I Do, Maybe: A Novella

by Jay, Libby

  A recent kidnap attempt on a young female socialite had put the Lewis’ back on full security alert, so I was again forced to take Greg everywhere with me. I didn’t mind too much, although I never got to drive my car anywhere. I’d suggested that maybe Greg could travel with me in my car while I drove but that suggestion was met with wide eyes and head shakes from Fraser, Greg and Mitchell.

  Greg pulled up at the front of Mum’s house and stopped the car.

  “I’ll call you when I’m ready to be picked up?” I asked.

  “I’ll be waiting here,” he said.

  “What are you going to do? Do you want to come in to eat?”

  “I have my own meal, thanks you. I’m going to catch up on some work.”

  “Work?” I was his work.

  “Yeah, work,” he said looking away.

  I got out of the car and went inside. “Hey Mum,” I called out as I entered. I stopped as I thought I heard a male voice.

  “I’m in the kitchen honey,” she called out.

  I slipped my shoes off and made my way into the kitchen. There was a man standing in the kitchen, he looked vaguely familiar.

  “Hello,” I said to him as I went toward Mum. I gave her kiss.

  “Honey, you remember Terry. He worked for your father years ago.”

  I searched my memory. “Oh yes, I remember. You had the dart board on the workshop wall.”

  Terry laughed. “Yes, that’s right I did. And the holes in the plaster to prove my poor dart playing skills.”

  I smiled and looked back at Mum. An uncomfortable silence fell. Terry cleared his throat and Mum scratched her head nervously.

  “What’s going on Mum?” I asked, putting my handbag on the bench looking back and forth between her and Terry.

  “Well,” she drew in a slow deep breath as she stepped toward Terry and held his hand.

  My jaw dropped open.

  “Terry and I have been seeing each other.”

  My eyes looked down at their clasped hands and then back up to Mum’s face. “Are you serious?” I said slowly, waiting for someone to tell me it was all a joke.

  “Honey, Terry has been a good friend…”

  “No he hasn’t. You haven’t seen him for years.”

  “Em, he’s been here while your father has been sick…”

  “What? Why? Waiting for Dad to die so he could move right in?” My voice began to rise.

  “Honey, it wasn’t like that.” She let go of Terry’s hand and came toward me.

  “Don’t touch me,” I said. “You make me sick. Dad’s been gone six weeks mum, and you’ve already replaced him. Replaced the man you loved for all those years,” I clicked my fingers, “just like that.”

  “Em, I’ve had a long time to mourn your father. I watched him die for years.”

  “What?” I stepped back. “You considered him dead while he was still alive?” My voice was hoarse as it held back tears. “You make me sick.”

  “Your dad gave us his blessing.”

  I screamed. Screamed louder than I ever thought I could. “He knew. He died knowing that you’d already found someone to replace him?” I grabbed my bag from the bench. I pointed at Terry. “You’re sick. Only a sick pervert would do this.”

  “Emily…” Mum started.

  “No Mum. I’ve have enough. You’re a selfish bitch. You sent me away when I needed you most and when Dad needed you, you were out doing god knows what with this creep.”

  “Emily, stop now!”

  I turned around and walked out. Mum was still calling my name when I opened the car door.

  “Go, now,” I said to Greg. As Mum ran down the front path, I locked the car door. “Go, Greg.”

  Greg pulled the car away and drove down the street.

  I pulled my phone from my bag, my hands shaking from anger and hurt and confusion. I called Fraser.

  “Hey Piglet,” he answered.

  “Where are you?” I asked quietly.

  “At my house. Are you okay?”

  I hung up. “Take me to Fraser’s house,” I said to Greg.

  My phone rang but I couldn’t answer it. I didn’t want to talk about it.

  My phone went quiet and moments later Greg’s started ringing. He answered through the Bluetooth connectivity.

  “Is Emily with you?” Fraser’s voice sounded.

  Greg looked at me and when he realised I was not going to answer he answered for me. “Yes she is, we’re on speaker, she can hear you.”

  “Em, what’s wrong?” Fraser asked.

  I shook my head.

  “Fraser,” Greg started. “Emily has requested I bring her to your house.”

  “Is she okay?”

  “She appears unharmed but she is upset.”

  “Em, are you okay?” Fraser asked.

  I shook my head.

  “She’s shaking her head,” Greg said.

  “She’s so stubborn. How far away are you?”

  “We’ve just left her mothers. We’ll be at your place in fifteen minutes.”

  “Okay, I’ll see you soon.”

  We drove in silence, I continued to shake but I refused to cry.

  Fraser came to the front door of his house as soon as he saw the car pull up. I didn’t thank Greg; instead I got out of the car and walked straight past Fraser and into his house, continuing upstairs and, undressing to my underwear, I slipped into his bed. It was only minutes later that he was at my side, lying next to me on top of the blankets.

  “I called your mum,” he said.

  I didn’t react. I didn’t nod or cry or anything. I lay perfectly still and let Fraser’s presence calm me.

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  Again I didn’t respond.

  “That’s okay for now, but we need to talk about this.” He kissed my head.

  I would never talk about it, because that would make it real. And I didn’t want it to be real. I never wanted it to be real. I’d never accept that my father had been replaced.

  Chapter Eleven

  When I woke up the following morning, it was still dark. I knew we had to be at the shelter at 6.30 A.M., so I got up and made my way to the bathroom.

  I’d only stayed at Fraser’s townhouse a few nights but I’d moved enough clothes in to make it a second home, or third. At that stage I wasn’t too sure where home was anymore. And in a strange way that added to my uneasiness.

  I was brushing my teeth when Fraser knocked at the bathroom door. I spat and called out for him to come in. I rinsed my mouth as he stood behind me.

  “How are you feeling this morning?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know.” I didn’t feel anything, I wasn’t angry or sad or happy. I was numb.

  “Can we talk about last night?”

  I shook my head. “Not yet.”

  “You can’t avoid your mother for the rest of your life.”

  “I know, but I can’t talk about it now.” I went to him and pressed myself against him, wrapping my arms around his back, under his arms. “I’ll talk, I promise, but not now.”

  He held me to him, running his hands up and down my back. “Merry Christmas,” he said, sort of like a question.

  I looked up at him and smiled. “Merry Christmas to you too.”

  Fraser and I were the last of the Lewis’ to arrive at the shelter. After greeting them with hugs and kisses I was put to work in the dining room, clearing and wiping tables. I considered myself lucky; Fraser was in the kitchen washing dishes.

  The shelter was huge. It had a dining room which seated 300 at a time, a large ‘bunk’ room, with 200 camping beds and a large area for showers. Because it was Christmas, everyone who came in was given a clean set of clothes before they dined.

  I couldn’t help but smile with how excited our guests were to be clean and fed. They smiled and laughed as they looked down at their clean hands and clothes, running their hands through their combed hair. It made me feel good and bad at the same time.

  T
he guests were not permitted to touch the volunteers. Security had zero tolerance for that behaviour.

  “You never know who’s going to show up there,” Fraser had said while we got ready. He had made sure I wore clothing that would show that I was there to work, covered from head to toe, barely any skin showing. I was also not to wear any jewellery, even small stud earrings. I had to tie my hair back into a rough bun.

  But that didn’t stop them. I got grabbed at twice during the morning by men, one pulled me down to sit on his lap and hugged me and the other one picked me up and pretended to be kidnapping me. Three other girls were also grabbed at. The offenders were all removed from

  the centre.

  After the second incident, Fraser, Chris and Oliver took turns in the dining room, neither ever more than arms reach from me. It was hard work; I’d been on my feet for seven straight hours.

  I went to a table to clear bowls and spoons - the lunch meal was a beef and vegetable casserole. I was wiping down the table when a lady spoke behind me.

  “Can we sit here?”

  I turned around and was met with a blonde woman, with two small children.

  “Yes, of course you can,” I said quietly.

  “Come on kids,” she ushered her children into the vacant seats.

  I smiled and started to walk away.

  “Excuse me,” she called.

  I turned around again. “Yes.”

  “Do you know…how do you…what do you have to do to get into the centre to sleep…at night?” she asked.

  “Umm…I’m not sure. I can find out for you.”

  “Thank you, I’d appreciate that.”

  I sought out Mrs. Lewis. She was mopping floors in the showers.

  She informed me that it was a first in first served basis. They could start queuing from 5:30 in the afternoon.

  When I relayed the information back to the mother, she looked down at her children. “We’ve slept forty seven nights on the streets, haven’t we kids.” The two little children nodded their heads. “It’s been quite an adventure,” she continued to cool the bowl of casserole in front of her. “Thank goodness the nights have been pleasant. I hate to think what it’s going to be like during winter.”

  I blinked back tears and tried to smile. I looked down at the little girl, the same blonde hair as her mother. She was thin, her eyes large in her head. She looked up at me; all I could see was fear.

  Tears spilled down my cheeks. “I’m sorry,” I said as I left the table quickly, turning and walking right into Chris’ chest.

  “Sorry,” I said looking up at him.

  “Come on.” He put his arm around my shoulder. “You need to take a break.”

  Chris took me out to the small sitting area at the back of the shelter. We sat down on a wooden bench and I wiped the tears from my eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  “It’s okay,” Chris said, his arm still around me. “Life sucks for some people.”

  “How do they end up like this?”

  “Bad decisions for most of them. Others just get dealt a raw deal.”

  “But, those kids…what could they have done to deserve…”

  “Like I said, life sucks for some people. Not everyone can be rich. We need people in all demographics. If we were all rich, we wouldn’t have anyone to work for us and we’d have no charities to give our money to to lower our taxable income. Rich people need poor people.” I knew he was trying to make light of the situation, but his explanation had an element of truth to it.

  “Maybe we could all live comfortably, no rich and no poor, all equal. In an ideal world, anyway.”

  “Emily?” Fraser appeared at the back door. His face relaxed when he saw Chris was with me. He came and sat on the other side of me, replacing his brother’s arm with his own as he pulled me in close to him. “Are you okay?”

  “I needed to take a break,” I said resting against him.

  “I’m going back inside,” Chris said, standing up.

  “Thank you Chris.” I smiled at him.

  Fraser and Chris bumped fists in parting.

  Fraser and I sat out in the late afternoon sun, while I calmed myself. A few minutes later Charlotte came out to join us.

  “Don’t worry,” she said patting my leg. “I cried my first time too, remember that Fraser?”

  “I do remember.”

  “Cried for hours because some woman kept telling me I looked like her daughter and her daughter wouldn’t talk to her and her daughter had kicked her out of her home and her daughter had taken all her money and it was her daughters fault she was on the streets. She kept telling me over and over while I cleared tables through teary eyes. In the end, Bev put me on bed making, there are no people allowed in the bunk room until six. Hey, we should swap, we can make up beds together. I’ll go see if anyone wants to cover us.” She jumped up and went back into the shelter.

  “She’s great,” I said.

  “Yeah she is,” Fraser said, kissing my head. “You’re pretty great too.”

  I breathed in deeply resting against Fraser for his strength.

  Charlotte came bouncing out the door. “Success, two kids would rather clean tables than make beds. Come on.” She reached out for my hand.

  “You’re okay?” Fraser asked before he let go of me.

  “Yeah I’m okay.” I quickly kissed him and went with Charlotte into the bunk room.

  There were still fifty beds to strip and make up again. Two other volunteers worked the left side so Charlotte and I took the right. Making beds was tough on my knees and back, crawling around and leaning over to make up the low beds. But we were making good progress. We had ten beds to go when our cart was empty of bed sheets and our linen bag full of used sheets to be sent to the cleaners.

  I grabbed the large yellow bag and dragged it into the storage room, while Charlotte pushed the cart behind me. I pushed the linen door open and went inside, intending to hold the door open for Charlotte. But once I was in the room, I felt a firm shove, the door banged closed and I was grabbed and pushed onto the floor, face down. I screamed at the same time I heard Charlotte scream and then my lungs suddenly emptied as I felt someone pushing on my back. Hands searched my body, grabbing at my hands and wrists.

  “Nothing, she’s got nothing,” a panicked voice said.

  “Take her shoes,” a deep voice said.

  I kicked my legs as someone pulled my shoes.

  I felt a hand run around my neck before they grabbed my hair and pulled it back. “Check her ankles.”

  Then there was a loud bang at them door. “Who has the keys?” I heard a voice yell.

  The man with the deep voice laughed. He dangled a set of keys in front of me. “I think they’re looking for these.”

  He hit my head onto the floor, I saw black for a while before I realised the weight had gone from my back. I rolled over in time to see a pair of legs disappear through the vent in the roof.

  “Emily!” Fraser’s voice called from the other side of the door.

  I slowly got onto my feet and took a few shaky steps to the door. I unlocked it and turned the handle. I didn’t pull the door, it was pushed open, almost knocking me over again.

  “Em,” Fraser took my in his arms. “Are you okay?” He pulled me away and looked down at me, gently touching the side of my head where I’d hit the floor. “Emily, are you okay?”

  “They took my shoes,” I said quietly.

  “They’re in the vents,” someone yelled from outside the room.

  “They took my running shoes,” I said again.

  “It’s okay, we can get another pair of shoes,” Fraser said.

  Then everything went black.

  Through a foggy daze I heard a lot of talk.

  “She doesn’t look hurt other than her eye…”

  “…a car around back?”

  “There’s media everywhere…”

  “We need to get her home.”

  “…Mitchell take her…”<
br />
  I tried to open my eyes. “No, don’t leave me,” I moaned, grabbing onto an arm.

  “Emily, can you wake up?”

  I opened my eyes to a blur of faces above me. I blinked a few times before Fraser came into focus. Mr. Lewis was there as was Charlotte, who was crying, and a police officer.

  “They took my shoes,” I said again, slowly sitting up. I was on one of the cot beds.

  Fraser smiled. “We’ll get you new shoes, Piglet. Are you okay?” He brushed my hair away from my face.

  “I have a headache.”

  “We should get her to the hospital, just to be sure,” Mr. Lewis said.

  Fraser looked at me. “Em, there are two exits from this place and they’re both swarming with media. Once you’re ready, do you think you can walk with me and Mitchell to the car.”

  I slowly nodded.

  “You’ll have to put on a happy face,” he said.

  I nodded again.

  “What about her eye?” Charlotte asked. “She can’t hide that.” Charlotte reached out and let my hair down carefully, pulling it forward to cover the side of my face, next to my eye. “That’ll do,” she smiled.

  After a cup of tea and a biscuit, I gave my statement to the police officer. I wasn’t much help, I couldn’t give a physical description. I could only tell him about the deep voice.

  His eyes widened as he wrote it down. “It seems these two have had quite a day. We’ve had two reports of similar crimes at smaller shelters in the city.”

  Fraser tensed. “Why weren’t we notified? We could’ve arranged for more security.”

  The cop held up his hand. “The second assault wasn’t reported straight away. The victim, a young girl, she was…sexually assaulted. She didn’t report it straight away. We heard about it minutes before this attack was reported.”

  I looked up at Fraser. He was angry.

  The police officer looked at me. “I’ll leave you my card in case you remember anything else.” He stood up and left.

  It was time to put on my happy face. With Fraser at one side and Mitchell at the other, I took a few deeps breaths, ready to face the circus which was the media. I smiled an empty smile and focused on walking, one foot in front of the other.

  I heard a lot of noise, people calling out to Fraser and I. Fraser waved and smiled, said how humbled he was to be able to serve the less fortunate but kept walking toward the waiting car.