“Let me in. Let me help talk you through this … whatever it is you’re going through.”
Talk her through this? Talk her through what?
Sonia looks at her feet. And then at me as if to say, “Do something.” I have to find a way for us to leave without having to give a decent reason. Should I mime illness? Clutch over in pain? I’ve tried the appendix deal on Dad before—over a stupid exam. It won’t work a second time. I’m out of convincing ideas.
“Sonia, you look really busy,” I say. Ugh. “Dad, I think we should go. Sonia, I’m really sorry we just dropped in on—”
“Can you cut the crap, Mia?” Dad snaps, and squints at me, but I quickly disengage eye contact and pretend to look at something across the road.
Dad tsks, takes a step back, and fiddles with the box in his pocket. Something changes in his face, as if he’s just caught on that Sonia and I know something he doesn’t. “Can someone please tell me what’s going on? That’s not a question.”
Sonia looks upwards, to the left. I think there is a clock on the wall. She sighs. “I’ve got ten minutes. Not a second more.”
Nash frowns, swallows, and nods. We step inside. There’s a handgun resting on the table by the door. Dad notices it and stops walking. Stares at the gun. Rubs his hands over his face and whimpers like an injured animal.
“I’ll explain everything,” Sonia says, with a straight face. She takes Dad’s hands and leads him down the hallway. I follow. The swish of Sonia’s dress as she walks is weird, and for a second I lose all sense of place. Suddenly I feel angry. Angry at Sonia, a responsible adult, for making me go through this without being able to confide in my own father. Is she really going to explain everything? If she does, then why have I been lying to Dad for so long, and feeling guilty about it, and stressed? For whom? For Mick? Or for Sonia?
“Sit.” Sonia gestures for Dad to sit at the kitchen table.
He sits. I remain standing in the doorway. I don’t think I can bear to look either of them in the eye right now. I clench my teeth. I just wanna get out of here before the shit goes down. So, Sonia, please, just tell him what’s going on so that we can split and stay alive.
“Okay. I’m sitting.” Dad flattens his hands on the tabletop.
“I don’t have much time, so I’m just going to spit it out.” Sonia stares at Dad, biting her top lip as if trying to quickly think of an excuse. She’s not going to tell him the truth, is she?
Jesus Christ, Sonia. Who are you, really?
She spins around on a heel and flings open a cupboard, pulls out a few plates, and arranges them on the table. “Ibrahim is coming over for dinner, and you can’t be here when he arrives.”
No, no, no. Why can’t she just stop pretending, man? It’s over now.
I make a weird involuntary squeak of disapproval.
Sonia glares at me. I glare back.
Sonia sets the last plate in front of Dad as he cranes his neck.
“You’re fucking kidding me. And why does Mia know this?”
Sonia holds her hands out, palms facing upwards. “I can’t stop my son from telling Mia about his life. I’m sorry. And I can’t get out of it. You know how Ibrahim is. You don’t say no to Ibrahim. And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier, but I didn’t want you to get the wrong idea. And neither did Mia. Mick slipped up. It was a mistake. It’s all a big belly-up flop.”
“Bloody oath I’m getting the wrong idea, Sonia. I thought you were done with this. You promised me you were done with this shit.” Dad’s last couple of words push through half-closed lips.
“Look … it’s not like that—” Sonia lifts the skirt of her dress, sits on the edge of the table, and crosses her legs. She glances at her wrist as if she’s wearing a watch. She isn’t. “We just need to discuss a few things. Set a few ground rules.”
“In a wedding dress?”
“Yes. It will keep him subdued.”
“What rules exactly?”
“Things like not entering the house in the middle of the night without my knowledge. Yada yada yada.” Sonia flicks her hand as if she were uttering something unimportant.
“I thought you said Ibrahim invited himself over.”
Sonia nods. “He did.”
Nash laughs. “Ibrahim wanted to come over for dinner to ‘discuss’ something so trivial, and something he probably had no idea you knew about, and you felt the need to wear your wedding dress to subdue him.”
Sonia coughs, looks up at the clock on the wall, and wipes the sides of her mouth with her forefingers. “Well, not exactly.”
“I didn’t think so. Tell me what’s really going on.” Dad clenches his fists so hard they tremble.
“It’s complicated. It’s safe. I promise. But I can’t talk about it.”
“It’s safe.” Dad repeating everything Sonia says is not helping.
We need to get out of here.
Now.
Sonia puckers her brow and nods quickly, multiple times. “Uh-huh. Yes. It’s safe.” She shifts position of her legs, and her dress swishes again.
“I find that hard to believe,” Dad says.
“I’m afraid I don’t have time to wait for you to believe it, Nash. It would be better for everyone involved if you weren’t here when he arrived. You especially need to get your daughter out of here.”
“I thought you said it was safe,” he snaps.
Dad and Sonia stare at each other for a few more moments. Neither of them flinch. Sonia reaches out and touches Dad’s cheek. A tear escapes and runs down her face, hangs at the edge of her jaw.
She mouths, “I’m sorry.”
Dad pushes his chair backwards and stands up. “Where’s Mick?”
Sonia nods again as if she’s got a twitch. “He’s at the supermarket.”
Dad’s nostrils flare as looks around the kitchen. It’s spotless. There’s nothing cooking. But I swear to God, he better be finished asking questions, because the last thing we need is to get caught up in the shit that is about to go down in this house. I did my part. I helped. But being here, right now, is beginning to freak me out. A lot. It’s like my organs are all huddling together to keep each other company. It’s all become way too real. Especially after seeing Sonia behaving like this.
Fucking-shit-in-holy-hell-this-is-beyond-mother-fucking-fucked-up. I’ll be so glad for tomorrow to come, for this to be over. Then we can all have a fresh start and move on with our lives like normal people do. I can finish school, go to Uni. Hell, I might even take that songwriting course I’ve had my eye on.
I bang my fist on the wall. “Dad. Let’s go.”
Dad looks at me with tears in his eyes.
I look at Sonia.
Sonia looks at the clock again and aggressively scratches at her elbow. Then under her chin. Then at the back of her neck.
“Nash!” Sonia screams. Tears stream down her face. “You need to leave. Right now.”
Dad takes a deep breath and clenches his fists. He steps a little closer to Sonia, as if he wants to give her a hug but doesn’t at the same time. But Sonia just shakes her head and cups a hand over her mouth.
“Please,” she says—muffled, distant.
Dad nods and gently touches my elbow.
We walk to the front door—in silence—holding hands.
Chapter 54
Sonia:
The instant Nash and Mia head towards the front door, I sniff in the snot and wipe away my tears as Kimiko bashes on the back fly wire door with a brick of cocaine.
“The White Lady is in the house!” I say, trying to act Kimi’s age to make her feel more comfortable. But my attempt at relatable social interaction doesn’t seem to take effect.
“I want more cash,” Kimiko pants. She looks me up and down with scrutiny as she steps inside and drops the coke to the floor. It lands with a possessive thud.
“Pardon?” I shake my head. “No. We had a deal. We stick to it. Sorry.” I wipe my eyes one last time. Memories of negotiations gone b
ad invade my thoughts.
I knew this would happen.
Negotiations never go as planned. Ever. They always want more.
“Yeah? Well, the deal changed, sistah. You have no fucking idea what I had to go through to get this. He led me on a fucking goose chase. I swear to God I thought I was gonna die by just walking through the freaking neighbourhood he stores this shit. And I could hear his footsteps. He was following my every single move. I was shitting bricks!”
“I never said it would be easy, Kimiko. You agreed to do it. A deal is a deal. So he followed you. That’s what we wanted, remember? How far behind is he? You did keep track, didn’t you?”
“Yeah. I’m not an idiot. He’s parked right out front probably waiting to put a bullet in my head on my way out.”
I frown. “That’s not going to happen. You just stay in the house and you’ll be safe.
“Uh … how?”
“What do you think I’m in a wedding dress for?”
“I have no fucking idea why you’re in your stupid wedding dress.”
I glare at her to suggest her sarcasm is uncalled for. “Well, in case you’re interested, it’s to distract him.”
“Ok aaay.”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“Clearly.”
The urge to slap Kimiko for her lip is rising. But I hold myself together. It’s not the time or the place to get into an argument with her. “Look, go into Mick’s bedroom. Lock the door. Move his dresser in front of it. Then sit in his wardrobe, inside his torture chamber thing. It’ll shield you from bullets.”
“What the fuck?” Kimiko shrieks.
“It’s just a precaution. It won’t come to that, trust me. The plan is solid. I’ll come get you when it’s all over.”
Kimiko nods, rubbing her arms, shivering.
BOOM!
Our heads whip towards the front of the house, where screeching tyres and crashing and banging sounds barrel down the hall.
“What was that?” I whisper. My heart hovers and pounds in my throat and ears. Kimiko starts to cry.
I hesitate, hold up my hands, a gesture for Kimiko to not move yet. I turn to see if I can see what’s going on outside through the edge of the living room window that’s visible from where I’m standing.
Kimiko gasps.
I spin around to find a man with a fluorescent-green cap holding a hand over Kimiko’s mouth and a gun to her head. Kimiko tries to struggle free by elbowing the guy in the ribs, but then her eyes widen and focus behind my head, and she starts screaming into the man’s hand.
We’re not the only people in the room.
I can smell him.
Coffee, whiskey, icing sugar.
A sense of calm overwhelms me.
He unzips my wedding dress from behind, pulls me close, and nuzzles his face into the back of my neck.
“Ebedi öpücük,” Ibrahim whispers.
He brushes hair away from my skin and slowly licks my neck along the vertebrae. He slips a knife into my hand. The handle is steel—cold in my palm. My fingers wrap around the handle as if it was made especially for my grip. My breath slows, thickens with want, so much so I can hear my blood pulse through my head.
“Do it,” Ibrahim says.
Without a moment’s hesitation I slice through Kimiko’s jugular and admire the magnitude of the blood’s flow.
I have returned home.
I am free.
I am once again—me.
Chapter 55
Mia: Blood on my tongue.
The road is cold and rough against my left cheek—the white reflection of the moon ripples in the pool of blood between me and Dad.
I blink, wince at a sharp pain in my thigh. I touch it with my right hand. It’s wet, warm—a moist memory.
“Dad?” I whisper.
His eyelids flutter.
“Nash.” I whisper a little louder, hoping he’ll respond to his name instead. He remains still, silent, skeletal. I try to reach for him, but my left arm won’t move. I’m not sure if I can even feel it.
Behind me, slow movement shifts the air. Someone curses under their breath and kicks a rock. It tumbles, rolls to a halt in the distance.
Gentle footsteps approach from behind. Someone sniffs, groans, and clears their throat; another voice whimpers.
A switchblade flicks open. The sound hovers in the air.
A small gasp. Female.
“What happened? What’s going on?”
A man coughs, spits on the road—it splatters like phlegm. He tells the woman to shut the fuck up.
“Oh my God, I can’t feel my legs. I can’t feel my legs!” she cries.
“Don’t move, ya cunt—stay in the fuckin’ car.” The man’s voice quivers, his tone anxious, familiar. I think I know who it is. But it can’t be. He wouldn’t do something like this.
He loves me.
I roll onto my side, clenching my teeth through the sharp stabbing in my leg, and look towards the voices.
It’s Mum, her face covered in blood, trapped in a mutilated rent-a-car wrapped around a tree. What is she doing here? Why?
My breath quickens. I look at the car, and at Dad, still motionless. Shooting pain crawls up my left arm and into my neck like an electric shock.
Did Mum run us over?
It is him. It’s Mick.
And he has a knife to Mum’s throat?
“Mick, no.” I try to call out, but my voice is weak. My thigh feels like it’s becoming one with the road, pounding I-told-you-sos via the stabbing sensations that keep spasming from my knee up to my breasts.
I should never have gotten involved in this.
“Mick!” I try again.
He turns his head.
“What are you doing? Leave her alone.” I croak. “Help me. I don’t think I can move.”
Mick’s eyes dart left to right; his Adam’s apple moves up and down, the whites of his eyes glowing under the streetlights.
“Are you okay, babe? Did you get hit hard?” Mick stutters, keeping the knife to Mum’s throat. She whimpers like a child.
“I think so.” The sentence comes out all shaky.
Mick nods and groans.
But I really don’t know if I’m okay. I can’t even tell how bad my injury is. All I know is that it hurts like hell.
“You shouldn’t be here, babe,” I say. “You were supposed to leave when Kimi got here.”
“I wanted the cunt for myself. Did he come? Is he inside?”
“I dunno. I didn’t see. Babe, Dad and I need help.”
Mick’s jaw tightens, and he flicks his chin towards Dad.
“He alive?”
An involuntary cry escapes my mouth. I’ve been trying to stay strong. But I can’t. What if Dad’s dead? I couldn’t live with myself. How will I be able to forgive myself for not telling him about everything that very same day I got involved? I’m so fucking stupid.
“He’s not moving.” I wail.
“Fuck!” Mick kicks the side of Mum’s car. She moans. “Where the fuck are the narcs?”
“What?” Mum gasps, seeming to have just come to. “Mia? What’s going on?”
“Who the fuck is this cunt? You know ’er?” Mick snaps.
I nod, wincing in pain as I try to tell him who she is. I need a hospital. Why won’t Mick just call an ambulance? “It’s—my—my—mother.”
“Shit!” Mick quickly pulls the knife away from Mum’s throat and jumps back a few feet. He stares at her, then looks back at me.
“She a threat?”
“No.”
Silence.
“Mick? Is that your name, little boy?” Mum’s voice is high but slurred.
Mick curses under his breath. “The narcs should’ve been here by now. Fuck!”
“Mick, look at me,” Mum says. Her voice sounds weak. Apologetic. “I need a hospital. So do Mia and Nash. Can you please call an ambulance for us? Whatever illegal stuff is going on, I won’t say anything. Cross my heart and hope
to die.”
Mick paces for a bit, then kneels down beside me. He strokes my forehead, my cheek. His skin is warm and comforting against my cold goose-pimpled skin.
“Your leg’s all fucked up, babe,” he whispers.
I start to cry. “My arm feels weird too.”
“Fuckin’ hell. How fast was your mother drivin’?”
“I dunno, I … Oh fuck, fuck, fuck, Mick, my—my—my leg, it hurts!”
Mick stands and brings his hands to his head, breathing in and out so hard and fast that it makes me breathe faster too.
I’m going to die. I can feel it.
“Babe, we just have to tell the cops the truth,” I whisper. “We haven’t done anything wrong. We haven’t. Please, just call an ambulance. Please.”
Mick paces, backwards and forwards, within the space of about two metres, his fingers to his mouth, biting off bits of nail and spitting them to the ground.
“But what about Mum ’n’ Kimi? They’re inside with a fuckin’ shitload of drugs. They’ll go to fuckin’ prison. Something fucked up, I know it. I should bust in. Then I’ll call an ambulance. I’ll take the blame for everythin’. There’s no other way.”
“Babe, no! What if he’s in there?” I feel like I’m shouting, but it sounds more like hot air with syllables.
“Your stupid fucking mother!” Mick yells. “What the fuck is she doin’ here anyway?” He kicks the edge of the footpath multiple times.
“I’m sorry!” Mum cries. “I was—I think I must have passed out at the wheel. I don’t know how this happened. It was an accident. But we all really need a hospital, Mick. I don’t know what’s—”
“Shh!” Mick jerks his head towards his house. There’s a sound of a struggle coming from inside, and two evenly spaced gunshots fired.
Oh my God. It can’t be. This can’t be happening.
My heart slows, beats lazily in my ears, and I suddenly feel cold, weak, and breathless, the taste of blood on my tongue like live copper wire.
Then everything …
… starts to fade.
Chapter 56
Mick: I can taste it.
I scream, “Fuck!” shaking Mia to stop ’er from closin’ ’er eyes. “You need to stay awake, babe. Open ya eyes. Look at me. For fuck’s sake, please.”
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