Since You've Been Gone (14 page)

T
he
Gilmores are giving us a ride to the hotel. Even though they offered to have Aunt Siobhan and me stay a few more nights, I think they're secretly happy to see us go. I don't blame them. Mom's death is making the news already. I found this out by accident when I turned on the television this morning while getting dressed.

I can tell Jenny and Bill feel really bad for me. They were both really quiet this morning and kept giving me these sympathetic, sad looks. And they made me pack all the toiletries like the toothbrush, the housecoat, and even the pajamas I used last night, even though Siobhan insisted she'd buy me stuff later today.

I stare out the car window as we drive down Greenwich High Street. The houses and shops move past in a blur. We stop at a red light. I watch a group of students in their navy blue blazers and matching skirts gather outside a newsagent's. They're laughing and talking and sharing a cigarette. It suddenly hits me that it's Monday. Everyone will be at school — except me.

But everyone will be talking about me. And what Jermaine did saving that little boy. I wonder what he's doing right now. Is he thinking about me?

Bill turns left into a side street and pulls into a small parking lot.

“Don't worry, Edie,” he says. “You're not staying at the Café Rouge.”

I stare at him. What's he talking about?

Bill hooks points at the building in front of us. A large red sign looms above it. The gold lettering on the sign reads Café Rouge.

I try to smile at Bill to let him know I get his joke now, but the corners of my mouth don't move. Like every other part of my body, including my heart, they feel numb.

“I don't know how to thank you enough,” Sioibhan says. “Both of you have been so good to Edie.”

“Please,” Jenny says, her eyes brimming with tears. “There's no need to thank us. Ring if you need anything at all. Anything.” She glances at me, her eyes full of concern. “The next while is going to be so difficult …”

We get out and Bill takes my tiny bag and Siobhan's two suitcases out of the trunk of the car. He sets them on the ground and shakes Siobhan's hand. Then he comes over to me and gently places his hand on my shoulder.

“You'll be in our thoughts,” he says, pressing something into my hand. I look down. A crumpled twenty-pound note sits in the palm of my hand.

I wonder what it's like for Jenny and Bill to not have any children of their own, yet to always be saying goodbye to kids like me that they open their home and their hearts to. They should have kids; they'd be awesome parents and their kids would be so lucky.

I nod at Bill. I feel like I'm acting in a movie, like all of this is make-believe.

Siobhan and I watch as the Gilmores' red Ford Focus pulls away before turning to head into the hotel.

“Do you want your own room?” Siobhan asks as we approach the desk. “They're quite tiny here.”

I shake my head. “No,” I say.

“It's okay, Edie. Money's not an issue.”

I don't want my own room. The thought of being alone, of not knowing where Siobhan is or if she's safe makes my heart begin to hammer in my chest and my palms get damp with sweat. I feel like I might faint.

“Please,” I say. My voice sounds far away. “I don't want to sleep in a room alone.”

Siobhan lets go of her suitcases and wraps her arms around me. “Oh god! I didn't even think that you might feel that way,” she says. “I'm so sorry. Of course we can share a room.”

She's right. The hotel room is closet-like, but I don't care. Not knowing where Aunt Siobhan is would drive me over the edge right now. What if Dad's been released by the police and decides to try and find me? What if he hurts Siobhan like he hurt Mom?

Part of me wants to believe that Dad was just trying to talk to Mom. That maybe he was going to apologize, to explain that he's changed and wanted us back. Except down deep I know that isn't true; Mom wouldn't have fought without a reason. She was strong but gentle. If she fought at all, it was in self-defence.

I unpack the few things I have while Siobhan takes a shower then lie down on the bed and flip through some channels on the TV.

I watch a few minutes of
Big Brother
without really caring what's happening. When Siobhan comes out, she sits down in her fluffy white hotel bathrobe beside me on the bed. She smells of grapefruit and soap. With her hair twisted up in a white towel, she looks even more like Mom. Like Mom did.

“Edie,” she says. “We need to go to the police station today. You have to make a statement and they're going to want to ask you about the history of your dad's abuse and things.”

“Oh,” I reply. This is not something I want to do. “Did they let Dad out on bail?”

Siobhan nods. “Yes. The police told me that someone posted bail for him today and they're letting him out as soon as the bank transfer clears. He's not allowed to leave the country, though.”

“So he's here. In London,” I say. The feeling of panic is starting again. My chest tightens and I feel like there's not enough air getting into my lungs.

“Edie, your testimony might help get the charges upped to murder. It will be circumstantial, but the history of your father's abuse and continued harassment strongly infers that he had a motive to hurt Sydney.”

I let everything sink in. My gut reaction is for us to hide out in this tiny space until I know my father is either safely behind bars or back in Canada. But I'm not going to let him keep me running.

“I want to see him.”

Siobhan's eyes widen. “What? No. Edie, you don't really mean that.”

“I do. I need to. I want to.” I stand up and run a hand through my hair. “I've been running from him since I was like, ten years old. I'm not going to run anymore. And I want him to know that.”

The look on Siobhan's face tells me she's not sure about this idea.

“I need to see him,” I say before she can speak. “So I can tell him I'm going to make sure the police know what happened to Mom and me before her death. To let him know he won't get away with his lie about this being an accident.”

S
iobhan
insists I try to eat something before we go to the police station. Even though I'm light-headed and dehydrated, I feel like anything I put into my stomach is just going to get puked right back up. But I agree since she's letting me see Dad.

“Sydney loved this restaurant,” she says wistfully. “They opened the first one near where we were living in Wimbledon. Your mum and I were sharing a flat together. It was a little piece of Paris in London, she'd say.” Siobhan opens her menu and stares at it hard.

We're silent for a few minutes. I look over my menu as well and decide on a sandwich called a croque monsieur. In Canada, I hated French class so much. Now I wonder if I'll ever get the chance to learn it again. As far as I know, England has only one official language. Maybe I can convince Siobhan to let me go to France on summer exchanges or something.

“We lived in that flat when Sydney met your father,” Siobhan suddenly says. Her voice is shaky. “I always wonder what would've happened if we hadn't gone to that club the night they met.”

I watch her wipe her tears away with the white cloth napkin. “I'm sorry, Edie. I'm probably just upsetting you even more. I'll stop.” She takes a deep breath.

“It's okay,” I say. And it is. I suddenly realize I haven't shed a tear since initially finding out Mom was dead.

Eating lunch doesn't go very well for either Siobhan or me. She downs three espressos in about a minute and then eats about four bites of salad before giving up.

I tear at the crust of my sandwich and watch several mothers with young children trying to have lunch at the table beside us. It seems like every few seconds there's a kid screaming, running away, or attempting to turn his or her food into a projectile. The women all look like they've gotten dressed in the dark and forgot to brush their hair. Still, they've got their kids, and their kids have them.

The sandwich tastes like sawdust in my mouth. Chewing makes my jaw ache and I only manage a couple of bites. I'm worried if we don't get to the station soon, Dad will be released.

The drive seems to take forever. Neither of us says much. It's hard to believe that just yesterday I was here, still hoping Mom was alive and that everything would turn out okay.

Officer Murphy is on duty. He comes right over.

“I'm so sorry about your mum, Edie,” he says. He looks like he's about to cry. I feel like I should say something to comfort him, which is stupid because I'm the one with the completely screwed-up life.

He clears his throat and turns to Siobhan. “Officer Murphy,” he says, shaking her hand. “You must be her aunt. It's wonderful that you've made it here so quickly. I'll be the one taking Edie's statement.”

“I want to see my dad,” I say.

Officer Murphy's eyes widen with surprise. “I don't think we can do that.”

“Find out. Please,” I add.

He looks at Siobhan. “We'd need your consent as your acting in the parental role …”

Siobhan pauses for a moment. “I don't think this is a good idea, but Edie feels this is something she needs to do. Only she knows what will bring her closure and I need to respect that.”

Officer Murphy looks at me. “It's not as easy as you think, Edie. A team would need to do an assessment for risk, evaluate your emotional well-being, and then determine if such a visit is in your best interest. Given the close proximity to your mother's death, I highly doubt the visit would be granted.”

“But I'm fifteen,” I protest. “I'm old enough to know if something is going to make me emo or not. I need to see him.”

The doors bursts open and two officers, one female and one male, come in, both of them struggling to contain this guy with grey, ropey hair who looks like he hasn't bathed in years.

“We need backup!” the woman shouts, her face flushed from the effort of trying to keep the man from escaping.

A horrid stench is filling the air around us. The man lifts his head and roars.

“Get off me, you bleeding bastard pigs!” he shouts.

And that's when I recognize him. It's the man from the phone booth. I quickly look away as other officers rush over to help.

“Come with me,” Officer Murphy says, taking me by the elbow and leading me away. “You've got all of two minutes, tops.” He buzzes us through a side door that takes us into a grey hallway. The metal door closes behind Siobhan with a loud click.

We follow him down the hall. There are several cells on either side. Some are empty and several are occupied by a variety of people, mainly men, who either ignore us, glare at Officer Murphy hatefully, or stare at Siobhan and me with intent.

“Hey, gorgeous,” one of them calls as we walk past. I ignore him and keep my mind focused on facing Dad.

Officer Murphy stops in front of a cell and turns to me.

“I could get the sack for this, Edie,” he says. “Please make it fast.”

I nod and approach the cell, noticing how Siobhan is hanging back, a look of sheer hatred on her face. I think she'd tear Dad apart with her bare hands if she could.

Taking a deep breath, I step in front of the bars. Dad is sitting hunched over on a small bunk, his hands clasped in front of him, his head hanging down. He looks up at me. His eyes glitter with tears. Purple circles frame his eyes.

“Edie,” he whispers. “I'm so sorry. It was an accident.”

And, for a moment, I feel so sad that my father is locked up in here. The place looks awful, and there is graffiti carved into the walls. I want to hug him and feel his strong arms around me just like when I was little, when I still believed he was the one who would protect me from the monsters under the bed and the ones out in the real world. I can still remember the smell of his aftershave.

Only he turned out to be the monster.

He gets up and walks over. “I love you. I loved your mother. It was an accident.… You have to believe me. She was pushing my buttons.”

And that's when something in me snaps.

“You ruined our lives,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. I make myself look him in the eye. “And you took Mom's life away. But you're not going to ruin my life anymore. The police are going to know everything. How you stalked us. How you used to hit Mom all the time and make her bleed. How you fractured her wrist that time and made her tell everyone she fell while jogging.”

“Edie,” Dad says. “I've changed. That's what I came here for. To let your mother know that.”

“If you'd really changed, Mom would still be here. You'd have left us alone to get on with our lives.”

“You're being just like her, too headstrong and emotional. I was trying to calm her down when everything happened,” he interjects. There's an edge to his voice that I recognize. I'm making him angry.

“That's right,” I say. “I am just like her — not like you. She was strong, loving, and gentle. She protected me every single day of my life. And she paid for that with her life. You need to stay away from me. Forever.” I pause for a moment, looking him in the eyes. He looks away first. “And if you come after me, I'm not running,” I add.

I take a deep breath, turn and walk back down the hall with Siobhan and Officer Murphy right behind me.

Once we're on the other side of the door again, I collapse into Aunt Siobhan's arms and sob. I cry for at least half an hour until I can't squeeze out any more tears. Mom's gone. I'm never going to see her again. I can't believe I'm not able to just dial her cell number and hear her ask me how my day was. I miss her so much. My chest hurts and my heart feels like it is being torn apart. Everything hurts now.