Safe with Me: A Novel

by Hatvany, Amy

  Maddie throws her hands up in the air. “Why not? What does it matter? Dad’s going to kill me, Mom. You know he will. He’s never . . . it’s always you . . . but now . . .” Her words stutter out of her, and Olivia knows exactly what her daughter is afraid of—that James will hit her now, too. A hot wave of guilt rushes through her for letting herself be fooled even for a moment that she’d managed to protect Maddie from her father’s abuse. No matter how much Olivia has tried to hide his behavior, Maddie is still its casualty—collateral damage from a war quietly raging between her parents.

  “Oh, honey,” Olivia says, starting up the stairs, wanting to do nothing more than comfort her daughter, but then Hannah speaks, stopping Olivia in her tracks.

  “Sometimes you have to stand up to a bully to make him back down,” she says, and Maddie looks quickly at Olivia, then over to Hannah again.

  “You make it sound easy,” she says, her words stilted and slow.

  “It’s not,” Hannah says. “But if you’re prepared, if you have a plan of attack, you can do it.”

  Maddie still looks doubtful. “You don’t know what he’s like—”

  “Yes, she does,” Olivia says quickly, cutting Maddie off. “I told Hannah everything this morning.”

  “Told her what?” Maddie lifts her chin, challenging Olivia to admit what she’s never acknowledged. She’s let her body speak the truth to her daughter—her bruises and her tears—but she’s never had the courage to say it out loud. It’s time, she thinks. There’s no use in pretending anymore.

  Olivia takes a deep breath, holding it as the words tumble out of her in a ragged whisper. “That your father hits me.” She stares at Maddie, imploring her to forgive her for not telling the truth sooner. Her daughter’s expression softens, and Olivia knows she’s done the right thing.

  “We can call the police,” Hannah says. “We can tell them you’re afraid for your safety and they’ll come.”

  At the thought of bringing the police in on the situation, every ounce of courage Olivia might have been feeling evaporates. She shoots Hannah a panicked look. “I can’t,” she says. “Not yet.”

  “When, then?” Hannah asks, sounding desperate. “When he breaks your bones? Or when he finally hits Maddie? Will that be reason enough for you to leave him?” She takes in a sharp breath and then continues, her hands balled into tight fists at her sides. “I know I said this morning that I wouldn’t tell you what to do, but I was wrong. I was wrong because you still have your daughter, Olivia. She’s bright and beautiful and kind and she’s right here.” She waits a beat, as though considering the wisdom of what she wants to say next. “Do you have any idea how much I’d give to have Emily with me again?” Olivia begins crying when Hannah mentions the death of her own daughter. Hannah continues. “Do you? I would do anything. Anything to have the chance to save her, to protect her . . .” Her voice breaks and she has to clear her throat before going on. “To keep her alive. This is your chance. You can either take it or not. But if you don’t and James hurts her more than he already has—if he beats her the same way he’s beat you—you’ll regret it for the rest of your life. You won’t be able to stop blaming yourself, not even for a minute. You’ll know if you’d just done one thing differently, she’d be okay. I live with that feeling every day . . . knowing if I’d made different choices the day Emily died, she might still be here.”

  Olivia’s shoulders shake as Hannah finishes speaking. Maddie rushes down the stairs and throws her arms around her mother. “It’s okay, Mama,” she says. “We’ll figure it out and we’ll be okay.” Maddie glares at Hannah over her mother’s shoulder.

  “I’m sorry,” Hannah whispers, her shoulders slumped. “I shouldn’t . . . it’s not my place to talk like that to you . . . I just . . .” She trails off, and Maddie’s gaze softens the slightest bit. She pulls back from her mother, and Olivia looks at Hannah through watery eyes.

  “But you’re right. We can’t live like this anymore.” She sniffs and takes Maddie’s hand in hers, taking another calming breath before going on. “So I think it’s best if we don’t tell your dad about what happened at the mall today. He doesn’t need to know.” She turns toward Maddie and puts her hands on her daughter’s shoulders. “Hannah is right. You are good and kind and smart and you deserve better than being afraid of your own father. I’m sorry I’ve let it go on so long . . . I just . . . I never thought . . . you were so sick and I didn’t know how—” Olivia stumbles over her words, trying to find a good explanation for why she stayed with James. But maybe that’s the problem. When it comes right down to it, there isn’t one.

  “I get it, Mom,” Maddie says through her own tears. “It’s okay.” She glances over to Hannah, who is tearfully watching their exchange. Olivia reaches out a hand to her friend, but Hannah takes a step back from them, frowning with her blue eyes wide.

  “What is it?” Olivia asks her, dropping her arm back to her side. She pauses. “I’m not angry with you, if that’s what you’re thinking. What you said about losing your daughter . . . how you’d do anything to save her and keep her safe . . .” She puts a splayed hand over her chest. “Oh my god, Hannah, that so hit home with me. I’ve been pretending like I have some kind of control over how James will react, like I can manage his behavior or turn it away from Maddie or whatever, but the truth is that even if I could, it doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t be with a man I’m afraid might beat my child.” She drops her hand back to her side and takes a deep breath. “I shouldn’t be with a man who beats me.”

  Hannah shakes her head, indicating that isn’t what she’s worried about. “I need to tell you something,” she says. Her voice is thin and quiet. “Both of you.”

  Olivia freezes, suddenly apprehensive of what her friend might have to say.

  “Tell us what?” Maddie asks, pulling away from Olivia and cocking her head to one side. “My dad’s going to be home any minute. If we’re going to leave . . .”

  “I don’t think we can leave tonight, honey,” Olivia says, temporarily sidetracked from whatever it is Hannah needs to say. “I want to, but I think it would be better to plan a little bit . . . to figure out money and where we’re going to live . . .”

  “I need to tell you both something!” Hannah says again—loudly this time—and both Olivia and Maddie startle at her insistence. Hannah is breathing hard; her chest heaves and her entire body jitters.

  “Hannah,” Olivia says nervously. “What is it?” She looks at her new friend, worried that James will walk through the door, see them all crying, and demand to know what happened. She needs to get Maddie showered and fed; she needs to calm herself down before dealing with her husband. But Hannah has been there for her today—more than anyone else ever has. No matter how emotionally exhausted she is, Olivia owes it to her to at least listen.

  Hannah doesn’t answer her; instead, she steps over to the table where her purse lies next to Olivia’s and reaches inside it. She pulls out a white piece of paper folded into thirds. Silently, she hands it to Maddie.

  “What’s this?” Maddie asks as she carefully opens the paper. Her mouth drops slightly open as she looks at the writing on the page, and Olivia throws another questioning glance at Hannah. But before Hannah can speak, Maddie crumples the paper in her grasp and stares at Hannah. “Where did you get this?” she demands.

  “Zoe Parker,” Hannah says quietly. The name rings a bell for Olivia, but she can’t quite put her finger on why.

  “The transplant coordinator,” Maddie says, gripping the paper so tightly it begins to tear.

  “Please don’t,” Hannah says, panic lighting up her words. She holds out her hand, as though to take the paper back. “I want to keep it. It was such a beautiful letter, Maddie. It meant so much that you wrote it.” Her chin quivers as she speaks; her blue eyes are still glassy with tears.

  Olivia shakes her head, trying to comprehend what Hannah has just said. Why would Maddie write Hannah a letter? And the transplant coordinator? What the
hell is going on?

  “It’s you?” Maddie says, her eyes wide with disbelief as she releases the paper and lets it flutter to the floor. “Your daughter . . . ?”

  “Yes.” Hannah squats down and grabs the letter, tucking it back inside her purse. Olivia watches this, and suddenly, it begins to dawn on her what might be happening. No. There’s no way. Hannah’s daughter wasn’t the right age to be Maddie’s donor.

  “But you said she was five,” Maddie says, as though she could hear Olivia’s thoughts. She stares at Hannah accusingly, her eyes flashing in a way so similar to James’s eyes when his fury takes him over, it makes Olivia’s heart skip a beat.

  “I know, but—” Hannah begins.

  “Wait a minute,” Olivia says, cutting Hannah off, not wanting to believe that what she suspects is going on between her friend and Maddie is the truth. She turns to her daughter, looking at her sternly. “You wrote Hannah a letter? Why?”

  “I wrote a letter to the parents of the girl who donated her liver to me,” Maddie says, then narrows her eyes at Hannah. “How did you find us?”

  Olivia is stunned; a hundred thoughts tumble through her mind at once. Did Hannah seek them out? Did she somehow figure out a way to meet them? No, she couldn’t have, Olivia decides. We walked into her salon on a whim. Completely on our own. There’s no way this could be true.

  “Maddie, wait a minute,” Olivia says, putting her arm around her daughter’s shoulders. “This can’t be right. Tell her, Hannah. Tell her she’s wrong.”

  Hannah turns to face Olivia and shakes her head. “I wish I could but . . . Emily was Maddie’s donor. I didn’t know for certain until I got Maddie’s letter today.” She takes in a deep breath and releases it before going on. “I didn’t mean to lie about Emily’s age . . . I was just completely blindsided when you came into the salon and it just sort of popped out when you asked me about her. And then you told me about James basically forbidding you to contact the donor family and I was afraid of what he’d do if he found out who I was. I didn’t want to say anything that could get you in trouble with him until I knew for sure.”

  “Hold on,” Olivia says, clutching Maddie’s shoulders so tightly her daughter flinches. She relaxes her fingers and takes a couple of deep breaths. “You’ve been lying to me?” Olivia’s mind whirls. What if James finds out about this? What will he do to me? She can almost feel his fingers around her throat. She has to get Hannah out of this house. James will be home any minute. He can’t know who Hannah is.

  “I was afraid if I told you about Emily, you’d stop talking with me,” Hannah says hurriedly. “I’ve been so closed off since the accident and you and I connected so easily . . . I just . . . I didn’t want to lose that. It was stupid. I’m sorry, Olivia. I’m so, so sorry.”

  For a moment Olivia’s heart softens, understanding why Hannah was afraid to reveal her suspicions to them. Olivia puts her fingers to her forehead and grips them there, trying to sort out her conflicting feelings. She wants to understand why this happened, but she also knows if James finds out, he’ll lose his mind.

  Before she can respond to Hannah, the front door swings open and James strides across the threshold. As he looks them over—assessing the tears, the smeared makeup, the angry expression on Maddie’s face—they all freeze where they stand.

  “What’s going on?” James says, quickly dropping his briefcase to the floor.

  “Nothing, honey,” Olivia says, shooting Hannah a look that makes it clear she shouldn’t speak. “Just a misunderstanding. Everything’s fine.”

  “It doesn’t look like nothing,” James says, crossing his arms over his broad chest. Olivia knows that no matter what she and Maddie decide to do—how long they stay with James—she can never tell her husband Hannah’s true identity. She’ll simply tell him they had a falling-out and his appraisal of her had been right—Hannah couldn’t be trusted. No matter how hurt Olivia might be that Hannah lied to them, suddenly, it isn’t just herself and Maddie that Olivia needs to protect from James. It’s Hannah, too.

  “Believe me, it is,” Olivia says, hoping she sounds convincingly lighthearted considering the weight that now sits on her chest. “And Hannah was just leaving.”

  Hannah holds her gaze for a moment, her blue eyes pleading and sorrowful, but then she presses her lips together and nods, slinging her purse over her shoulder. She pushes past James, who stands like a bouncer in front of the doorway, and then stops once she reaches the front porch. The light casts a warm, pale glow on her face, and Olivia stares at the woman who only moments ago she thought might become her closest friend, wondering how she never even suspected the truth. Wondering if she’ll ever get to see Hannah again.

  Maddie

  After the door closes behind Hannah, my mother, father, and I stand in silence. I keep my eyes on the floor, knowing if I look up, I’ll give something away. I’m worried he’ll see that Mom and I want to leave him. I’m terrified of what he’ll do.

  My mother is the first to speak. “Why don’t you go upstairs, Maddie?” Her voice is surprisingly calm, considering the panic I see skittering across her face. I glance up at her, and she gives me a quick, encouraging nod. “I’ll call you down when dinner’s ready. I think I have what I need to make those sesame rice noodles you like.”

  “You haven’t eaten yet?” my dad asks. He looks twitchy, bubbling at the surface like a pot about to boil. “It’s after eight.”

  “I’m not really hungry,” I say, hoping to help my mother.

  “It’s been a busy afternoon,” she says, stepping over to stand next to my dad. She runs a hand along his forearm with a gentle touch. “Maddie and I went shopping at Bellevue Square after school and lost track of time. We came home to find Hannah waiting for us, which I thought was a little strange since I hadn’t invited her.” She smiles at him, and I can’t believe how easily she came up with this lie, how efficiently she hid how I know she’s really feeling. Maybe I came by my dishonest tendencies more honestly than I thought.

  “That’s why you were arguing?” He sounds doubtful, looking back and forth between Mom and me. “There was definitely something going on here, Olivia. Don’t try to tell me there wasn’t.” He sounds exactly like the bully Hannah described him as being only minutes ago. Hannah. The mother of the girl who saved me. I can barely wrap my mind around the idea that this is true.

  “No, no. You’re right, honey,” Mom says. “We were arguing about that. I thought it was odd for her to just show up without calling first. Too pushy and overly familiar when we barely know her. She got defensive when I called her on it, and everything went downhill from there. Nothing serious . . . just uncomfortable, you know?”

  I hold my breath, watching as she spins this fragile web of lies, wondering if he will fall for it.

  “I told you there was something off about her,” Dad says, the puff of his chest relaxing as he speaks. “Didn’t I?”

  Mom nods. “You did.” She sidles up against him and puts her arms up around his neck, waiting for him to kiss her. He does, pressing his body hard against hers. I cringe, understanding for the first time, really, how much moments like this must cost her. I’m amazed seeing her manage him, and I understand that we might have to wait to leave—that we need to have a good plan and some money before we walk out the door. But right now, the fact that she told the truth about what he does to her—that she trusted me to be able to handle it—will have to be enough.

  My phone suddenly buzzes in my pocket and I grab for it, not wanting to irritate my dad when Mom has just coaxed him back off a dangerous ledge. “I’ll be upstairs,” I say and head to my room without waiting for either of my parents to respond. Once the door is closed behind me, I flip on a light and check the screen to see whom the text is from, smiling when I see Noah’s name and a short message: “Can u talk?”

  I shoot a text back: “Yeah, but need to take care of something first. Call you in a bit.” After I press send, I boot up my laptop, ready to do something I
should have done a long time ago. If I expect my mom to be honest, I need to expect the same thing of myself.

  It only takes a few minutes to log in to Facebook and Zombie Wars and completely erase any evidence of Sierra Stone. I delete her profile on Twitter, too, which I hadn’t used much since the only followers she seemed to get were perverted men who, after seeing her pictures, offered to pay her for sex. I’d block those idiots and more would show up. It strikes me that maybe being the hot girl is overrated. Maybe it’s better to be valued for who I am instead of what I look like.

  Next, I wipe my hard drive clean of all of her pictures, then I log in to my email account and write a brief but what I hope is kind message to Dirk:

  Hey there,

  I know you’re out of town and I feel really bad about doing this through email, especially because you’ve been so patient about meeting me, but I just don’t think I’m ready for a relationship right now. You deserve someone who can be there IRL for you and I’m just not that girl. You’re probably one of the sweetest guys I’ve ever known. Thank you for being my friend.

  Maddie

  I hesitate, thinking maybe I should tell him the entire truth about who I am, but then I think about how I felt earlier tonight when Hannah handed me that letter and I understood she had been lying to us since the day we met. I felt shocked, stupid, and used, and the truth is I don’t want Dirk to feel that way, too. I thought pretending to be someone I wasn’t was harmless, but I realize now that every little deception took away from my true self—a self that, since the transplant, I’m just starting to sort out. I finally click the send button and then add his email address to my blocked senders list so he can’t contact me. I block his number on my cell phone, too. I feel a little sad as I do this, but also relieved. It’s exhausting, putting so much energy into being an entirely different person than who you actually are. Now I can work at becoming the girl I want to be.