After Nothing

by Rachel Mackie

  ‘You’re pathetic.’

  ‘Yeah? What else?’

  ‘You want a list?’

  ‘Yeah, a list would be good.’

  I heard the bus before the lights came into view around the corner. ‘I’ll write it all down,’ I said to Kane.

  ‘You want to be like your mom? Fine. But I ain’t your dad.’

  I froze, my bus pass halfway out my pocket. Kane reached for me and pulled me close. He looked straight into my eyes as he spoke.

  ‘I ain’t gonna stick around through all your shit, Natalie, so sort it out.’ He stepped away as the bus doors opened.

  ‘You can go to hell,’ I said, getting on the bus.

  ‘Bitch, I’m already there,’ replied Kane.

  The bus doors closed and I sat down, taking out my cell phone. I messaged him every mean thing I could think about him. Cutting, wounding, horrible horrible things. Things that were ten times worse than what he’d said to me the day he abused me at school. I didn’t get a reply.

  We didn’t speak for two whole days. The rats began making noise in the house again at night. I noticed Kane doubled the amount of bait and traps in and around the house, and I didn’t thank him. I made him dinner both nights and he didn’t thank me.

  Wednesday night everything went to hell.

  It started when he came home from work and had a shower.

  I was cooking dinner: rice and chicken with a few measly green vegetables. Our tiny kitchen was all steamed up because there was no window, let alone an extraction fan. When Kane came out of the shower all this steam came out with him, and I just knew he hadn’t opened the window set high up above the washbasin.

  Usually, Kane always wanted that window left open. It had a security latch on it, and even if someone broke the latch the window wasn’t big enough for anyone but a three-year-old to fit through. But I didn’t like being alone in an unsecured house, so when I got home from work in the afternoons I always shut it.

  I didn’t mention the condensation building in our living room from the steamed-up bathroom and kitchen combined. Instead, I screeched at him from the kitchen. ‘We can’t afford for you to have showers that long!’

  Kane came into the kitchen, just a towel around his waist and drops of water still on his body. That made me even more irrational with anger. How hard was it for him to run a towel over his skin? I’d just washed the floors two hours earlier, and now he was dripping water on them, marking my clean kitchen floor.

  He opened the refrigerator door. Left it wide open, and stood there in front of it as he drank straight from the milk carton.

  Then he wiped his mouth, all casual like.

  ‘I had a longer shower ’cause that’s how long it took me to jerk off.’

  ‘Get the fuck out of my kitchen.’

  Kane put the milk back, shut the refrigerator door and left me in the kitchen, with drops of water on the floor, condensation running down the walls and the dinner I was cooking him frying loudly on the stove.

  When I came into the living room ten minutes later, he was sitting on his broken couch, fully dressed and watching television.

  I threw his dinner at him. An entire plate full of rice, chicken and beans.

  He was up for the fight. And he was fast. Tension and anger were wound so tight within him they pulsed through his body and into mine as he grabbed me and pushed me back against the living room wall.

  I struggled against him, but it was so easy for him to grab my wrists and pin them above my head.

  ‘What do you want, Nat?’

  ‘Fuck off.’

  ‘What do you fucking want? I’ll give it to you.’

  ‘Let go of me.’

  ‘Tell me what you want,’ he yelled right in my ear.

  ‘I hate you,’ I screamed, and there were tears rushing down my face. Because I wanted him to hit me. I wanted him to force his way inside me. To pull out clumps of my hair and tear at my skin. To rip my heart out. I wanted him to make the pain go away. But he wouldn’t do it. He wouldn’t even rip my heart out for me. He wouldn’t take my pain. He left me with it every day, and I hated him for it.

  Kane released my wrists. He took a step back. He was doing it again: leaving me with my pain.

  I spat at him.

  And everything changed.

  He was always so damn fast. I heard the crack of my head hitting the wall before I felt the pain. Not pain in my chest gutting me from the inside, but an outward wave of nauseating pain, followed by an unbearable pressure at my throat. I couldn’t breathe. My hands clawed at my neck, trying to find the source of the constriction.

  It was Kane.

  I fell to the floor.

  I managed to get up onto my hands and knees, only to fall forward as I threw up. The day’s digesting food spewed out onto the thin wooden planks with each heaving retch of my stomach. A vomit-covered hand went to my neck as I tried to free it from Kane’s grasp, because it still felt like I was in his vicelike hold. Again and again I touched my skin, wanting to pull his hand free and release the crushing pressure against my throat, but his hand wasn’t there. I managed short gasping breaths as I looked up. He was standing against the far wall.

  I couldn’t make out his expression, but I heard him say, ‘Why’d you have to do that?’

  I threw up again, and then closed my eyes because it didn’t seem like I had much choice in the matter.

  When I opened them again it was to cool hands touching my forehead.

  ‘Oh Nat,’ said Reesey softly. She leaned over me, and I felt her sleeve wipe against the back of my neck, then her hand gently part the hair at the back of my head.

  ‘Can you get me some tissues, Beyden?’

  I caught sight of the blood on her sleeve.

  ‘You’re gonna be okay, Nat.’

  My stomach heaved again, but I’d obviously run out of food in my stomach, because instead of vomiting I dry retched.

  ‘Here,’ said Bey, returning with toilet paper.

  ‘She should see a doctor,’ said Reesey.

  ‘You can watch her.’

  ‘Beyden, she needs stitches.’

  ‘Jus’ tape it,’ ordered Bey.

  Reesey didn’t argue with him. She crouched down beside me, and pressed the toilet paper against the back of my head.

  ‘Do you want to see a doctor, Nat?’

  Instead of my normal speaking voice, my response came out in a hoarse painful whisper.

  ‘No. Thank you for helping me.’

  Reesey made a gentle sound, as though to comfort and shush me at the same time. She was wearing the pale yellow skirt she’d been wearing on the day we first met. Part of its hem was lying in my vomit.

  ‘Where’s Kane?’ I attempted to get up, but Reesey stopped me. ‘I need to talk to him.’ In my desperation I increased the volume of my words. It made the inside of my throat feel like it had been sliced open.

  ‘He’s at our place, Nat. You can talk to him later.’

  ‘I made him do it.’

  ‘It’s okay, Nat.’

  ‘I did: you have to believe me.’

  I looked up at her, and then around for Bey, but he was no longer there.

  ‘Don’t worry about that now,’ said Reesey, putting her arms around me.

  It wasn’t until I felt the steady warmth of her body against mine that I realized I was cold, and shaking – badly. ‘Please get Kane for me.’ My voice broke on the words, the pain causing me to cry out without sound.

  ‘Nat, you just have to let me help you, okay?’

  ‘But what about Kane?’ My whisper was so quiet even I could barely hear it. ‘I don’t know what to do.’

  ‘It’s okay. I do.’

  29

  It became deathly quiet in our house after that night. Kane stopped coming home after work. I didn’t know where he was sleeping; I just knew it wasn’t next to me. But he always came home at four in the morning, in time to walk me to the bus stop.

  We went into a kind of h
olding pattern, only ever seeing each other for that walk to the bus stop on weekdays, and not seeing each other at all on weekends.

  We never spoke about what had happened.

  I spent most afternoons with Reesey. Bey was often not at home, and she didn’t work. About a week after it all happened, we were sitting outside in the sun on some outdoor beanbags Bey had brought home the night before, when Reesey asked me if I was getting headaches. I was, but I didn’t want to tell her, so I lied and said no.

  There was so much kindness in her face. I mean, that’s just how Reesey looked all the time anyway – she was the kindest person I’d ever met – but now it was like there was extra understanding in her expression. Her eyes traveled to my neck.

  ‘The bruises round your neck are nearly gone.’

  I nodded, and took a sip of the coffee she’d made me.

  ‘And your voice seems better.’

  ‘It feels better. Where did Bey get the beanbags?’

  Reesey sighed, placing a hand on her growing belly. ‘I don’t know, but I’m sure someone somewhere is missing them. I’ve been wanting some outdoor furniture, and we had a fight the other night. He’s trying to make it up to me.’

  ‘You and Bey fight?’

  ‘If it’s over something bad enough.’

  Reesey picked up the herbal tea on the ground beside her. She put it down again without taking a sip.

  ‘He told me about the first time he met you.’ There was a tremble in her voice.

  ‘I’m sorry, Reesey.’

  ‘Girl, what have you got to be sorry for? Don’t be sorry. I’m sorry. Sorry the father of my child can’t keep his hands to himself.’

  ‘He hasn’t done anything since. I mean, he doesn’t even make me feel uncomfortable or anything around him. It’s like it never happened.’

  ‘He wishes it had never happened. Girlfriend, I am gonna make him pay. You want your lawns mown? Beyden will do it. Any other jobs? Just write them down.’

  I giggled and Reesey smiled. ‘Natalie, that’s the first time I’ve heard that.’

  ‘Heard what?’

  ‘A giggle out of you.’

  In the early hours one Friday morning, when we were halfway to the bus stop, I asked Kane where he’d been sleeping.

  ‘Wherever I can get a bed.’

  ‘You getting it somewhere else?’

  He didn’t say anything, but the look he gave me was answer enough.

  It hurt. Just like the last time he’d slept with other girls. But this time I didn’t have the same reaction. ‘We haven’t broken up, Kane.’

  ‘We sure as hell ain’t together. And what do you care? You don’t want me.’

  ‘If we’re not together, why are you still walking me to the bus stop?’

  ‘Make sure nothing happens to you.’

  ‘If you’re not my boyfriend then it’s nothing to do with you what happens to me.’

  ‘You want me to stop?’

  ‘I want you to stop fucking other girls.’

  ‘You don’t get it both ways.’

  ‘I didn’t ask you to move out.’

  ‘No, I decided that,’ said Kane, looking straight at me.

  ‘I really hate you.’

  ‘You should.’

  I stopped walking.

  Everything felt like such a mess. Nothing he did was right. Even when he hurt me it wasn’t right. And even though I did hate him, I never stopped thinking about him. I’d sorted all the drawers in his dresser the night before. Refolding clothes that I’d already perfectly folded, because it was the closest I could get to him.

  Kane stopped walking too. He stood a couple of paces away, staring at a car on the opposite grass bank. It was missing its wheels, and all its windows had been smashed.

  ‘This is a shitty neighborhood,’ he said.

  ‘I’ve been trying to tell you that.’

  ‘If you want to live in a nice house, in a nice neighborhood, then go do it. Go be with someone else.’

  Repulsed just at the idea of it, I put a hand on my stomach.

  ‘I’m not going to be with someone else.’

  Kane turned his gaze on me, and stared at me for a long time.

  ‘Do you even know what you want?’

  ‘Yes. I want you to stop cheating on me with other girls.’

  ‘Cheating on you? Fuck off, Nat. I did everything I could to try and bring you back to me. You never once asked me how I was doing. You think I enjoyed watching you work your ass off ’cause I couldn’t get a fucking job that wouldn’t land me in prison? Then when I do get work, you don’t even once ask me if I like it, or how my day was. You never ask after Wayne. You know I sometimes catch up with Danesh, but you can’t even be civil enough to ask how he is. And not letting me touch you? Can’t fuck you? Can’t even put my hand on your shoulder? What the fuck is that? For three fucking months you won’t let me touch you. Who the hell have you been fucking?’

  My mouth fell open.

  ‘No one,’ I managed to stutter. ‘You think I’ve been cheating on you?’

  ‘You tell me. Someone could be doing you at work for all I fucking know.’

  ‘No one’s doing me, Kane. No one has ever done me except you.’

  I started walking again, and he trailed me. I could hear his footsteps, and it was comforting because it was dark, and the intermittent lampposts created more shadows than light.

  When we got to the bus stop, it was so quiet all I could hear was my breathing. Then in a sudden rush, Kane pulled me against him and kissed me.

  I froze. It was like he was predicting that was what I’d do, because his hands gripped either side of my head, and he said, ‘Try.’

  This time, he didn’t force the kiss. He just pressed his lips to mine, and then stayed still.

  I could hear both our breathing. I could feel his body moving with each breath, the warm air leaving his body and making the skin on my face tingle. I purposefully took a deep breath, inhaling the air that had moments earlier been inside him.

  I reached for his arm. I gripped the cotton of his sweater. I moved my mouth, and Kane pulled me tight against him.

  Kissing him was easy. How had I forgotten that? It felt right.

  The bus came. Kane released me.

  ‘You gotta go,’ he said.

  I realized I was still clinging to his sweater as though my life depended on it. I made myself unfurl each finger. I got on the bus.

  30

  I thought he might come home that night. But he didn’t. It was the end of the week, and I was exhausted, and also thankful that I no longer did weekend shifts. A whole two days stretched out in front of me with no commercial equipment to clean, no powdered sugar to mix and no heavy trays to pull out of beeping ovens.

  Since the night everything had blown apart Kane hadn’t taken a single dollar out of our joint bank account, but his wages were still going into it. For once there was money accumulating, but I had no idea how Kane was surviving. I wanted to know. More than that, I was worried about him.

  The evening hours disappeared, and suddenly it was midnight and I was still up. Over-tired, I went and looked in the bathroom mirror. My hand went to the back of my head, and I felt the ridge of scarring where the skin had split against the living room wall.

  Then I leaned really close to the mirror and stared into my eyes, seeking out the light brown Kane called gold.

  It wasn’t gold.

  ‘Why’d you do it?’ I said to myself. ‘Why’d you have to rip apart our relationship? We were good. He loved me. Even though I’m a fucked-up bitch and never deserved him, I think he did really love me.

  ‘Why do you hate me, Mom?’

  The words came out as a whisper.

  I made myself stop. She wasn’t allowed in to my life anymore.

  My reflection in the bathroom mirror was a pitiful sight. I was crying and I was alone. I was desperate for Kane to come home.

  I spent all of Saturday with Melissa. We went to the mal
l, and she tried to talk me out of the piercings I decided to get. Then she came and watched me get them done. I already had two holes in each of my ears, but I added a third in the lobe of my right ear, and another further up in the cartilage of the same ear. That one hurt like hell. Then I got the left side of my nose pierced with a small stud. When I suggested getting a tattoo, Melissa looked at me like I was crazy, and then bribed me back to her place with the promise of painkillers and wine coolers.

  We sat up in her room listening to music and giving each other manicures and pedicures. We got increasingly drunk.

  Once all the wine coolers were gone Melissa announced that we were going out.

  I grabbed my compact from nearby and checked the mirror for the umpteenth time. My nose was slightly swollen from the piercing, but not enough to draw attention.

  ‘I’m in.’

  ‘Will Kane come and meet us?’ she asked, stumbling slightly as she walked toward her closet.

  I shook my head. ‘I think we’re over.’

  ‘What? What happened?’

  ‘He’s sleeping with other girls.’

  ‘What? That asshole! When did this start?’

  ‘At least a month ago. It’s not his fault. It’s mine.’

  ‘How can it be your fault he’s sleeping with other girls?’

  ‘Because I fucked it up.’

  Melissa sunk to the floor beside her closet. ‘I can’t believe it. Everyone knows how into you he is. You know what? Fuck him. We’re going out. He’s really been cheating on you? How does that even work? You live together.’

  ‘He doesn’t come home.’

  ‘Fuck, Natalie. Right, let’s get ready. Seriously, fuck him. We’re going out dancing, and you are going to look so hot. You can wear anything of mine you want.’ Melissa managed to stand back up and open her closet doors. ‘You are going to have your choice of guys tonight. You watch them fall at your feet. Fucking Kane. Like he could do better than you.’

  ‘Mel, he could do much better than me.’

  ‘Nat, Kane can eat shit. Fucking, cheating whore. Are you thinking short skirt or tight pants? I’m thinking skirt. Thank God we’re the same shoe size.’