“Hey, baby,” Fahad says, drawing me close. “Why are you crying?”
Because I feel like a whore, I want to say. Angel’s words come back to me. She’s right. I’ve hated myself since that night with Dean. I still hate him, but now I hate myself just as much.
“I need to talk to my nan,” I say. “And I need to go to the police.” My hands are shaking uncontrollably. What if the police don’t believe me? What if Nan doesn’t? And I don’t want to tell Fahad what Dean did to me. I’m afraid he’ll never want to stay with me if I do.
But this is the one chance I have to make Dean disappear. I need to tell people about him raping me.
We step off the elevator and Fahad hugs me. “Okay, we’ll talk to your nan together when she gets home.” He bends down to kiss me.
I freeze. “No, don’t. I can’t.” The shaking is getting worse. Tiny stars dance across my vision, and my knees give way. I slump against the wall. The dogs begin to bark.
Fahad leans down beside me. “Lizzie, what’s going on with you? What’s happened?”
He doesn’t want drama. And I don’t blame him. What sixteen-year-old guy needs this? I don’t want drama either, but if I don’t deal with this, it’s going to kill me. Maybe it will kill me anyhow. I don’t know.
“I have to see Nan now. It can’t wait.”
He wraps his arm around me. “Okay, we’ll find her, baby. It’s okay. I’m sorry I left.”
An apartment door across the hall opens up. A man with a red, pudding-like face sticks his head out. He’s wearing a white undershirt, and black, spiky hairs stick out the top of it like spider’s legs.
“Keep it down, will ya?” he shouts. “Find yourselves a motel room if you need to.” He slams the door shut.
We both begin to laugh. I feel like I’m walking a tightrope and am one fall away from crazy.
Fahad helps me up. “Where’s your nan at?” he asks, bending down to give Chester and Trixie some reassuring pats.
“She’s at bingo with Maie at the community center,” I say. “It’s only a few blocks away from here.”
My phone begins to ring. It’s Charlie.
“Hey, buddy,” I say, trying to make my voice as cheery as possible. I don’t want him to know I’ve been upset.
“Lizzie?” Charlie’s voice is high-pitched and thick with panic. “Lizzie, you need to come home.”
“What’s going on?” My heart begins to thump in my ears. “Charlie?” There’s noise in the background, a loud banging.
“The phone. I stole it from my teacher, and someone ratted me out, so the school called about an hour ago. And Dean’s drunk and really mad, and I need you to come…quick, Lizzie. He’s hurting Mom because she’s trying to keep him from hurting me.” He’s almost screaming the words now. Fahad’s eyes widen. Charlie’s so loud, he can hear it all.
“Where are you now?” I ask.
“I’m in the bathroom,” Charlie says. The banging is getting louder. “He’s trying to get in. I don’t know what he’s done to Mom. I can’t hear her anymore.” He begins to cry.
“Jesus, it’s like The Shining,” Fahad says. “That mother…”
“Charlie, listen to me. Phone the police now. Get off and phone 9-1-1. I’m on my way.” I’m unlocking Maie’s door and leading the dogs inside.
“We’re on our way,” Fahad says as I get off my phone and lock the apartment door. The dogs bark frantically at me from the other side. They know something’s wrong.
Fahad’s already on his phone. “Police,” he says as we rush into the elevator. “Yes, I’d like to report an assault involving a young child.” He looks over at me. “We need to get to a bank machine. I’ll get money for a taxi.”
Chapter Sixteen
We don’t speak until we’re in the taxi. It’s like we’re robots on a mission. All I can think about is Charlie. I try to call him back, but the line is busy. I assume he’s being kept on the phone by the police, and I only have a couple of bars left on my phone. I write down the phone number Charlie’s on just in case my phone dies. If it does we can still try to contact him on Fahad’s phone.
“I’m so sorry, Lizzie, I didn’t know things had gotten so bad,” Fahad says, putting his arm around me.
I don’t say anything, because he really did bail when it was pretty clear things were getting worse for me at home. I’d never called him in the middle of the night before that one time. Sometimes I’d Facebooked him, but I’d never phoned. I am grateful he’s here right now, but I’m not going to say it’s okay just so he can feel better.
“I need to call Nan,” I say. “Can I use your phone?”
Fahad nods and hands it to me. Then he turns to the window and looks out at the thick traffic. We’re moving at a snail’s pace.
Nan answers after two rings. It’s hard to hear her over the background noise.
“Nan, I need you to come to Mom’s. Things are really bad. Fahad and I are heading up there in a taxi right now.”
“What do you mean things are bad? What exactly is going on?” Nan asks. “Who’s Fahad?”
“He’s my boyfriend.” Fahad grabs my hand and gives it a squeeze. “Charlie called me a few minutes ago. He took his teacher’s phone the other day, and I guess the school called today to tell Mom. Dean’s on a rampage. He’s trying to hurt Charlie.”
“Listen to me, Lizzie. You are not to go in there without the police. Promise?” Nan says. “It’s too dangerous. I’m on my way. I just need to take Maie home first.”
“Okay,” I say. Nan must know I won’t wait for the police. And they better be there by now. It’s already been ten minutes since I told Charlie to call 9-1-1. Our taxi is still creeping up the Don Valley Parkway. It will take us nearly an hour to get there at this speed.
We sit in silence for a few minutes, and I watch the taximeter climb. It’s already at thirty-five dollars. I didn’t notice how much money Fahad got out, and I feel terrible that it’s going to cost him so much.
“Is there a faster way to get there?” Fahad finally asks the driver. Beads of sweat stand out on his forehead. The taxi interior is stuffy, and I wipe condensation off the window. The snow is getting worse, which isn’t helping the traffic.
“Want me to grow wings?” the driver growls at Fahad. “I’m not risking my life so you can arrive a few minutes sooner at some Saturday-night party to drink your face off.”
“I don’t drink,” Fahad replies through gritted teeth. “It’s haram.”
The driver shrugs his shoulders. “Potato, po-tat-o. I’m still not going to bust my neck for you two.”
Fahad sits back heavily in his seat and rolls his eyes. “Figures we get the only non-Muslim cab driver in Toronto.”
I try Charlie several more times. The phone goes straight to voice mail. Panic claws at my insides. We’re about ten minutes away now. I wish I could take the wheel. The driver seems to be purposely going slower since having words with Fahad.
Finally, after what seems like forever, we turn onto my street. My mouth drops open.
The newly fallen snow is painted red from the lights of the police cars and ambulances outside our townhouse. A crowd of people is already gathering, and I can see emergency workers moving them away from our front door.
“Holy shit,” the taxi driver says. “What the hell’s gone on here?”
“This is our party,” Fahad says sarcastically. “So you can stick your tip, eh?”
I jump out as soon as the taxi slows and begin to run toward the house. A police officer catches me in his arms. Someone is screaming over and over. It’s so loud I can’t think. I wish they’d shut up.
“Calm down,” the officer says sharply. “You can’t go near there. It’s a crime scene.” I stop struggling. The screaming has also stopped. That’s when I realize it was me.
“She lives there with her mom and brother. He called us about a half hour ago from the bathroom, where he was hiding from their mom’s boyfriend.” Fahad’s beside me now.
> The officer’s face drops. “Yes, we have the little boy, your brother. He’s over in the ambulance right now.”
“Is he okay?” I ask. “Is my mom okay?” Fahad puts his arm around me and holds me close.
The officer begins to walk with us toward the ambulance. “I’m Officer Lam,” he says, handing me a business card that I stuff it in the pocket of my coat. “Physically, your brother’s not hurt, other than a couple of deep scratches. But he’s in shock right now. Do you have any next of kin in the city?”
I nod. “My nan…our grandmother. I’ve been staying with her the last few nights.”
“We’ll need to get a hold of her. Your brother is going to be taken to SickKids for assessment and questioning. Depending on what we find out, he’ll either be admitted or released into your grandmother’s care while we investigate. Your mother’s been taken to a nearby hospital. She’s got a pretty bad concussion and appears to have a broken jaw.” The officer pauses. “I’m sorry, I know this is a lot, but we’ll need to ask you a few questions about your family life as well. We’ll have trauma counselors available for you and your brother.”
“My nan is on her way here right now,” I say. “She should be here any minute.” I realize my toes are completely numb with cold.
“I’m not sure we’ll be able to wait for her, but one of our cruisers will take the two of you to SickKids.” Officer Lam turns to Fahad. “I take it you’re not a blood relative.”
“That’s kind of obvious,” Fahad fires back. Seeing the officer’s unimpressed reaction, he quickly adds, “No, I’m Lizzie’s boyfriend. But I’d like to stay with her if I can.”
“You can stay until her grandmother gets here, and then we’ll get an officer to take you home.”
“No, thanks,” Fahad says, holding his hands up, palms forward. “There’s no way I’m having my parents see a police cruiser dropping me off on a Saturday night. I’ll be in Lahore riding a camel by next week if that happens. I can find my own way home. Appreciate the offer though.”
Officer Lam turns to me. The look on his face is serious. “There’s one more thing you need to know before seeing your brother,” he says. “Your stepfather is deceased…Charlie killed him this evening.”
“What?” I ask. My voice is tiny, faraway. “He couldn’t have. How?” I look over at the ambulance, its blood-red light shining out onto the crowd gathering behind the yellow police tape.
“Lizzie, I know this is a lot to take in,” Officer Lam says, his voice thick with sympathy. He motions for a paramedic carrying a silver blanket to come over.
“I need to see him,” I say, breaking into a run before either Officer Lam or Fahad can open their mouths to protest. The cold air burns my lungs as I gulp it down. I reach the side of the ambulance and dash to the back doors.
They’re open. Charlie is huddled on a stretcher inside, wrapped like a takeout burrito in one of those silver-foil blankets. A paramedic is monitoring him, and a female police officer is writing something in her notepad.
“Charlie!” I stop, my Converse sneakers skidding in the icy slush.
The police officer’s head snaps up. She throws her arm out to block me. “You can’t be here,” she says.
“The hell I can’t be,” I growl at her, pushing her arm aside and jumping into the back of the ambulance. “That’s my baby brother.”
Charlie looks at me, his eyes wide and shining with tears. “Lizzie,” he says, his voice barely a whisper. “Dean won’t hurt you anymore. I did a really bad thing. Really bad. But he won’t hurt you. Or Mom. Or Trixie. He’ll never hurt us again.” There’s a flatness to his voice and a blank look to his eyes that’s scaring me. The words tumble from his lips with the emotion of a robot.
I throw my arms around him. “It’s okay, buddy,” I say. “It’s all going to be okay.”
The thing is, I don’t know if anything will ever be okay again.
Chapter Seventeen
“Hey, Lizzie,” Kayla says, taking a seat beside me. Putting down her Starbucks cup, she takes off her army jacket, shakes out her long dreads, then turns to me. “Ready?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.” I put my script, which is heavily marked with pink highlighter, down beside me.
“Girl, you don’t get it, do you?” Kayla pretends to knock on my head. “Hello? You killed the audition. People are nuts about your voice. If all that stuff hadn’t been going on last year, you would’ve had the female lead in the Wiz as well.”
I roll my eyes at her and laugh.
For the first time in a long time, my laughter is fueled by happiness. It’s been a year and two months since the night that Dean died. Charlie was hospitalized for a night due to shock, and then his care was transferred to Nan while the police investigated his charge of self-defense. My testimony about being beaten regularly and then raped by Dean made a difference. I had to undergo really humiliating physical exams to prove that I was no longer a virgin. Fahad gave testimony at Dean’s trial to support that we’d never had sex, which helped.
When Nan and I got to SickKids that night, we found out that Charlie hit Dean in the temple with an iron when he broke into the bathroom. He was killed instantly, but Charlie took a razor blade to Dean’s neck just to be sure he couldn’t hurt Mom or me again. That’s how the police found him—covered with blood and sawing away at Dean.
I worry a lot about Charlie. He’s sometimes so quiet and withdrawn, despite hours of therapy and Nan and I taking him out to things like Raptors games and the movies. His therapist says it will take a long time for Charlie to get over the trauma. He feels guilty about killing Dean and sees himself as a bad kid now.
Mom no longer has custody of us. Children’s Aid gave Nan full guardianship. Mom came for a couple of supervised visits before entering rehab. Things between her and Charlie seemed okay, but our visits were awkward. She wouldn’t look me in the eye. I thought hard about what Angel said, and I figure Mom didn’t love herself enough to get out of the relationship with Dean and that it really doesn’t have much to do with me. Down deep I don’t fully believe that yet, but I’m working on it. Her face is really messed-up, and she’ll have to get loads of surgeries to fix it. Not only did Dean break her jaw and right cheekbone, but he also managed to knock out half of her teeth. A women’s charity is helping to pay for all the reconstructive work she needs, and one of the national newspapers is following her story. I don’t think she really deserves the positive attention, but I’m trying to let that go.
Maie’s keeping both Chester and Trixie for now. Last month she finished her chemotherapy treatment for lung cancer, but things don’t look good. Even though she’d just gotten the diagnosis the day I showed up with Trixie, she still took her in. Nan’s broken down and told Maie we’ll take both the dogs if anything should happen to her. I know Nan’s heart will split in a thousand pieces if she loses Maie, but she’ll never show it. Instead, she’ll take the dogs into her place even though she firmly believes they aren’t supposed to be there.
Fahad and I broke up about a month after that night. His parents, though not happy he’d kept our relationship secret from them, were very kind and supportive to me throughout the trial. Thing was, Fahad and I were never the same after that night. Everything that happened was just too much for us. Regent Park is too far away, and it was hard for him to deal with everything that happened between Dean and me. I started at Mary Ann Shadd, and it was a new beginning with new friends. Personally, I didn’t want a lot of ties to my old life, though I will forever appreciate Fahad sticking by me that night. Maria and I have stayed in touch on Facebook, but that’s about it. I’m okay with it all. My new life is full of promise, and I’ve begun to love myself. Most important, I’m singing again.
Dad, are you up there? Guess what? I’m Maria in West Side Story! And when I hit the stage, it will be all for you. Love forever, Lizzie.
Acknowledgments
To Robert, my Mum and my Dad for all their love and support, as well as a
massive thank you to my agent, Amy Tompkins, for all her hard work and dedication in helping this book come to fruition. I would also like to acknowledge the Ontario Arts Council's generous support toward the writing of this book.
Mary Jennifer Payne is a graduate of the Humber School for Writers’ Summer Workshop in Creative Writing. She is also a Special Education teacher at Nelson Mandela Park Public School in Toronto, Ontario. Her writing has been published in journals, anthologies and magazines in both Canada and abroad. Since You’ve Been Gone, her first full-length young-adult novel, was published in 2015.
orca soundings
For more information on all the books in the Orca Soundings series, please visit www.orcabook.com.
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