I pulled her to the couch along the wall and sat beside her. “Do you need a doctor?”
“I don’t—I think so? But I don’t have any ID or money or . . .”
“Okay, let me wrap my head around this. Well, first of all, British hospitals are notoriously free, so I could—Chris, where’s like an urgent care or something?”
“A hospital? Or a doctor? There’s one about two blocks over.”
“So I could take you there.”
The young woman nodded.
“Chris, are there any lost and found coats around?” Chris handed an armful of hats, a scarf and a big fluffy sweater across the counter. As the young woman pulled the sweater over her head with a wince, I asked, “What’s your name?”
“Sid.”
I turned to my friends. “I’m going to skip the club. If we’re done quickly, I might call and meet you later. Okay, Sid,” I opened the door to the front of the hostel, “we’ll walk fast. I can imagine this is cold for a California Girl.”
On our walk, Sid was quiet and huddled against the cold.
From the corner of my eye I tried to figure out if she was a junkie scamming me for a free meal or a legit train wreck. She might be a junkie. It was hard to tell in Europe sometimes—the junkies walked around with backpacks and unwashed hair, exactly like the young tourists, but there was something about her clothes, the gold hoops in her ears, her very messy falling bun, that made me feel like she was a My Kind of Girl in trouble.
Just covered in blood.
So it was hard to tell, but she was American. Claimed to have only been there for one day. Man, imagine getting beaten up in a foreign country? If this was a legit situation, then she had a serious legal case against the guy that beat her, because this was a serious beating. She might even need stitches on her cheek, that would suck.
These were my thoughts as I walked with her to the British version of urgent care.
I checked her in at the counter, giving them my passport information and the address of the hostel. And then we sat and waited for her turn to be called.
“So is this the first time he hit you?”
She nodded and then said, “Yeah.”
I nodded. “My sister had a boyfriend that beat her regularly a few years ago. You know when they start they rarely stop.”
“Yeah, I know, there won’t be a next time.”
“Oh good, I was worried that—”
Her name was called and she went in to see the doctor. I read a magazine about British celebrities I didn’t know.
Thirty minutes later Sid returned. Her face, neck and chest were clean. Her right eye was almost swollen shut, the left was completely closed. Both eyes were surrounded by red and deep purple bruises. She sported a big bandage across the bridge of her nose and a smaller bandage on her cheekbone. Her messy bun had been turned from disastrously messy to casually messy.
She gave me a small smile. “Good news is they don’t have to amputate.”
I laughed and asked, “They’re just going to let you leave without paying anything?”
“Apparently yes. Plus, aspirin,” Sid waved a bottle, “which is kind of necessary right now.” Then she said, “Look, I wanted to thank you for waiting. I’m sorry I ruined your plans tonight, and you don’t have to keep helping.”
“So what’s your plan then?”
“I have to go to Gavin’s and get my stuff.”
I squinted my eyes, “Do you think that’s a good idea?”
“It’s the only one I’ve got.”
“Was he drinking? Maybe you should let him sleep it off first.”
“Probably, but what do I do?” Sid looked around the room, like this British hospital might be a comfortable place to sleep.
I said, “Let’s go to the hostel. Come with me, I’ll help you figure it out.”
“You don’t have to, you don’t even know me.”
“But here’s the thing Sid, I never quit anything halfway. I’m in now. How can I walk away and wonder what happened to the California Girl with the broken face? This story needs an ending.”
“Okay. But I can’t promise it will be a happy ending.”
I said, “From the way you looked when I met you there’s only up.”
Sid followed me out the door to the street and we hurried down the block in the direction we came.
I said, “You could call your parents?”
“It’s just me and my dad, and man, I don’t want to worry him you know? He’ll be frantic. What time is it there?”
“Probably about two in the afternoon?”
“He’s at work too. He would be frantic and there wouldn’t be anything he could do about it.”
“Any friends?”
Sid nodded, her arms wrapped around her body against the cold, head bowed, walking through London. “Yeah, I have a friend.”
Part Three
One Hundred Six
Teddy
I had been writing all day, sitting on my couch, laptop, books, papers, food wrappers, and dirty dishes strewn around me on the coffee table.
In the past week I had finished two big final exams, probably with Cs. I was happy about those Cs, because I came close to failing the classes altogether.
Another class let me drop. I would have to retake it next semester. I was fine with that. I’m a big fan of the do-over and I needed it.
Now all that was left—two classes wanted me to turn in papers. One was my Marine Biology class. The entire point of being at this university. The professor told me that if I didn’t get at least a B he wouldn’t recommend I move up to the next level. So, yeah, I had to get a B or drop out of school.
The other paper was for English. My first draft was done, I was considering hiring an editor, because the other paper needed finishing too, and I only had until the end of the week.
Suddenly my Skype icon started bouncing and then ringing.
I clicked on the icon, the only person who ever called me on Skype was Mom and never at two in the afternoon on a Monday. Maybe she was bored?
It was a strange number.
Up in the corner was a request to contact me from a girl in Colorado: Cassandra123.
Then a message from the girl in Colorado: Teddy answer, it’s me, Sid.
Oh.
It rang again and Sid’s voice said, “Teddy?”
“Sid, your video isn’t on.”
“I know, I can’t—Teddy, I need help—”
“What? What happened?”
“I—I got into a—” She sobbed, “Teddy I—”
“Please tell me what happened. Where’s your phone?”
“I got hurt, and I don’t have my phone or my things and I’m—”
“Sid, I’m freaking out over here, how’d you get hurt, are you okay?”
“I’m okay, I went to the hospital, they said—”
“Was it a car wreck? I don’t—”
Her voice was tiny, “Gavin hit me.”
“Oh jeez Sid, are you okay? Seriously, are you okay?”
She didn’t answer.
I could hear her crying.
“Sid?”
There was a muffled conversation, I made out, “—don’t tell him how bad . . . I don’t want him to—”
The video sputtered on and a girl I had never met appeared on my screen. “Hi, I’m Cassie, I’m with Sid.”
“Cassie, can you tell me what happened, is it bad?”
“Yeah, it’s bad. I don’t know much, just that about an hour and a half ago she showed up at the hostel here. I walked her to the hospital to get her checked out.” Cassie pulled the camera close and spoke quietly, “He broke her nose, busted her cheekbone open, she has bandages. There was a lot of blood. She doesn’t have a coat or her passport or money or anything.”
“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god. Are they at that guy’s house?”
“I think so.”
“Don’t let her go back for them. Tell her not to go back.”
Cassie s
aid, “I will, I have, and on the bright side, I’m glad you’re a normal guy. We all thought she might be a junkie scamming us for a free room and a meal.”
My jaw clenched. “You thought she was a junkie?”
“She looked terrible.”
I ran my hands down my face. “Cassie, I’m blind over here, what can I do that will help? What time is it?”
“It’s ten, night. She needs a bed. The hostel can’t legit let her in unless she has an ID or something.”
“Is there someone I can talk to, a manager or somebody?”
“Yes, Chris.” The phone was passed around, video jiggling, to someone else.
A guy appeared on my screen. “This is Chris.” His accent was Australian.
“My friend is there and she needs a bed. What can I do to make it happen?”
“I can’t let her in without an ID of some kind.”
“Here’s the thing—she’s lost her passport, her money, her phone, her clothes. She’s an American. It’s night there, right? She can’t go to the embassy until the morning. I’ll pay you right now for tonight’s room, plus tomorrow night, and I promise you’ll have an email with her passport photo by morning. Probably earlier.”
“If the email isn’t here by tomorrow she’s out, no refunds.”
“Yes. That makes sense.”
“Okay, I’ll book her a bed, read me your credit card number.”
“Look, I have one more request, will you ask her that guy’s name? Don’t let him in if he comes, okay?”
“I won’t, no worries mate.”
I read him my credit card number. While I waited for the computers in London to take my payment from my apartment in California, I closed my laptop, looped up my cords, gathered all my writing and a stack of books, and placed them in my messenger bag.
Cassie appeared on my phone again. “She has a bed?”
“Yes. Can I PayPal you some money to give her—so she has food tomorrow?”
“Sure, I’m [email protected] that’s Beatle, spelled like the Beatles. Don’t ask.”
“Thank you Cassie. Will you be around tomorrow, can I call if I need to talk to her?”
“Yes, I’ll be here. She wants to talk to you.”
The phone was passed again. The video turned off. Sid said, “Teddy?”
“The hostel is giving you a bed. Okay Sid? Do you need anything to eat?”
“No, I’m just so tired. Thank you. And I just, I’m so sorry Teddy, I didn’t know. I thought—I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to be sorry for one minute, not one. Please take care of yourself, get sleep. Will you call me tomorrow? I’ll get you some money and we’ll figure out the passport. Okay?”
“Yes, thank you Teddy.”
“No problem Sid, good night.”
I hung up the phone. I wanted to stay on for longer, milking the goodbye, because I didn’t want to say goodbye, but I had things to do.
I grabbed three pairs of jeans, five pairs of socks, and my boots, and stuffed them in my duffel. I picked out three shirts, two sweatshirts, my coat, and a knit hat and shoved them in too. I checked my pocket: wallet, keys, phone, charger. Checked again that I had the cords for the laptop. Pens. I spun around the apartment for anything else and then said goodbye to my roommate and hit the road. Forgetting, of course, my toothbrush.
Sid had called at 2:05 p.m. I was on the road at 2:45.
One Hundred Seven
Teddy
As soon as I was on the 101, I called Mom.
“Teddy?”
“Mom, Sid just Skyped me, that fucking asshole beat her.”
“Oh God, is she okay?”
“I don’t know, I can’t tell. I think so, she had to go to the hospital.”
“Oh no. Did you tell Mike?”
“Not yet—I’m calling him next—Mom, she doesn’t have her passport or her phone or anything and he fucking punched her and she’s in London all by herself.”
“Oh poor Sid. Oh no.”
“Some girl named Cassie called me, they thought Sid was a junkie. She’s—god mom, I can’t breathe.”
“You’re driving, please be careful. Okay? We’ll figure this out.”
“She has a place to stay tonight, but I need you to book me a flight. I’m on my way home.”
“Oh okay, yes, that makes sense, um—you’re going to go to London . . .” I could tell by her voice she was already Googling flight details. “What time can you realistically be on the flight?”
“If I drive the speed limit and there’s no traffic, I can be there at 4:45. My passport is there—can you find it for me?”
“Yes, it’s in the folder. What about this flight: Virgin, 7:50 p.m., lands in Heathrow, 1:50 p.m. tomorrow.”
“I would have about three hours to come home, go to the airport? Does that sound right Mom? I can’t think straight, I’m freaking out.”
“Yes, Teddy, I think that works. Drive safely, okay? Being reckless now doesn’t help Sid. We’ll get you to the airport. I’m calling your dad. I love you. I’m buying the ticket.”
“Okay Mom, thanks.”
One Hundred Eight
Teddy
Next I called Sid’s dad.
Mike, this is Teddy.”
“Teddy?”
“Sid just called me, she’s in trouble, and don’t worry too much, she’s safe now, but—”
“What happened?”
“That guy she was visiting hit her.”
“What? He did what?”
“He hit her, and she had to leave. She doesn’t have her wallet or her passport or her phone.”
“Where is she now?”
“She’s at the Camden Backpacking Hostel. I helped her get a bed, but the guy there needs an ID. Do you have a copy of her passport?”
“At home.”
“I need you to email it to him, but I forgot to get his email address—Mike, can you call them—the Camden Hostel in London and ask for their email address? Tell them you’re sending Sid’s ID.”
“Definitely Teddy.” He was writing that down. “I’ll leave work right now.”
“Mom just booked me a flight. I’m going to London. I just, I think I can help, so yeah, I’m driving home now, I’ll be there at about five, could you meet me at my house, bring some clothes for Sid?”
“Yes, I’ll pack a bag and be there. Teddy, thank you. I let my passport lapse, I don’t know why I did that, but it will take a few days to get a new one I would think. I’ll get on a plane as soon as I can. So thank you, I’m glad you can go.”
“She sounded scared.”
“There’s no way I can call her?”
“I have a contact, but I think she’s sleeping right now.”
“Thank you Teddy, I’ll see you at five.
When I pulled into my house everyone was there sitting at the kitchen counter. Mom had printed my ticket, found my passport, and made me a sandwich for the plane, she kissed me and hugged me and was teary eyed about Sid. Dad had stopped by REI on his way home from work and bought me three pairs of wool socks. He stuffed them in my bag and hugged me and told me how much he loved me.
Mike’s hands were shaking as he handed me a copy of Sid’s passport, her student ID, her government ID, a copy of her birth certificate, and a bank card. He also had a bag with clothes. He said, “Make sure she knows she doesn’t have to go for her things, we can get new things.”
I nodded, “Absolutely.”
We all loaded into the car and they all drove me to LAX.
One Hundred Nine
Sid
I didn’t wake until 11:30 the next day, the last person sleeping in the bunk room. Two people were cleaning and I slept right through their noise. My pillowcase was stained with blood from my face. I would need to pay for it, probably. With no money of course.
My head hurt. In like ten different places.
When I sat up, there was a note beside my pillow:
Sid,
Here’s twent
y pounds for food today.
I’ll be back later, stay put, okay? Seriously. Don’t go anywhere.
Cassie
I got up and went to the bathroom and took a look in the mirror.
Ow. I had rings of dried black blood around my nostrils. My left eye was completely shut. The bandage on the bridge of my nose was peeling off. My right eye barely peeked out from under swollen lids, both eyes were ringed, blue, red, deep purple. My cheekbone’s bandage was flapping off and under it the skin had a deep cut and the surrounding skin was deep blue. Dried blood speckled my face like a Jackson Pollock painting. Or better yet—a Picasso painting, one of the weird ones, distorted and creepy. Tears welled up. None of that was true, what I really looked like was someone out of a CSI episode. Come to find out, the sight of my battered face was worse than the actual pain.
I gingerly peeled the bandage off my nose, then the smaller one from my cheekbone, washed my face with water and dried with paper towels, and replaced the bandage with some extras the doctor gave me. I took some aspirins washed down with water out of my cupped hand.
Last night Cassie had found me a t-shirt to sleep in, it was bright green, too big, and announced in bold letters: Kiss Me I’m Irish. I tugged on my only jeans, the front splattered with my blood, and my boots and went downstairs to find food.
This sucked.
Like really sucked.
I was trying to remain calm, grateful, positive. But this situation was—I was all alone. I closed my eyes and the image of Gavin, big and terrible and bowed out, yelling, his fist.
I walked down the stairs and all eyes were on me. People stared. People whispered. They stepped aside, curious, but also cautious. I was a catastrophe and whatever damage had happened, no one wanted it on their London vacation.
Poor Cassie. She was dealing with me. On her vacation.
I would do everyone a favor if I would just leave. Go to Gavin’s. Get my stuff. Deal with him. If I had my phone, I could call Dad and ask for a plane ticket home. But it was too early to call. And frankly I was scared to go to Gavin’s for my stuff. What would he say—do?
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