by Graham Downs
***
The mood was cold the next morning at breakfast. Rebecca sat next to Jane at the kitchen table, rubbing milk and cereal all over her face, while Jane tried unsuccessfully to feed her.
Mark came into the room shirtless and unshaven, scratching under his arm. He'd arrived home late last night, drunk, and fallen into bed next to Jane.
Nodding at his wife and daughter, he grunted and opened the cupboard to retrieve a bowl. He set it down hard on the counter, grabbed the box of cereal and poured himself a helping. After opening the fridge and taking out the box of milk, he sloshed some into the bowl. The kitchen chair grated on the linoleum floor as he pulled it out, breaking the silence in the room. He sat down.
"Aren't you going to put the milk back in the fridge?" asked Jane.
Mark got up with a huff and made a dramatic showing of opening the fridge, returning the milk, and closing the door. He bowed theatrically and sat back down at the table and took himself a spoon off the cutlery rack.
Jane stared blankly at him and shook her head. "Why aren't you dressed? You're going to be late for work."
"Going in later," said Mark, through a mouthful of cereal. "Got a late meeting."
"Well, we need to get going, or Rebecca's going to be late for school." She stood up and took Rebecca's hand. "Come along, baby." Jane leaned in to kiss Mark, but he turned his cheek. She clenched her fists in frustration, but kept her voice even. "Well, since you're leaving later, would you mind clearing up?"
When Mark didn't respond, Jane walked Rebecca to the door, opened it, and dragged her out.
"Bye, daddy!" said Rebecca.
Daddy just nodded.
***
It turned out that Jane was a teacher at a Primary School not far from where Rebecca went. Her hours made it easy to drop her daughter off in the mornings, and pick her up on the way home.
Rebecca was still distraught about her father, but she was a brave girl. She didn't say anything about what had happened last night or this morning. It was a short drive to her nursery school, and she chatted along about all the things that she was going to do today.
When they arrived, Jane went to the back and unbuckled Rebecca's car seat. As she was lifted out of the seat, Rebecca didn't whine or sniffle, and her mother even had to remind her to give her a kiss.
She struggled her way out of her mother's arms, yelled "Bye, mommy!" and ran into her teacher's waiting arms.
***
Katie beamed when Rebecca arrived. She leant forward and put her hands on the tops of her knees. "Good morning, Rebecca! How are you today?"
"Good!" replied Rebecca, and gave her teacher a big hug around the waist.
"I'm glad. Come along. Let's go inside, and join the other children."
Some of the others had already arrived and were sitting on the floor in a circle, waiting for the rest of the kids.
I really like school, thought Rebecca. I hope daddy's okay.
After everyone was settled, Katie announced story-time. She pulled up a chair and sat in the circle. The children gathered around.
Katie started telling her story, about three little pigs. It had something to do with houses, and a wolf blowing them down, but Rebecca wasn't really paying attention. She kept thinking about her dad, who didn't even say goodbye to them this morning. She wondered if she'd done something to upset him. If he didn't love her anymore.
All of a sudden, Katie stopped talking. The children were pointing at Rebecca and giggling.
It pains me to admit, I was too caught up in Rebecca's thoughts to notice what had happened. Rebecca looked down at her crossed legs, to see a puddle of urine on the floor between them. Once she realised what she'd done, she went red in the face and burst into tears.
Katie wasted no time getting up from her chair and picking Rebecca up. She held her close and cooed. "Aw, did we have a little accident? Don't worry, Rebecca. It happens to everyone, and people shouldn't laugh at you." She scowled at the other children, who stopped laughing and looked away sheepishly. "Now, let's see if mommy packed you some spare clothes."
She had. Katie took Rebecca into the bathroom, and changed her. Soon, Rebbecca was giggling playfully again, and the whole incident was forgotten.
Cut-and-stick time. The children giggled playfully to themselves as they cut magazines to ribbons.
Rebecca was cutting a picture of a model, from an article about obesity and eating disorders. Of course, she didn't know what the article was about since she couldn't read. She was just thinking it was a pretty lady, who looked a bit like mommy.
There I was, getting sidetracked again. I forced myself to snap out of it, just in time to see Rebecca's head roll forward, a smidge too much. She held the scissors in her right hand, pointing upward, and if I didn't do something soon, she would poke her eye out!
Just like what had happened in the house the previous day, time froze. This time, I wasn't surprised. Quickly, I moved forward, grabbed the scissors out of her hand, and threw them on the table. I restarted the clock (so to speak), and Rebecca punched herself in the eye.
For a moment, it seemed as though time had frozen all over again. Rebecca looked up, and her smiling lips slowly curled downward. Then she burst into tears.
"Oh dear, Rebecca's really in the wars today, isn't she?" Katie rushed over and put her arm around her shoulders. "There, there. It's all right. No harm done. Let's have a look at what you're busy with."
"No harm done" was right. Thanks to me. I was beginning to get a handle on this whole "guardian angel" thing, but I wasn't quite sure if I liked it. I breathed a sigh of relief.
***
When Jane arrived that afternoon to pick Rebecca up from school, she noticed that her daughter was in her spare clothes. Katie explained to her about the unfortunate accident.
Rebecca blinked at her mother with wide, apologetic eyes. "Sorry, mommy."
Jane clicked her tongue, feigning disappointment, but then she smiled lovingly. "That's okay, baby," she said as she picked her daughter up and cuddled her. "These things happen. That's why I send spare clothes. Let's just not make a habit of it, okay?"
Rebecca grinned happily. "Okay, mommy."
"Now, say goodbye to Katie. You'll see her tomorrow."
Rebecca gave her teacher a hug and a kiss on the cheek and waved goodbye as Jane carried her to the car.
***
"Mommy, when's daddy coming home?"
Rebecca was sitting on her mother's lap at the kitchen table. She'd not been very talkative during the ride home from school, giving only one-word answers when Jane had asked her what they got up to. I knew she was thinking about her dad. I tried to project positive thoughts into her head, to try to get her to cheer up, but none of it had worked.
Jane bit her lip. "He'll be home by five, baby."
"What's the time?"
Despite herself, her mother chuckled. She glanced at the clock on the wall. "It's half past four. Maybe it's time you learnt to tell time."
"Mommy, I'm only three!" Rebecca giggled, and Jane leaned in and tickled her tummy. That was probably the first time I'd seen her smile all afternoon.
Five o'clock came and went, and Jane decided they may as well eat dinner. She dished up a plate for Mark and put it in the warm oven. Then she and Rebecca sat down to eat, or rather to try and get Rebecca to eat.
Six o'clock came and went. Rebecca kept wondering where her father was. Each time she asked, Jane became more and more agitated. Eventually, she yelled, "Becca, I don't know!"
This caused Rebecca to burst into tears, and run to her room.
Since I am forced to go wherever my ward goes, I found myself standing there beside her.
I wish daddy were here, she thought. Mommy will feel much better when daddy comes back.
After a few moments, Rebecca realised nobody was paying attention. Her tantrum disappeared, and she shrugged and waddled into the lounge, sat down on the floor and picked up the doll she'd left there the previous day. She
held it up and pretended it was a woman, making dinner.
At five past six, a car door slammed in the street outside. A moment later, the sound of a key rattling in the lock.
At the sound, Jane came back into the lounge.
When the door opened, Mark stumbled in, reeking of alcohol.
"Daddy!" cried Rebecca, and ran towards him with her arms outstretched.
He didn't acknowledge her. He just slurred, "Wheresh my dinner?"
"In the oven," replied Jane. "You're late. And drunk."
Mark waved her away, loped across to the kitchen and opened the drawer. "It's dry."
"Well, that's what you get when you leave food in a warm oven for an hour."
"You stupid bitch!" said Mark, as he lunged towards her. "I don't have to deal with this."
"Mommy!" screamed Rebecca, as massive tears rolled down her cheeks. She ran towards her parents, getting in between them.
If Mark saw her, he didn't care. He kicked her so hard that she landed on her butt and skidded across the floor. She screamed even louder.
Jane punched Mark in the face. He took a step back and looked at her incredulously, massaging his jaw. He didn't say a word.
Rebecca's mother got down on her haunches and cradled her daughter's face in her hands. She looked up at Mark.
"Get out!" she screamed.
Chapter Three
For ten years I stayed with Rebecca.
The first five of them were really difficult; the divorce had been long and messy, as divorces often are. Mark had kept the house, and Rebecca and Jane were forced to rent a much smaller one in the city. The previous year, when Mark had emigrated to Australia, Jane asked if this meant that they could have the house back, but out of spite, he'd refused, and sold it.
Rebecca's parents had tried hard to shield her, but of course, they'd failed. She knew more than they realised. More than she let on.
Now a pretty girl of thirteen, she was enrolled in Grade Eight at a public High School nearby. She had friends and got good marks. Not fantastic marks, by any stretch of the imagination, but good marks. She was a good kid.
She spoke to her dad every couple of months over the phone, and he sent her money for her birthday each year. She loved him, but would never forgive him for what he did to her mother.
***
One afternoon, in the car on the way home from school, Jane was very quiet.
Rebecca had gotten used to the annoying questions her mother would ask her every day (which, like a typical teenager, she'd answer with mono-syllables, if at all), but today, there was none of that.
She stared out the window at the bleak, grey buildings of the city passing by, and felt a pang for their old house in the suburbs. She knew her mother felt it too, but today, it was more than that. She looked over at her mom's hands, white on the steering wheel. Jane was staring straight ahead.
"Mom? What's wrong?"
Jane wore a vacant expression, her body shuddering.
"Did you know your father's getting married?"
Rebecca gasped. "Married? What? No! I didn't even know he had a girlfriend!"
"Neither did I," said her mother. "Apparently they've been in a relationship for two years. What else hasn't he told us?"
Rebecca didn't know what to think. Her hand went up to her breastbone, to suppress her shock. She didn't really remember much of when her father still lived with them—she was only three when he left—but she remembered the pain he'd caused her mother, and she remembered everything Jane had told her over the years.
Still, when he spoke to her over the phone, she always felt that he loved her. She never imagined he'd keep anything from her.
"He doesn't want me anywhere near the wedding," Jane continued. "But he really wants you there. He wants you to fly to Australia and stay with them. I told him you're too young, and I can't afford to send you anyway. He's not even prepared to help pay."
By this time, Jane was sobbing openly, her shoulders heaving. She was blinking furiously, trying to keep her eyes on the road.
***
When Rebecca got home, she immediately stormed into her room and shut the door. She collapsed on the bed, pulled out her cellphone, and sent her dad a WhatsApp message:
Hi, daddy. Will you call me, please?
She couldn't make international calls on her phone, and didn't have enough data for a Skype call, so an instant message was the best she could manage.
There was a faded picture of her and her parents on the bedside table. She studied it for a few moments. Her mom said it was taken when she was two. She couldn't remember that, but they looked so happy together. The phone rang, interrupting her thoughts. She picked it up.
Although I could only hear her side of the conversation, I picked up Mark's words as they registered in Rebecca's mind. He spoke sleepily: "Rebecca? What's wrong? Are you okay? Do you know what time it is?"
She did, but she didn't care. It was barely dawn in Australia, but truthfully, a part of her was hoping she'd wake her father.
"Mommy told me you're getting married."
Mark sighed down the phone. "Yes, baby, that's true. She's a wonderful lady. You'd like her."
"Mommy also told me you want me at the wedding."
"I do. Very much. I know Janine does, too. She really wants to meet you."
"How long have you known her?"
"Two years," admitted Mark nervously.
"So, before you moved to Australia." Rebecca had been doing maths in her head. She steadied her voice. "Why haven't I met her before?"
"That was her idea. She didn't want to confuse things between you, me, and your mother."
"And now you want me to come all the way to Australia. Leave my friends, my life. Miss school. Mommy says you won't even pay." Rebecca's voice was shaking now, and the tears were becoming almost impossible to choke back. I could tell by her thoughts that she was furious.
"Baby, money's tight. But we'd really love for you to come. I'm sure if you asked your mother, she'd make a plan. Will you come?"
Before Rebecca could answer, she heard a woman's voice on the other end of the line. A bit muffled, but unmistakable. "Love? Are you okay? Who's on the phone?"
Then, her father's voice. "It's nothing, baby. Go back to sleep."
Rebecca burst into tears. "I'll think about it," she screamed into the phone. She hung up and threw it onto the bed.
***
Rebecca wanted to throw her phone against the wall and see it smashed to pieces. But she imagined her mom's reaction. We're not made of money, she would say. Her phone wasn't the best on the market anyway, but if she broke it, she probably wouldn't get another one soon.
Instead, she picked it up, and gently placed it on her bedside table. Then she sat on her pillow with her back pressed against the wall. She hugged her knees and rocked back-and-forth as she sobbed.
A moment later, there was a knock on the door.
"Becca? Baby, are you okay?"
"Go away." Rebecca sniffed down tears.
Jane didn't go away. She gently pushed the door open and poked her head inside.
When she saw her daughter, she rushed into the room, jumped onto the bed, and threw her arm around Rebecca's shoulders.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
Rebecca's tears flowed like a waterfall.
"Mommy, it's daddy," she blubbered, as the words came pouring out. "He says his new girlfriend really wants to meet me, but he's had her since before he moved to Australia, so why didn't she meet me then? He says I must go to their wedding, but I've never even been out of the country, and he won't even pay, and how are we supposed to afford it?"
Jane rocked her daughter gently. "There, there. You shouldn't be worried about money, baby. Let me worry about that." She reached over and grabbed a tissue from the box on Rebecca's table and dabbed it under her daughter's eyes. "The question is, do you want to go?"
Rebecca sniffed. "I... I don't know," she said. But I knew that was a lie, and I read
the truth in her mind. I also read that she was far more grown-up than her mother gave her credit for.
I'd rather die than meet the slut that dragged him away from us.
***
The next day, Mark phoned Rebecca many more times, but she didn't take his calls. Aside from the fact that she didn't want to speak to him, and didn't know how to tell him how she felt about the wedding, she was in class.
In fact, she zoned out of her entire maths period thinking about him. Her teacher spent most of the period trying to hold her attention, without much success.
Mostly, she was just cursing him and his new fiancé in her head. Who knew that a thirteen-year-old girl could have such a repertoire of grawlixes?
Her phone rang for at least the twentieth time during second break. She pulled herself away from her circle of friends, and picked it up.
"Dad, what the fuck do you want?"
"Rebecca, don't you ever use that word with me or your mother again!"
"I'll use whatever words I fucking want," Rebecca shot back. "Don't test me, daddy."
This wasn't a battle Mark was going to win. He exhaled loudly and changed the subject. "I was just wondering—"
"If I'd thought any more about coming to your wedding? Yes, I have, and I'm still thinking. I'll let you know. Bye!"
I must admit, I thought that this was a bit harsh. But then I saw how frustrated she was with all the calls that day. She still had no intention of going to the wedding, but she didn't know how to tell him. He was still her father, after all, and she did still love him. She just wished he would stop pressuring her so much.
***
That afternoon in the car, Jane wanted to know if Rebecca had thought any more about going to the wedding.
"No, mom, I haven't."
Rebecca just wanted to be left alone. She didn't tell her mother about all Mark's phone calls that day; she thought it would only make the pestering worse. She hoped he wouldn't phone again while she was in the car.
"I know you don't want to think about it, Becca. But you really should."
Rebecca snapped. "I'll think about it when I'm ready to think about it, mom. Can we drop it, please?"
Jane muttered something to herself. She focused her vision squarely on the road in front of her and gripped the steering wheel tighter. The two drove home in silence as Rebecca stared into space.