“Sure,” he replies, slowly shifting to remove his bag.
“Look, I know you’re scared, but I promise, for the rest of the afternoon, all we’re gonna do is watch TV and eat all the good stuff my Mom stashes away, okay?” I hope the time we have alone before she returns can be as normal as possible. It’s hard enough to look at him and see the physical reminders of the cruelty, but the silence cuts just as deep.
“Yeah, okay.” His coat is off now, and he’s working off his shoes.
By the time Mom gets home, the tension has eased from Zander’s body. He’s lying on the sofa, curled up with his hands tucked beneath his cheek. He looks so peaceful when he’s sleeping. So, rather than waking him, I just drape the blanket from the back of the sofa over his body and turn the TV down a little.
I meet her in the kitchen, she’s leaning back against the counters with an expectant look on her face.
“I’ll make you a drink, and then I’ll explain,” I tell her, flicking the kettle to boil. She takes a seat at the small table, wringing her hands nervously.
“Thank you for letting us come home today. I wouldn’t have asked if it wasn’t important,” I start. I have the sudden urge for her to know that I don’t take her kindness for granted, after seeing the kind of home Zander comes from. She moves her cup of coffee to one side and grips my hands in hers, stroking her thumb up and down my own.
“I know, that’s why I didn’t have to think twice about it. Now, what’s going on, Jules?”
I considered waking Zander when Mom came home, but I decided against it. He didn’t exactly tell me what was happening; rather, he just let me fit together the pieces and didn’t deny my theory. I don’t think he’s ready to confront just how wrong it is that his own dad could lay hands on him, let alone tell someone the facts.
So I tell her everything. I stick to only what I know to be true, the things I’ve seen, the feelings I get from his behaviour, and then the sight that greeted me this morning.
“He thinks if he speaks up, then he would be alone. I wouldn't let that happen, Mom. I just… I want to help him b—but he won't let me…” I can’t stop the tears from falling this time. I don’t have to put on a brave face with my Mom; I can let her hold me whilst I cry for my best friend and the injustice of it all.
“I-I just want t-to keep him here… Here wi-with us.” Silent sobs wrack my entire body, as my tears soak through her shirt. She just holds me, stroking my hair and whispering over and over–
“I know, baby. I know.” I didn’t realise just how much I needed the comfort until my body felt too heavy and I slumped against her.
“How about we let him sleep a little bit longer, and you and I make sure he has something delicious to eat when he wakes up?”
We busy ourselves in the kitchen, putting on music to fill the spaces in our minds that threaten to fill with the nightmarish images of Zander returning home. It’s just a simple meal– pasta bolognese, but it’s homemade and one of his favourites. Turning to put the garlic baguettes on the table, the sight of Zander standing in the doorway stops me in my tracks. His hair is wild, and his eyes are hooded with sleep.
“Hey,” It’s all I manage to say. Nerves overtake me from head to toe.Did I mess up by confiding in my Mom?
“It smells good in here, Miss James.” He’s polite as always, but the tone of his voice is apprehensive; he’s testing the waters.
“So good that it woke you from your sleep, huh?!” She teases, throwing a smile his way. I watch as his body melts into the doorframe, his rigidness gone with one kind gesture.
“Wanna come and sit down? I even did the drinks this time,” I jest. Zander pushes himself off the doorframe, slapping me gently on the back and pulling out a chair.
“Thanks, Jules.” His hand reaches mine as I set the glass of water down in front of him. He squeezes it once and then lets go, wiping his sweaty palms down his thighs.
Once everyone is seated and the food is dished out, silence falls across the table. The music playing quietly in thebackground seems to match the mood of the kitchen, as we all stare down into our bowls.
“I guess I should say something–” Mom breaks the silence. She turns her chair to face Zander now, leaning forward and resting her elbows on her knees. “Jules has filled me in on everything. And, as much as you haven’t said anythingspecifically,it’s not difficult to work out what’s happening.” He doesn’t look at her, or me for that matter, he just watches his fork pushing around the pasta. “Do you know why he does what he does?” He reaches for his drink and takes a small sip, like he’s trying to buy himself time. I’m not sure if he knows the answer or not, but I’m holding my breath for his response.
“I– I don’t know, not really. It’s just been like this for as long as I can remember. He always has a reason, but sometimes I–” He pauses, either trying to find the right words, or working himself up to say them. “Sometimes, I don’t really feel like I deserve it.” I can see the weight leave his shoulders, his body sinking into the chair as he voices his truth.
“Of course you don’t, sweetheart. I won’t ask any more, I don’t want to upset you, or feel like I’m prying, but I do need to speak to you about something.”
“Okay…” He’s wary, all of a sudden, and so am I. I don’t know what I expected to happen next; my thoughts had stopped the moment I spilled it all out at the kitchen table.
“I have to phone someone to let them know what’s happening to you at home,” she deliberately moved herself back slightly before saying it. Not enough to make him feel like he was alone, but just enough to give his reaction space.
“Wh-who? What’s going to happen? Am I going to be taken away? Please don’t let them take me away… I love it here– with Jules and with you. Please, Miss James, I-I don’t want to move schools or have a new family…” His breathing is rapid, and his face is flooded with fear. He’s asking her for answers, and I find myself looking to her for them too.
“Shh, shhhh, honey. I want you to breathe, okay? I need you to calm down and just breathe. I’m not calling anyone until we’ve talked about it. While you are here, you are safe. There’s no rush right now,” she speaks slowly, reaching out cautiously to rub circles on his back. “Well done, just keep breathing. I’ll answer any questions you have, okay? We do this together.”
Once his breathing had slowed and his water had been drained, we sat and listened as my Mom went through what she needed to do next. She explained that she needed to phone the police, which led to more panic. Luckily, she calmed him down by telling us what they would do.
From the moment the call was made, there was an endless stream of people coming in and out of our house. Police, social workers, doctors. The only service that didn’t visit was the fire service, but with how worked up Zander became at one point, I thought it was a possibility they may have to come and cool him off with the hose. After speaking with all three of us, everyone finally left. They said that Zander could stay here for the night whilst they made a house call to his dad to get his version of events.
