by Iman Verjee
The relief on the doctor’s face was evident. ‘I think that would be wise.’ The easy smile pressed deep lines across his jaw, leading up to his cheeks once again. ‘You just never know how you’re going to feel in the future.’
He entered the house quietly, holding the door and closing it with the softest click. He hoped to sneak back into bed so she might not realize he had been gone.
‘You’re back?’ Her voice surprised him and he let out a small, stunned shout, spinning around. She was sitting at the dining table, watching him. She looked tired; she always seemed spent these days.
‘Yes.’
She nodded, waiting for him to say more.
‘I just went for a walk.’
‘In those shoes?’ She looked pointedly at his work shoes. He stared down at them for too long.
‘I couldn’t find anything else and I didn’t want to disturb you.’
‘Is there something you want to tell me?’ she played nervously with the tablecloth, not used to accusing him of anything.
‘I wanted to apologize,’ he said. ‘For the way I’ve been acting recently. You don’t deserve that and I’m sorry.’ He sat down beside her and put his hand on her knee. Felt the hard edge of bone beneath her skirt. ‘I don’t want it to be like this anymore.’
‘How can it not?’ she asked. ‘We both want different things now.’
‘But you said—’
‘I know.’ She was gentle, patient. ‘I know what I said but I’ve changed my mind. I was young and I didn’t know what it would be like. You’ve seen all our friends—you’ve seen how happy they are. I want to be like that. I want to have a family with you.’
‘And if I say no?’
She was silent. He knew what the answer was.
‘I want to make it better.’
‘Are you willing to try then?’ she asked.
His hand slid off her leg. He sunk his fingers into his hair and pulled at the roots. He answered without thinking; only wanting to make this moment better, to make her better. He said it without imagining the consequences, telling himself that he could deal with it if it ever came to that. ‘Yes.’ The relief on her face was evident and he felt a surge of power, knowing he had caused that. For the time being, that was what he wanted most. ‘Yes, we can try.’
17
Whitehorse, Yukon. September 1992
Sister Margret’s office is cold and uninviting; as if it were a part of her that had extended outward and separated itself, then grown into the room that she sits in. Sister Ann is beside me, quiet and girlish in the presence of this large woman.
‘This sort of behavior is completely unacceptable.’ Her voice isn’t the same as it was yesterday when she was reading the prayer. Today it is hard and crisp, missing the loud passion that had projected it across the hall, although it is just as forceful—aggressive almost. She doesn’t even acknowledge that I am there. Her dark eyes are fixed on Sister Ann who is sitting still and nodding. ‘How could you let this happen?’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘I don’t want to hear it.’ Sister Margret leans forward and her eyes narrow. ‘What if something had happened to her? What would I have told her parents?’ Her hands fall to the desk and everything freezes—even the metronome on her desk seems to stop, skip a beat and start again. ‘She’s been here for two days. Two days and she’s already causing trouble.’
‘It won’t happen again.’
‘You better make sure that it doesn’t, Ann.’ They look at each other, as if there is something they understand and have left me out of. ‘Now, I want to talk to Miss McDermott alone.’
Sister Ann stands up. She doesn’t look at me as she is leaving, closing the door on her way out. I watch after her, angry at her passivity, annoyed that she could let someone talk to her so harshly and take the blame for something that wasn’t her fault.
Sister Margret turns her enormous gaze on me and I meet it straight on. Tick, tick, tick, my mind clicks with every beat of the metronome and I stare so hard at her that she begins to blur.
‘Do you have anything to say to me, Miss McDermott?’ I blink and when I open my eyes she is clear again and leaning over her desk.
‘I know you want me to apologize.’
‘That would be the right thing to do, yes.’
‘Well you can’t tell me what to do,’ I say. ‘Or stop me from doing anything.’ It feels good to be so angry. There is a reservoir inside me and it’s tipping over.
‘We’re not here to do that. You can ask if you want something and we’ll do our best to accommodate you. If you miss phone hours one week, then you can do it the week after. It’s as simple as that.’
‘No one had told me about phone hours and—’
She holds up her hand to silence me, closing her eyes as if in pain, and then stands up. She walks toward me but doesn’t kneel down. My neck hurts from looking up at her but I refuse to break her gaze.
‘I don’t know how it was in your old school but here, I make sure that my students are disciplined. That they follow the rules. Otherwise, how else would I run this place?’ She pushes her arms outward and gestures around. I look at her hands; notice how big they are and flinch. She laughs—a short, barking sound. ‘I don’t use violence, Miss McDermott. That’s not how we do things at Holy Academy.’ She goes back to her desk and slides into her chair, pulling off her glasses and setting them down beside her. She looks at me expectantly. ‘So I’ll ask you again. Is there anything you would like to say to me?’
I let my hand fall on a pile of paper, intentionally dragging them over the desk as I stand up. They take the metronome with them and it falls noisily near my feet but doesn’t break. It lies on its side, among the scattered papers, and I see its thin, black needle shiver and swing in protest to this unexpected aggression. My blood skips in my veins in small, excited hops.
‘I’m sorry,’ I smirk.
Her lips curl in a twisted smile that bares her teeth at me. I want her to get as angry as I am but her face stays perfectly still and her voice remains low and steady. She doesn’t look down again at the mess I have created, even when I shift and step on a few papers.
‘This will be your first and last warning. I assure you, the next time something like this happens, there will be severe consequences.’
I want to say more but the bell sounds somewhere far off and she puts her glasses back on and looks at me over them.
‘Classes are going to start soon, so I suggest you hurry.’
The Academy is a place of rituals. A place of order and rules and obedience and in two days I have become a kink in that perfect chain—something that has gone wrong. So when I become an outcast that morning, something to be ignored and forgotten so I don’t ruin the whole thing, it’s not unexpected.
When I sit down beside Judy in class, she avoids my eye and moves to whisper in another girl’s ear, their eyes coming up together at me. It’s childish and cruel and I meet them with a smile, as if I am in on the joke and they quickly look away. It doesn’t take long for me to become used to the girls’ whispering as I pass them, at the smirks and little sparks of nervousness in their eyes when I catch them looking at me.
Victoria stops me in the hallway before lunch, taking my elbow and dragging me into an empty classroom. She shuts the door and starts laughing loudly, craning her neck back and shaking her fist up at the ceiling.
‘Brilliant!’ She grabs the sides of my face and gives me a hard, exaggerated kiss on the cheek. ‘I can’t believe you did it. How did you manage it?’ There is a curiosity in her eyes, a twitch of her chin, and I realize what has happened.
‘You tricked me.’
‘What?’
I stand up and the desk gives a shudder. ‘You didn’t know whether or not I would find a phone, did you?’
‘Look—’ she starts but I interrupt her.
‘So you thought you’d let me go first, see if it was worth taking the risk.’ It’s her fault that I am no long
er part of a group; that I’m isolated and alone once again. And I didn’t even get to speak to him. That hurts more than anything.
‘No one forced you into anything, Frances.’ I turn to leave but she catches me. ‘Hey, come on. It’s not a big deal—it’s not like you were expelled or anything.’ I keep quiet and she walks backward until we’re face to face again. The smile is back; her lips are crooked, the top one leaning toward the right. I feel myself softening. ‘How was it, anyway?’ she asks. ‘Bet he was fucking excited that you called.’
‘I didn’t get to talk to him,’ I say, pulling my arm out of her grip. She has reminded me of my disappointment; of my anger at my mother and of how desperate I am to leave this place. ‘This is all your fault. You know, Judy tried to warn me about you.’
‘I’m the only one still talking to you.’ She is angry now too. She leans in close. ‘I’m the only friend you’ve got here. You can’t really afford to be saying things like that.’
‘I don’t want to be your friend,’ I say, pulling open the door. ‘I don’t need any friends. I’ll be out of here soon enough.’
‘Look, I’m really sorry,’ she tries again but I shake my head firmly.
‘Don’t,’ and I re-enter the throng of girls moving toward the lunch hall. ‘Just don’t.’
I expect him to call that evening, and when he doesn’t, or in the days after, I try again the following week but no one picks up. I stand in Sister Margret’s office for a long time, just dialing the numbers over and over again until I can do it without looking. Pick up, pick up—just please, pick up. The dial tone dances around in my head, gathering speed and volume as it passes through my ears, filling me with fear. Fear that something could have happened to him, but more than that, I am afraid he has forgotten me. I want to pick up the phone and throw it against the wall, through the window, but instead, I slam my fist down on the table repeatedly after every missed call, yanking the cord and screaming in my head. I hate you. I hate you. I fucking hate you.
The next morning, I hear the alarm but I don’t get out of bed and Judy doesn’t bother to wake me up before leaving. There are so many girls in the school that I worry no one will notice I am missing. I dress slowly, rolling my shirt and twisting it between my hands before pulling it over my head. I crease it some more. I take a pencil and lick the nib before rubbing the wet charcoal into my palms and smearing it onto my shirt. I tie my sweater around my waist and smudge some lipstick onto my lips. When I am satisfied with my appearance, I leave the abandoned building and stroll across the field. I time it perfectly so that everyone is leaving the assembly just as I am arriving. The girls watch as I approach. Some trip over their shoes—others collide with each other, all whispering frantically and with wide eyes. I spot Victoria; she looks at me and shakes her head, laughter twisting her lips. I let them stare as I fall into the back of the now messy line-up. Sister Margret is the last to leave and she grabs my elbow, pulling me to a standstill.
‘Keep going, girls,’ she calls out. ‘You don’t want to be late for classes. Straight lines, please.’ She waits for everyone to disappear before speaking to me.
‘Put your sweater on, right now.’
‘I’m not cold.’
She stands before me and I see a vein flicker, thick and alive, down the side of her face.
‘I said, put it on, Frances. You’re just embarrassing yourself.’
I untie the sweater from around my waist and hold it up to her.
‘Well if you’re so concerned, why don’t you just put it on for me?’ I am heady on the words shooting out of my mouth and the thrill makes me unsteady on my feet. Sister Margret’s thin mouth stretches over her teeth and I think again of how she resembles a caged animal; how dangerous, and it only excites me more. Then I see Joseph coming up the walkway and he spots us. I don’t want him coming any nearer; for some reason, I don’t want him to see me this way. The thrill diminished, I pull the sweater over my head in the hope that it will satisfy Sister Margret and I can escape. Joseph glances at us once more over his shoulder before disappearing around the back of the building.
‘Good.’ She grabs my arm and pulls me toward the classrooms. I let her drag me, throwing my full weight against her, allowing her to be as rough as she likes. When she pushes me into the building, I start to laugh. It echoes off the empty corridor walls and breaks into little pieces of sound that sneak under the doors and reverberate off the high ceilings. Sister Margret grabs a tissue from the pocket of her habit and reaches for my face. I jerk my neck away but she takes a hold of my chin roughly, gripping it tightly so that I can’t move away. She could break my neck so easily and the idea of that happening, of being gone and missed by him, makes me almost wish she would do it. She spits into the tissue and rubs it hard against my mouth. It smells sour and I don’t like the feel of her on my lips and teeth but I smile when I see the red streaks come off. Her hand is shaking and she leaves it in her pocket. Annoyed to have lost her composure, she breathes heavily through her nose, still holding onto me. Then she releases my face and lets out a long, wheezy exhale. ‘Get to class. Right. Now. You’re late.’
‘Well, I wouldn’t be if you hadn’t stopped me.’
There is a barely contained anger that colors her face but she doesn’t say anything more. Instead, she takes my arm again and walks me to my classroom, opening the door louder than I know she intended to. The class stops and all heads turn at the same time, like a pack of trained monkeys. I sneer at the idea and want to say it out loud but she doesn’t give me the time. She directs me to a desk at the front and I hope I still have some lipstick on my lips. She speaks to the teacher in soft tones and then turns to the class and smiles widely.
‘Sorry for the interruption, girls. Please continue.’
‘Yes, I’m so sorry,’ I say loudly. The sound of my voice, almost manic, unnerves even me and it makes everyone squirm in their seats, watching to see what Sister Margret will do. No one looks at me except for Victoria, sitting in the corner, her black eyes trained almost enviously on me.
‘I’ll see you in my office at lunchtime.’ Sister Margret leans down and speaks to me alone. ‘Don’t think you’re getting away with this.’
‘I wouldn’t dream of it.’ As she is leaving, I crane my neck backward and call to her large, retreating back in a sing-song manner. ‘See you at lunchtime then.’
My room is checked and my belongings are cleared of anything that might be regarded as something to cause trouble with. I am made to sit by myself at meals, and during our free time I sit in the library under the supervision of a teacher or prefect. The solitude suits me fine; it gives me the space to think of things I want to dream about without interruption, though under such close watch, it is difficult to be troublesome. Sister Ann comes to my room every morning and watches as I get dressed and then accompanies me to the assembly to make sure I am on time. This continues for two weeks, during which I don’t get a single phone call from my father and I can’t call him because as a part of my punishment I am not allowed to use the phone. Sister Margret hopes that this will make me give in; that I will realize I have no choice but to blend into the order of the school and start behaving, but I won’t give up that easily. I refuse to do my homework, spending the hour doodling in my notebook instead. When I am called upon in class, I pretend not to hear my name and if it is insisted upon, I say I can’t be bothered to know the answer. I call the teachers by their names instead of addressing them as Sister This and Sister That—I even call one of them a fat cow but nothing seems to work. Sister Margret is as intent on molding me into the woman she has promised my mother I will become as I am of leaving. She gives me every punishment she possibly can; washing the dishes after everyone has finished dinner, cleaning the floors of the foyer, using a toothbrush to scrub the scale off the underside of the toilet seat—everything except what I want her to do.
I become increasingly frustrated as I start to run out of tricks and then one day, Judy provides me with t
he opportunity I have been waiting for. They are sitting in the pavilion during the morning break and I am heading back to my room, having been sent to fetch my notebooks by one of the teachers.
‘Look who it is,’ I hear her call out and I stop and turn to face her.
‘What do you want?’ I ask.
‘All alone, I see,’ she comes toward me, the girls moving behind her like a pack. ‘You can’t say I didn’t warn you.’
I enter the pavilion and go closer to her. She falters for a moment but doesn’t stop moving until we’re face to face.
‘I hope he was worth it,’ she says. ‘Because of him, your time here is going to be very lonely.’
‘I don’t care,’ I say. ‘I don’t need any of you. I’m going home soon anyway.’
She seems amused by this statement. ‘What makes you say that?’
I keep my eyes trained on her but my mouth stays shut.
‘You think you can just leave whenever you want?’ She touches her satchel lightly and I see her Bible sticking out from beneath the cover. ‘You need to be here more than any of us, Frances. I can see why you’ve been sent here.’
‘You don’t know anything,’ I say. ‘Just because you carry that thing around with you all day and read it at night, doesn’t make you an expert on anything.’ I laugh. ‘It just makes you a fool.’
Her eyes flash and she stands up straight. ‘We’ll see,’ is all she says and then turns back to her friends. As I am leaving, I hear her say it softly. If I had been two steps further, I might have missed it, but the wind carries her words and they pierce my ears and make me grow wild. I bet her parents are glad to have gotten rid of her and before I know what I’m doing, I have slammed her against the wall and her back hits it with a thud. Her body jerks forward as she lets out a bewildered cry. She stops breathing for a moment before I shove her back. Her body makes satisfying contact with the wall and the sound of it fills me with an odd sense of pride. There is a sudden release in my chest, as if it is collapsing, just as her shoulders fall under my hands.