Between the Cracks She Fell

by Lisa de Nikolits

  I finished my sandwich and washed down my sleeping pill.

  Thank you Ash. Let’s hope we both get some sleep.

  I was out for the count before I knew it.

  44. THE WAYS OF ASCENT

  I WOKE THE NEXT MORNING bludgeoned by thoughts of Shayne and Emma. Kitty. My poor destroyed feet.

  I eased myself upright and examined my feet. The blisters looked slightly better, but the toes that had taken a beating were bloodied, purple and swollen, like large angry grapes at the end of my foot.

  I limped up the stairs and found Ash making coffee.

  I need more of your pain meds, I said.

  Have you thought about dinner? He asked me without so much as a good morning. Will you bury the hatchet and let me make my superb salmon?

  I can think of a few places I could bury the hatchet, I said.

  He grimaced. Seriously. You can learn about your father.

  True but why do we have to have Em?

  Because she was more upset by having hurt you than I thought possible. She really does care, Joss. She’s a tough nut that one. But look at it from her point of view: she’s facing the toughest challenge there is, which is to stand up for herself. And she needs you, her friend, to be there for her.

  You’re confusing her with you, I said, spooning sugar into my coffee. But fine, if you’re so insistent, then dinner is a go.

  Good.

  I watched Ash text Shayne and Em, and when he finished he handed me back the phone.

  I charged it for you, he said. Here.

  I’d like to go back to my room for the day, I said. Can you drive me?

  Ash looked surprised. I thought you’d want to just rest here.

  I need my room. My stuff and my space. You’ve been wonderful, Ash, you really have. But I need to be in my home, which stupidly, right now, is that room.

  Do you want some breakfast first? He opened up a cupboard but I shook my head.

  I just want to be under my oak tree and by myself, thinking. You don’t mind do you?

  Of course I don’t mind. I’ll drop you off and go grocery shopping and spend the day cooking. I can think of nothing nicer. I think we’ll have salmon based on the menu at my favourite restaurant. Salmon with Asian pear compote, buckwheat spaetzle and zucchini, and stinging nettle purée.

  Stinging nettle purée? How about fish and chips?

  Don’t ruin my pleasure, Ash said. We can start with freshly shucked oysters…

  I cut him off. Ash, please no, please. I can’t. That’s like eating a plateful of sneeze.

  He grinned. Fine, would a simple romaine salad with croûtons and proscuitto be better?

  Infinitely.

  And for dessert, crème brûlée?

  Just ice cream is fine.

  Don’t be so boring. Leave it to me. Come on, we’ll take you back to your dangerous home. But first I am getting you some clean socks to protect your poor feet. Ash shook his head and trotted up the stairs, returning with meds and Band-Aids.

  Sit down, he said. Let me fix you up.

  I let him tend to my feet and while he did, I looked around, thinking about Rob. Such a lovely home founded on so much thievery.

  I sighed, not realizing it had been audible.

  Poor dear, Ash said. I know it’s terribly painful.

  But I wasn’t sighing about my feet.

  He finished bandaging my feet and I managed to get my sandals on over the socks, very loosely fastened.

  Ash drove me as close to the admin building as he could, and I waved goodbye and slowly limped across the grass.

  It was the end of August and the schoolgrounds were filled with the happy sounds of birds attending to their day jobs as squirrels rushed around, and I wondered how they found the energy in the nearly forty degree, tropically humid heat.

  I felt worn out after my hike across the grass and I sat down under the oak tree to catch my breath before going into the admin building. It was soothing in the shade and I was not lonely. A beautiful Monarch butterfly kept me company, dancing and fluttering around me.

  My head was aching though, and my eyeballs felt as if they had been soaked in salty bleach. I hugged my knees to my chest and rested my head on my folded arms, seeking relief behind the darkness of my closed eyelids.

  I had insisted that Ash bring me here, to my home, but now that he was gone, I was filled with a strange melancholy.

  It was like breaking up with someone who was still standing there in front of you. You didn’t feel too bad, and you thought it might still all be okay because look, they were still there. But then once they had walked away, and you were alone, that was when the real breakup began. That was how I felt now, like the whole world had broken up with me.

  I’ll be okay, I told the muffled darkness of my folded arms, and I tried to believe it.

  How much longer could I stay at the school anyway? If the weather turned quickly, which would not be unusual, my time would be cut short.

  And what if Shayne told me a truth about my father I could not bear to hear?

  And what if my friendship with Emma was over forever? I had finally found a girlfriend I liked, and it turned out she was a selfish, nasty bitch. I did not see a way to carry on our friendship no matter what Ash said.

  And what if I told Ash the truth about Rob, and he never spoke to me again?

  None of the scenarios held any kind of hope.

  I stayed like that for a while, head down, ruminating. I was not sure what made me look up because when I did, nothing was happening. It was the same scene as before, only the butterfly had vanished.

  But then, to my horrified disbelief, the door of the admin building slowly pushed open — pushed open from the inside. It was Lenny. Lenny was coming to get me, and I was in no shape to run, but run I would, if I had to. I would run over broken glass with these damaged feet if I needed to, and I sat up straight, poised on high alert, with my heart thudding like an uneven washload about to bring the cycle — me — to a shuddering halt.

  I pushed myself back into the tree so hard, the bark bit into my back.

  And it was thus, bark-bitten, wide-eyed and terrified, and with a pounding heart, that I came to meet Imran. It was not Lenny coming out of the building. It was Imran.

  I recognized him immediately.

  He was shorter than I had imagined. And more beaky-looking than his pictures suggested, with a hooked nose and small dark eyes. But he was clean-shaven and well-groomed, with designer sunglasses in one hand and a Blue Jays baseball cap in the other.

  He closed the door behind him. Politely, I thought. He looked around, as if reminiscing, and then he looked directly at me. He jerked back, startled.

  Hi! I waved at him, striving to sound casual while my heart was so high in my throat I could hardly speak. Lovely day, isn’t it?

  He seemed poised to run away as fast as he could, and I didn’t want that.

  I love it here, I said, conversationally. My family drives me nuts, so I come here to be alone for a bit. What’s inside the building? I’m too afraid to go in.

  My stream of chatter seemed to work. He relaxed slightly.

  There is nothing in there but trash, he said and he walked towards me, stopping a couple of feet away.

  Kids come and destroy the place, I said. I’ve seen them. Vandals.

  They have no code to live by, he replied.

  True. I don’t think their families give them the love and support they need, so they run wild. I had desperately been trying to find a way to get him to talk to me and the mention of family seemed to do the trick.

  Family. Imran spat on the ground. Only Allah is family.

  He was very forthright. Everybody’s so goddamn angry, I thought. First Lenny and now Imran.

  I wondered what I could say next to keep him talking.
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  Allah, I repeated. I’m not so into religion, I said. I was concerned that I would anger him, but I wanted to get some reaction from him.

  He snorted, mocking me. Not into. How very American, how very stupid. Even if you’re not into religion, it’s into you. It’s everywhere. It’s the basis of life, like blood in our veins, and we must fight to protect it from impurities.

  I thought about the contents of his binder.

  To be human is to be impure, I said.

  Maybe. But Allah, Praise Be, can save us from our impurities, but we must fight. We have to fight.

  Fight by killing innocent people? Wars kill the innocent.

  They are not innocent. They are filth. And we are Allah’s cleansing fire. We come in his might, Praise Be. All we want is to bring religious law back to our countries and for this, we have to suffer at the hands of your armies.

  Why are you so angry with the world? I asked, and without warning, he sat down on the ground next to me. The bark of the tree bit deeper into my back, and I thought about my poor feet. I was not ideally situated, that was for sure.

  Why am I angry? Because the infidels will not see. Do any of you think it’s easy for me? I want girls too, I want wine, but I can’t weaken. I am a soldier for Allah, but it’s not easy, and I am angry with the world because it won’t see.

  I wanted to tell him that this age-old idea of our world being the worst ever has been around since the Romans were cavorting and having orgies and hanging out with Bacchus. I wanted to tell him that every generation has thought they had the copyright to it being the worst of times, and I wanted to tell him that was exactly what made life worth the wild and crazy ride.

  Things are ending. This civilization; things are closing in on it. It has been quite a culture, brilliant and foul, cannibal and Christian, the glory of the world. We should celebrate it while we can; until night falls.

  But quoting from The Satanic Verses to a would-be suicide bomber probably was not the most sensible of ideas.

  Muhammed had many wives, so why can’t you have a girlfriend?

  I told you why. I am a soldier.

  So you keep saying. I rubbed my eyes. Your reward will be in heaven. But never mind heaven. Do you live here, in Ontario?

  No, I live in BC. I am here to say farewell to the place where it all began. The place where my destiny was first revealed to me. This school. I used to attend school here and it was magnificent back then. My dormitory was in there, he pointed to the admin building. I loved it here.

  Why farewell?

  Because I have been called. I will fight for Allah in a blaze of glory and destroy many infidels in his name.

  He fell silent, clearly alarmed at having said too much.

  Aren’t you afraid of dying? I asked. I would be afraid.

  I am not afraid. Many rewards await. My life will be much better than it is now. I will be a hero here on earth and in heaven.

  Can I ask you something? I asked. I don’t understand why Islam says that God, sorry, I mean Allah, wants you to kill those who don’t share your beliefs? Why can’t we all just live together here on earth, respecting each other’s beliefs?

  You are right, you do not understand. For you, God is a buddy, someone you can whine to about your earthly problems. God, I need a job. God, I need a boyfriend, or whatever. You treat him like He belongs to you, like He’s a magician there to perform magic tricks for you. For us, it is different. We respect God. We respect Allah in a way you will never be able to understand. You are right about that. For you, it’s all about you — you, you, you —and what you want – even when it comes to God.

  But you are called slaves to Allah. What kind of God would want slaves?

  Again you misunderstand entirely. I, of my free will, surrender my will to that of Allah’s. There is nothing of me left, only Him. My I becomes His I and therefore I become He, which is a mystical and religious experience you will never be able to understand since you insist on separating yourself from God and putting yourself and your desires first.

  But God is a God of love. Not a God of war. So if you are truly aligned to Him as you say, then why the jihad?

  Love. That was the message brought by the Prophet Jesus. But Muhammad, Peace Be Upon Him, taught us the true meaning of Allah’s majesty. We surrender to God. We surrender to His majesty. It’s pointless. You will never understand.

  But I really do want to understand, I do. Even if God is majesty not love, even if He isn’t our genie in a bottle, why jihad? Why war?

  If you are really interested, then read the works of Sayyid Abul A’la Maududi. We are here to bring about the rule of God on earth in a single Muslim state. The sovereignty of God is superior to rule by man. We should live by Sharia lslamic law, which is a complete scheme of life and an all-embracing social order where nothing is superfluous and nothing is lacking. Read Maududi, you will see.

  It was like talking to a walking pamphlet. I gave up and focused on the specifics.

  You’re going to burn down the school? I gestured around us, and he snorted again.

  That would be stupid. It’s all ruined already and for what? The infidels ruin even the sacred ground of learning. My work for Allah will be much more profound.

  But you’re all alone. How much can you hope to achieve, all alone?

  I am not alone! I am with Allah, and there are many other soldiers like me. You have no idea.

  He stood up and looked down at me. I was wrong to come here, he said. There is nothing to say farewell to. I don’t know why I came.

  Don’t do it. I was desperate to try to stop him. Things aren’t the way you think they are. Life is good, here on earth. You deserve to live a happy, fulfilled, loving life with friends and family, doing things you enjoy, that bring you happiness.

  Listen to you! You are the one who has been brainwashed and yet you think it’s me. You feel sorry for me, you even fear me. You think I am confused, that I have lost my way. I know what you think, but you are the one who is lost, not me. My path is well-lit and protected. And my life has meaning as will my death.

  The CNE? You’re going to plant a bomb at The Ex?

  A good idea, but no. It’s too late for that anyway. You’ll see. Corn dogs and infidels will fly through the air like confetti on one of your wedding days.

  Is this the only way? I asked.

  It is the only way, he replied. He brushed off his trousers and looked at his old home.

  He put on his baseball cap. Let’s go Blue Jays, he said in a singsong manner, and then he vanished into the trees behind me, as if he had never existed.

  I had to warn Serena. But as I picked up the phone, I had a sudden horrible thought. What if I had imagined meeting Imran? What if I was losing my mind? What if I wasn’t as strong as I thought I was? I had been having strange dizzy episodes where the whole world seemed like a mirage — what if I had imagined the whole conversation? I mean what were the odds of him being there? Slender to none. And nothing was as I had thought it would be. Everything was coming loose at the seams. I had taken more heavy-duty painkillers, I hadn’t eaten breakfast, and I had too many things on my mind.

  I swung between doubt and indecision, holding the phone till I finally dialed Serena’s number.

  I am pretty sure I just met Imran, I said when she answered, and I’m equally sure that he and his buddies are going to try to blow up something big soon. You may want to keep an eye on the baseball stadium.

  Where did you see him?

  I was coming back from that convenience store near the gas station, I lied. And he was on that bridge, the one you cross when you come into town. I recognized him and got him to chat to me a bit.

  I thought the bridge was close enough to be helpful to her but not enough information to give her my whereabouts. But I suddenly wondered if Ashley’s phone had GPS on it, so I wanted to end the c
onversation as quickly as I could.

  He’s not very tall, early twenties, clean-shaven, nice-looking kid with a very big nose. And he’s wearing a shiny, brand spanking new Blue Jays baseball cap.

  I’m telling you again, Serena said. You’d make a good cop. Thanks for the intel. I’m all over this.

  I hung up, wondering if she knew I was lying to her about where I had seen Imran. And, mirage or not, I was glad I had called her. I got to my feet and hobbled over to the admin building and let myself into my room.

  I locked myself inside and lay down on the bed, happy to be in the cool darkness. Happy to be alone.

  45. THE FIRE-DWELLERS

  WHEN ASHLEY CAME FOR ME LATER that evening, he was not alone. Look who’s here, he said and he didn’t mean Emma who was eyeing me warily; he meant Sammy who wagged his tail and looked at me with his big loving eyes.

  Sammy! I climbed into the back of the Mini with him and buried my face in his fur, loving his warm doggy smell. How are you big boy? Are you okay?

  He’s going to be fine, Emma said. I ignored her.

  Good boy, good boy, I said, and he rested his head on my lap.

  Sammy had been shaved along his spinal cord and he had a bandage wrapped around his tummy.

  There, boy, I said. Good boy. He licked my hand.

  We got back to Ashley’s and we carried him into the backyard. Ashley brought him a blanket and a bowl of water and some sliced sausage that Sam wolfed down.

  And then it was time to go inside and look my former friend in the eye, but it was hard for me to do, and she knew it.

  Joss, she said, her arms tightly crossed. I am very sorry. You’ve got no idea.

  Yeah, so the abusive, drug-addled, cokehead husband and his multiple lovers, all that poverty and dirt and grime, and the foster homes — all that was lies?

  What would you have said if I’d told you I left a perfect family, a drop-dead gorgeous husband, two adorable kids, a beautiful home and a life most women want more than anything? What would you have said then?

  I was silent.

  You see. You would have walked away from me just like that. But it was as necessary for Tammy to leave that as it was for Emma to leave all the abuse. You can understand that, right? But you can’t understand anybody needing to leave the so-called nirvana of suburban motherhood.