Run, Rebel
Page 16
Tears fall down his face.
I can smell the alcohol.
I climb into Beena’s car
and into David’s embrace.
I fight the urge to look back
as we drive off.
I feel guilty for not hating him.
I should hate him.
The recipe for hate
has been cooking for years.
Fear, pain, misery, threats, violence, drinking.
What’s wrong with me?
No matter how hard I try,
I can’t hate him.
I hate myself so easily,
so why isn’t it easy to hate him?
I want to hate him,
I really do –
because I should.
A job notice of the prospectuses
has come up at a supermarket. on the coffee table.
They are looking for cleaners. She’s reading through
Mum would earn a proper wage. them. Dog-earing corners
No more slave labour. and making phone calls.
No more twelve-hour shifts. She and Jas look through
No more piecework money. the application forms together.
What do you think? What do you think?
Should I go for it? Should I go for it?
It’s up to you, Mum. Of course you should!
Whatever you want. You’ll be fighting off offers.
She looks at me Ruby looks at Jas
like she’s never like she’s seeing him
had that option for the
in her whole life. first time.
We made it to
the regional finals
on 7th May.
It’s getting closer,
everyone is holding
their
nerve.
What do you think?
Can I do it?
Yes, Amber, you can.
I support you 100 per cent.
I look at Ruby.
I can’t believe what I’m hearing.
We no longer fight, like they fight.
We stand side by side. Finally.
Look at us,
all of us,
flying
into our
futures.
It’s difficult to start with.
I’m not one for talking.
Sit there in silence
for the first ten minutes.
Awkward.
Tell me what’s going on,
she says.
The counsellor
with her
long brown
poker-straight hair
and
gentle face.
Miss Sutton organized all this,
so it doesn’t surprise me
she’s found someone
with a kind face
like hers.
A face you feel
safe with.
I shrug.
What are you thinking about?
Dunno.
Nothing.
Everything.
Everything?
How long do I have to stay?
This session is an hour,
but you don’t have to stay.
You can leave.
Do you want to leave?
I shrug.
Don’t know where to start.
There’s no rush.
She sits back
in her chair.
We don’t talk.
The silence is
suffocating.
The tick of the clock
deafening.
So I let it out.
One
secret
at
a
time.
and Gemma.
Gemma
who
never
deserved
any
of
it.
These secrets
have only ever
been for us.
They were
never meant
to be shared.
Some leap from my mouth
like they’ve lived forever
on the tip of my tongue
and wished their whole lives
to be freed.
Others are forced
from the pit of my stomach
like splinters living under
layers of skin.
The words bleed
and hurt.
It’s hard to admit
what I have borne
witness to.
Even harder
to feel OK about
sharing it.
Even though
I know
deep down
this is
the right thing
to do.
I laugh about The Man.
I laugh about the threats of having my bones broken.
I laugh about being told I have the devil inside me.
I laugh about being dragged to the temple.
I laugh
I laugh
I laugh.
The counsellor’s eyes widen.
She reins it back.
But I’ve seen it.
I tell her I’m OK.
I feel it’s important
I reassure her.
She tells me
it’s normal
to try and normalize
my situation.
It’s common for people to do this.
But it’s not normal.
She feels it is important
that she tells me
that none of this
is
normal.
Ruby asks Mum
why it took her so long.
Ruby says,
There are years I can’t get back.
A life I could have lived.
Mum says,
I’m sorry.
I didn’t know how I could before.
But I begged you.
I begged you.
I know.
Don’t you think I remember?
Don’t you think I wanted to?
You just didn’t care about me.
You wanted me to be as miserable as you.
That’s not true.
I didn’t know where to go.
We would have been homeless.
You left,
but that doesn’t change things for me.
It’s still too late for me.
But Jas is a nice man.
He’s nothing like your father.
I know he is. But I was eighteen.
I wanted more. I wanted a choice.
Me, Tiya and Jas
are sitting secretly on the stairs,
listening to the crying
coming from the kitchen.
He puts his head in his hands
and sobs uncontrollably.
Mum and I have
taken Tiya’s room.
The bed and wardrobe
we ordered from IKEA
have arrived and I spend
the day making furniture
with Jas.
Finally Mum and I
can unpack
our clothes.
No longer living
out of suitcases.
Mum’s old workbook
and an old wage packet
fall out of a bundle of clothes.
We stare at it.
So many years,
she says.
So many years.
We sit looking at our
new bedroom,
thinking about our
new future.
Me, Jas and Ruby
all wake up early
to see Mum off
on the first day
of her new job.
We watch the sunrise
together,
drinking hot chai.
It’s just cleaning.
You didn’t have to wake up so early.
Yes we did!
It’s a big deal, Mum.
You’ll be home in two hours
not twelve!
She smiles.
She knows it is too.
The sun starts to peek
out from behind
the terraced houses.
A new day,
she says.
Ruby: It’s not that I don’t love you.
Jas: What then?
We need to start again.
How?
We need to see if we belong together.
What about Tiya?
She’s the most important person.
I want to make it work.
I do too.
I’ll always support you. You know that, don’t you?
I’ve always known that.
So, let me in.
I’m trying. Give me time.
Have all the time you need. I’m not going anywhere.
Trauma can heal.
It’s a long journey
but that’s what I’m here for.
We’ll work through it together,
she says.
Everything you’ve been feeling,
everything you’ve done,
it’s all connected to your trauma.
Hearing these words
I begin to understand
why.
All the whys.
All the reasons
I am
how I am.
Something starts
to lift
inside me.
I am a bully.
Bullying
made me feel
powerful
in a world
where I felt
worthless.
Dad is a bully.
He must also
feel powerless.
Bullying
comes
from
pain.
You think
inflicting pain
on others
makes your own pain
go away.
People stay
in bad situations
with bad people
because of fear.
Because they feel
powerless to leave.
Mum felt powerless.
Dad had broken her
down mentally
and physically.
She was broken down
before that
by her own family,
so he had an
easy job.
People think
it’s easy to leave.
It’s natural to still
love Dad
after everything
he has done.
He’s still my dad.
That doesn’t
mean it’s safe
to stay with him.
Dad needs help.
On some level
Dad is the parent
I think
I deserve
because we’re
the same.
We are both
bullies.
I can change.
It doesn’t. It isn’t. I want to change.
I don’t know why.
Just seems right.
The house is a mess.
Takeaway trays,
unwashed dishes,
unflushed toilet.
See what becomes of me when you’re not here.
You need to learn to take care of yourself.
I think about skipping school,
cleaning the house
and making him a healthy meal.
But it’s not my job to fix him.
As I walk out of the estate,
I see Mr Garcha.
I smile, give a little wave.
He smiles,
waves back.
Suddenly there’s a release,
a feeling I can’t quite describe.
Then it hits me.
I’m not scared.
For the first time,
I feel no fear.
Ruby is applying to university.
Local ones
and ones further away.
We’ll move wherever
she wants to go,
says Jas.
We’ll make it work.
Final training sessions
bringing us
closer together,
making us faster,
stronger,
working as a team.
Final training sessions
bringing David and me
closer together.
Watching each other
on the track,
sitting next to each other
on the bus,
playfully nudging each other
whenever we can.
Which is perhaps
the best thing
of
all.
I try and talk to Gemma.
She doesn’t want to know,
and who can blame her?
I try and walk in sight.
I try and own the space around me,
knowing I can be and do
whatever I choose.
There may still be spies
but no one can hurt me.
The impetus to hide behind Tara
is still there.
The need to scan cars
is still there.
Watching out for every auntie
is still there.
Being removed
from a situation
doesn’t necessarily
free you from yourself.
Regional finals.
Miss says the county team managers
are keeping an eye on me.
My times are impressive.
All I have to do is focus.
David and I watch all the other events
like hawks
before it’s our time to warm up
for track.
David’s up first.
I sit in the stands with
Mum, Tiya, Ruby, Jas, Tara and Beena.
We whoop, shout and cheer as
David runs.
He’s like a gazelle,
so swift and strong.
He comes a close second.
I know he’ll be disappointed,
but we are so proud.
And now
it’s my turn.
As I make my way
from the stands,
Tara gives me a hug.
Just be present,
she says.
And everything else will fall into place.
I make my way to the track.
Get into position.
Close my eyes and
take a deep breath.
This is where I belong.
Everything goes quiet.
I look forward.
I hear the gun.
I keep in lane.
I feel the wind.
I hear my breath.
I don’t care who’s
in front,
to the side
or behind.
I’m not even aware I’ve won
until I hear my name over the speaker
and see my friends and family
jumping out of their seats.
I am chosen
straight away
for the county championships
and a second chance
at being the best under-seventeen
two-hundred-metre runner
in the country.
Allie Reid
held this title
when she was my age.
I allow myself to imagine
standing on the podium
holding a gold medal.
For the first time
ever
my dreams seem
possible.
Mum sits in a restaurant
for the first time.
Have whatever you want,
says Jas.
I sit
next to her,
reading the menu,
describing the food,
guessing what she might like.
As we’re finishing off our pudding,
we see Dad
shuffling along
the opposite side of the street,
holding a bag
from the off-licence.
I feel guilty
that I don’t feel guilty.
I look at Mum.
She’s sitting proud,
a defiant look on her face.
She smiles.
Happy?
Yes, Mum. Happy.
Orphaned.
Orphanage
abuse.
No love.
No education
no structure
no care
no home.
No love.
Here it was hard.
No friends
no family
no kindness
no belonging.
No love.
When we
came along
he found it
hard to love.
It was
too late
to learn
to love.
It is
never
too late
to learn
to love.
Ruby’s finished her
statement for her university application.
She wants to read it out.
I sit in bed, holding Tiya.
Ready …
For my whole life I have always wanted to go to university and study English. However, it always seemed like a dream. I never thought someone from my background would have the opportunity to go on to further education. Over time, my story of being a British Asian girl hailing from the low-income council estate has grown old; as has my declaration to become a first-generation university student, building a legacy for my family.
I can’t take my eyes off her.
I listen, holding my breath,
as she reveals all the obstacles
that have held her back.
A marriage she didn’t want,
a daughter who came too soon.
My parents, both illiterate in their own language as well as English, never saw the benefit of education. However, my mother has recently started learning to read and write, and the change in her view of the world has been remarkable …
She stops.
Is it OK to say all that?
There’s a stone in my gut.
These truths have only ever been for us.
Yes.
It’s your truth.
Don’t be afraid to share it.
My heart is pounding
listening to her read.
Even Tiya is transfixed.
… One day I will change the world. Not only for my younger sister and my daughter, but for all women. I will lay the foundations, and I will lead the way.