clean it up; my heart’s hammering so hard in my chest I feel like it might explode. I’m not ready for this. I don’t know what to say.
“Ana? You there?”
“I’m here,” I whisper, though I’m at a loss for what comes next.
A beat passes and I’m beginning to think he might have hung up. I’m wondering if maybe I should, and then he whispers, “I miss you so fucking much, baby girl.” And all I can do is hold onto the phone and cry.
“I only get six minutes, darlin’.” There’s so much pain and vulnerability in his voice I want to reach through the phone and take him in my arms, but I can’t. The reality that I might never do that again hits me and I cry harder. “Tell me you’re okay?”
“I’m fine. I’m running late to pick someone up, though,” I say and then regret it instantly. The sound of his voice stirs up so much pain and bitterness, my heart still clamps in on itself when I think of how much I still love him and how much I wish it were enough, but I can’t deny it’s still a good sound to hear. “Are ... are they treating you well?”
He chuckles, “It’s a prison, Ana, not a day spa. But yeah, I keep my nose clean and I get by.”
“Have you seen him?” I whisper. I know I don’t need to elaborate. We both know there’s only one person I’d be talking about when it came to inmates.
“Yeah, I saw him. My fist almost saw the inside of his brain, but I walked away. I’m up for parole soon.”
“Wow, that’s great,” I mutter, but I’m only half-listening. I have too many thoughts spinning around in my head, and my heart feels like it’s collapsing in on itself.
“Listen, I’ve been thinking about you, about us. I made so many goddamn mistakes, baby girl, if I could take them all back I would,” he sighs. “Ah, shit. I’m going crazy without you, Ana. I need you to come see me. I have to see that you’re okay. I have to be able to touch you again, just for a minute.”
> “I don’t ... I don’t think I’m ready for that.”
“Ana—”
“I have to go. I’m running late.” I can hardly breathe with the weight of the things he’s saying. The guilt consumes me every night, as I lie safe in my bed while he’s locked away in a cage. He’s there because of me, and I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive him for what he did and the pain he caused and that terrifies me. I take a deep sobbing breath. “I’m so sorry, Elijah.”
I hang up the phone and cry until there’s nothing left. Then I drive my scooter to Holly’s and pretend as if nothing happened. I know she can see my puffy, tearstained face for what it is, but I won’t dump this on her today. She opens her mouth to ask but I just shake my head and walk over to her Peugeot.
“You wanna drive? Concentrating on the road that hard makes me want to blow chunks.”
“Sure,” I say, and bend over backwards to catch the keys she just lobbed in the air before they fall in a puddle.
“How you feeling?” I ask as I climb in the driver’s seat.
She lets out a short humourless laugh and glances at me across the centre console. “Like a horny teenager who went and got herself knocked up. You?”
“Like a rape victim who might die without ever once having had good sex.”
“Wow. How did our lives get so sucktacular?”
“Just lucky I guess,” I mutter, and take her hand in mine and squeeze hard. “This isn’t your fault.”
“Yes, it is.”
“Coop is just as much to blame in this situation. He should be here with you too.”
“Yeah, well, you know what they say about rock stars? A kid in every corner of the world, right?”
“Rock stars maybe, but Coop? Come on, Hols, he was crazy about you.”
“Apparently not crazy enough. Now come on, this baby isn’t going to abort itself.”
Born to Ride Page 87
