All the Things We Never Said, page 9
‘This isn’t a sleepover! We’re not seven.’
‘Your friends are over and you’re going to sleep, so it is a sleepover,’ Mum says, laughing and practically nudging Olivia with her elbow. If there was a prize for most embarrassing mother, she would win it, hands bloody down.
‘OK, bye, Mum, see you later, Mum, get the hell out, Mum,’ I say, fake happy, herding her towards the door.
‘I’ll check up on you in a bit,’ she says as she walks out of the room, leaving the door half open, of course.
‘How will we ever cope without you?’ I ask loudly, closing the door behind her.
Olivia bursts into giggles as soon as we’re alone again, and just hearing that sound makes me both want to laugh and cry.
‘You’re kind of mean to your mum,’ Mehreen says, folding up her crisp packet into a little triangle.
‘I’m not mean to her,’ I say. ‘It’s just banter.’
‘Mother would never stand for such backchat,’ Olivia says, carefully unwrapping a Snickers bar.
But she’ll stand for her daughter getting raped under her nose.
‘Mine neither,’ Mehreen agrees. ‘Although I don’t think I’d ever have the confidence to speak to her like that.’
‘I’m not that bad,’ I say. ‘It’s not like I’m calling her a whore or hitting her or anything.’
They both stare at me, wide-eyed. ‘What?’
The laughter starts up again. It’s weird how comfortable we feel around each other, considering we only met four days ago. I like them better than I’ve liked any of my ‘real’ friends, and when I’m with them I don’t feel like ‘the girl in the chair with the dead dad’; I’m just Cara.
I manoeuvre myself onto the sofa and then realise that’s probably the first time I’ve ever transferred out of my chair in front of people other than Mum or the doctors. I look at them both, expecting them to be staring or shocked or something, but they’re flicking through Netflix on my laptop.
There’s a loud chime and Olivia picks her phone off the table. I hear her suck in a breath.
‘What is it?’ I ask.
‘It’s him,’ she says, looking up at us. ‘Telling me to come home right away.’
‘Don’t reply,’ I tell her. ‘You can pretend you didn’t hear your phone or something.’
She nods slightly, still clutching the phone in her hand.
‘What are you going to do?’ Mehreen asks after a few seconds. ‘I know you said you don’t want to tell anyone, but . . . what else is there to do?’
Olivia ducks her head and it seems like she’s not going to say anything. I want to push her a bit, get her to face up to it, to make a decision, but that seems kinda mean, considering.
‘Nothing,’ Olivia replies quietly. ‘That’s what I’m going to do. Nothing.’
‘What?’ I ask. ‘You can’t just do nothing. You can’t let him get away with –’
‘What good is telling anyone going to do?’ Olivia glares at me. ‘They’ll just blame me. Why didn’t you scream? Why didn’t you push him off? Why didn’t you tell him to stop? As if I could have. As if anyone could understand . . .’
I’m really not a touchy-feely person, but I have such an urge to reach out and touch her, to hold her hand or something. She always does that with me and Mehreen when we’re talking about the hard stuff, so I assume she’d like it back.
‘It’s not going to get rid of what’s up here,’ she says, pressing a finger to her head. ‘It’s not going to make me . . . forget, get closure or anything. I have to live with this . . . seeing it all playing out in my head . . . for the rest of my life . . . there’s no . . . nothing’s going to change that.’
I put my hand on her knee and squeeze. She puts her hand over mine and lets out a sad laugh that’s almost like crying. ‘It’s funny – sometimes I feel as if the way he’s affected my head is worse than . . . than actually . . . what he does. Do you understand what I mean?’ She looks at Mehreen and she nods right away.
‘He’s your Chaos,’ she says softly.
Olivia smiles a bit. ‘I told you I understood.’
Mehreen basically launches herself onto Olivia, wrapping her arms around her neck.
‘I’m so sorry, Olivia,’ Mehreen says. ‘I know it’s a stupid thing to say, but I’m so sorry this is happening to you.’
‘It’s OK,’ Olivia sniffs. ‘It doesn’t matter anyway. I guess I don’t have to endure it for much longer. Although, I have to say . . . it helps, knowing you two believe me, and that you would listen if I ever . . . wanted to talk.’
‘Of course. Collaboration and all that shit, yeah?’ I say.
She begins to laugh, but stops when her phone pings again. Before she can even check it, I snatch it out of her hand and launch it across the room, into the laundry basket in the corner.
‘What was that for?’ Olivia shrieks.
‘We’re forgetting about that crap and just having fun tonight. You need a distraction.’
‘So does that mean no one’s allowed a phone? Are you going to throw yours into the dirty washing too?’ She raises her eyebrow at me – a challenge.
I shrug. ‘Sure.’ I slip my phone out of my pocket and chuck it into the basket. Mehreen stares open mouthed, as if I’ve thrown it on the ground and run over it. ‘C’mon, Mehreen, you too. We’re cutting ourselves off.’
‘From what? The hordes of friends we have begging to socialise with us?’ Olivia laughs.
‘Exactly,’ I reply. ‘Shouldn’t be hard then, should it? C’mon, Mehreen.’
She holds her phone to her chest. ‘But . . . I mean, I’ll just keep it here but won’t use it.’
‘Why? What’s so special on there?’ Olivia asks, leaning over to look.
Mehreen pulls it closer. ‘No, nothing bad. I just . . . I’m playing a game I need to keep on top of.’
Olivia and I burst into laughter.
‘What’s that saying?’ I ask Mehreen. ‘One for all and all together?’
She laughs. ‘All for one and one for all.’
‘There you go, you just agreed to it,’ I say. ‘Phone, basket, now.’
She groans, but eventually tosses her phone onto the pile too. ‘Not fair, I’ve been putting time into that game for months. You’ve just ruined my streak.’
‘Your priorities are whack,’ I tell her. ‘Anyway, enough of this crap – can we get a film on already?’ I snatch the laptop off the table and scroll through the menu.
‘Ooh, my fave, let’s stick this on.’ I hand Olivia the laptop and shove some popcorn into my mouth.
They both start giggling. I look over and they’re staring at me.
‘What?’
‘You like Titanic?!’
Oh shit.
‘Um, crap, I think I clicked the wrong film.’
They fall back laughing and I can’t help but join in.
21. MEHREEN
10th April
(8 days until Date of Termination)
The first thing I notice when I wake up is how stiff my neck is. Then I realise how much my back hurts. And my arms. And literally my whole body. I roll over and realise I’m not even in bed, just lying on top of a duvet on a wooden floor, with a thin blanket covering me. I automatically feel around for my phone to check the time, but it’s nowhere near me. I can see the daylight pouring through the windows and realise I missed dawn prayers without my phone as an alarm. Crap.
I push myself up to a sitting position and see Cara is spread out on her bed, lying on her back, her face turned sideways into the pillow. Olivia is fast asleep too, curled up on the sofa. My heart sinks at the peaceful expression on her face. I can’t even begin to imagine what she’s been through, what must be going through her head. I can’t believe she’s been keeping such a terrible secret. I remember how rattled she was at her house yesterday, and the possibilities of what could have happened if Cara and I hadn’t been there. But, of course, we can’t always be there with her. This thought makes my heart hurt too much so I slowly stand up, stifling the urge to cry out in pain from the soreness of my aching body. I walk over to Cara’s en suite, trying to pull down her ridiculously short pyjama bottoms on the way.
The bathroom has a handrail on the wall and a chair in the shower. I feel uneasy, just in case Cara wakes up and needs to use it, but my bladder’s about to burst and there’s no way I’m going to go walking around her house – imagine if I walked into her mother’s bedroom unannounced! As I wash my hands I find myself thinking back to last night. A smile springs to my face at the memories of Cara screaming, ‘There’s enough room on that door for both of them!’ at the TV, of Olivia seeing how many gummy sweets she could fit in her mouth at once. It was probably the best night I’ve had in years. It’s like something’s shifted – as if we’ve gone from people forced to be in each other’s presence, to wanting to be.
I expect the others to have been woken by the sound of the toilet flushing, but when I get back to the room they’re both still fast asleep. I could quickly do my prayers in the corner, but what if they wake up and think it’s weird? It’s probably better to just save them for when I get home.
Cara lets out a little snort and turns her head so she’s facing the ceiling. Her breath evens out again. She reminds me a bit of my brother, as weird as that sounds. Imran and I used to be super-close, since he’s only a couple of years older. We shared a room when we were kids, and I’d always try and wake him up accidentally on purpose: dropping things, coughing fits, loud alarm music. But he always slept like a log. Spread out right across the bed like Cara. I notice a pack of felt-tips on the floor (we were using them to play Who Am I? last night) and without even thinking about it, I grab a black pen and creep over to the bed. I nudge Cara lightly on the arm, then a bit harder, then harder still. Just like Imran, she doesn’t move an inch. I uncap the pen and press the inky tip to Cara’s upper lip, then stroke it from side to side. I pull away after the first line, but she’s still motionless. I smirk and continue my masterpiece. By the time I’m done, Cara has a handlebar moustache, a small goatee and a unibrow. I place the cap back on and hide the pens with the empty chocolate wrappers and crisp packets. Before I can get back under my blanket, Olivia starts rustling.
‘Morning,’ I say, adding a fake yawn to make it look like I just got up too.
Olivia blinks herself awake and stretches out. ‘Morning,’ she mumbles.
Cara’s still snoring away when Olivia and I finish getting dressed.
‘We should wake her up,’ Olivia says.
‘You think?’
‘I’m starving, and we can’t really go looking for breakfast without her.’
‘I guess.’
Olivia steps over to the bed, ready to shake Cara awake, but I stop her with my arm.
‘I’ve got an idea.’ I grin, thinking of another prank I used to play on Imran. I gesture for Olivia to go to the opposite side of the bed. As I sneak up to Cara’s pillow and lean my face in, Olivia catches on to my plan. She grins and does the same on the opposite side, so we’re both a couple of inches from Cara’s face.
‘Caaaa-raaaa,’ I call softly. ‘Wake up.’
Cara’s head shifts slightly, so that we can see her newly decorated face. Olivia’s eyes dart to mine and I purse my lips to stifle the laughter. She does the same. When we’ve composed ourselves, we take turns trying to wake Cara. Our slowly rising voices do the trick; Cara’s eyes flutter slightly, and then snap open. She lets out a scream as she sees our faces so close and tries to scoot back in the bed, hitting her head against the headboard instead.
Olivia and I fall on top of each other laughing.
‘What the fuck?!’ Cara screams.
We just continue rolling around laughing as Cara whacks us with her hands and eventually some pillows too, all the while showering us with insults.
‘What’s that on your face?’ Cara’s mum asks when we all go into the kitchen.
Cara’s spent the last fifteen minutes scrubbing her face, but hasn’t managed to get all the pen off. (How was I supposed to know it was permanent?!) My stomach drops when I notice how hard her mum is staring. It was meant in fun, but what if she thinks I’m a bad influence? I expect the Chaos to reappear and convince me that I’ve ruined everything, but it doesn’t make a peep. I actually can’t even remember the last time my Chaos was present, the last time it overpowered me. Noticing this is like lifting my head above water for the first time.
‘Slept funny,’ Cara replies, side-eyeing me. I’m sure she’s mad at me, but then she smirks and I relax.
‘C’mere, I’ll get it off,’ her mother says, grabbing a tissue and wetting it at the sink.
‘No, Mum, it’s fine,’ Cara says, annoyance already in her voice.
I frown. Her mum’s just being attentive; I don’t understand the aggression.
Mrs Saunders walks over with her tissue and begins dabbing Cara’s brow.
Cara swats her away. ‘Oh my God, Mum, stop.’
They struggle for a few seconds, each pleading with the other. I can’t help but smile at the interaction, but I feel an undertone of irritation towards Cara. She complains so much about her overbearing mother, but I would give anything to have either of my parents pay this much attention to me. My own mother saw the marks of my self-harm and yet the enormity of it didn’t even register. I can’t remember the last time she showed anything near the amount of affection as Cara’s mum’s simple ‘I’ll get it off’.
We’re served freshly made American pancakes for breakfast. Mine and Olivia’s are drenched in syrup and cream whereas Cara’s just has berries. It looks like something you’d see in a recipe book. Even Olivia tucks right in without the usual inspection I’ve noticed every time we’ve eaten together – even last night she broke apart the chocolate bars to see the inside before committing to anything. Breakfast itself is the epitome of an idyllic family meal. It’s like Cara, Olivia and I are actually sisters, with Cara’s mum asking us all questions about our likes, dislikes, our lives in general.
‘So how come you haven’t got your scarf on?’ Mrs Saunders asks. ‘Do you not wear it while you’re eating, in case something drops?’
‘Oh my God, Mum, stop,’ Cara says.
‘I’m just asking!’ she says defensively.
‘Oh no, it’s fine, honestly,’ I say. ‘I don’t have to wear it all the time, just around men I’m not related to.’
‘It’s so you don’t attract their attention, right? But what about if you’re gay?’
Olivia chokes on her juice. Cara slides a hand down her face.
‘It’s more the idea of modesty,’ I say, hiding my smile. ‘It’s a lot to do with how we conduct ourselves around everyone, women too.’
Mrs Saunders opens her mouth to reply but her phone rings and she excuses herself to another room.
‘Sorry about that,’ Cara says. ‘She could work for the police with her bloody nosiness.’
‘Don’t worry,’ I say. ‘I’d prefer her to ask than make assumptions. I really like her.’
‘Yeah, she’s hilarious,’ Olivia says.
‘Hilariously embarrassing,’ Cara replies, sneakily squirting some syrup onto her plate while her mum’s back is turned. ‘But she does make good pancakes.’
‘She is just looking out for you though – give her some credit,’ I say.
‘She smothers me. You have no idea. Have I told you about the time she literally tried to spoon-feed me?’
Her mum rushes back into the room, as if on cue. She looks over at Cara with an almost pained expression on her face. I expect her to say something, but she just watches, not noticing me noticing her. She’s clutching her phone to her chest as if trying to crush it into pieces.
‘Is everything OK, Mrs Saunders?’ I ask.
The others turn to look at her now and she shakes herself out of her trance, bringing the phone down and sliding it into her pocket. She plasters on a smile and walks back into the kitchen.
‘It was a work call,’ she explains to Cara. ‘I’m going to have to pop out for a bit.’
Cara stiffens and stares at her mum.
‘I’m sorry, sweetheart. It’s an emergency.’
‘An emergency you can go to alone,’ Cara says slowly. ‘Right?’
‘Sweetheart –’
‘Oh, c’mon, Mehreen and Olivia are here. They know how to call an ambulance if I randomly catch on fire. We won’t answer the door to strangers. We’re not kids, Mum. We can be alone for a few hours. Unless you’re planning on leaving the country or something?’
‘No,’ she replies slowly. ‘It’s just . . . something I have to deal with.’
‘And you don’t want me getting in the way. Just go, we’ll be fine. Right?’ Cara looks over to us and widens her eyes.
Olivia and I pipe up on cue.
‘Oh, yeah totally,’ I say.
‘Of course,’ Olivia says. ‘I used to be in the Girl Guides; I have great leadership skills.’
I can tell Mrs Saunders is having a hard time trying to make up her mind and I realise that she probably hasn’t left Cara home alone since the accident. It breaks my heart a little, seeing Cara so desperate for her mother to say yes.
The phone starts ringing again and Cara’s mum flicks her eyes between her pocket and her daughter.
‘Remember what we talked about the other day?’ Cara asks softly. ‘Baby steps?’
Her mother smiles softly. ‘No pun intended?’
‘Exactly.’
It takes a second, but eventually she pulls the phone back out of her pocket, looks at it, frowns and cuts the call. Then she jumps into action.
‘I’ll only be an hour. Less than, probably,’ she says, rushing into the living room and snatching her coat off the hook. She’s putting her arms through the sleeves as she comes back over to us, chattering on like her life depends on it. ‘I’ll keep my phone in my hand the whole time, OK? Call me if anything goes wrong, and I mean, anything, yeah? And don’t forget to take your vitamins.’ She pauses in the kitchen, staring at Cara.
‘Yes, Mum,’ Cara says, more placatory than I’ve ever seen her. I can tell she wants to say something sarcastic but is forcing herself not to.
