“Mom freaked out. I brought a failed essay home because I had to get it signed, and she and Dad, you know how they are, they started arguing with me over it, but it got worse, way worse, because I was sick of it this time, and I…I…oh my God, I—”
“Breathe.” I calmly help Océane through a few breaths, though I’m boiling on the inside.
“They were screaming so loud, and so I wanted to head to my room, and then Mom threw a soda can at my head, but I didn’t know what it was at first, all I know is that it surprised me and I slipped down the stairs, and now everything hurts, Rachel…”
Fuck.
My hands tremble against my phone. Although Karan still holds onto me, it’s like he’s on an entirely different planet. I float inches away from my own body, but I have to focus, I have to fucking focus—
“Okay, Océane? Listen to me.” I peer up at Karan, my steady rock. “Stay in your room. Pack your stuff, only what you really need. We’re going to come get you.”
“What? Ho—”
“Don’t worry about it. Just… hold on, okay? Karan and I are on our way.”
A day later, my sister is safely tucked away in Karan and my’s bedroom, sleeping away the pain while I try to forget the screaming match I had with my parents as I took my sister away.
Try to forget the hateful things they said. The hateful thingsIsaid.
Karan came up with the idea to give Océane our room until we find a better solution. With her recent diagnosis of fibromyalgia, I don’t dare make her sleep on our creaky futon.
So when Karan’s parents arrive all the way from Val-d’Or with a trailer hitched to their car and a spare bed and mattress that we can place near the futon just for her, the facade I’ve been working hard to keep up for the sake of my sister crumbles.
Martine is the first through our apartment door. I run to her, and, without hesitation, she takes me in her arms as I let my tears pour out.
A vicious blend of guilt, horror, anger, and heartbreak spills out of every inch of me. It took me too long to get Océane out of that house. Away fromthem.
I was too focused on my own little life, on moving up the ladder at the pharmacy, on my relationship with Karan, to truly face the fact that my own parents could hurt my sister like this.
Now, they’re gone.
Out of our lives.
Out of my life.
I made it clear when I walked out that they would never see us again.
Océane is alive. Her sprained wrist will heal.
And we no longer have parents.
I’m on my own.
Martine strokes my hair with a soft touch, holding me through the sobs that rack my body.
“It’s okay,” she whispers to me. “I’m here for you always, you know that, right?”
Oh. That’s right. I’m not quite on my own.
In that moment, I love Martine so much it hurts.
I grip her tighter, and I try to form the words that I want to say to her, to thank her for showing up, but at that very moment, there’s simply too much to feel all at once.
But she doesn’t let me go.
Karan
September 2019
