Crossing the Line (12 page)

23

T
wo days go by. I hardly speak to Matt. He keeps asking what’s wrong but I wouldn’t know where to begin. He brings me hot drinks and makes me dinner – which I don’t eat – and offers to take me to a doctor. And he gets little thanks for it. I try to sleep but dreams wait just below the surface, dreams with blood and screams. I wake in a sweat, too frightened to close my eyes again. Thoughts of cutting myself are ever-present. I would do it but I’m so exhausted.

‘Sophie! I’m home!’

It’s Amy.

‘Can I come in?’

Oh no, no. I don’t want to see anyone. I just want to . . .

‘Coming in, ready or not.’

‘No! Wait, Amy. It’s great you’re back – but please go and talk to Matt for a minute. I desperately need to take a shower. I’m still half asleep from medication. Okay?’

‘Sure. Not a problem. Don’t be long.’

I run the water cold, letting it shock me into some kind of life. Soap. Shampoo. Toothpaste. Clean clothes and perfume. I’m ready.

‘Amy.’

‘Sophie!’

We embrace like long-lost sisters.

‘Hey,’ says Matt, ‘don’t I get any of the action?’

‘Oh, all right.’ Amy drags him into the huddle with us.

‘How come you’re home?’ I ask. ‘We just got a postcard saying you weren’t coming back till next week.’

‘Me and Johnny had a fight. I sure can pick ’em.’ She rolls her eyes. ‘Still, I had a terrific time after he took off. Met some cool guys. One in particular! I’ll tell you every single detail – sit down, sit down.’

‘Sorry to interrupt, gang.’

Matt holds his hand up like a schoolboy asking to be excused.

‘Almost forgot to tell you, Sophie. You’re supposed to be minding Joanne’s kids,’ he checks his watch, ‘right about now.’

I fall down on the couch, groaning.

‘Any other time I’d gladly do it,’ I say, ‘but I’m not up to it today.’

Matt offers no sympathy. ‘Tough. You said you’d do it. Joanne’s depending on you. You have to get over there.’

‘Okay, okay, you’re right.’ I face Amy. ‘Sorry. We’ll catch up later.’

‘It’s not a problem.’ She shrugs. ‘I don’t mind kids. You want me to help you?’

‘Would you?’

‘Yeah. Why not? I’ll knee-cap them if they don’t behave.’

I throw myself into her arms.

‘Thank you, Ames.’

Knee-capping seems like a good idea within half an hour of being left alone with the boys. They’re so wild; someone must have spiked their orange juice. However, Amy is in her element. She chases and tickles them until the house is wall-to-wall giggles.

Olivia sits quietly while I plait her hair. It is brown and lustrous and I feel proud of her, as if she’s my daughter. If I had a daughter of my own I would never turn her away. There would be love waiting for her any time, day or night.

‘Don’t be sad.’ Olivia’s big eyes watch me curiously as I cry.

‘I’m not sad, honey,’ I lie. ‘Just tired.’

The children are all tucked away in bed by nine and Amy and I flake out on the lounge.

‘Give me all the goss,’ she says. ‘What’s been happening while I was gone?’

I tell her about Marie’s visit.

‘Someone should put that cow down,’ she snorts.

‘But I think I’m safe for a while,’ I assure her.

‘Better be. I’ll have a piece of that Marie if she tries to move you – sour-faced old dragon.’

Amy munches on almonds and washes them down with juice as she tells me about the infamous Johnny and his escapades. Then I hear about her daring travels on the back of Mick’s motorbike – ‘Mick is so hot, Soph – wait till you see him. And heaps nicer than bloody Johnny! I just love a guy on a Harley – I can’t seem to help myself!’

All the while she talks I slip in and out: in the present with Amy, far away with Helen. For a while Amy’s too caught up in her own story to notice, but when she does, she comes on strong.

‘Hey. You haven’t seen me in weeks. The least you can do is listen.’

I cover my eyes with both hands and bow my head, too tired to fight back or explain.

‘What is it?’ Her voice is softer now. ‘What’s up with you?’

‘Nothing. Nothing.’

‘Oh sure. Matt told me you’ve been upset about something. Look at me, Sophie – talk to me.’

I do look at her. Angrily. Tears course down my face. ‘There’s nothing wrong! Just leave me alone!’

For the next ten minutes we revert to being five years old. I guess sulking is like riding a bike, you never forget how to do it. Luckily, another thing you don’t forget is how to make up.

Amy smiles. ‘Hey, Soph? We friends?’ she asks tentatively.

‘You bet.’ I put both my hands around hers.

Joanne comes in about midnight, meets Amy for the first time, and thanks us both profusely. Ten minutes later Amy and I are back at home. We say our goodnights and I flop into my bed and hug myself tightly.

It’s been so hard tonight, Helen – missed you so much.

A few minutes later there’s a tap on my door.

‘Sophie. Can I come in?’

Why won’t she leave me alone?

‘I’m really tired, Ames. Can it wait until the morning?’

‘No. Please let me in.’

‘It’s not locked,’ I say.

Amy closes the door quietly behind her and sits at the foot of my bed. She’s in her PJs, still wearing a wealth of silver bangles and rings.

‘Now listen here, you.’

‘Stop right there, Amy. I don’t want a lecture.’

‘Too bad. I’m not leaving this room until you tell me exactly what is going on.’

‘I can’t.’

‘Is it Matt? Did he try something with you?’

‘No. It’s nothing like that.’

‘Good. ’Cause I would’ve had to kill him. So what is it?’

‘It’s late – that’s what it is.’

‘Forget late. We’re going to stay up all night until I get a truthful answer from you.’

‘It’s none of your business.’ I start to cry. ‘Please go away.’

‘No chance. You’ve just got out of hospital and now you’re falling apart again. Talk to me. I might be able to help. Just saying it might help. I’m your friend. Trust me!’

‘All right!’

‘Good.’

‘If you tell this to anyone else . . .’

‘It stays with me, Sophie. I promise.’

‘This is so hard.’

‘You can say anything to me.’ She clutches my hand tightly. ‘You can’t shock me – I’ve done it all, Soph. Just say it.’

‘. . . I love someone.’

‘What?’

‘You heard. Don’t make me say it again.’

‘In love? Well, that’s a surprise.’

‘It’s really screwing me around.’

‘It has to be Matt.’

‘No. It isn’t.’

‘Oh god – he’s gunna be so . . . You know he likes you, right?’

‘Yes, Amy, I know that. But I can’t help how I feel.’

‘Of course you can’t.’

‘Please don’t say anything to him.’

‘Don’t worry about that for a second. I won’t say a word to anyone.’

‘Thanks.’

‘I don’t know what to tell you, Soph. If you’re in love you should be happy, but you’re not happy. You’re a wreck.’

‘Oh, Amy.’ The tears just cannot be stopped now. She’s way off the mark thinking this is about some boy, but the anguish is there and I just can’t explain it to her. To anyone.

‘He doesn’t love you? Is that what it is?’

‘I don’t know,’ I splutter. ‘I don’t know. Please don’t make me talk about it.’

‘Come here.’ Amy wraps her arms around me. ‘You got boy troubles. That’s normal. Boys are nothing but trouble. I thought I loved Johnny, too. But I got over it real quick. You just cry it all out, girl. I won’t ask any more questions – but I’m here anytime you feel like talking. Don’t worry, Soph. Everything’s going to be fine.’

24

I
don’t know how long I lie on my bed, curled up with a physical pain that only eases when I touch Helen’s photo. Such kindness in those eyes. I have to trust what I feel in my heart. You can’t love someone without letting them know, without giving them a chance to return your love.

I leave home when it’s still dark. The morning chill gnaws at my ears and fingers as I walk to the railway station. A train quickly arrives and I find a seat in a crowded carriage. I stare out the window, as so many others do. None of them see Helen’s face. Only me. I hear her voice in every creak –
Sophie, Sophie
– wheels scraping on metal call me –
Sophie, Sophie
– and when the train sways, Helen rocks me, tenderly.

But then we go through a tunnel and I’m alone again in the darkness. She has such a grip on me. Without her I’m in a perpetual tunnel, even on the sunniest day. I don’t think I want to live if I can’t be with her.

Out of the train and my thumb is up as soon as I meet the road, begging for a ride. I stare into every car, my eyes pleading.

A station wagon pulls over to the gravel and I run to the driver’s window. ‘Can I get a lift? I really need to get home. My mum’s been sick.’

He looks straight at my chest and then averts his eyes and smiles innocently when I catch him. Right now, I don’t care.

‘Yeah.’ He shrugs. ‘All right then.’ He throws a bag into the back to make room for me in front. ‘Hop in.’

I feel like I have to rehearse what I’m going to say to Helen, go over my lines like an actor. I wish it wasn’t like that. If only we could be natural and spontaneous around each other. If only I could be sure of what to expect when she opens the door . . .

‘You hitch rides very often?’ The driver’s gruff voice spears me back to reality. He has one hand on the steering wheel, the other rests on the seat close to my leg, palm up and fingers extended as if he’s inviting me to move closer.

I shake my head without looking at him.

Edging further away, I retreat into my private world. It’s a world of harmony and warmth. Helen is beside me; a mother protecting her child. I can feel her strong arms holding me.
You make me so happy.

‘What was that?’ The driver stares across at me.

‘I didn’t say anything.’

A wry grin forms on his face.
Mad bitch
, he’s thinking. Shortly afterwards, with both hands on the steering wheel, having ditched any hopes he might have had, he pulls over to the side of the road and stops the car.

‘I’m turnin’ off at the next set of lights. You better get out here.’

‘Thanks,’ I say, grateful to escape. ‘That’s fine.’

I step out of the car and take my bearings. How far to go? Three kays? Five? It could be a thousand and it wouldn’t be too far. I’m heading towards Helen and I feel at peace.

There are fewer houses now. Only occasionally a car passes. I turn into her road and soon I’m walking along the driveway, my legs rubbery. Her car is parked in the carport. She’s home.

No turning back now, Sophie.

I mount the stairs onto the veranda, and knock on the door. In the kitchen a radio is playing. I knock again, louder. The door flings open and Helen’s standing there.

I smile and feel myself blushing. I want to throw my arms around her but all I can manage is, ‘Hello.’

Helen steps out of her house and shuts the door behind her. ‘What are you doing here?’ Her words snap at me.

‘I miss you.’ My chin quivers. I start to cry. ‘I think of you all the time, Helen. I just had to see you. Please understand. Please tell me it’s all right.’

‘How did you get here? How did you find out where I live?’

Snap. Snap.

‘Who is it, Mum?’

Cara comes to the door.

‘Go back inside, darling. It’s just someone I know from the hospital. I won’t be long.’

‘Hi.’ Cara smiles at me. ‘Why are you crying?’

‘Off you go,’ Helen says firmly. ‘Now, please.’

As she closes the door on Cara, she turns on me.

‘You shouldn’t be here, Sophie. This is my home. There are boundaries. I see patients at my office. Not at my home.’

I feel so small, so empty.

‘Do you understand me? Do you?’

‘I tried to see you at the hospital.’

‘And I told you that your therapist is Doctor Palmer. Do you recall me saying that? I said it very plainly.’

‘I don’t want him, Helen. All I want is you.’

‘You’re testing my patience, Sophie.’ She pushes a handkerchief at me. ‘How did you get here?’

Sniffling, sobbing, I mutter, ‘I hitched a ride from the station.’

‘And how did you find out my address?’

‘I don’t know – I’m sorry, I’m sorry.’

She sighs heavily. ‘Honestly, Sophie, this is too much. Wait here.’

I crouch down and rock back and forth, a moan pouring out of me in one long river of pain. Then Helen is back, clutching her car keys.

‘I’m taking you to the station. Pick yourself up.’

‘But Helen –’

‘We’re going now.’

No sooner have I buckled up than the car speeds away.

‘Please don’t be angry with me, Helen. I just wanted to see you. I’d never, ever do anything to hurt you.’

‘I
am
angry. You must have known that coming to my house would upset me and my daughter. It’s a terrible thing to do.’

Her every word slashes me, though not like a razor’s cut. These words gouge deep into me and will never, never heal.

‘Please forgive me.’ I cover my pathetic face. ‘I didn’t know it was bad.’

I peer through my fingers and see her staring ahead, without a glimmer of compassion.

‘I’m disappointed in you, Sophie. Very disappointed.’

The station looms ahead.

‘I’ll talk to Doctor Palmer about this and he’ll be in touch with you. From now on, you deal with him. Tell me that you understand that.’

‘I understand.’

‘Good. Now I want you to go straight home.’ Helen stops the car and looks pointedly at my door. I open it and step out. ‘Can I trust you to do that? To go straight home?’

I nod like a small, naughty child who’s being sent to stand in a corner.

‘Sophie. Listen very closely. If you ever do this again, I’ll be forced to call the police to remove you.’ The words wash over me. I’m numb. ‘I don’t want to do that, but I will. You hear me, Sophie? I will call the police.’

Then she is away, driving back to her home and I am left, feeling more alone in the world than I ever thought possible.

I ride the train. I cry.

I walk. I cry.

Helen’s words play over and over in my head.

‘Disappointed.’

‘Call the police.’

‘Do you understand?’

‘Do you? Do you?’

At home Matt and Amy are eating in front of the television.

‘Hi, Sophie!’ Amy calls. Matt looks up and smiles. I rush into the bathroom. In seconds I’m naked under the shower, the water raining down on me. There’s a razor in my hand.

I slash myself, once, twice.

My arm bright red with blood.

Three times.

Bloody water pools at my feet.

Four times, five. My chest and stomach.

I howl with the pain, the relief.

And then I’m on the floor of the shower sobbing one word again and again.

Helen.

Amy’s hammering on the door. ‘Sophie! What’s wrong? What’s the matter?’

The door flings open and Amy’s standing there, staring at me, her mouth gaping. ‘Christ, Sophie, what the hell are you doing?’

I beg her to go away. And then there’s nothing but darkness.