Beneath the Surface

by Tara Marlow

  Lowell had offered her his bedroom when she’d moved in, insisting he take the couch. His mother bought him a sofa bed when he found the apartment, hoping to come and stay with him, but his father wouldn’t allow it. When Lowell was sixteen, he’d come out to his parents. His father had gone ballistic, almost killing him. His mother rang 000 for an ambulance, after his father stormed out of the house. Afraid he’d return to finish Lowell off, she put him in the ambulance. Alone. The next day, sporting her own black eye, she dropped a bag, full of Lowell’s things, at the hospital. She’d tucked money into the inside pocket and told him not to come home until it was safe. Except it never was. His father disowned Lowell and wouldn’t allow him any contact with his mother. But they kept in touch through a secret email account and discretely met at a halfway point in Port Macquarie.

  She and Lowell had connected like only survivors could. She still worried that her father would find her. It was bad before, but he could make it much, much worse. She was still looking over her shoulder, and she worried about the repercussions every minute of every day.

  “Hey Jelly? I’m heading to the chemist after dinner. You said you needed something? Want to go with?”

  “Yes, please,” she called back. His cooking commentary continued.

  Lowell called out to her an hour later, just as she finished the essay. He heaped their cobalt blue bowls with the curry, adding flat bread to a side plate for each of them. The aroma was intoxicating. She wouldn’t fit into her school uniform if she kept eating at this rate. Lowell was so skinny, and she was amazed at how much he ate. He told her he was replenishing calories for swimming and doing yoga, when she commented on the amount of food he served the first week. For her, he was simply making up for her borderline starvation.

  “Heard from that guy at the café lately?” he asked, handing her a bowl. Odd, she thought, that he would ask. Was he spying on her? Reading her texts? No, that was just paranoia. Lowell wasn’t like that. Not like her father.

  “Actually yes. He texted me this afternoon while I was studying,” she said, and took a bite. It was spicy, but not overly so.

  “And?” he prodded, talking around his full mouth.

  “What is this dish called again? It’s so good. Thank you.”

  “Yeah? Good. Chicken tikka with naan. But don’t change the subject.”

  “He asked if I’d be going back to the café soon, since I haven’t been since…”

  “Yeah,” he said, in a worried tone. “Will you?”

  He already expressed his concern about her returning to her dad. It was a story he’d heard many times. Friends, people he knew, sometimes returned to abusive homes. She was more worried that her dad would find her. Maybe that was why Lowell had been spoiling her? To keep her living with him, so she’d be out of harm’s way. It was certainly working. She’d never had such luxury.

  “No, I won’t go back there. It’s too…”

  “Dangerous,” he finished for her. She nodded.

  “He asked me to a movie. This Saturday. As friends,” and took a bite of the delicious naan. She suspected it was something else he’d made himself.

  “Are you going?”

  Grace had been thinking about it since she got the text, wavering back and forth on the idea. It was risky. Her father knew Daniel existed, but he didn’t know what he looked like. She knew where her father hung out. If they avoided that area, they’d be okay.

  “Earth to Jelly,” said Lowell, scooping some of his Tikka on the flatbread.

  “I don’t know. I haven’t decided,” she responded. By now, her bowl was still half full, but she couldn’t eat anymore. Lowell’s bowl was almost empty.

  “Why are you hesitating? Go out with him,” he said, wiping the bottom of his bowl with his bread. “He’s hot, you said. He’s clearly interested. Friends, yeah, whatever. It would still be good for you to get out. You need to move on with your life, Jelly. Life is exciting. You have so much in front of you.”

  “We’ll see.”

  15

  When they arrived at Chemist Warehouse, Grace was surprised to see the place so busy at nine o’clock at night. Lowell grabbed a basket and went in search of his own needs. He found her in the hair colour aisle.

  “What are you buying?” said Lowell, standing at her elbow.

  “Hair colour,” she said, popping it into the basket.

  “Wait. That’s your normal hair colour,” he said, picking up the box clearly stating: ‘chestnut brown’. Grace absentmindedly shook her head.

  “It’s not? Then what’s your natural colour?” he said, flipping the box over then looking up at her.

  “Blonde. Light blonde,” she replied and continued slowly to the deodorant aisle.

  “Jelly. Wait. Why are you colouring it? Blonde would look gorgeous on you.”

  “Because I can’t,” she replied. What if that caused John to find her?

  She turned and was surprised to see confusion on Lowell’s face. Why was he confused? She’d always coloured her hair. Why was he questioning it?

  “Who the hell says you can’t?” Lowell responded abruptly.

  “Because I’m not allowed to be blonde. As soon as the blonde shows, I have to cover it up.”

  “Is this a John thing?” he asked quietly. Oh shit. What had she just done? She wasn’t thinking. She nodded slowly. “How long have you coloured it?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “Jelly, why is he making you colour your hair?”

  She’d not shared everything with Lowell in the year she’d known him. He knew about the beatings, her father’s temper, but she hadn’t told him they were on the run. It wasn’t until they’d reached Sydney that they stopped moving so much. Sydney was a good place to hide, her father said. People were everywhere. Small towns made you stand out.

  “Jelly? What’s going on? What aren’t you telling me?”

  * * *

  Grace held a steaming cup of tea after settling into Lowell’s comfy blue couch. She agonised over how much she should reveal. She began to speak, then promptly closed her mouth. She owed him the truth. He needed to understand the risk by taking her in. If he thought it was too much, she knew she’d be okay, but she also sensed he would stick by her no matter what. He wasn’t the type to back off from anything. Reflexively, she pulled a loose strand of her chestnut brown hair over the scar on her forehead.

  “So, what’s with the hair colour?” he asked gently. He knew her well enough to know when she was hesitating.

  “My hair has always been coloured. I only know I’m blonde because that’s the colour that comes through. My Dad used to do it, but I started doing it myself, I don’t know, about four years ago? My Dad usually cuts my hair too but never short.”

  “But why, Jelly?” Lowell took a sip of his tea. She followed suit. The chamomile tea was still hot, but cool enough to sip.

  “I don’t know…” she wasn’t sure how to tell him. She took another sip, trying to find the words. Lowell waited patiently.

  “My Dad would always tell me I had to blend in. And, that it hurt him to see me blonde because I looked so much like my mother.” Lowell looked thoughtful.

  “I think you’d look amazing as a blonde,” he said, to fill the silence. She nodded. She wasn’t so sure, but she remembered her mother’s hair. It was beautiful, like golden sand. Was her hair that colour too?

  “What else does he make you do?” he asked.

  “Swap out my SIM card on my phone every month, but you know that already,” she responded. She’d told him it was because her dad shopped around for phone plans. But that wasn’t the reason.

  “I do remember one thing he asked me to do, when I was about seven or eight. It was all in line with our, um, big adventure. He said we’d run out of money and needed to get creative. We were moving, coming back to the mainland on the ferry from Tasmania. Before we boarded, we pulled into a parking lot at a park nearby. He told me to go to the toilet because it would be awhile before I cou
ld go again. I didn’t think anything of it. He liked to drive long distances without stopping. But, when I returned from the toilet, he’d moved stuff around in the campervan. He told me I would get to stay in the van all night but I had to hide under the seat until we were boarded and sailing. I thought it was pretty funny. He gave me a bottle of water and a box of crackers. Oh, and an apple. So, I got in and laid down under the bench seats. We used it for storage. He put the seat cushions over me and said I could take the cushion off overnight, but to have it back on before we docked. I wasn’t allowed to get up and move around, just move the cushion, he said. Eventually, he told me to just go to sleep, and we’d be back in Melbourne before I knew it. But under no circumstances was I to get out of the van until we were off the boat.”

  “Geezus Jelly,” hissed Lowell.

  “I thought it was a big adventure. Like I was a stowaway. I was reading those kinds of books at the time, so my dad made it a game for me.”

  “What else?” Grace looked at Lowell, lost in the memory, her lips curled in a gentle smile. “What else did he say you have to do?”

  Minutes passed. Grace knew she was taking an enormous risk in telling him anything more. But she didn’t know what the risk truly was. She feared her father, yes, but was there another reason? She didn’t know. She flashed to the nightmares. She’d had two more since moving in with Lowell. Blood. Thorns. Running. The red suitcase. Now, a phone. That had become the focus of the nightmares now. She wondered if it was all connected. She could feel memories bubbling, lingering just beneath the surface. She looked down at her hands, rubbed at the bits of skin around her cuticles, trying to smooth them down so she wouldn’t pick at them.

  “I am not pushing you, Jelly. I’m just worried. That’s all. You can tell me more when you’re ready. And only if you want to.” He placed his cup on the side table, stood up from the couch, and headed to the bathroom. She was glad for the space. She trusted Lowell, but something in her gut told her: not yet.

  * * *

  “Get off her!” Grace screamed. She was standing in the doorway to the kitchen, clinging to her Raggedy Ann doll. It was new, a present from Nanny, given to her the day before for her fifth birthday. She was clutching the doll as her father held her mother to the floor, his hand around her throat. Mummy was trapped and Daddy was fumbling with his belt.

  “Go back to bed, Grace,” her mother gasped. “Please baby, go back to bed.”

  Her father ignored her, his entire focus on her mother. Grace backed away from the door and ran to her parent's bedroom. To her left was her parent’s closet. It was dark and away from the screaming. She nestled herself into the back corner, gripping her doll as if it were the only thing that could protect her. The screaming scared her.

  Moments later, she felt something in her hand. A phone. She stared down at the numbers. She couldn't remember the number Mummy told her to dial when this happened again. She heard noises from the kitchen, but she couldn't remember the number. Panic filled her. Something banged outside the front door. It sounded like fireworks, like the ones they saw the week before. She crawled out of the closet and toward the bedroom door. She didn’t want Daddy to hear her. Peering around the corner, there by the front door, was a red suitcase. One lock was unlatched on the case, and there was something red underneath. Something that looked wet and sticky. She reached for the suitcase, but the muffled screams were coming from the kitchen again. It frightened her, so she crawled back to the closet, back into the corner. She picked up the phone again. This time, it felt cold. Ice cold. She looked down again, and it was a different phone in her hand. But the number. She still couldn’t remember the number...

  * * *

  Grace woke up drenched in sweat. She couldn’t catch her breath. She looked around the room manically, trying to place where she was. A streetlight was shining into the room. She was at Lowell’s.

  But the nightmare? What was that? She had been young. Five. And the doll? She remembered that doll. There’d been a little heart sewn onto its chest. Nanny had given it to her for her birthday. And the suitcase was in the dream again. And the phone. But this time, there were two phones. The more she thought about it, the more she knew something about these dreams was true. She just didn’t know what. Had her mother been planning on taking them away to live with Nanny?

  ‘Come home to me, sweetness. You'll be safe here.’

  Were they not safe from her father? Was he the evil in all of this? He told Grace that her mother died of cancer. Something wasn’t right with that. The red suitcase was the one thing that was constant in the nightmares. Now, she remembered that suitcase vividly. It was real. It was sitting at the door the night her mother died.

  16

  Grace decided to go to the movie with Daniel. He offered to pick her up, making it feel even more like a date. But she didn’t want anyone knowing where she lived. What if her father figured out who Daniel was, and followed him to the apartment? Was she being paranoid? Probably. Lowell reminded her again that it was time to move her life forward, whether she was going on a date or as friends. She pondered this awhile, then finally sent the text to Daniel late Friday night.

  Looking forward to it, Daniel replied quickly.

  Me too, she responded.

  Grace admitted to Lowell she’d never been to a movie before, something he found quite shocking. But she decided not to share that with Daniel. She wanted to seem normal for once. The last thing she needed was to make it obvious how much of a social freak she was. She was never one to fit in, but she was starting to feel like a normal teenager. Now, she did fit in. People accepted her. She didn’t know who she really was, but at least people accepted the version of herself she revealed to them.

  After their conversation the night of the chemist, Lowell had given her a lot to think about. She was used to this life of hiding. But sharing it felt like she was exposing herself, piece by piece. The nightmares felt exposing too. They’d prompted her to dissect everything John had said to her over the years. Now, she began wondering how many lies she’d been told.

  Daniel’s knock on the door on Saturday night was right on time. Nevertheless, Lowell answered the door as a precaution, while Grace hid in the bedroom. It was a system they’d agreed upon, in case John found her. When she heard Daniel’s voice at the door, Grace stepped into the room.

  “Hi!” he said, looking happy to see her.

  “Hello,” she replied. She wasn’t sure what to say to him. He looked the same. He was dressed in jeans, a blue striped button-down shirt tucked in, his boots the same worn out ones he’d worn to the café. But something was different. It threw her off kilter. Grace dug into her shredded cuticles. What was she doing?

  “Please, come on in,” said Lowell, gesturing Daniel into the small space. The place was already crowded with two, but with Daniel here, she felt like the confined space would suffocate her.

  “Can I get you a drink? A coke? Wine? Water?” Lowell offered. Daniel accepted water with thanks. While Lowell went into the kitchen, she and Daniel stared at each other. It was strange seeing him outside of the café, strange to be going on a non-date together. Daniel smiled, and it was enough to undo her. Shit. She was making a mistake. Grace excused herself and escaped to the bathroom. With her back against the closed door, she could hear their muffled conversation.

  What was she doing? She barely knew the guy. She’d been nervous all day. When she arrived home after work, she tried explaining her anxiety to Lowell, but she struggled to find the words. Paranoid questions spun through her head. What if he was a spy? What if he was part of the group chasing them? What if he was what they’d been running from? Was she putting herself in danger? If she’d expressed those thoughts to Lowell, he’d think she was crazy. So, she kept it on the safe side and talked about Daniel’s interest in dating her, but it did little to relieve her anxiety.

  She placed her hand on her chest, willing her heart to slow down. The fabric of the one nice shirt she owned, a blue cotton blouse
, felt scratchy on her fingers. She had few clothes because of situations like this. In case she had to run. She could pack a bag quickly if she only had a few things. Should she run?

  “Hey Grace? Are you nearly ready to go?” Lowell called to her. Nearly ready? God no. But she knew those words held meaning, too. She trusted Lowell. If he asked her that, he must believe Daniel was okay. She took a deep breath, checked herself in the mirror, fixed her hair over her scar and turned back toward the door.

  “Sorry,” she said, coming out from the bathroom. She picked up her jacket from the back of the couch.

  “Good to go?” Daniel asked, looking concerned. “The movie starts in an hour, but it’s a half hour to get there so…”

  “Yep. Ready,” she looked to Lowell nervously. He saw the pleading look and came over to hug her goodbye.

  “He’s okay. But call me if you need me to come and get you, alright?” he whispered in her ear. She nodded, but he didn’t understand why she was so nervous. Why had she let him assume it was dating nerves? But she knew it was because she wasn’t ready to yet. Grace grabbed her phone and backpack and followed Daniel out the door.

  “Don’t you kids have too much fun! But be careful if you do,” Lowell sang as they left the apartment. Grace turned and stared daggers at him.

  “Ignore him. We’re two friends going to a movie. That’s it,” said Daniel, as they made their way down the stairs. At the street, Daniel opened the passenger door and gave Grace a hand up into his truck.