Enough

by Mary Jennifer Payne

  As soon as I close my eyes, Dean’s face swims into view. My entire body begins to shake, and I end up staring into the darkness for what seems like forever trying to stay awake. I’m afraid to go to sleep in case I end up dreaming about what happened. I can’t believe Mom brought someone like Dean into our lives. And what really blows my mind is how she’s taking his story over mine. Am I that worthless to her?

  Curling up with my legs tucked to my chest, I stare into the inky darkness of Maie’s living room. I wish there were some way to go back in time, to have our family together again. But I know that is both childish and stupid. Life is not like the movies—not everyone gets a happily-ever-after ending.

  At some point I drift off to sleep, though it couldn’t be for more than an hour or two. Maie wakes me up by opening the heavy curtains that cover the living-room windows. Bright sunlight streams into the apartment, jolting me awake. I sit up, feeling heavy and disoriented. It takes a few moments, but then everything that happened last night between Dean and me crashes back into my memory like a tsunami. I feel dirty in a way that I know no amount of soap or showers will cure. My life is suddenly surreal. Here I am in this strange woman’s home and no longer welcome by my mother in my own. Darkness washes over me.

  Maie presents me with a steaming cup of milky instant coffee. “Good morning, Lizzie.”

  “Good morning. Thank you,” I say, taking the mug from her hands. My eyes feel like someone’s dumped about a million pounds of sand into them.

  “I’m going to go across and get Rosie,” Maie says as I sip away at the coffee, trying not to scald my tongue. “I take it she might not know you’re coming?”

  I nod. “Yeah. I definitely think it will be a surprise.”

  Less than two minutes later, Nan sweeps into the room. Her long dreads are curled up on top of her head and tucked under a brightly colored woven scarf. Gold hooped earrings dangle nearly to her shoulders. At nearly six feet tall, she towers above Maie. She rushes across the room, wraps me in her arms and gives me a massive, bone-crushing hug.

  “My lovely Lizzie,” she says. The smell of vanilla and jasmine envelops me. I feel safe for the first time in a long time.

  Nan lets go of me and sits down. Her eyes carefully scan me from head to toe, taking in my tangled hair, red eyes and ashy skin. Concern sweeps across her face. For a moment I see my father reflected in her eyes, in the way she holds her chin up proudly.

  “What happened?” she asks.

  I can’t lie to her. She’ll figure me out in a second. Though she’s met Dean less than a handful of times, I know she doesn’t approve of him or of Mom’s behavior since Dad’s death.

  I twist Maie’s wool blanket around and around my right index finger. How am I supposed tell Gran what happened with Dean? If I tell her everything, we’ll be on the subway in two seconds flat, on our way back home so that she can kill him with her bare hands.

  “Things got really bad last night.” My bottom lip trembles. Don’t cry, you stupid baby, I think.

  “How bad is bad?” Nan asks, leaning in. Her eyes are dark pools of seriousness. She takes my hands in hers and holds them tight to stop my shaking.

  I pause, remembering what Mom said to me when she came into my bedroom. The look on her face haunts me. I’m so afraid she’ll hate me forever if I get Dean arrested, if I split up our family. What I need to do is somehow get Dean to slip up so that Mom can see he’s lying. But I’m not sure how to do that just yet. At the moment, I want to be as far away from Dean as possible. And I want Mom to stop hating me.

  “Dean got super angry and pushed me. Hard.” I look Gran in the eye as I tell her. It’s not a complete lie. More of a half-truth.

  Nan gazes at me intently, her eyes darkening with concern. She knows I’m not telling her everything.

  “What do you need me to do?” she finally asks, releasing my hands. “I can talk to your mother, phone Children’s Aid…or you can stay with me for a while.” Standing, she walks over to the window and looks out at the bright winter day before turning back to me. “The thing is, Lizzie, I don’t have the space or the money to take in both of you. But I need to know if Charlie is safe there with that man.”

  “Dean’s never lifted a finger toward Charlie. I mean, he’s shouted at him a couple of times, but that’s it.” I don’t add that the yelling was when Dean was drunk, and that Charlie hadn’t done anything other than maybe stumbling and knocking into something. Sometimes all it took was turning the television to a program Dean didn’t want to watch. Is Charlie safe without me there? After the way Mom turned on me, I’m not sure. One thing I do know is that I don’t want Children’s Aid to step in. If Charlie and I were put into foster care, we might get split up.

  There has to be a way Nan can take us both in. I’m almost old enough to get a part-time job. Maybe I could make enough to cover at least part of the cost of Charlie and me living with Nan. If not, Dean has to go. And then Mom needs to get clean, so she doesn’t bring home any more losers like him. Most of all, she has to get a job again.

  “You’ll need to register for school down here,” Nan says. “If you’re planning on staying down here any length of time, that is. Or else you’ll have to travel all the way back to your school daily.”

  My head is spinning. If I transfer my credits to a school down here, I’ll hardly ever see Fahad, if ever. Just the thought of that leaves a heavy sickness in my chest. I’m so used to hanging out with him every day at school and usually after school. Being with him allows me to escape my home life, if only temporarily. We’ve been together for nearly two years. I also don’t have a lot of close girlfriends other than my best friend, Maria, mainly because there are not a lot of people I trust. I do a pretty good job of covering up what my home life is like by getting good grades and making sure the laundry is always done for Charlie and me. Once, when we ran out of laundry soap for a couple of weeks, I hand-washed all our clothes in the kitchen sink using a bar of Irish Spring.

  The other reason why I don’t have a lot of friends is because I spend so much time with Charlie. While other girls my age get together on weekends to shop or hang out in their bedrooms, talking about boys and music, I’m watching television or playing Xbox with my brother. It’s not easy to make friends when you never have any time to socialize with them. Maria is good that way. She’s more into books than clothes and spends a lot of time helping out at home as well. Her mom and grandmother came to Canada from Honduras just a few months before she was born, and neither of them really learned much English, so Maria has to do a lot of translating at doctor appointments and stuff. Her mom was diagnosed with MS a couple of years ago and still struggles through her job as a cleaner at some of the big office buildings downtown. I know Maria is worried a lot about what’s going to happen when her mom can’t work any longer. She and I understand each other. We’re both caretakers at home, but for different reasons.

  “I think I should try to stay at Roseview,” I say, taking a sip of the coffee. It’s bitter and strong. “I’m doing pretty well, and I have a transit pass from Pathways, the place I go for free tutoring. It would be hard to leave school in the middle of the year.”

  Nan nods. “If that’s the case, you better get going to brush your teeth and have a quick wash. You’ll have to wear a pair of my knickers. Because you’re not going out with dirty ones on.”

  I nearly choke on the coffee. “Oh my god! I’ve got some underwear in my backpack.”

  “Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain, Lizzie,” Nan says. She raises an eyebrow at me, but a small smile tugs at the corners of her mouth. “You’re going to be late, so I’ll write you a note. Just how many of your bits and pieces did you manage to pack into that backpack?”

  “I have enough to last for at least two changes of clothes,” I say, handing Maie back the mug. “Thanks so much for everything.” I’m suddenly hit by the realization that she didn’t have to do all of this. In fact, most people would’ve left me in Tim Hortons to de
al with things on my own, not brought me into their home. I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have done what Maie did.

  “My door is always open for you,” she answers. “And you’re most welcome.”

  As we leave, Nan turns to me. “We’ll meet at your house at three thirty sharp this afternoon to get more of your things and to tell your mom you’ll be staying with me for a while.”

  My heart plummets. What if Dean’s there? As we walk down the hallway toward Nan’s place, I stare at her strong shoulders. She holds her head high and walks like a queen. I smile and tell myself there’s no way Dean would dare try anything with her around. I just hope I’m right.

  Chapter Six

  Something’s wrong with Fahad.

  It’s taken me a full hour and a half to get to school. I had to take a streetcar, the subway and a bus to get here. By the time I go to the office to pick up my late slip, it’s already transition time between second and third period.

  I find Fahad at his locker. His dark hair is carefully spiked, and comfortably worn jeans sit low on his waist. His back is turned to me as he grabs his textbooks. The sight of him makes me feel better, but I’m also drunk with nervousness. I can’t get what happened with Dean off my mind—it’s like the experience is tattooed onto my soul.

  I wrap my arms around his waist. “Surprise,” I say, my voice thick with false confidence.

  Fahad stiffens. It’s just for a fleeting second, but there’s no mistaking it. I feel the muscles in his upper back and shoulders become as hard as rock at the sound of my voice. It’s like I’m hugging an ironing board.

  He turns to face me. “Hey, Lizzie. I thought you weren’t coming today.” His smile is forced and tight.

  “Yeah, well, I didn’t think I’d be here either. And I’m so late, I haven’t even been to class yet.” Out of the corner of my eye I see the hall monitor moving toward us. We need to get going.

  “My parents are really pissed, you know,” Fahad says, closing the door to his locker and snapping the lock shut. “Now they’re talking about arranged marriage within the next four years. What were you thinking, calling in the middle of the night?”

  “I…” My face burns like asphalt on a sunny day. What can I say? It was completely stupid of me to call him like I did. He knows it, and I know it.

  “There were some problems at home last night. I couldn’t sleep,” I finally say.

  He eyes the hall monitor. “It’s just too much, Lizzie.”

  “I’m sorry. I know it was a mistake. It won’t happen again.” He’s not looking me in the eye. Panic claws at my throat like a wild animal. “I swear it won’t.”

  “My parents called Junaid. And his mom and dad freaked out because he was fast asleep. They thought someone had died back home when they got the call in the middle of the night.” Fahad stops talking and finally looks at me. His expression is emotionless. “When I said it’s too much, I meant it. I can’t do this anymore, Lizzie.”

  I stare at him. I’m a fish out of water, suffocating with panic. “Please don’t do this.” My voice is barely more than a whisper. “Last night, Dean…he…”

  Fahad doesn’t even let me finish. “Yeah, I know your life is hell with Dean, but I just don’t want to deal with it anymore. I’m done.”

  I open my mouth, but no words come out. Instead I watch, slack-jawed, as Fahad walks away from me and down the hall to his next class. As soon as he disappears around the corner, I turn and run out the nearest exit. The cold air stings my face, and I nearly slip on the icy stone steps of the school, but I don’t stop running until my legs and lungs burn so badly I can’t go on. I collapse on a nearby park bench, huge sobs racking my body.

  When I think back to what happened last night, I want to die. Another person touched my body in a way that only Fahad should. Maybe Fahad would think I did something to deserve Dean doing that to me. Maybe he’d blame me like Mom did.

  The thing is, Fahad doesn’t even know what happened with Dean. The truth is, he just doesn’t want to be with me. Period. He doesn’t want to deal with my screwed-up, alcohol-fueled family drama anymore. And I don’t blame him, because I don’t want to deal with it either.

  I sit on the bench as a light snow begins to fall around me like dandruff. My bum becomes numb from the cold. Car after car whizzes by. I can’t help wondering what the lives of the passengers inside are like. Are they on their way to business meetings, or to meet friends for lunch? Maybe they’re heading to the hospital to say goodbye to a dying relative, or home to a loving, happy family like the one Charlie and I used to be a part of.

  Eventually, the cold begins to numb my feet and fingers to the point where the pain is unbearable, despite the wool mittens Nan gave me to wear. But that pain is nothing compared to the deeper hurt spreading through me. After years of fighting to keep Charlie safe from Dean, and struggling to do well in school despite everything going on at home, I feel like I’ve fallen down a deep hole. For the first time, I have no hope of a way out. Even Mom and Fahad have turned away from me. I’ve had enough.

  Chapter Seven

  I know Nan will be right on time, so I make sure I am as well. One of Nan’s biggest pet peeves is people being late. She always says it indicates a lack of respect for whomever they’re meeting. And even though the thought of returning home makes me sick with anxiety, the novelty of hanging out at Pizza Pizza in the strip mall near school wore off after a few hours. I spent the entire time drinking Diet Coke like a junkie while staring at the silent television screen attached to the wall. It was stuck on a channel that plays local, breaking news over and over. I tried not to think about the split with Fahad or about what happened with Dean. Instead, I attempted to focus on the man who drowned yesterday trying to save his black Lab from the Don River (the dog managed to pull itself out of the river, unharmed) and on a daylight shooting at a busy restaurant in the Yorkhill Mall. But, of course, it didn’t work. I tried to get hold of Maria, but her phone was turned off, so I just texted her, saying things are really bad with Dean and that I’ll be away from school for a couple of days.

  At one point, I broke down and ran to the bathroom to bawl my eyes out. The cashier and two guys cooking pizza didn’t say anything, but I caught them staring at my swollen, blotchy eyes as soon as I sat back down at my table. Then I made the stupid move of texting Fahad but got no reply. I know he checks his phone constantly, even in class. It’s hard to believe he’s really cutting me completely out of his life after one mistake. It was just one phone call. And it’s not like it’s my fault my home life is completely effed-up.

  Head down, hands stuffed in my coat pockets, I turn the corner and step onto my street. I glance up toward our house. Nan’s already standing out front, waiting for me on the sidewalk, in her long red woolen coat. Nervousness sweeps over me.

  What if Dean’s home? And what if he lies to Nan and tells her the same lies he told Mom? I don’t think she’d believe him the way Mom did, but then again, nothing in my world seems to be happening like it should.

  I wave to Nan. Maybe this is all a bad dream. Maybe I’m going to wake up to find everything the way it usually is. That gets me thinking about Fahad again. A heavy, burning hurt spreads through my chest. All of this can’t be real. It just can’t be.

  By the time I reach Nan, I’m dizzy with anxiety.

  “Now, I think it’s best if your mother and I speak about all of this ourselves whilst you are gathering your things,” she says matter-of-factly as we make our way up the concrete walkway. “Is she still drinking heavily?”

  I nod. It would be stupid to lie. In fact, there’s a good chance we’ll walk in and find that Mom’s a slurring, stumbling mess already. Charlie has no physio appointment today, and he gets bused to and from school. That means nothing’s standing in the way of Mom and her big bottle of Jack Daniels at the moment.

  Charlie. My heart sinks. He’ll be home any minute.

  Nan rings the doorbell before I can slip my key into the lock.

>   “It’s just polite to give your mother a heads-up that you’re not alone,” she says, seeing the confused look on my face.

  I understand. Mom and Nan used to be close when I was younger. I remember Nan teaching Mom how to cook curried goat, roti and callaloo at our Thanksgiving and Christmas celebrations. Their laughter would ring out from the kitchen, and afterward we’d all sit around the fireplace, singing carols, ripping open presents, and eating creamy yellow curry and drinking spicy eggnog until our stomachs were ready to burst.

  My vision blurs with tears. There will never be another Christmas or Thanksgiving like that. Last year Mom and Dean served us an overcooked turkey they’d gotten free at the local food bank. The meat was so dry it tasted like sawdust, but Charlie and I ate it anyway because we were so hungry. Mom made us wait hours while she cooked the bird until it was nearly ashes in our oven. Then she served it to us with soggy McCain’s French fries while she and Dean consumed a liquid dinner. This year there’s not even a Christmas tree up yet. I told Charlie I’d get us one by the weekend if Dean and Mom hadn’t yet. That’s why I took the forty dollars from Dean in the first place.

  We wait another couple of moments, and then I unlock the door for us and we step inside. Maybe I’ll be lucky enough to avoid Mom and Dean after all.

  Nan and I take off our boots in the bottom hallway and walk upstairs. I let Nan lead. My body feels disconnected from my mind. I’m walking robotically. The only thing that calms me is the knowledge that soon I won’t have to deal with any of this anymore.

  The living room is quiet. Though it seems no one is at home, it wouldn’t surprise me if Dean or Mum is passed out in their room. Nan looks around and clears her throat.