Harrowing

by S. E. Amadis

  I gaped at him. He passed his arm soothingly around my shoulders.

  “Cool off, babes. That’s all I wanted from him. Just wanted to get his name.”

  He smiled at me. Piously. He waved a gold-embossed business card before my eyes, then snatched it away before I could read it.

  “What are you going to do now that you know his name?” I asked warily. It was clear to Calvin that I didn’t trust him one whit.

  “Nothing. Okay, maybe I’ll send him a greeting card.” He smiled again. “But that’s it, hon. I swear. That’s all I would do.”

  He kissed me on the top of my head. I stood there fuming, helpless. Lindsay glanced from one to the other of us as if watching a dazzling tennis match.

  “I dunno what’s going on, you pair of idiots, but you could enlighten me,” she said.

  I toed the ground again.

  “Nothing, Linds. Just a mean boss I had once at one of my temp jobs,” I said, at the same time that Calvin burst out, “That’s the frigging bastard that fucking raped Annasuya.”

  Of course, Calvin was the one that Lindsay paid attention to. She grasped me by the cheeks and stared into my eyes.

  “Is that true, Ann?”

  I didn’t say anything. Lindsay shook my face between her palms like a scruffy puppy dog.

  “Is that true?” she screamed.

  I pulled at her arms.

  “Calm down, Linds.” It was the only thing it occurred to me to say. “Calvin’s exaggerating.”

  Romeo tugged in alarm on Lindsay’s arm.

  “Lindsay. You’re hurting my mimi,” he said. “Aren’t you friends?”

  Lindsay tried to smile at Romeo. It looked like a scowl.

  “We’re just fooling around, Shakes.” Trite though it might seem, she always called him Shakespeare Child, or sometimes Shakes. “Don’t you fool around with your friends at school?”

  Romeo nodded. But he still looked dubious.

  Lindsay seized me by the arm and shook it firmly.

  “Don’t worry, Shakes. I’m just holding your mother,” she said when she caught Romeo eyeing her with mistrust.

  Romeo scowled and moved away, but he didn’t take his eyes from her. Lindsay loosened her grip on me.

  “Okay, Annasuya. Out with it. Calvin can’t be exaggerating. How can you exaggerate about someone raping you? Either he did or he didn’t. So what happened?”

  I lashed at her angrily.

  “Are you my fucking shrink or something, Lindsay? Just leave me the fuck alone.”

  I started towards the Queen Street subway entrance.

  “Where are you going?” Lindsay called. “Are you planning on going after him too?”

  I shook my head.

  “I’m going home,” I said.

  Romeo ran after me.

  “I’m coming with you, Mimi.”

  I patted him on the cheeks, on those chubby, rosy, perfect apples that only pre-adolescents have.

  “No, honey pops. You go with Calvin and Linds and ride on the streetcar. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

  Romeo scuffed his running shoe against the earth.

  “Yeah, Mimi, but not without you.”

  I stroked his hair and kissed him.

  “Go on. Calv and Linds will take good care of you. Mimi just wants to be alone for a while.”

  Romeo stared at me, only half believing, then ran off to Calvin and Lindsay.

  I stewed on our worn and comfortable burgundy futon. It came with the apartment, which was furnished. It was old and creaky and had probably supported the weight of dozens of tenants before us. But I still loved it. It had a lived-in, homey feel.

  I tried to watch TV. Mud-covered strangers traipsing through jungles in one of those ubiquitous survivor realities just didn’t appeal to me. I tried to read a magazine. All those drop-dead gorgeous faces without a single blemish belonged to powerful icons that men would never dare to even touch, much less lay a fist on in order to violate or hurt them.

  “How to Wrap Your Boss Around Your Little Finger”, proclaimed the title of one of the articles in Cosmopolitan.

  “I hate you,” I said.

  I opened the window and tossed the magazine out. Someone exclaimed in surprise below me.

  “Hey, look. Just the magazine I wanted,” a girlie voice cried out. “Lookit this. It just fell from heaven on me. It’s got all these cool bracelets...”

  I slammed the window shut and threw myself into the shower. Lately I was taking showers two, three, even four times a day and my skin was starting to get as dry as a prune. It didn’t seem to make any difference in the way I felt.

  *

  The phone was ringing as I got out of the shower. I stumbled over a stool trying to grab it, cursing. I plunked the phone to my ear, and I just knew it was his voice. I just knew it.

  I’d only heard him say five sentences to me before, and the timbre was garbled by the impersonal electric cables. But I just knew it was him. I would never forget that eely hiss as long as I lived.

  “Hi. May I speak to Ms. Annasuya Adler, please?” the voice twittered cheerily.

  The phone almost slipped from my lax hand. He was looking for me! Trying to find where I lived.

  My hand trembled so hard the phone nearly fell from it. I didn’t know what to do. If I hung up on him, he would suspect. Nay, he would know it was me. But if I spoke, perhaps he would recognize my voice.

  Grabbing a dish cloth in a rush, I folded it over the mouthpiece several times, forming a thick layer that I hoped would muffle the real sound of my voice.

  “No... No...” I mumbled. I remembered something Lindsay had taught me. “No hay,” I said, praying fervently that I sounded like a genuine Latina. I knew what I’d said didn’t make any sense, since I’d just informed the caller that there weren’t any here. But hopefully his Spanish was as bad as mine.

  Fatty and Skinny started squealing. Desperate, I dashed to their side and stuck the phone up next to the rat cage. Fatty bit at it and squealed even harder in protest. I smashed my finger down over the button with the red phone icon.

  Lindsay and Calvin were whispering together and pinching each other on the arm conspiratorially as they walked in the door. I could just imagine what they were conspiring about.

  My hands were still shaking. I hid them in the folds of my bathrobe and adopted a fake disapproving look.

  “So. Which of you is going to knock on Bruno’s door to lure him out, and which is going to plant the bomb in his basement?” I said.

  Lindsay only gaped at me.

  “What the hell are you talking about? I was just telling Calvin I’d never seen such a fantastic movie before. Maybe it’s an old classic, but Titanic never goes out of date.”

  “You took Romeo to see Titanic after the streetcar?” I said, deadpan.

  Lindsay giggled and nodded.

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  “It’s a bit mushy, isn’t it, for someone his age?”

  I glanced at Romeo and tousled his head.

  “Isn’t that right, honey pops? Did you like the movie?”

  He squirmed away from me.

  “I thought it was a bit mushy,” he replied, then hopped into the living-room.

  A minute later we heard vrooms and pings from the TV.

  “So you weren’t whispering about me behind my back?” I said as we peeled onions and sliced tomatoes a little later in the open plan kitchen.

  Lindsay gave me a wide-eyed look that fooled nobody.

  “Who do you think we are?”

  I plopped a plate onto the counter.

  “Okay. So what did Calvin tell you?”

  “Tell her, hon?”

  Calvin walked out of the bathroom in a bathrobe, rubbing a towel through his hair.

  “You could’ve waited till the company left to have a shower,” I pointed out.

  Calvin shrugged.

  “Lindsay’s almost like family, isn’t she?”

  “Chill out, Annie,�
� Lindsay said as she plunked a package of macaroni into a pot. “Nothing happened. We just took the streetcar to my neighbourhood. Ended up stuffing our faces at that Indian after all. My stomach simply couldn’t wait until we got back downtown.”

  “But we had frozen yoghurt at the Eaton Centre,” Calvin cut in. “That’s why we went to the movies. They were having some sort of special anniversary or special edition or special something of Titanic.”

  He passed his hand about my waist and gave me a possessive squeeze. A whiff of ice blue cologne wafted towards me.

  “You missed a wild time,” Lindsay added. “You never tire of watching Titanic. When was the last time you saw it?”

  I glanced from one to the other. I didn’t trust them one whit, and they knew it.

  “You’re up to something,” I said to Lindsay. “And I’m going to find out what.”

  She only gifted me with a wide-eyed, innocent dolly look.

  Chapter 6

  Rudolph Verenich was tough. Legend had it he’d once even trained with Mossad.

  But at the moment all he had was a bunch of inept and out-of-shape householder types whose main point of action was probably watching the evening news. I wondered how he’d ended up here, instead of living it up in London or Paris.

  I watched as Barry, the one who had hidden under his sheets while his home was being burglarized, bashed his elbow into the face of Tina, a hefty schoolgirl who claimed to be a basketball star. Tina let out an indignant howl.

  “Tina’s your friend. You’re fighting on Tina’s zide today,” Rudolph said. “Zo why you whomp her in ze eye?”

  “I didn’t mean to whomp her in the eye,” Barry shot back defensively. “I was trying to elbow Kathy. Just, Tina got in the way.”

  We were working in foursomes today. So everyone had a partner, and every pair was supposed to attack another pair. I was the only one working solo. Rudolph had told me he wouldn’t pair me with anyone until I could kick a target without knocking someone else’s feet out by accident, or punch a fist into someone’s shoulder instead of their face when I was aiming for their shoulder.

  “You’re not much of an athlete, are you, Adler?” he remarked as I tried to lift up one foot without keeling over. “What you do for a living?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?” I said through clenched teeth. “I’m an office worker. Do I look like I see a lot of action?”

  Rudolph shrugged. He curled his hands around mine, curving them into fists, and brought them up in front of my face.

  “Zat’s why you come here,” he replied. “If you were any good, you’d be in a karate league. And no one would’ve attacked you.”

  I glared at him, startled. He grinned, pleased to have caught me off guard.

  “Zo you were attacked.” He cast me a shrewd look. “Why I not zurprised? Tell me about it.”

  I shook my head and went back to aiming kicks in any old direction. Rudolph surveyed me with dismay. He raised his hands, imitated gathering them before his face.

  “Don’t drop your guard, Adler. Keep your face covered all ze time. You need a partner,” he added.

  He whistled and made a gesture at Barry.

  “Shulman. You look like you need a break. Come and do zomething zimple. Come and hold zome targets for zis girl.”

  Barry left his foursome a little reluctantly. He grabbed a couple of stuffed red-and-white cushions with dirty plastic covers and sauntered over to me.

  “Remember when you couldn’t kick either, Shulman?” Rudolph said. “Zo now you help ze new girl learn to kick.”

  Barry grimaced and waited until Rudolph had moved on before holding up a cushion towards me. He pointed at the centre of the cushion with a sheepish look.

  “Try to hook your heels over here,” he said. “Try not to dislocate my shoulder.”

  I tried to growl at him instead.

  “So why’re you here?” Barry said in a casual, bantering tone.

  “I want to protect myself,” I replied, still growling. “Isn’t it obvious? Why is anyone here?”

  Barry got a thoughtful look on his face and dropped his cushion for a minute.

  “Well, I don’t suppose you’re interested in martial arts, or you would’ve signed up at some martial arts school. Most people who come here, it’s because someone attacked them. And they weren’t prepared. And now they want to be prepared. Take me, for example.” He adjusted the thin, wire-framed glasses on his nose. “I thought I was safe. I thought I was invulnerable. After all, we had the most state-of-the-art alarm system money could buy. So when that asshole broke into my home... Oh, but you don’t know what I’m talking about, do you? You see, I came here cos some dude broke into my home...”

  “I know,” I interrupted him. “You told us last class. Remember?”

  “Oh?”

  Barry’s eyebrows arched in surprise. His glasses fell down his nose, and he pushed them up again.

  “Oh. I guess I did. So now you know my story. What’s yours?”

  I only shook my head and aimed a kick at his unprotected shoulder. As my heel ground into his bone, he let out a stricken howl. Rudolph glanced over.

  “You dropped your guard, Shulman!” he hollered. “Never drop your guard.”

  After class Rudolph pulled me aside.

  “What’s his name, Annasuya?” he said without any preamble. “Ze shithead who attacked you. Who was he?”

  I clamped my lips shut.

  “What makes you think anyone attacked me? And if anyone had, why the hell would I tell you?”

  Rudolph shrugged.

  “I’m just interested why people come here,” he said. And he let me go.

  I could see he wasn’t used to people refusing to answer his questions. He scrutinized my every move until I left the gym.

  *

  I got more of the same sort of grilling at my private session with Dr. Rheinhardt. In the end I’d caved and let Calvin pay for private sessions for me. But I was starting to question the wisdom of my decision, because I felt like all Dr. Rheinhardt did the whole hour was give me the third degree.

  “I told you, I don’t feel like talking about what happened.” I stirred a plastic stick through my cold coffee.

  I shifted about on the uncomfortable sofa. I had thought only psychiatrists used couches. Dr. Rheinhardt’s couch was covered with worn velour upholstery in a sort of sickly greenish-gold colour, so faded I couldn’t tell whether it was supposed to be green or gold. Unlike most sofas, this one had unsteady, old-fashioned wooden claws. One of the four claws was shorter than the others, and the sofa kept rocking back and forth.

  “Did you know that three-legged objects never rock?” I tried to drop the hint to Dr. Rheinhardt.

  He only stared at me with his eyes popping out of his face.

  “Pardon me?” he said.

  “Your sofa,” I pointed out.

  Dr. Rheinhardt only stared at me some more. I wondered what they teach in psychology school. Did he think he was going to uncover my secrets just by staring at me? He pressed his fingertips together, forming a tent in front of his face.

  “So, Annasuya... It is Annasuya, right? Or do you have a nickname that you habitually use? Annasuya is quite a mouthful.”

  I shrugged.

  “In fact, it’s actually Annasuya Rose. I like people to add in the ‘Rose’. But at any rate, if I did have a nickname, why would I tell it to you? If I had a nick, I’d only let my friends use it.”

  Dr. Rheinhardt dropped his gaze and made some notes in his omnipresent notebook. I could just imagine him scrawling out something like, “Obstinate, defiant and loony to boot.”

  He stared straight at me again. I supposed he believed his gaze to be a “penetrating stare”, and perhaps he was hoping to disarm me with it. I only stared back, as oblivious to his hints as a fly.

  “So, ah, Annasuya Rose. If you don’t feel like talking about it, what do you feel like talking about? In other words, why are you here?”

  I shrugg
ed again. I wondered if there was any way I could increment my short arsenal of gestures beyond shrugging, shrugging and more shrugs.

  “I guess I came because my boyfriend told me to,” I mumbled.

  Dr. Rheinhardt seized upon that.

  “Ah, your boyfriend. So, you could talk about your boyfriend instead. What’s he like? How is your relationship?”

  I shrugged for the third or fourth time.

  “He’s okay. After all, he’s paying so I can come here. He’s gotta be pretty cool, right?”

  Dr. Rheinhardt jotted some more notes.

  “Okay. So he’s cool. How would you compare him to the man who attacked you?”

  I glared at him.

  “Are you kidding me? You’re kidding, right? There’s no way you can compare the two.”

  I slashed through the air in front of me with my hands flat, palms down and fingers extended.

  “They’re like night and day. Why do you ask?”

  It was the good psychologist’s turn to shrug.

  “Do you believe in synchronicities? That means that nothing ever happens by chance. That means there must have been some reason why your... attacker... showed up in your life at this point. Perhaps there’s some similarity between him and the men you like to go out with. Perhaps he even knows your boyfriend.”

  My head shot up.

  “There is no way Calvin could possibly have ever met Bruno! That’s impossible,” I cried out.

  More note-taking.

  “Bruno. You say your attacker’s name was Bruno.”

  I nodded.

  “Okay. If you’re that curious, his name was Bruno Jarvas. Happy now? Hope you don’t just happen to know him and he’s your bosom buddy or something.”

  Dr. Rheinhardt sighed.

  “Although you might find it hard to believe, ah, Annasuya Rose, I’m actually on your side.” His voice sounded weary. “I want to help you.”

  He leaned over his desk and handed me a card.

  “Call me night or day if you need me.”

  *

  My life was starting to return to normal. The rivers flowing back to their habitual course. The wind blowing where it was supposed to. You could almost pretend that nothing had ever happened, and Bruno Jarvas had never existed.

  But I knew he existed. As long as I lived I would never, could never, forget him. What he did to me wasn’t something anyone could ever forget.