Happily Never Forever

by Sarah Peis

  I put my shoes down in the hallway next to the pile that was already there and turned the corner into the living room. Oma was sitting in her chair, knitting and sipping a cup of tea. I threw myself onto the couch next to her, took a drink of her tea and immediately started to cough. Should have known better than to drink something I didn’t check first. Last time I accidentally drank a soggy biscuit that Josie left in my coffee when I absently grabbed the mug without looking inside first.

  “Is there any tea in there or just rum?” I asked, putting the cup down and taking her outstretched hand. It was getting harder for her to open her hands but she still powered on. I could tell she had trouble knitting, but she loved it and would be devastated to give it up. She gave my hand a squeeze in greeting before getting back to her knitting. We all had about eighty pairs of socks, equally as many sweaters and hats, and would soon be the proud owners of new mittens, Oma’s latest project.

  “How was it?” she asked, her accent heavy and familiar.

  “Interesting. I saw Rhett again.” Better to come out with it straight away. Oma would find out eventually anyway, no sense in hiding anything from her. Something I had learned early on.

  “That explains why you look like a sip of water in a corner.” She nodded her head like she agreed with herself and stopped knitting.

  I on the other hand didn’t even know what that meant. It made not a lick of sense to me. But then again, most things Oma said didn’t really make much sense to anyone. She lived in a world of her own.

  “That’s good,” she declared, her attention on me now. “No sense on worrying your pretty head today. Try and get some sleep. I have a feeling you’ll need it.”

  “I have a feeling you’re right. I’ll check on the girls and then I’ll hit the hay. Gute Nacht, Oma.”

  I heaved my tired body back out of the comfortable sofa and kissed her cheek, noticing she had lost weight again. I knew Oma was eighty five years old, but she was my superhero. Indestructible and able to do anything. She’d saved me and Freddie when mom had decided she was done being a parent. She was the only constant in my life, and I didn’t know what I’d do without her. I might have been twenty two and still living at home, but I didn’t see it changing anytime soon either.

  I shared a room with Freddie, and Oma was with Josie. I was hardly ever in the room except to sleep, so the arrangement worked for me. It drove Freddie crazy to share a closet, but we didn’t really have a choice. We’d been in the same room ever since we came to live here. Now she was getting older, she was realizing that she wanted her own space. Not something she would likely get until she moved out.

  I checked on Josie first, making sure she was all good for the night so Oma didn’t have to get up. She was passed out in her crib, clutching her stuffed toy, a donkey that was missing an ear, like a lifeline. She wouldn’t even let us wash it. If it was out of her sight for more than a few minutes, she’d lose it. I shuddered thinking about all the grossness that was on that thing, but it wasn’t worth the drama so I left it alone. I gently stroked a finger over the bridge of her nose, something that always calmed her down and had become a habit to me. Her hair was getting longer, her curly mop now at a stage where I had to tie it back. Not something I complained about because I loved braiding her hair. She didn’t stir and I went next door to finally go to bed.

  I was more than ready to collapse on my bed and not move again until tomorrow. The room was a mess, and because I didn’t want to wake Freddie I didn’t turn on the lights. Instead I stumbled my way towards my bed. The light shining in from the hallway revealed every available surface covered in clothes. She had even used my bed, and I had to dig deep to unearth my blankets.

  I shot an annoyed glance her way and noticed there was no lump on her bed. An uneasy feeling stole its way into my body, and I walked closer to make sure I wasn’t overreacting. She was pretty small, maybe she was buried under her blankets. I haltingly held out my arm and touched the cover, finding it empty. Not. Effing. Again. She promised she wouldn’t do it again after I caught her sneaking in late last time. Her curfew was midnight. She knew it. And chose to continuously ignore it. It drove me crazy.

  I went back into the living room where Oma was still knitting. “Do you know where Freddie went? She’s not home.”

  “Her friend picked her up. The one with all the metal. Don’t like the look of him. He never says hello and doesn’t eat any of my strudel. There is nothing wrong with it. I’ve been making it for nearly seventy years.”

  I didn’t like Freddie’s friend either. Not only did the cops arrest him on a weekly schedule, he also liked to think of himself as the local happiness distributor. Meaning, he sold any drug he could get his hands on. But that’s what Dickhead told me he did when I made the mistake of attempting small talk. I couldn’t understand why she would want to hang out with him. She promised me she wasn’t doing any drugs. But the crowd she was hanging out with these days made that hard to believe.

  She was young, ready to experiment and didn’t care what her big sister said. Many times she told me that I wasn’t her mother. I never told her that we didn’t really have custody of her. She was so little when we moved in with Oma that she couldn’t remember it being any other way. We’d seen mom once since, when she showed up at the front door asking for money. I made Freddie go to her room. She didn’t even recognize her.

  I didn’t know what to do. I had tried reasoning, pleading, begging, yelling, crying—that one I wasn’t proud of but desperation was a bitch—and finally blackmail. But nothing worked. And now she was out with him again, ignoring her curfew. I guess my night wasn’t over yet, after all.

  “I’ll go and see if I can find her,” I said, putting my shoes back on. My keys were still where I threw them next to the door. There was only a few places she could be. Butler was small and her options limited.

  I hit the football field first but it was dark and deserted. The abandoned drive-in cinema was next, but except for a whole lot of dead grass and leaves it was also empty. That only left one more place, and one that I definitely did not want to go to. Dickhead’s house. He lived in an old farmhouse out of town and his closest neighbor was ten miles away. I hated it there. But I guess it was perfect for his shady business.

  I made it there in less than twenty minutes, only passing one car on the way. The farmhouse was lit up like a Christmas tree, people standing around on the porch, the music deafening.

  Jackpot.

  I got out, painfully aware I was still in my suit, and made my way to the open front door. I knew a few of the people hanging around, but mostly they were out of towners. Ignoring their stares, I went inside to look for my sister. The windows were vibrating and conversation was nearly impossible. I gave up asking if anyone had seen her after the third blank stare. It didn’t help that most of them looked like they were high as a kite or drunk.

  I slowly made my way through each room, past sweaty bodies and broken furniture. There was no sign of Freddie anywhere, and I reluctantly went upstairs. There were three doors to the left, two to the right. I started with the first door on the left, praying there wasn’t anything in there that I could never un-see. Thankfully the room was empty, the only occupant a lone bed in the middle. Odd place to put it.

  There was noise coming from the next room, and I hesitantly put my hand on the doorknob. When I heard a loud moan and a creaking bed spring, I let go immediately and took a step back. No thanks. I moved on without opening the door. The next room was completely empty and I worked my way to the other side of the hallway. I heard a loud crash from the room closest to the end and put my ear to the door. A scream ripped through the wood, making my head snap back. That one did seem familiar and not like anyone was enjoying themselves.

  I didn’t hesitate to open the door, ready to drag Freddie out if I had to. Instead I came face to face with Dickhead’s naked ass. It wasn’t very impressive as far as asses go so I didn’t linger but searched the room for my sister instead.


  “What the fuck,” he said when he saw me standing in the doorway. “Get the hell out of my room bitch.” His eyes were bloodshot, and he looked like he had been sampling his own wares. His skinny body looked sickly grey in the low light of a single bedside lamp and I shuddered when he turned and I got a glimpse of his front. What the hell was my sister thinking?

  All thoughts left my brain when I spotted my sister lying in a heap on the floor, her top torn, her cheeks tear-streaked. “You piece of shit. What is wrong with you?” I yelled.

  Not waiting for a reply, I went to Freddie and picked her up. She was shaking and crying, unable to form words. As soon as she realized it was me, she buried deep into my side, holding on so tightly it was hard to breathe. But I held her just as tightly, thankful I’d found her in time. Dickhead chose that moment to snap out of his surprise and blocked our way. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  I had had it with this day and was fuming. How dare he lay a hand on Freddie. “None of your business. Now get out of my way before I call the cops.”

  Turns out that was the wrong thing to say. Before I had a chance to react, he backhanded me so hard that I lost my hold on Freddie and fell to the floor. I had never been hit that hard. I was no stranger to a beating, having been on the receiving end of my mother’s fury many times, but never had she hit me so hard. My ears were ringing and my vision was blurry. I blinked my eyes, trying to clear my head.

  He wasn’t done yet though, and before I had a chance to get back up, he swung back and kicked me in the gut. Not sure which part of my body hurt worse, I was in a world of pain. “Emmi,” Freddie screeched. I pulled myself up to my knees, hands still on the floor, holding on for stability while trying to catch my breath. My lungs were on fire and I was shaking.

  “Two for the price of one. Didn’t know it was my lucky day today.” He licked his dry lips, and I vomited on the floor. The thought of Dickhead touching me combined with the agony I was currently in and my stomach revolted.

  “Disgusting, bitch. You,” he pointed to my sister, “clean that up. And then get back on the bed. Don’t make me tell you again.”

  His eyes darted around the room, his body shuffling from side to side. Freddie was frozen to the spot, staring at me.

  “Bitch, are you deaf?”

  This was going even worse than the worst case scenario I had pictured in my head. He was unhinged, crazy. Didn’t have all the mugs in his cupboard anymore, as Oma would say. We needed to get out of there, and we needed to do it now.

  Freddie was crying so hard, her whole body shook from it. She stumbled over to me and took my arm, tugging it up. I let her pull me back to my feet, hissing at the stabbing pain in my ribs, and leaned in to talk quietly into her ear. “If I tell you to run, do it as fast as you can. I’ll be right behind you.”

  She frantically shook her head, unable to talk. I straightened as much as I could and took a step forward. My ribs protested at the movement, making me doubt my ability to run fast. Or run at all.

  I let go of Freddie and stumbled my way forward. Dickhead wasn’t expecting us to move towards him. This gave us the moment of surprise that we needed. I ran at him like I was playing for the offense. I’ve never watched a full football game in my life but what I did remember was how much damage a good tackle could do. We were out of options, desperate, so a good tackle seemed like the way to go. Dickhead didn’t look like he weighed much. I got this.

  I didn’t give him a chance to recover from his surprise and with my head down I smashed right into him. My shoulder hit his soft belly, my arms pushed into him and he went flying out the door. Worked better than anticipated and it also meant our path was clear. “Run,” I screamed as loud as I could to be heard over the thumping of the music. Freddie, for once, did as she was told, well sort of, since she stopped to take my hand but I could live with that, and then sprinted out the door.

  Dickhead was about to get up from the floor, cursing and looking royally pissed. Freddie stopped and kicked him hard in the nuts, and he went down again.

  “Let’s go,” I said and tugged on her hand. We were holding on to each other so hard, the circulation in my hand was being cut off. But neither one of us let up.

  We dodged people sitting on the stairs and pushed through the throng of dancers until we finally stumbled outside. The fresh air hit my lungs like a snowstorm. I stumbled but Freddie stopped me from tumbling to the ground again.

  “I’m driving. Give me your keys,” she said when she realized how useless I was.

  I didn’t argue. She was a terrible driver, but she would do a lot better than me in my current state. I fumbled for my keys, my hand shaking so badly I hardly managed to get them out of my pocket.

  Freddie didn’t waste any time ripping open the passenger door and pushing me into the car. I yelped at the pain shooting up my body from being handled so roughly. She raced around the hood and dropped into the driver’s seat, starting the car. I barely had time to close my door before she slammed down on the gas and we hightailed it out of there in a cloud of dust.

  The car was silent on the way home. I was in pain and talking seemed to be too much effort. Freddie was staring out the windshield, eyes wide, mouth tight, tears streaming down her face.

  It only took us ten minutes to get back. I didn’t say a word at the corners Freddie clipped or the liberal way she approached the speed limit. I couldn’t believe what had happened. My little sister, who I had always looked after, was nearly raped. If I’d gotten there any later, I would have been too late. The more I thought about it, the angrier I became. I made up crazy scenarios in my head, cursing the asshole with everything I had. Thanks to Oma, my swearing vocabulary was vast, both in German and English.

  Freddie parked in the driveway and turned the car off. Neither one of us made a move to get out.

  “Emmi, I’m –” Freddie said.

  But I cut her off, and said, “Don’t.” I was in pain and fuming. Not a good combination.

  She nodded and got out. I barely managed to open my door, the movement too much. Freddie came around and helped me out, careful to avoid my ribs. She placed a light hand on my back and held onto my arm.

  I bit my lip so hard I drew blood. The three steps leading up to the front door never seemed more challenging, and I got slower with each step I took. We finally made it inside and came face to face with Oma. Of course, she was still awake.

  “Meine Spätzchen,” she exclaimed, her eyes taking in my bent over form, Freddie’s torn shirt and tear-streaked face. She was wearing her oversized lime green housecoat that was about a hundred years old and frayed at the edges. It had been hideous when she bought it—and still was—but Oma couldn’t pass up a good bargain.

  She went to my side and together they helped me sit down on the couch. There was no way I would move again. If I sat slightly to the left, the pain was considerably less and I would stay in this position until I was fused to the couch.

  “What happened?” Oma asked while handing Freddie a cardigan and then getting me some painkillers.

  Freddie spoke first, surprising me. “It was my fault. I’m so sorry.” She sat down next to me and took my hand before promptly bursting into tears again. I wasn’t much use in terms of hugs since I couldn’t lift my arms very high but I leaned into her and stroked her hand, my head resting on hers. My anger evaporated.

  “Don’t cry, pixie. What happened is not your fault. He’s a fucking disgusting pig and not worth a single tear.”

  “He’s not, but you are.” She got out between hiccups.

  Oma handed us each a cup of tea. Judging by the fumes coming off it, she’d added a little extra. Her special tea was made out of a lot of rum and a shot of tea. We both sat the mugs on the coffee table, knowing better than to take a sip of the rocket fuel. Oma also liked to save when it came to booze and this one was sure to be the cheapest she could find.

  “Do you need to go to the hospital?” Oma asked.

  I shook my head, no
t willing to get up yet. “I have the day off tomorrow. I’ll just go to the doctor then. I’m fine, don’t worry.”

  “I always worry. You are my girls.”

  “We’re okay now. Promise. Go to bed. It’s late and Josie will be up soon. At least one of use should get some sleep.”

  “Okay, I give you tonight. But tomorrow you tell me.”

  And tell her I would. But my eyes were drooping and I had no energy left. “I will. Good night, Oma.”

  She studied us for another minute before seemingly satisfied with what she saw. After kissing us both on the cheek, she ambled off to her room, leaving the door open.

  I squeezed Freddie’s hand and said, “You should go to bed too. Try and get some sleep.”

  “Aren’t you coming?”

  “Not sure I’ll be able to get up off the couch.”

  “Then I’ll stay here with you.”

  “Freddie,” I said, drawing out the last syllable. “You need to sleep.”

  She moved closer, nearly sitting on top of me. “I don’t want to be on my own.” Her voice was so quiet, I wouldn’t have heard her had she not sat so close.

  “Okay. Give me a minute and I’ll try to get up.”

  The pain meds were working and twenty minutes later I heaved myself up and shuffled down the hall. Freddie stuck close to my side, helping me as much as possible without causing more pain. I didn’t even attempt to get into my PJs, instead I got in bed still fully dressed, only taking my shoes off.

  Freddie followed and curled up next to me, taking my hand again. I was able to lie on my left side and Freddie turned onto her right so we were facing each other.

  “Love you, pixie. Try and get some sleep,” I whispered and closed my eyes.

  “Love you too, Mimi.”

  It didn’t take long for her to drift off to sleep. I nodded off a few times, but the pain kept me awake, and I sighed in relief when it got light. It had not been a night I ever cared to remember.

  It was Monday, and I was back at work. I tried covering my black eye with foundation, but it was an angry shade of dark blue that wouldn’t be covered despite my many attempts. I felt like shit, having slept a total of three hours over the last two days. We were all rattled from the events that had taken place and everyone had been on edge the whole weekend.