I haven’t talked nearly enough to you about it, and that’s going to change. We’re going to go see a woman who can help. She helped me, and she can help you see this for what it is. Which is that it’s not our shame. It’s Gilead’s. And we’re more than what he did to us. We’re our own selves. He didn’t destroy that in me, and he didn’t destroy it in you, because I’ve seen who you are. When you took off your cap, and your apron, and your shoes, in front of everybody, and walked out? That’s who you are, not this. Or maybe this, too, because the fact that you’re lying here, enduring this because you want him to pay for what he did, and you know, deep down, that you didn’t deserve it? That’s who you are, too. You’re going to rise from the ashes and be everything you were meant to be. You’re going to live. And he’s going to pay. I’ve made a complaint to the police, too, and I’m pursuing it. Both of us. Side by side. I hope you’ll sit with me through all of it like I’m with you now. That will give me courage.”
“You have courage, though,” she said. “You have so much more than me.”
There was too much emotion in my chest, in my body. It almost blocked my voice, but I wouldn’t let it, because she had to hear this. “You’re wrong,” I told her. “You wait. You’ll see how wrong you are. You don’t know how scared I was, all the way along. Leaving. Starting school. Going to University. Learning how to survive Outside. I didn’t do it because I was brave. I did it because I had no choice. That’s what courage is. You’re scared, but you have no choice, because you can’t stay where you are. So you keep moving forward instead. That’s what you’re doing here.”
“Did it feel as good to you as it did to me,” she asked, “when Gray hit him in the nose, and it bled? When he was lying in the grass, getting wet?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “How good did it feel to you?”
“Like the best thing I’ve ever seen.” She started to laugh—gently, because it hurt—and so did I, and then she was crying. Great, gulping sobs, gasping for air in between, shuddering with shock and pain and remembered fear. I held her hand, and I didn’t tell her not to cry. I cried myself. For what she’d endured. And for what I had.
If you can’t let yourself hurt, you can’t let yourself heal.
“I’m here for you,” I told my sister, “and I always will be. I promise. We’ll do this together. You and me. Step by step. Starting now.”
57
Like a Superhero
Gray
Eventually, we went back home again. Mum and Oriana headed into the kitchen to make breakfast, but I didn’t stay with them. I gave it twenty minutes, and then I went upstairs and knocked on the door of the guest room.
“Come in,” I heard. Daisy’s voice.
“Hi,” I said, lifting the mugs I held. “I brought tea. Thought you two might need it.” Hot and strong, and with sugar in it. Best thing in the world for shock.
Frankie was on her side on the bed, wearing another of Mum’s dressing gowns. She was holding a cold pack to one cheek, and Daisy was pressing another to her backside.
It’s not about you, I reminded myself when the rage tried to overtake me again. I went over and handed Daisy her tea, set Frankie’s on the bedside table, and asked, “May I sit down?”
“Yes,” Daisy said, and stood up.
I took her place, held the ice to Frankie’s bruised flesh, and said, “He’s going to prison. He’s never going to bother you again.”
She nodded once, then said, “Thank you for helping me.” Her voice small. Subdued.
“I was a bit proud of myself at the time,” I said. “For not stooping to his level. Not giving him the beating he deserved. Now, I’m sorry.”
“No,” she said. “I don’t want you to go to prison, too. Who would Xena love?”
I smiled. “Fair point.” Then I sobered and said what I’d come to say. “Life gets better than this, you know. This is a valley, or more than that. A gorge. You can’t see the view out the other side when you’re down in the pit, but you can still climb out. You can climb up, and there it will be. There’s something better