After Nothing (33 page)

You can’t say going in how long it’s going to take to come back to yourself. To feel right. You just know it will take some time – because you need to get to the moments that heal.

Moments like Antoine standing beside me in the Drummonds’ garden. Looking at the rose plants with their new buds and saying to him ‘my sister had HIV.’

Julie discovering Liyah’s cache of stolen prayer beads, buttons and spoons under Lainey’s bed and Aunt Sarah’s frown when I say ‘I was a strange little girl too.’

Her very definite response: ‘No, you weren’t. You were always a lovely child. I can still see you at church. If you weren’t hanging off your father’s arm, you were laughing and playing on the church steps. Your sister now … she had the most beautiful voice, but she refused to sing in the choir.’

I digested what I didn’t know about either of us, and asked, ‘Aunt Sarah, what was my mom like when she was younger?’

‘It was a long time ago,’ she said – but I could see she remembered so I waited, leaning forward to catch the words. ‘We were all hit back then: that was how you punished a child. But there were beatings and then there were
beatings
, and your grandfather was a big man.’

Opening the oven to reveal a perfectly risen chocolate cake. Brownie that Julie says is the best she’s ever had. Coordinating an assembly line of the Drummond kids as they ice their own cupcakes.

Kane eating almost an entire chicken pie I baked from scratch.

Sitting across from a lawyer and filling out adoption papers with Kane.

Lying on the floor and laughing as Joey climbs all over me.

Working. Paying for the food we eat. Contributing to Aunt Sarah’s wages.

Moving into a tiny house, in a decent street, with a big fenced-in backyard.

Kane and I arguing with voices so quiet we have to repeat ourselves to each other. Kane saying mournfully, ‘We’re never gonna be able to fight again, are we?’

Getting my driver’s license.

Realizing that I’d like to go to England one day and walk the London streets my Dad walked when he was young. Thinking I could even try finding some of his extended family.

Reverend Joe’s words of faith rolling over me, as Joey sits on my knee eating raisins. Kane stifling a yawn beside us because he got up to Joey twice in the night. Feeling fresh and energetic because I got to sleep through.

Lainey, in choir robes, smiling when I meet her eye, her voice clearer, younger and that much sweeter than all those around her.

The words to the hymn
It Is Well With My Soul
.

Putting on makeup and a dress on a Tuesday night, and the look on Kane’s face when he comes in the door.

The countless times Joey demands to be picked up.

The first time Kane says to Joey, ‘You want to come in the car with dad?’

Going to see my mom. Because it needs to be done.

One Friday in late summer, I waited outside the care facility where Lisa’s biological father was a resident.

I thought I had things I wanted to say to my mother. When I saw her I realized that I didn’t.

She stared at me in silence. Her familiar, cold, punishing silence.

‘Are you okay, Mom?’

Nothing.

‘If you ever need to find me, just ask at the church.’

Nothing.

And then –

‘How did you know to come here?’

‘
I followed you, a long time ago.’

‘Don’t you
ever
come back here.’

‘I’m not going to.’

She stared at me, looking for the truth, but she couldn’t see it, of course. She didn’t know me well enough to be able to tell.

She walked past me, through the doors and into the building.

It hurt. I felt every bit of it.

Kane has to work late that night.

Joey is fed, bathed and dressed in his favourite red aeroplane pajamas. We are sitting on the couch reading books.

‘Dis one, momma,’ he says handing me a book we’ve already read twice.

‘Again?’

He nods and waits expectantly.

He’s nearly two. He’s small for his age, even though he eats just about everything put in front of him. He has more energy than Kane and I combined, although we don't get the midday sleep to recharge that he does. In the past month he’s started talking in sentences. Kane says Joey’s beginning to speak better than he does.

‘What about this one?’ I say holding up a book about a truck called Beau.

‘Dis one,’ says Joey lifting his choice.

‘What about this one?’ I say swapping the truck book for one with a bunch of African animals on the cover.

‘Dis one!’ demands Joey pushing the book at me.

I take it from him and he cuddles in to my side.

‘Please, momma,’ I say.

‘Please, momma,’ he echoes.

The front door opens and Kane walks in.

Joey is gone. Off the couch, and running.

Kane scoops him up in his arms. They’re both grinning. I watch Kane press a kiss to his cheek.

‘Play, Daddy,’ says Joey as Kane walks over to me.

Kane responds by tipping him over his shoulder to the point where Joey is upside-down against his back and Kane is just holding on to him by his ankles.

‘Hi, baby,’ says Kane leaning down to kiss me.

‘I thought you were working late.’

‘It can wait.’

‘I’m okay.’

‘Dad-dy,’ sings Joey.

Kane straightens.

‘You seen Lil’ J, Nat?’

‘No. I thought you had him.’

Kane turns in a full circle.

‘Yo, J. Where you at?’

‘Here,’ says Joey.

‘Where?’ says Kane turning another full circle.

Joey’s laughing too uncontrollably to reply.

‘It’s his bedtime,’ I say to Kane.

Kane pulls Joey back over his shoulder and dumps him on the couch. Joey immediately gets to his feet and launches himself at his dad.

Kane catches him.

‘You get him excited, you settle him,’ I say standing up.

While Kane and Joey chase each other around the house I prepare dinner for Kane and me.

By the time I’m done Joey is in bed and Kane has had a shower.

‘He nearly asleep?’ I ask when Kane joins me in the kitchen.

‘No, he wants you.’

Kane stops me from leaving the kitchen.

His arms go around me and he pulls me tight against him.

I wrap my arms around him and lean my head on his shoulder. I can hear his heart beating. It’s strong.

Intimate Partner Violence

Non-fatal strangulation is a serious risk factor for future homicide.

One of the most dangerous times in a violent relationship is when the victim leaves the abuser.

My heartfelt thanks to:

My parents – for making it all possible

Anna Hendren – for reading and reading and reading

Daisy Coles – for her knowledge and expertise of the writing craft

J.T. – for telling me how it is

Matt and Casey and Isy – for providing form

My long-suffering friends

My incredible family – thank you, thank you, thank you

And Billie – who was present for every word