All the Things We Never Said, page 24
Please be OK, please, please, please . . .
I want to move closer to Mum or Olivia. I have a sudden need to be with people, a desire I’ve never had before to be touched, held. I’m suddenly missing Dad so fucking much.
I can’t help but think that something like this must have happened after the crash. The paramedics pumping his chest, trying to get his heart to start again. I imagine Mehreen as Dad and start crying.
Suddenly Mum’s next to me, her hand on my arm. I let out a sob, and the next second, she’s got her arms around me, her head on my shoulder and squeezing so hard that I completely crumble. She doesn’t stay like that for long though, even though I want it to last forever. She pulls away and looks at me – I can see how red and watery her eyes are. She barely knows Mehreen and yet she’s crying this much.
‘She’s going to be OK,’ Mum says, although her voice cracks and I know she doesn’t fully believe it. ‘I’m gonna go check on her, OK?’
She waits until I nod to step back onto the sand. They’ve got Mehreen onto a stretcher now, an oxygen mask over her mouth – that’s a good sign, right? They’d still be pumping her chest if she didn’t have a pulse – that’s how it goes in Grey’s Anatomy anyway. Olivia’s wrapped in a silver blanket, and she’s walking behind the stretcher as they bring it up towards the ambulance. I finally see Mehreen’s face; it’s mostly covered by the huge mask but I’m relieved to see that the rest of her still looks like her. A gross pale grey version of her, but still her. Paramedic Guy and Girl put the brakes on the stretcher by the ambulance doors.
‘We’re taking her to Bridgeport General. You can follow in the car, right?’ Paramedic Guy looks at Mum, and she nods.
‘Can I come in the ambulance?’ Olivia asks.
They nod and start pressing the clip things on the stretcher to move it up. ‘Wait!’ I shout.
Everyone stares as I go right up to Mehreen. I look close into her face, wishing her eyes would open or at least flicker. I turn to Mum. ‘Mum, can I have your scarf?’
She looks confused but doesn’t question it. She takes off the thin scarf wrapped around her neck and hands it over. I wrap it around Mehreen’s hair and head as best as I can, considering she’s soaking wet and her hair’s fanned out everywhere, hanging off the stretcher and everything. I move away when I’m done and Paramedic Girl gives me a little smile before loading Mehreen up into the back of the ambulance.
‘We’ll look after her, I promise,’ she says to me before going to the front of the ambulance and getting in.
‘That’s your fucking job,’ I mutter after she’s safely inside.
‘C’mon, sweetheart, let’s go,’ Mum says.
I want to ask her if she thinks Mehreen is going to be OK, if the fact that she’s in the ambulance now, with a mask on, means that she’s going to live. But I can’t help thinking that maybe we were too late. If I had believed her message when I first read it, if I hadn’t stupidly thought it was a joke, we would have been here sooner, maybe even before she went into the water.
If she dies, it’s going to be all my fault.
68. CARA
‘Hospital gowns suit you,’ I say to Olivia as I hand her the hot chocolate I just got from the vending machine.
We’ve been sitting in this waiting room for ages; the paramedics gave Olivia a dry set of clothes (à la hospital gown) and she’s got a proper blanket wrapped around her now. Mum’s sitting a few seats away from us, on her phone. She got Mehreen’s parents’ number from the hospital and asked if she could call them personally, to soften the blow or something. Olivia and I haven’t spoken much since we got here. She doesn’t even say thanks when I give her the cup. You know shit’s bad when Olivia forgets her manners.
I sit in front of her, sipping my own hot chocolate. ‘I didn’t think hospital food could get any worse than what they gave me when I was here, but apparently I was wrong. This tastes like toilet water.’
Olivia doesn’t respond. Her head’s down, her wet hair across her face as she looks into her drink. She’s probably still pissed at me for earlier. I can’t even remember the specifics – just that I said some shitty things to her, not that she didn’t do the same, but I guess that’s not the point.
‘Olivia . . .’ I start, without a clue what to say next.
She slowly raises her head, so that’s something. Her face is so pale she almost looks unreal, or like one of those Halloween masks. Her eyes aren’t red and puffy like Mum’s and mine, just . . . blank is the only way to describe it, I guess.
‘You never told me you were some kind of lifeguard,’ I say.
She laughs a little. ‘I did lifeguard training for my Duke of Edinburgh,’ she says, looking back down into her drink. At the time I never thought I’d actually use those skills – I just wanted some time away from home. Well, and the qualification.’
‘I’ll tell Mum to sign me up.’
Olivia doesn’t reply, or smile or anything.
‘I thought . . . When you weren’t answering your phone today, I thought you’d done something too . . . That’s why we came to get you. I was so scared, Olivia.’
She looks at me, but stays silent.
‘Good thing I did, huh? You saved Mehreen’s life.’
‘We don’t know that yet,’ she whispers.
‘Hey, that’s my line. You’re supposed to be the positive one.’
She laughs again. ‘Goodness knows where you got that from.’
‘Remember that time we went shopping?’ I look to the side to make sure Mum isn’t listening. ‘When we had to buy clothes for our own funerals? You turned something so incredibly morbid into something . . . even I enjoyed.’
She smiles a bit.
‘I thought it was a wind-up,’ I say quietly after a few seconds. ‘Mehreen’s email. I thought . . . I thought it was MementoMori again. I ignored it . . . I don’t know how long for, but I ignored it. If I hadn’t . . . God, Olivia, what if that’s the difference?’
She puts a hand over mine. ‘Don’t,’ she says. ‘Don’t think like that. It’ll haunt you forever, the what-ifs. Right now we just have to focus on Mehreen. Times like this make me wish I believed in God.’
‘I was thinking about that earlier. I can see how believing someone’s looking over all this could make a person feel better. Didn’t Mehreen once say that everything’s destined to be, God has a plan, blah blah blah?’
Olivia laughs. ‘Sounds about right. Does it work if we pray on her behalf?’
I nod. ‘Yeah, that’s a good idea.’ I put my drink down on the seat next to Olivia and she does the same. I clasp my hands in my lap and look down, closing my eyes. ‘God, well . . . Mehreen’s God. Allah, I guess. Mehreen can’t pray to you right now, so we’re doing it on her behalf. That’s cool, right? Anyway, can you just . . . make her better, please? I know that she might believe it’s her time to die or whatever, but I’m telling you it isn’t. She’s barely lived. She’s . . . she’s changed my life . . . our lives. And just basically the world would be shit without her. So, uh, please do your voodoo and save her, yeah? Cheers.’
Olivia laughs and I look up to find that she had closed her eyes and bowed her head to pray too. ‘God does voodoo?’ she asks.
‘Magic, miracles, voodoo, all the same shit. End result is always the same, right?’
‘Let’s hope so.’
We drop back into weird silence again and I start to feel the way Mehreen said she does, the need to fill it. It’s also the perfect time to say what’s on my mind.
‘Olivia, look,’ I say, ‘I’m . . . I’m sorry, for . . . everything. I said some really shitty –’
‘Cara, no.’ She wraps her fingers around mine. ‘It should be me apologising. I accused you . . . I accused you of such horrible things.’ She takes a deep breath. ‘I don’t think I ever really believed you would do something like that. I was upset and angry and you were right there, so it was easier just to . . . to blame you.’
‘I get it,’ I reply. ‘I guess it seemed more likely that it was me, someone you know, rather than some sick fucking website. I don’t even get how they’re doing all this. It’s really scary though. It’s like they enjoy freaking us out.’
‘Like you said, this is a website run by someone who’s trying to get other people to kill themselves. The sadism is inherent, I think.’
‘It’ll stop today though, right?’ I ask desperately. ‘It’s finished now. Done. Mehreen . . . they got her to . . . to try, pushed her to the edge. They fucking made your life misery with that photo.’
Olivia cringes slightly.
‘Did you . . . did you manage to get it off your profile?’ She shakes her head. ‘It doesn’t matter. It’s too late now anyway. He saw it.’
‘What?’ My heart jumps.
‘He told Mother . . . that I sent it to him.’
‘What? That fucking prick! He’s back? What happened? What did your mum say?’
She sniffs a little. ‘He came back earlier today. That’s why I was snippy on the phone with you earlier. He was . . . trying to get back with Mother. Well, he was successful. It was . . . It turned ugly. And now . . . everything’s out in the open.’
‘Wait – what do you mean everything?’ My heart’s thumping again. I want to grab and shake her until the full story tips out.
‘Mother . . . found out. And then . . . I told her everything. Well, I had started to, before . . . before your mother came banging on the door.’
‘Shit. Oh my God, what happened? Did she beat that prick up? Did she yell? Scream? Throw her shoe at him?’
Olivia shrugs. ‘We had to leave before I had the chance to properly explain . . . She’s probably over there right now, listening to his . . . lies. He’s just going to twist everything and blame me again and . . . and . . . she’ll believe him.’
She starts gasp-crying and I lunge forward and pull her into a hug. ‘Hey, hey, it’s OK,’ I whisper in her ear. ‘It’s going to be OK, right? Everything’s better out in the open.’
She nods against my shoulder, then sits upright. ‘Yes, that’s true. I suppose whatever happens now . . . even if Mother doesn’t believe me, at least he . . . he hasn’t got that hold on me any more.’
I take her hand. ‘There’s no way she won’t believe you. She’s your mum. Mums are supposed to support their kids, no questions asked. By the time we get back, she’ll have kicked him out and it’ll all be over.’
‘I don’t know,’ she replies slowly. ‘She gets silly around him . . . as if he’s got some spell on her. She was like this with Daddy too, just so desperate to please him, keep him on side, even after he cheated on her. I genuinely don’t know what’s going to happen, how she’ll react. Of course I’m hoping she’ll be rational, but honestly, who knows? It’s not like I have any solid proof. She could be over there agreeing to marry him, for all I know.’
I look up over Olivia’s shoulder, where a woman has just approached the nurse’s desk. I’ve been on high alert, waiting for Mehreen’s family to burst in like they do on soaps, but the woman at the counter is white and looks nothing like Mehreen. She does look oddly familiar though. She looks up from her phone and then around the waiting room.
‘Um, I’m pretty sure your mum isn’t falling for his lies right now,’ I tell Olivia.
‘You don’t know her. She’s –’
‘She’s right behind you.’
Olivia turns around and gasps as she makes eye contact with her mother.
69. OLIVIA
‘Mother, what are you doing here?’
She walks over from the desk to the waiting room,
her eyes
LOCKED
on mine.
Her face is stoic
impassive
unreadable
as always.
Castletons don’t show emotions openly.
Even when they learn their daughter is being abused.
My heart
THUMP-thump-THUMPS
as she approaches.
‘How did you know I was here?’
She holds her phone up.
‘I downloaded an app to track your phone.’
She’s mere steps away.
‘You’ve been stalking me?’
She looks sheepish.
‘After the incident last August, I thought it best to
keep an eye on you,
just in case.’
The incident.
She calls my first suicide attempt,
the only one she knows about,
an incident.
‘I wanted to talk to you about it but . . .’
but
but
but
‘I was of the opinion that discussing it would
ENCOURAGE
you to try again.’
‘I did try again.’
The words slip out of my mouth
and I want to reach up and catch them,
but Mother gasps
and I know that this conversation
is one we should’ve had months ago.
As if she too knows this, Mother says, ‘We need to talk.’
Talk about
all the
things we never said.
I give Cara one last glance as Mother and I walk to the far end of the room.
Mother and I sit
sidebyside
on uncomfortable plastic chairs
in one corner of the waiting room.
My heart is still
THUMP-thump-THUMPING
and my mouth is suddenly so
very dry.
‘Olivia, what you told me . . . back at home . . .’
She can’t say it,
can’t even look me in the eye.
He’s convinced her I was lying,
that I MADE the whole thing up
for attention.
She’s about to tell me that I have to
apologise
for ‘THROWING MYSELF’ at him.
NO.
I won’t let him win.
This needs to END now.
I summon my courage
and b l u r t it all out.
I tell her how it all started
when he drunkenly kissed me.
How he FORCED himself on me
while she rushed to the office to submit a building design.
How he started to become more daring
as it went on,
GRABBING
GROPING
ABUSING
me even while she was in the house.
I tell her how I was terrified of telling her,
of saying it out loud,
admitting it was happening.
How I cry myself to sleep almost every night,
and even then can barely sleep.
I tell her how I felt like it would be easier
to sit in the car and let the fumes
takemeaway.
(I don’t tell her about MementoMori – I don’t want to incriminate the others.)
I talk and I talk and I talk,
forcing myself NOT to watch her face as my words come out,
just in case they don’t sink in,
in case he’s already hardened her.
Of course she’s going to take his word over mine.
Why would she not?
‘He makes me happier than I’ve ever been before,’
she used to tell me.
She wouldn’t give that up.
She wouldn’t let the neighbours,
her friends,
find out that she’s been dating
and is in love with
someone like him.
When the words finally exhaust themselves,
I let out a last, slow breath
and stare down into my lap, letting the tears f
a
l
l
And don’t look up.
Don’t look up.
DON’T LOOK UP.
Seconds pass, minutes even.
Neither of us moves.
I think suddenly
about Mehreen
and feel bad that I’ve taken my focus off her.
‘Oh, Olivia,’ Mother breathes.
She PULLS my body to her body
conjoining us,
my head pressing against her chest.
Her arms
squeezing
too tight
MUCH TOO TIGHT.
I’m there,
beneath him,
his mouth on my body,
his hand moving south.
Mother lets go
and I BREATHE
A GASP
and I see that she’s . . . crying.
Her eyes wide and red and so very sad.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she sobs.
‘I’m sorry I brought that . . . that monster into our home,
into our lives.
I’m sorry . . . I didn’t see this happening, that I left you alone with him.’
She . . .
She . . .
She believes me . . .
She’s on my side.
We hug again,
but this time I draw her to me,
PUSHING away the thoughts of him and replacing them with the LOVE
surging out of my mother.
She whispers, ‘I’m sorry,’ into my hair over and over.
I want to tell her
that it’s OK
that I love her
that I can’t believe she chose me.
But all that comes out is
‘Mummy,’
a name I haven’t called her in years.
I end the hug as the images in my head start
overpowering this moment again.
Mother places her hands on either side of my face and wipes
my tears
away
with her thumbs.
‘It’s going to be OK,’ she says. Firm. Determined. RESOLUTE.
Like the Mother I know.
Her resolve helps me PUSH AWAY the torture in my mind,
and bring myself back into the moment.
The moment where
Mother
is on
my side.
‘We’re going to sort this, OK? I’ve already contacted the authorities.
