Behind the Tears (Behind the Lives)

by Hansen, Marita A.

  “I’ve had a few get aggressive. Mix alcohol with being turned down after being turned on and you get trouble.”

  “They didn’t hurt you, did they?”

  “Don’t worry ’bout it, I’ve been hurt worse than what any of those twats tried to do.”

  “Like with Chaz?”

  “S’pose so. He ripped into me really bad.”

  “He raped you too!”

  “No, he only beat me up.”

  “Why did he beat you up?”

  “Cos I tried to stab him when I caught him raping Ash.”

  “Oh God, I’m so sorry, Dante.”

  Dante shrugged, not feeling comfortable with her sympathy.

  “Is that the reason?” she said.

  He glanced at her. “The reason for what?”

  “Why you did me that way. You were mimicking what Chaz did to Ash.”

  He planted his foot on the brake, making them both jolt forward. “What the hell is wrong with you? You don’t have a right to ask me that!”

  “Maybe not, but I think you’re continuing what Chaz did, but in your own way.”

  “Hell no!”

  Her lips pulled tight. “You pro’bly don’t do it consciously, but the way you pushed me onto my front, then entered violently made me think—”

  “Then stop thinking! You’ve only just apologised for offending me, now you goin’ the whole hog and doin’ a helluva lot worse.”

  “Then talk to a psychiatrist ’bout it.”

  “No! Cos I’m not like Chaz! I don’t rape people. Why’re you doin’ this to me?”

  “I’m not doin’ it to upset you, but cos I want to understand why you act certain ways. My aunty’s a psychiatrist and she says a lot of promiscuous people have had traumatic things happen to them—usually sexual, like what you’ve experienced. I asked her some advice ’bout how you act and she—”

  “You don’t have a right to talk about me behind my back, and especially not to some damned psychiatrist who twists everything around to fit their fuckin’ stereotypes. I’m not a stereotype, and I’m not like Chaz!”

  “I know you’re not like Chaz, but you’re just as damaged, and I know it’s bothering you.”

  “No, you’re bothering me!” Beeping made him jump. He glanced behind, realising he’d stopped in the middle of the road. He started driving again. “Damaged, my fuckin’ arse. How ’bout you keep your shit opinions to yourself, cos I’ve had enough of them.”

  He turned down the next road, passing the small Catholic school Sledge and Juliet had gone to, with the triangular-shaped church next to it.

  Beth started talking again, “But it makes sense.”

  He threw a glare at her. “If it makes so much sense, then explain why you have rape fantasies? Does that mean you’ve been raped or have you seen a rape?”

  “No, neither.”

  “Then how I fuck has got nuthin’ to do with that sick paedo. And I am not a paedo.”

  “You’re taking this totally wrong. I never said you were, but the way you were so forceful during sex still suggests that you could be mimicking Chaz.”

  “Jesus! Stop saying that, cos it’s insulting and disgusting, and I’m not like that!” He put his foot on the brake, almost slamming into the back of a car waiting to turn. “Do you have any idea how I try to purge that image from my head of Chaz on top of Ash. My brother looked fuckin’ dead! And what Chaz wuz doin’ wuz the most repulsive thing I’ve ever seen. There’s no way in hell I would copy that.”

  “But your sex life isn’t normal, Dante—”

  “My sex life wuz never normal, so shut the fuck up.” He resumed driving, regretting not yanking her out of the car when he had the chance. Yeah, he took what he wanted like Chaz did, but that was as far as it went, he WASN’T a rapist, because Beth said it was consensual. And he always stopped with Kara, that woman hurting him more than he ever did her.

  “When didja start having sex?” Beth asked.

  “Is my sex life the only thing you wanna talk to me about? Cos you seem to be having serious issues asking me these fucked up questions.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Thirteen, okay. Are you happy now?”

  “That’s really young.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “It is to me, cos I wuz twenty-two when I lost my virginity.”

  Surprised, he glanced at her, then looked back at the road as they left Dargaville and headed into farmland again. “Ash wuz your first?”

  “Yes.”

  “No wonder you’re repressed.”

  “I am not repressed, cos even you were shocked with what I wanted to do.”

  He sneered, happy he’d turned the tables on her. “You are repressed, cos everything with to you is a fantasy, nuthin’ is real. I betcha masturbate while reading your books.” He started imitating a woman’s voice. “Oh fuck me harder, Flabio, oh yes, oh no, but we shouldn’t, you’re too big and I’m a virgin, but oh, you fit so right, but we still mustn’t, we’re not married, but oh, oh, oh, yes, yes, YES!”

  “You’re horrible! Why do ya hafta be so mean?”

  “That’s not being mean, but I can show ya mean if you ask nicely.”

  “See, you’re turning things sexual again.”

  “I wuzn’t being sexual, you’re taking what I said the wrong way.” He reached out and grabbed her pussy, making her squeal. Grinning, he removed his hand. “Now, that wuz sexual.”

  “You’re an arsehole,” she said, breathing heavily as she straightened her skirt.

  “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell ya. So, keep your lily white soul, and find some knight in shining armour who’ll treat you like the princess you are, instead of someone who grabs your pussy.”

  “No, I still want you.”

  He grunted a laugh. “Then expect hell, cos you won’t be gettin’ heaven from me, especially if you insist on analysing everything I do.”

  “You’ve sent me to heaven twice so far, then put me in hell right after, so I expect both, and will take both, if it means I get to have you.”

  He shook his head. “Then you’re more fucked in the head than I am, cos I ain’t worth the trouble.”

  “You are to me, I love you.”

  “You shouldn’t.”

  “But I do, and you can’t change that.”

  “Maybe I don’t wanna change it, cos I’m a fucktard who loves you too.” He glanced at her smile, then looked ahead as sirens caught his attention. A minute later a cop car and ambulance headed towards him, quickly followed by another cop car. With dread filling his gut, Dante pulled over to the side of the road, his mind instantly going to Ash. “Phone,” he barked at Beth. He snatched it off her as she passed it over, then dialled through to his Uncle Luka, getting him on the third ring.

  “Have they found Ash?” Dante blurted out.

  “Yes, they’re taking him to Dargaville Hospital,” his uncle replied.

  “Chaz didn’t... Please tell me Ash is alright.”

  “He’s alive, that’s all I know. I’m heading there right now. Where are you?”

  “Near Maitahi.”

  “Good, I’ll meet you at the hospital. And don’t ring Dida until we know Ash is alright. The old man’s heart won’t take another shock,” his uncle said, talking about Dante’s grandfather.

  “Okay, see ya soon.” Dante hung up and threw the phone on Beth’s lap, then did a U-turn, heading for the small hospital.

  “Please tell me Ash is okay,” Beth said, her voice high-pitched.

  “I don’t know, but looks like he wuz pro’bly in that ambulance, so pray to your God, cos I ain’t fuckin’ losing him.”

  ***

  Dante entered the main foyer, instantly spotting his Uncle Luka by the nurses’ station. His mother’s brother was leaning over the counter, pointing at something in front of the nurse, jabbing it hard.

  “Uncle Luka!” Dante called out with Beth tailing him.

  His uncle looked up, the
man an older version of him and Ash, but with blue-grey eyes instead of dark brown. And he was much scruffier with his permanently wind-swept hair as well as his ripped jeans and shirt. He was also shoeless—more at home on a surfboard than solid ground.

  His uncle barrelled into him, giving Dante one of his famous bear-hugs, the type that rattled your bones, but never intentionally. Dante hugged him back, then pulled away, more interested in seeing Ash than family reunions. “Take me to Ash.”

  “Just a sec, the nurse was checking for his room.” His uncle threw a stern look at the young nurse, who appeared flustered.

  “Yes, sir, I found it,” she said, holding out a piece of paper.

  His uncle took it, giving the woman an apologetic smile, like he was already regretting snapping at her. He then headed for the corridor, both Dante and Beth running to keep up with him, his long legs chewing up ground fast.

  At the other end of the corridor, a black-clad policeman stood outside of a room. He turned to face them, Dante recognising his uncle’s best friend.

  “Max, is Ash alright?” his uncle asked his mate.

  “Considering what he’s been through, he’s doing remarkably well. But he’s still in shock, so when you see him be aware that he may not acknowledge you.” The cop lifted his chin at Dante. “G’day, Dante, good to see you again.”

  Dante nodded, having seen the man twice before when he’d visited his uncle, the cop’s green eyes memorable.

  “Your directions were good,” the cop continued, talking about Dante’s phone call. “Just sad we didn’t get there earlier, not only for your brother’s sake, but because your stepfather killed two plain-clothed officers. They weren’t even after him; they were following a sighting of a different escaped prisoner seen cutting through farmland.”

  “Another prisoner?”

  “Yes, the person who stabbed your stepfather.”

  “Did he hurt Ash?”

  “No.”

  “Who wuz he?”

  “You can ask your brother that, cos he seemed to know him.” The cop stepped aside.

  Dante turned to Beth. “Wait out here.”

  She nodded and headed over to a seat, for once not giving him problems.

  Dante followed his uncle into Ash’s room, closing the door behind them, the small space only occupied by Ash. His brother looked up at them, his eyes rimmed with red and his head wrapped in gauze. He had a hospital gown on and was sitting up in bed, biting his thumb nail like it deserved to be destroyed. Dante almost felt scared to talk to him, not wanting his thoughts about what Chaz had done confirmed.

  Their uncle broke the silence. “How’re you holding up, Ash?”

  “I’m alive.”

  Dante grimaced, wondering whether Ash wished he wasn’t. “Can I please talk to Ash alone, Uncle Luka?”

  Their uncle nodded. “I’ll be right outside if you need me?” he said, then left, closing the door behind him.

  Ash looked out the window as Dante pulled up a chair and sat down. They stayed like that for shit knows how long before Ash finally spoke again. “I tried to kill myself again.”

  Dante tensed. “Did he rape you?” he asked softly.

  “No, but he did other things that were close. He...” Ash breathed out. “He would’ve though, just wuz trying to justify it, making out like I would eventually consent. But he definitely fucked with my head. He had me chained and tied up, even said he would keep me like that until I died if I didn’t do what he wanted. He drugged me and sexually abused me. He made me want to die, I even begged for death, asked him to kill me. Now they tell me he’s not dead. I should’ve double-checked.” Ash lay down and turned over, the look in his eyes sad. “Almost dead is not good enough. Find out what room he’s in, cos I need to see him one last time.”

  Dante shook his head. “Hell no, if you kill him you’ll end up in prison. You ain’t goin’ there after what you’ve been through, he is. That’s if he survives whatever that prisoner did to him.”

  “It wuz Tama.”

  “Didja just say Tama?” Dante asked, not believing his ears.

  “Yes, he’s alive and roaming about, so you needa warn Nike.”

  Dante ran a hand through his hair. “Jesus, one rapist goes down and another rises. We can’t bloody win.”

  “We never win, that’s our problem, we let men abuse us all the time and don’t do anything about it until it’s too late.”

  “What’re you talking about?”

  “Chaz isn’t the only sick fuck who’s affected our lives negatively, Craven has too, and everything that is involved with him, like the Joneses. And I won’t put up with it anymore, which means we’re quitting the business.”

  Dante felt like Ash had sucker-punched him, what his brother was saying basically a death warrant. He shook his head. “No fuckin’ way, you know what Craven will do to us, and if you wanna quit, I’ll take over—he doesn’t hafta know it’s just me doin’ things.”

  “Do ya really wanna sell drugs?”

  “It’s never bothered me.”

  “Well, it bothers me, and has since I started it. And if I died Craven would only cry over losing a cut of his revenue. No, Tiana and Angelo are my concern. And since Hunter signed that bloody house under my name, I’m selling it and he can live with it cos it’s his debt we’re paying off. I’m also gonna ask for a loan from Dida and Uncle Luka to pay back the rest of what Hunter owes that bastard. And Craven better take the money or I’ll load a fuckin’ gun and go shoot the bastard, cos I’m not having any more men rule my life.”

  “But I told ja, I’ll take over.”

  “Alone? I don’t think so.”

  “Sledge could help.”

  “No fuckin’ way! You’re not dragging him into this shit. I’ve managed to keep Craven away from him, you’re not ruining that.”

  “We got dragged into his father’s problems, not the other way round.”

  “That is not Sledge’s fault, and he doesn’t even know Hunter’s his father. And that’s another thing. Sledge and Juliet needa be told they’re adopted. We can’t keep hiding this from them, they have a right to know who their parents are.”

  “But you said—”

  “I know what I said, and I wuz wrong. Even though I love Hunter like a father, he should be treating the twins like his children, not me. I will tell Hunter ’bout what’s happening, and if he doesn’t accept it, then so be it, I will do it anyway, cos he’s not stealing their heritage anymore. They can’t go through life wondering why they don’t look like us, and why Father treats them differently. They may not be our siblings, but as cousins they are still blood. But, I also want them to know that I will always call them my brother and sister, no matter what.”

  Dante nodded. “They’ll always be my sis and bro too.”

  “Good.” Ash breathed out. “I’m cleaning up shop here, and goin’ to turn things around. There will be trouble cos of it, both with Craven, Hunter and the twins, but it needs to be done, cos I’m not playing Russian roulette with our lives any more. And as for Tiana, I want to move to Howick with her and Angelo”

  “Howick? Why there?”

  “It has good schooling and is a safe, lovely place with lots of beaches and low crime. I want the best for my son.”

  “How’re you gonna support yourself if you’re not selling?”

  “I have to speak with Tiana ’bout that. She may not even want it, but I’m gonna try to convince her it’s the best thing for all of us, and she can’t say Howick’s a bad place, cos it’s not, and it’s miles better than where she lives.”

  Dante smiled softly. “Which means you’re not gonna attempt suicide again?”

  “True. I wanna live for my family. Chaz is not taking them away from me, and whether he lives or dies, he’s not fucking with my brain again. I wanna make sumpthin’ of my life and not be one of those people who are a drain on society. I’m gonna start painting again and I want to go back to school to finish what I dropped out of. So, whateve
r I do from now on rests with me, not Chaz, not Craven, not Father or Hunter. Me. This is my life and I’m finally gonna live it the way I want.”

  Dante’s smile widened. “Good. Then we’ll do it together, starting with Craven. I’ll ask Uncle Luke and Dida for the loan, then we’ll face the twins together after we get back, say Saturday, then you can sort things out with Tiana.”

  Ash held out a hand. “Thanks, bro.”

  Dante took the offered hand. “You’re more than welcome, and if you needa talk ’bout anything come to me.”

  Ash nodded, his face clouding over like he was back with Chaz, the struggle in his features telling Dante things weren’t going to be easy for his brother. Ash gripped Dante’s hand tighter, his expression clearing again, his action saying he was a survivor.

  “I won’t see Chaz again.” Ash cleared his throat. “And since I didn’t feel a pulse, I’m gonna think of him as dead, so I’m not gonna worry ’bout him coming near me again.”

  Dante nodded. “Good.” Now, he just needed to do the same: To kill Chaz in his mind, and to live his own life without his memories interfering. He didn’t think he would ever completely heal from what he saw, but the wound wasn’t raw, just healed over with a raised scar, that was sometimes visible through his actions. But he would try to control himself, and also try to stop before he took things too far—because he wasn’t Chaz. He would never be that sick. Ever.

  36

  Sledge

  Thursday

  The doorbell rang. Sledge got out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist, wishing whoever it was would piss off, because he wanted to visit Corey in hospital. He hadn’t seen him for a few days, because he’d gone up to Dargaville with Juliet to check on Ash, his brother doing better than expected. But Sledge was disgusted with the police for allowing Chaz to be in the same hospital. Yeah, the man was barely breathing and was probably going to die, but it still wasn’t right.

  The doorbell went off again. Sledge wished Naf would bloody get it, but he knew his mate wouldn’t. The cops had arrested Aroha for being an accomplice, which had sent Naf into a depression, meaning the only time he emerged from his room was for a piss or the other type in a bottle. Naf was now living on a liquid diet, the type that made his room stink like a brewery.