Unspoken Rules

by Lora Inak

  Her head throbbed. She picked up her phone and called Katelyn.

  ‘Natso,’ Katelyn said. ‘I’m hating this stupid business plan Mr Delaney wants us to do. What the hell is a SWOT analysis about anyway?’

  ‘I don’t do business management.’

  ‘Yeah. But I wish you did. That way, I could just copy you.’

  ‘Mmm hmm. Yeah.’

  ‘Nats … what’s wrong?’

  ‘Nothing. Just talk to me okay?’ Her voice wobbled.

  ‘Oh my God. Is it your sister? She had that appointment today right?’

  ‘Ummm …’ Natalie swallowed; it was hard to say it out loud. ‘The Neurologist said she has MS.’

  ‘Jesus.’

  Natalie wiped the tears rolling down her face. ‘She’s devastated.’

  ‘I’d be devastated too. I’m so sorry. Do you want me to come over?’

  ‘No. I just need you to talk to me about something else? Distract me. I have to stop thinking about it. It’s giving me a massive headache.’

  ‘Okay … sure. Ah … right, so lately Ethan has decided it’s super funny to copy everything I say, but in a French accent, which just makes everything I say sound ridiculous. Are all eleven-year-olds this annoying?’

  Natalie smiled, wiping her nose. ‘I’d say so. My cousins are pretty annoying too.’

  ‘Speaking of annoying, can you believe Simon asked me to the formal. Simon! Earwaxy Simon. Yuk. As if that’s ever gonna happen.’

  ‘If only he knew all the nasty things you say about him behind his back.’ Katelyn was exactly the tonic Natalie needed.

  ‘Yeah. I think I’ve been too nice. I have to amp up the bitch.’

  ‘Amp away.’

  ‘Hey, speaking of bitch. I didn’t want to say anything, but … well, Steph wanted me to ask you. She’s been pestering me actually.’

  ‘Ask me what?’

  ‘No, forget it. You’ve got enough to deal with.’

  ‘Just tell me, Kate. Besides, it can’t be worse than what the doctor just told Misha.’

  Katelyn paused. ‘She wants to know if it’d be okay if she had a crack at Chris, at the formal. I didn’t want to say anything, but she threatened to ask you herself. I thought it’d be better coming from me.’

  She had a sudden urge to rip Steph’s hair out. She’d known all along that Steph liked Chris, but she’d also thought Steph was a good friend now. Katelyn would never do that to her. ‘I don’t own him. So … whatever.’

  ‘Nats, don’t stress. Chris isn’t interested in her. If he were, he would have asked her to the formal. I really don’t think he’s interested in anyone else.’

  ‘Why do you say that?’ Her heart quickened. She wouldn’t be surprised if Chris hated her guts.

  ‘Don’t you see the way he still looks at you? He hasn’t even returned the travel diary he got you for your birthday. Maybe he’s holding onto it for a reason. Seems to me like he’s still hung up on you.’

  She was still hung up on Chris too. Being at school with him every day was hell. She ached to go over and wrap her arms around him or lean up and kiss his beautiful lips.

  He’d sent her a letter from Perth.

  Natalie,

  I can’t decide if I’m angry or shattered or both. I guess it all makes sense now … about you never wanting to talk about your family. What I can’t understand is why? Did you think I wouldn’t get it? Seems like you don’t really know me that well. It doesn’t matter anyway. You’ve already decided it’s over between us.

  Chris

  Thank God there was only three months left of school, and three months left to endure the awkwardness and sadness. Then she’d graduate, hopefully move to Queensland to study and maybe never see him again. It hurt to think of never seeing him again.

  ‘Sure you won’t come to the formal? Might take your mind off things. Just tell your parents you’re coming out to dinner with me again.’ Katelyn said.

  Natalie had been desperate to go to the formal. To dress up and have her hair done like all the other girls, to have Chris pick her up in a limousine. It was tomorrow night, but she hardly cared anymore. Since she and Chris broke up, the formal no longer had any joy for her. It would just make it harder, seeing him all dressed up, so close but so far. Now with Misha’s diagnosis, any interest she had in it was gone.

  ‘No point,’ she said, hearing the front door open. ‘Anyway, listen, I’ve gotta go. My parents just got home.’

  She hung up just as Mama called from the kitchen. ‘Misha. Natalie. Come downstairs. Aunty Jasmina sent you cake.’

  Natalie knocked on Misha’s door and walked in. Her sister was by the window, clutching her crucifix.

  ‘I don’t know why I bother,’ Misha said, bitterness in every word. ‘Allah doesn’t listen to me. If he did, I wouldn’t be sick.’ She took it off and threw it in a drawer.

  ‘I’m not sure it works that way.’

  ‘How does it work then?’

  Natalie shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’ She really didn’t anymore. Like Misha, she’d grown up believing that if you followed the rules, and lived a good honest life, God would look after you.

  ‘I work hard and always try to treat people with respect. I do everything Mama and Baba ask … and for that, I get MS. Is this God’s plan for me?’

  ‘Misha … I … I don’t know what to say. It’s all so wrong.’ Her throat tightened. ‘Nothing is fair. If anyone deserves good things, it’s you, but …’

  ‘Girls,’ Mama called again.

  If they didn’t go down soon, Mama would come up. ‘Are you coming or should I tell them you’ve got a headache?’

  ‘I don’t feel like cake.’

  Natalie trudged downstairs, not feeling much like cake herself. But there’d be questions if both of them didn’t go down.

  ‘Where’s Misha?’ Mama said, arranging two pieces of chocolate cake.

  ‘She’s got a headache. She’ll have some tomorrow. How’s Aunty Jasmina?’ Keeping her voice light was tough.

  Mama caught Baba’s eye and then nodded towards Natalie.

  ‘She’s good.’ Baba helped himself to a piece of cake. ‘She’s hurt her back again. I told her to rub Deep Heat in and wrap a back brace around it.’

  Had he just spoken to her? This must be Mama’s doing.

  ‘That’s not going to help, Selim. She needs to rest.’ Mama licked cream off her fingers. ‘She doesn’t rest. Always running around for Hakim and Alina.’

  The phone rang. Baba wolfed down his last mouthful of cake and answered.

  ‘Marhaban, yes. Oh yes. How are you?’

  Natalie sat down at the kitchen table and picked at her cake. Even the juicy strawberry and wisps of Persian fairy floss on top didn’t make it any more appetising.

  ‘Who told you that?’ Baba’s back straightened.

  ‘Are you sure?’ He lifted his eyes to Mama. ‘How much?’

  The tone in Baba’s voice made Natalie look up. She gasped.

  His face was ashen.

  Mama dropped her gaze, suddenly busy straightening the Cling Wrap over Misha’s piece of cake, but Natalie could see how tense her shoulders had become.

  What was going on? Had someone died? Had they somehow found out about Misha? But how was that even possible?

  ‘Natalie. Go upstairs.’ Mama said, her voice thin.

  ‘Why? What’s wrong?’

  ‘Don’t ask me. Just go.’

  Baba hung up the phone. He stood, breathing heavily.

  ‘Tell me it isn’t true, Selma.’

  ‘Natalie, I said go upstairs,’ Mama begged.

  Natalie hadn’t forgotten the last time she’d been told to go upstairs. How could she ever forget? It had ended with smashed glass and a near case of domestic violence. She couldn’t make herself m
ove. Besides, she doubted her legs would work right now.

  ‘IS IT TRUE?’ Baba slammed his fist down on the kitchen bench.

  Natalie jumped in her seat.

  ‘Natalie,’ her mother squeaked, eyes darting between Baba and her.

  ‘HOW MUCH?’ he yelled again. ‘How much have you lost? How much of the money I broke my back for?’

  Mama fumbled as she lit a cigarette.

  ‘ANSWER ME.’

  Had Mama borrowed money again, and lost it? Where would she have lost it? And suddenly, it all fell into place. Nabil’s comment about the Hallam Pub. The money borrowed from Marina. And now this. Her mother was gambling!

  ‘Twenty thousand dollars,’ Mama whispered, drawing deeply on her cigarette.

  Baba gasped, his eyes wild. ‘No. Allah. No. Tell me it’s not true.’

  Were her ears failing her? Her lungs certainly were. Did Mama say twenty thousand dollars?

  ‘It’s my money too.’ Mama crossed her arms over her chest. ‘Being a Mama is work too.’

  ‘If you’d worked for it, like I have … really worked for it, you wouldn’t gamble it away,’ Baba snapped, his voice razor sharp.

  Natalie’s heart sped up. But where had her tongue gone?

  ‘What’s going on?’ Misha mumbled, clutching the kitchen door. The commotion must have drawn her out of her room.

  ‘I can do whatever I like with my money.’ Mama straightened, her shaking hands the only evidence of her trembling nerves.

  ‘How dare you disrespect me? Disrespect our family. Rob our children of the money for their future. HOW DARE YOU.’

  Natalie sensed something break. ‘Baba,’ she squeaked, stiffly rising from her chair.

  He didn’t even see her. It was like she and Misha didn’t exist. Before Natalie could untangle herself from her chair, Baba stormed across the kitchen, the veins in his neck straining against the skin. He grabbed Mama by the shoulders and shook her.

  ‘Baba, don’t,’ Natalie cried out. Misha screamed. So did Mama.

  Baba swung back, his fist clenched, and like a lumberjack swinging an axe, punched Mama hard across her face.

  She crumpled to the floor.

  Chapter 22

  Natalie called Aunty Jasmina as soon as they arrived in Emergency, her trembling hands barely keeping the phone steady. Baba was gone. Mama was conscious but had a big purple bruise on her jaw. Misha sobbed all the way to the hospital and was useless in pretty much every way possible. Even Mama, with an ice pack to her face, was trying to calm her down.

  And how was she? Did anyone care? Numb. Torn inside. Sickened by the ever-growing feeling that everything was shattered beyond repair.

  It wasn’t only the way Baba had struck Mama that frightened her, it was also the way he’d roared with grief, the way his body shook. How he’d asked God to forgive him, over and over again before practically running out of the house. She’d seen the self-disgust in his guilt-ridden eyes, knew he couldn’t face them—but how could he leave like that. Expect his daughters to pick up the pieces.

  ‘Aunty.’ Her voice wobbled down the phone.

  ‘What’s wrong? Where are you? What’s all that noise in the background?’

  She took a long breath, pushing back the darkness edging her eyes. ‘I… ummm. Can you come to the hospital?’

  There was a long silence. All Natalie could hear was Aunty Jasmina breathing heavily on the other end. ‘Dear Allah. What’s happened?’

  ‘It’s Mama. She’s hurt. She’s okay though. We … Baba is not here. We need you. Can you please come?’

  ‘Where is your baba? Has something happened to him?’ Aunty Jasmina’s voice rose with each word.

  ‘No. He …’ It was so hard to say it. ‘He left us.’

  She wanted to say: ‘He ran away, like a coward. He didn’t even check to see if Mama was okay.’ But it hurt too much.

  ‘Jesus, Allah! What is happening? Has the world gone mad? Wait there. I’m coming.’

  Aunty Jasmina arrived in the busy waiting area half an hour later, her eyes wide, her face pale. ‘Selma, what happened? I’m scared out of my wits.’

  ‘It’s nothing, Jasmi, I’m okay. Just a misunderstanding, that’s all. I told the girls not to worry you.’ Mama’s tears rolled down her face. She wiped them away, but fresh ones slid down to replace them.

  ‘What kind of a misunderstanding is this?’ Aunty Jasmina pointed at Mama’s face, her voice so loud everyone was looking over. ‘Tell me the truth, Selma. Has he done this before?’

  ‘No,’ Mama wailed. ‘He’s not like that. It was me … I pushed him to it.’

  ‘All beaten women say that. Maybe Selim is just like his baba after all.’ Aunty Jasmina’s slim frame was rigid.

  ‘No, Jasmi, I swear to you, he’s never struck me, or the girls ever before. He hardly even raises his voice. Just ask the girls. He’s a good man. Such a good man, it’s just that I …’

  ‘Tell me, Selma. I’m your sister. You can tell me anything. You know that.’ Aunty Jasmina gripped Mama’s hand, gently stroking it.

  ‘I’ve been … I’ve been,’ Mama tried again, biting her lower lip, ‘gambling.’

  ‘Gambling?’ Aunty Jasmina stilled. ‘Why, Selma?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Mama cried. ‘It was exciting. At least it was at first. I won lots of money. It was my money.’ She jabbed herself in the chest. ‘I’d earned it. I didn’t have to ask for it. Or justify how I’d spent it. I could do whatever I wanted with it.’

  ‘So then, Nabil’s friend did see you at the Hallam Pub?’

  Mama nodded, swallowing.

  ‘Does Selim deny you money?’

  ‘No. Never. But he asks me how I’ve spent it and complains if it’s been spent too fast. ’

  Mama leaned into Aunty Jasmina and cried into her shoulder. ‘It’s all me. I’m faulty.’

  Aunty Jasmina held Mama tightly until she was all cried out. ‘How did he find out?’

  ‘Someone called him and told him.’ Mama wiped her eyes.

  ‘Do you know who?’

  Mama shook her head. ‘It could have been a number of people. I borrowed from Marina, but I borrowed from others too. Whoever would lend me money. I told them so many lies, Jasmi. Said it was for Selim because his business was struggling and he was too proud to ask himself; told them it was for a friend who had to escape from her violent husband and didn’t want anyone to know. I promised them all I’d pay them back when I knew I couldn’t. I kept telling myself that I just needed one lucky break and then I’d repay my debts, but instead I lost it. All of it. Then when the money ran out, I stole from Selim’s wallet, the girl’s purses. There’s something wrong with me, Jasmi. Something wrong inside.’ She thumped her chest and threw her head onto Aunty Jasmina’s shoulder again.

  Aunty Jasmina sat still, her mouth open but wordless.

  ‘Gambling is like quick sand. I know that now,’ Mama finally whispered.

  Natalie could hardly believe her ears. Could all this really be true? All this had happened right under her nose. Was she that oblivious? So caught up in herself?

  ‘I was going to tell him, Jasmi. I was. You know what he’s like, so proud. I’ve shamed him. He’ll never forgive me. It will never be the same with us now. How can it be, after what I’ve done? I’ve ruined everything.’

  ‘There, there, Selma. It’s okay. You are not a bad person. You’re not faulty. Just sad inside. It’ll be okay. We’ll find a way to make it better.’ Aunty Jasmina turned to Natalie. ‘Habibi, do you know where your baba went?’

  Natalie shook her head.

  Aunty Jasmina pursed her lips. ‘Okay. First things first, Selma. Let’s get you attended to. We’ll sort things out after that.’

  ***

  The handle on her school bag tore right off and fell with a sickening thud.
She stood on the rain-splattered footpath on her way home from school, and just stared at it, outraged.

  Not this too. Not after everything else. It was too much. The anger in her rose quickly and erupted like a volcano. With all her strength she lifted the bag over her head and threw it as far as she could. She screamed. She screamed because everything was messed up. She screamed because nothing was fair. She screamed because things were so hopeless.

  A middle-aged woman came running out of a nearby house, umbrella in hand. She halted a safe distance from her, no doubt wondering if Natalie was crazy. Well, maybe she was. Didn’t she have a right to be? Her heart was hurting. She’d had to give up Chris. She loved him and she had to give him up. Her mother had a gambling addiction. Her sister had a serious life-long illness. Her father had struck her mother so hard she lost consciousness, and to make matters worse, he’d abandoned them. And how could Mama have told them so many lies, broken their trust like that? Would she spend the rest of her life wondering if her mother was really at the shops when she said she was?

  In the last fortnight, Baba hadn’t phoned. He had his mobile switched off, so they couldn’t call him. He wasn’t at work and none of his friends had seen him. Where the hell was he? Didn’t he care about them? Didn’t he want to know Mama was okay? For all he knew, she could be in a coma.

  She got it. Baba couldn’t face them after what he’d done. But they needed him. She needed him. Between Mama walking listlessly around the house with a glass of whisky and a cigarette dangling from her mouth, and her sister’s deep misery, she was living in a black hole.

  She’d considered taking Mama to a doctor, in fact, she’d suggested as much, but Mama shrugged it off. ‘There’s nothing wrong with me,’ she’d said. ‘I’m just sad.’

  Natalie covered her face with her hands, pressing her fingers tightly into her eye sockets to stop the searing headache. It didn’t help.