I always thought strength came from within you, that it started there and ended there. It was of your own making.
I was wrong.
Strength is a gift placed inside you, built up by the people who love you. Fortified by the people who hate or threaten you. These are the things I will teach my son.
Joseph left late that morning. We couldn’t bear to get out of bed, the cold chipping away at our toes, the quilt a refuge. He was enjoying stretching the terms of our new arrangement, finding different places on my body to touch, just to get a reaction. Strong fingers left a blush of warmth wherever they wandered. He finally peeled himself away and said he would be home late but that I should dress nice, whatever that meant. He was going to take me out somewhere. I couldn’t imagine where. There wasn’t much to choose from.
“What about Orry?” I said
“I’ll arrange everything. Just be ready by eight.”
“Ok,” I said sulkily. I really didn’t like surprises.
He kissed me lightly on the cheek, which left me wanting, and left. I watched him walk away, his thumping strides almost rocking the earth. He walked like a giant. I was still not quite used to the fact that he would be home. Home was alien. Home created flourishes of color, popping up through the cracks in the floorboards and the neat stone path, like sprouting spring flowers. He waved behind him without turning around, his scarred arm covered by a thick coat. I felt a pang of guilt for not telling him about Cal. I would do it tonight. One serious conversation at a time was probably best.
I had a lot of work to do that day; it had piled up from my procrastinating yesterday. Chair legs and sled parts taunted me from the corner. A pile of sawdust I should have swept up and taken out was migrating back to where it had started, like a tiny sandstorm moving tiny dunes. It was also my turn to look after Orry.
The day went by uneventfully. I worked hard trying to finish everything so the evening would be free. Orry was fussing. When he was like this, it was a pointless guessing game to work out was wrong. Teething, hungry, tired, sick? So I just tried to distract him. I laid him down on the floor like I used to with Hessa. He stared at me with his weird eyes, my eyes, and I explained what I was doing, holding up tools and describing their various uses. Looking at his chubby pale arms and swash of blond curls, I wondered if he would be smart like Joseph. Tracking his darting eyes and hearing his frustrated grizzle, I knew he would be more like me—crazy and likely to get in trouble.
At about six o’clock, I cleaned up and started getting ready. I swept up the sawdust again and left it in the corner. I changed into clothes they’d given me when we first arrived here. I tried on a skirt and tights but quickly wriggled out of them, selecting black pants and a long-sleeved shirt. I did my hair, remembering that day when Clara had done it and the way Joseph reacted. I blushed. He wasn’t even here and I blushed. I pulled two small sections of my hair back and left the rest down.
It hurt less to think of her but I’m not sure the ache would ever go away. It lingered atop the pile of things I missed—my mother, the woods, Rash, and the boys. My grief wrapped around me like an ever-tightening bandage, holding my insides in but also stopping things from escaping.
I gazed down at the palette of makeup sitting squarely in my palm with great trepidation. I tried to apply it via the directions on the back of the plastic case. When I finished, I had to admit I looked awful. My eyes were over-emphasized and my cheeks too pink. I scrubbed it off. I looked… well, I looked nervous.
I started to get irritated at Joseph, wondering why he had to make a big deal out of this. I could imagine him laughing to himself at the idea of me running around trying to get ready. I wrapped Orry, who had been watching me wide-eyed on my bed while I got ready. He kicked his legs and cooed. I know I should have found these noises cute but to me they sounded like a cat getting sucked down a drain hole. These were the things I always kept to myself.
I fed him, realizing I should have done that before I got dressed as I had to unbutton my shirt. He wasn’t very hungry, nuzzling into my breast and falling asleep quickly. So I dragged the cot into our room one handed, the still-greenish legs screeching and scratching across the floor. It would have left scratch marks, if the floor wasn’t already so scuffed and worn. I liked it that way; it gave the place a sense of history, other families, other lives had been lived here. I put Orry down, closing the door after me. I barely had time to sit on a chair to start stressing about the night when I heard a knock at the door.
I was flustered. Was Joseph early? I opened the door wide with my shirt open just as widely. When I saw who it was, I quickly pulled it closed. “Cal!” I exclaimed with an unexpected mix of relief and anxiety.
He looked happy, relaxed, his eyes looking me up and down like I was a stick of candy. He didn’t lick his lips but he might as well have.
“Can I come in?” he said with confidence, like asking was merely a formality.
I wasn’t sure—a network of interlacing wire grew up in front of my face like a barrier, warning me. “Um, I’m just about to go out,” I lied, as I fumbled with my buttons, doing them up wrong and having to start again.
“This won’t take long. Please.” He pushed his way through the door before I could answer. He was forceful and the door slammed against the wall with a bang.
A slinking, dark shadow followed him.
He walked to the middle of the room and turned towards me with purpose. “I just wanted to say, I understand now.” He seemed so earnest, his face bright and hopeful.
I’m sure my face was a mess of confusion. “Understand what?” I asked, my hands balled in fists, squeezing and relaxing. Instinctively, I walked towards my bedroom door, closing it softly but fully. The latch clicked into place.
“Why you said you couldn’t work for me anymore. It’s your feelings for me. I wanted to say that of course I feel the same way. Now we can be together and you don’t have to worry.”
I laughed hard like I was expelling a wad of cotton wedged in my throat. Realizing my tactlessness, I quickly covered my mouth. But it was too late. He saw it. He heard it. He took a step towards me and I mirrored his movements, taking a step back, standing between him and the bedroom door.
“Are you crazy?” I said, barely able to control my surprise. “You’re delusional. I’m with Joseph.”
He shook his head violently, his expression tightening. Putting his head to the side, he crooned, “I know you don’t want to hurt him but I heard you last night. You’re trying to back away from him. I know you feel obligated because of Orlando. But you love me. I’m sure he will understand.”
The word Orlando crept up and bit into me. No one called him that. That name was left back in the mounds, under dirt, rocks, and kisses that never should have happened. He was crazy.
The air in the room suddenly felt oppressive, like an electric storm was brewing above my head. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. My stomach turned in on itself as I realized he’d been watching us last night and who knows how many other nights. Why had no one warned us he was unstable?
I looked back and forth, my eyes running along the length of the lounge-room wall. I couldn’t move any further away from him. I was pinned against the door. I couldn’t run, not without Orry. I would have to talk my way out of this. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. “Look I don’t know why you think these things. I don’t love you. I love Joseph. And I think you should leave.” Honesty was all I had.
Cal’s eyes darkened. He tucked his hair behind his ears, a normal behavior, once comforting, now filled me with dread. Sweat was clear on his brow, despite the cold. The sheen reminded me of slime and my disgust at him deepened. I hoped it didn’t show on my face. I don’t know what my face looked like to him. It felt contorted, pressed in at the wrong places. And his face was flicking back and forth between wild and calm. I didn’t need to worry. He wasn’t reading my face. He didn’t seem to be aware of himself, let alone my expressions. Be careful, I told mysel
f.
“I’m not leaving until you admit the truth,” he said determinedly, thumping his fist into his thigh, edging closer. Each movement dragging with it a clawing, dark shadow.
“That is the truth. You’ve invented the rest in your head,” I said softly. Trying to ease my way out of this like I would lever a nail out of timber I didn’t want to damage. Gently.
He stopped and hit his forehead hard with the heel of his hand. An angry red mark appeared between his eyes. “Oh yeah, I’m the crazy one!” My eyes widened, the tempo of my heartbeats quickening as I felt the danger, the menace of him, swelling in front of me.
I considered how long it would take for him to reach me. It was only a couple of meters. How quickly I could grab Orry and run? How fast was he? I didn’t know. I knew he would be stronger than me. He wasn’t much taller but he was broad, and wiry, his arms bulging at his shirtsleeves. But I had to try.
I put one hand over the doorknob, the metal comfortingly cold against my burning skin. I turned it slowly, millimeter by millimeter, while watching him. His head was down as he talked to himself. “If he’s the one in the way, maybe we should do something about that.” My ears pricked and a boost of adrenaline surged at the mention of harm to Joseph.
I turned away from him while he was distracted, inching myself forward. I would do it swiftly. Open, grab, run. I counted… on one, two, three as sweat dripped down my neck and under my shirt.
Crack! His arm chopped down on my wrist, the bone splitting pain shooting up my arm. Broken. I screamed long and loud.
He clamped his hand over my mouth; it was sweaty and mixed disgustingly with the smell of handmade soap.
“Sh!” he spat “I don’t want to hurt you. Just admit the truth and we can work this out.”
He put his spare arm over my chest, his forearm tight, the veins popping over the skin like it could barely contain his energy, and dragged me away from the door. My legs kicked frantically, trying to push off something. Orry started crying. Cal’s mouth was close to my ear, his breathing fast and uneven, and his lips wet. I strained away from it, saliva touching my earlobe. What could I say? If I lied and said I loved him, he wouldn’t leave. I had tried the truth. He didn’t believe me.
I struggled but his grip was too tight. He slammed me down on the floor on my back, knocking the wind out of my lungs, and straddled me. His knees pushed into my elbow joints, the bone-on-bone contact made me cry out in pain. Blood was not moving, oxygen had stopped. “Please. Let me go. You’re hurting me.” Begging. Begging could work.
He laughed hysterically, his voice strained, his eyes like hard, amber rocks, gleaming. “Look what you made me do,” he said, his teeth clattering, gesturing at the mess around us. The blood. Then he wrapped his hands around some of my hair, leaned down, and held it against his cheek. I tried not to cringe; I tried not to look at where this might be leading. My fear encompassed so much.
Begging wasn’t going to work.
In all of this, my thoughts were heading off in a strange direction. As I looked at his eyes, which started to swirl in front of me like pinwheels, I thought of my mother. I thought, This is what it must be like for her. Every day. Paulo would never lay a hand on her but the threat was always hovering. And in some ways that was worse. This was what it was like to feel powerless… to be less than a person. It angered me. It threatened me. In that moment, I knew exactly how she felt and it was horrifying.
Cal relaxed for a second, the fury slumping out of him, his eyes hungry. He leaned into my face like he was going to kiss me and the force he was applying to my elbows lapsed. It was all I needed. I brought my knees up and pushed backwards. I could hardly breathe, my chest constricted, forcing air in and out like bellows. Panic was setting in. But I kept telling myself, Don’t let him do it; don’t let him do it.
He lurched backwards and I flipped onto my stomach, scrambling to get away, heading to the corner where all my tools lay, my fingers pressing into the sawdust, sending clouds of it into my eyes.
He jumped to his feet agilely and was walking towards me slowly, his footsteps sounding heavy, pulsing through my chest and supplementing my heartbeat. My own body felt light, like I might blow through the crack under the door.
What was left of me?
“Don’t run, darling.” His voice was a menace, a dark-tinted scratch in the air.
I couldn’t tell where he was, the floor stretched out for miles in front of me, a looming threat behind. This was not the time for things to move in slow motion. I urged time to speed up. I was nearly there, a foot of space between me and a possible weapon. I felt rough hands clamp around my ankle and yank me backwards sharply. My chin grazed the rough floorboards as he brought my head level with his boot. In a final violent action, he brought his boot down on me like he was squashing a cockroach. It made a crunching sound like a cockroach would too. Could my head burst like a berry? No, it was more like an acorn.
My vision darkened, shadowy spots appearing and dancing before my eyes like puffs of smoke. Orry. Oh God. I had to protect him. I had to hold on long enough to protect him. Tears were stinging like acid. I sniffed, and the familiar taste of blood ran down the back of my throat. The blow had brought it gushing from my nose and somewhere else I couldn’t pinpoint. Was I broken apart? Bits of me were not responding. Some parts moving fast, some slow, some not at all.
Cal walked away from me again but he left the shadow, it lay across me like a lead weight and I couldn’t move. Tearing at his hair, he yelled, “I’d rather you disappear than see you with him. I could be a good father, a better father than that guy.”
Help me.
My cheek pressed to the ground; I tapped my fingers on the warm, wooden floor lightly, each finger taking an immense amount of energy to lift, the drumming giving me something to focus on. I couldn’t feel any pain, or maybe my whole body was pain, there was no distinction.
White canvas shoes spattered with blood were coming at me from a weird angle, tilted like the world had sunk sideways. I blinked.
Imaginary arms linked with mine.
Help yourself.
I can’t.
HELP YOURSELF.
I’m not disappearing.
I ignored my fear, quickly folding it up for later. My eyes focused on the glinting metal a few feet away from me. Don’t count. Just go. I dug in my heels and darted at the only weapon close to hand, my body soaring at it like a low-flying paper plane. I was as thin as paper, sharp as its edges. Could this really be happening? A hammer.
I hugged it to my chest violently, the metal reassuring my heart with a thump. Every footstep he made pounded in my brain like it was attached to an amplifier. Orry’s crying broke through.
I stood. I don’t know how I stood but I did, legs wobbling, one arm hanging like a dead weight.
“Get out!” I screamed, waving the hammer wildly in front of me. I couldn’t see anything but blur and red. I felt the end connect with something and snag. I pulled hard and heard him cry out.
“GET OUT!” I sounded like a shrieking bird, my wings flapping, beating the air and creating a powerful wind. My voice was not my own. It was Clara’s, Apella’s, Mother’s. Their strength in me. Like gravity, the words were solid, thrown at him with force. He took steps backwards, staring at his hands like they were not his own. Then I heard the door slam.
My broken body collapsed to the floor. I heaved myself towards the bedroom door, using my very last bit of strength. I got there and relaxed. I was cold. Curling myself around the hammer, I embraced it, convulsing once, wrapping around it like an old guard dog.
My body was slipping away, slipping into the floor.
My home. Not in my home.
I’d make myself small. Turn my body into a knot in the floorboards. Hard. Impenetrable. Strong.
The clock swirled before my eyes, the ticking unnaturally loud.
7:55.
In my dream, Joseph came home at 7:45 PM.
I run to the door and he tells me to
cover myself up with a wink. It’s violating our agreement.
In my dream, I’m not trying, unsuccessfully, to lift my head off the floorboards or even open my eyes.
In my dream, my eyes are bright and my hair is pulled back the way he likes it. It’s not matted and soaked with blood, my head feeling like a hardboiled egg that’s been stepped on.
In my dream, I am safe. Until I wake, I can pretend I am safe.
Because the truth is, I’m never safe.
I never was.
~Joseph~
As I approached the house, I could hear Orry screaming. But I didn’t think much of it. He was probably fussing. I imagined Rosa running around the house, worrying about what we were going to do tonight. I knew she hated surprises but I wanted to show her I knew her. I wanted to show her I listened to her and understood what she needed.
Deshi walked next to me. It was cool and he rubbed his hands together to warm them. He’d left Hessa in town with Apella and had agreed to babysit for me. I think things were easier for him now. He had his own place, a family. But I always felt bad for him. I understood more than most how it felt to love someone and not be able to do anything about it. I hoped he would find someone here, but if he didn’t, there was Hessa. Now it felt more like it did in the beginning, when we were great friends, the best.
“So what’s the big plan?” he asked. Although, I was pretty sure he didn’t really want to know. He didn’t hate Rosa, in fact, I think he respected her, maybe even liked her, but he didn’t understand the two of us together. In my mind, there was nothing to get. Whatever we had—it just was. It worked and would always work. There actually couldn’t be anyone else.
I shrugged at his question, downplaying it. I didn’t want to flaunt our romantic escapades in his face. “Just dinner and a campfire.”
Deshi rolled his eyes. “Sounds boring.”
I shoved him gently. “It won’t be to her.”
The Wall (The Woodlands) Page 17