Chapter Two point Three

Snapping out of the memory I sat down on the cement wall of the beach walkway and took a sip of my coke.  It was cold, and I savoured the fizzy bubbles tickling my tongue.  We didn’t get sweets much where I used to be.  To have a real coke is a luxury.  That hell-hole.  If I could bomb one place in the world - that would be it.  Rocky Mountain Academy.  Just thinking it’s name gave me the shivers and a pain in my chest.  I had never been so afraid or alone in all my life.  I wasn’t certain which was worse.  The events leading up to my incarceration there…or the time there itself.  

I stared out over the water of lake Okanagon and went over the pyscologists last question. Our time had ended early and I didn’t get to finish telling him about what happened after we stole the car and had the accident.

________________________________________________________

  The sun had crested the horizon and was bathing the car in the light of early morning.  I opened the passenger door and stepped out to survey the damage.

We were at the bottom of the ditch, about 60-70 feet away from the road down what felt like a 45 degree slope.  Miraculously the car had slid between the posts of a barbed wire fence.  There wasn’t even six inches of space on either side.

“Holy shit!  I can’t believe the car went between those posts!  Talk about luck.” I said excitedly.  Austin stepped out of the car.  ”What exactly happened?” I asked him.

“I must have fallen asleep.” He mumbled.  ”One minute I was driving, listening to Snoop Dog, and the next I was on the other side of the road.  I tried to turn, but I turned too much and that’s when we started spinning.  I’m so sorry.” He hung his head.  His brown hair was disheveled, framing his face.  He leaned against the car. We were the same age, but he was older than me by a month and a day.  Something he never let me forget.  As my step-brother he was more like my friend than my brother.  My partner in crime.  Neither of us had our drivers licenses, but I had my learners permit, and I had practiced a bit.

“Let’s get back on the road.” I said and opened the driver’s side door.  The car started easily and I drove forward from between the posts and then climbed the hill at an angle to avoid going straight up - something I was sure the car couldn’t handle.  It’s was very steep.  Going up was almost as frightening as going down.  The car tilted unnaturally to the side, and as we crept along I kept imagining it rolling over and ending up on it’s roof at the bottom of the gully.  Finally we reached the side of the road and proceeded along the highway.  I’m sorry for running through your fence.… I thought.  Saying my prayerful apology to no one in particular.

 We kept going.  We passed quickly through several cities, often taking the back roads to avoid the police, which we were certain must be looking for the car by now.  We had used up all of our gas money and were running on fumes.  We were in the flat lands of Saskatchewan, on a road lined with large farms.  Being from a farming community I knew that one of those farmers would have a gas tank for filling up their farm equipment.  It didn’t take long to find one.  I don’t remember what lie we told him, but a nice old farmer filled up the car and gave us some water to drink and sent us on our way.

Finally, more than a day after we initially fled, we reached our goal.  Smalltown Manitoba.  I called my cousin from a payphone and told her we were in town.  Angeline was my idol.  She was a bit older than me, very smart and pretty, and everyone liked her. I also called the boy I had a crush on and asked if he would feed us.  He said yes and we drove out to his cabin.  We were scarfing down pizza at his place when he handed me the phone.  It was my cousin, Angeline.

“How did you get here?” She asked.

“We drove.” I said.

“But you’re only 14 and you don’t have a license.” She pointed out.

“So?” I said.

“Whose car do you have?” She asked.

“A friend of mines, I borrowed it.”

“Well everyone’s looking for you, and now we know where you are and the police are on their way.” She said tartly.

My eyes widened with incredulity.  She had told them. I couldn’t believe it.  I thought she was on my side.  But I guess she didn’t know everything. We had to move.  Fast.

“Austin!  Quick - get in the car!  We have to go now!” I yelled, heading for the door.  He scrambled toward me, stuffing the last slice of pizza in his mouth, clutching his backpack. We piled into the car and pulled onto the road out of town.

It wasn’t long until there was a police cruiser tagging along behind us.  Justin started freaking out about the pot we had in the car.  We had already smoked the only joint we had and all that was left was the roach in a film container.  

“What do we do with it?” He asked me.  

“I don’t know!” I said in panic. Just then the cop turned his lights and siren on.  For a moment I considered gunning the gas and trying to outrun him.  I envisioned us trying to evade them.  Then I realized that our dash to freedom would likely end as the car puttered to a stop from lack of gas, surrounded by cops, in more trouble than ever.

I sighed and pulled over. 

The  Courthouse.  The cells are in the basement.

Thus I spent my first night in Jail in a small town  in Manitoba.  In total there were four of us in there.  Two native teenage boys were in the same cell as Justin - and I was in a cell by myself.  We could put our heads up against the door of our cells and see each other.  It was intense and boring all at the same time.  Our turn to see the magistrate came and we were handcuffed and led upstairs to the courtroom.

There, seated no far in front of me, was my uncle Laurence.  I smiled at him. 

“What are you doing here Uncle Laurence?” I asked.

“I’m not your Uncle right now, I’m the magistrate required to figure out what to do with you.” He said sternly.

I shook my head.  This was not going well.  I had no idea he was a judge or a magistrate or whatever the fuck that meant.  I zoned out and stared at the floor.  Time passed.  Voices spoke.  I was too afraid to care what they were saying.  

“Therefore you will board a bus back to Calgary first thing in the morning, your parents will be informed of your arrival and will be there to pick you up.” The gavel gave a sharp wooden snap.  No!  No!  Please.  Don’t make me go back there.  I want to be here, with you.  I want to be a part of your family… But the words went unspoken and we were led back to our cells.

I lay awake, determined to find a way to escape what felt like impending doom.  By the time we got on the bus I had it all planned out. There was no way I was going back.  No way at all…

...

Chapter Two point Two

Nothing happened.

 I groaned in dissapointment.  We were so totally screwed.  We sat there, staring at each other in the dim interior of the car.  Maybe we should just give up. This is NOT how I thought it would be.

“Do they have any other cars?” Austin asked.  I thought for a minute.

“Yes, there is the station wagon parked beside the ranch house.  It’s the one Jolene always drives.  She’s the librarian in town.  But they’d hear it.  We’d get caught.” I told him.

“What if we roll it away from the house before we start it?” He asked.  I thought about it. But I don’t want to take the car that they need…I wanted to take the old one that nobody cared about.  I like them, they are good people…but we have to go.. What do I do?  

“Let’s go check it out.” I said, my heart heavy.  The Rancher had always been good to me.  Bruce was his name.  He taught me how to take care of the horses.  He let me pet them, feed them.  He showed me how to halter and tie, how to lead.  He let me play with the foals and walk amongst the pregnant mares in the meadows. He took me with him to horse shows and let me follow him around, learning everything I could.  He was a better friend to me than my own parents had been.  You shouldn’t take the car. He’s a good man. -Yeah but they can get another car with the insurance money.  Once it’s reported missing and stuff they will be able to buy a new car, and as long as you don’t get caught with it they won’t ever know. But what if you get caught? - If I get caught I’ll kill myself.  I don’t want to go back there.  Not ever.  They hate me.  Everyone hates me.  My mom, my dad, the kids at school.  I’ve got to get away.

Mom loves you! - No she doesn’!  She punished me when I woke up in the hospital after I tried to kill myself a few months back.  She ignored me and didn’t even ask “Why?”  She just went home to a vodka tonic and left me alone in my room.  Why didn’t she ask why???  I would have told her that the boy I had a crush on raped me that day.  That I lost my virginity, that he laughed at me and called me a whore. I would have told her that my whole world went black.  That my soul felt dead.  That everything in my life was wrong and ruined and hurting.  - They wouldn’t have believed you anyways.  They say you’re a useless little bitch.  That’s what they say.

 We snuck over to the house, peeking out from behind the bushes.  The moon hid slightly behind the house and the car was in shadow. I took a deep breath and crouched behind the car, opening the door closest to the bushes.  The keys were in the ignition.  I nodded at Austin, turning the keys backwards, unlocking the steering wheel and putting the car in nuetral.  The interior of the car smelled like road dust and vanilla. We began pushing it slowly down the gravel driveway - away from the house.  The rocks creaked and crackled beneath the tires and my heart pounded with fear and adrenaline.

Finally we were as far away as we could be.  We’d have to chance starting it now and driving away.  I hopped into the drivers seat, closing the door so gently that it barely latched.  I held my breath as I turned the key and started the engine.  The car roared to life.  Keeping the headlights off I turned down the lane - the car now hidden by the giant trees.  I always loved riding the horses down this lane through the trees.  It’s so beautiful.  - Yeah - You won’t be doing that anymore. - It doesn’t matter.  Nothing matters except getting away from here.  They will hate you. -  So what?  Everybody hates me.

We drove away from the small backwater hamlet and I buried my guilt deep within my heart.  It lay blanketed in loathing, fear and pain so deep I couldn’t even feel it.

______________________________________________________

“What happened next?” The psychologist asked, peering with genuine interest over his glasses.  I shook my head. What had I told him?  I couldn’t remember.  Did I say everything or was some of that in my head.  I stared at him blankly, acutely aware that my legs were both stuck to the leather chair.  I hate leather furniture when it's hot out.

“What happened after you stole the car?” He said.

“Well, we almost fucking died.” I snapped at him, and stared at the carpet, at his foot in it’s black leather shoe.  At the laces falling just so.  Finally I sighed and sat back in the chair, looking up at him.

“We decided to head East.  To go to see my Uncle and his family.  They always had such a normal family.  No divorce.  No fighting.  Not much money but so much love.  I always wanted to have that.  There was also a boy there that I met once that I liked - and I thought he liked me.  So we were driving on the highway towards Manitoba.  Just after we passed Calgary, I’d say about two hours in, I was tired so I asked Austin to drive…”

_______________________________________________________________

What the hell is going on? I thought as I awoke suddenly, thrown to the side of my seat.  I sat up instantly, hearing Austin scream “Oh my God!” as he rapidly spun the wheel first one way, and then the other.  Then we were spinning, spiraling madly down the highway.  The rubber of the tires shrieked and there was no time to do anything except scream.  Time slowed to the spaces between my heartbeats and I saw the solid line of the highway, giving way to the ditch.

“Hold on!” I screamed as we spun around, the car falling backwards, rolling into a steep gully.  The side of the hill was bumpy and seemed to go on forever.  I envisioned us falling off a cliff, hitting a tree, exploding.  

The car stopped.  I sat in the passenger seat, breathing heavily.  Looking wildly around.  Austin was trembling, his face buried in his hands on the steering wheel.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry!!” He repeated, breathless and terrified.

“It’s okay.” I said and hugged him.  ”We’re okay! It’s over!”  He lifted his head and opened his eyes.

 ”We’re okay?” He said, looking puzzled.  Then he smiled.  I smiled back at him and our euphoria at being alive kicked in.  We hadn’t exploded!  We weren’t hurt.  We were okay!  We laughed until our sides hurt - discharging the nervous tension and adrenaline.  Then we got out of the car to take stock of the damage.

Chapter One

Have you ever composed a suicide note in your head?  I mean have you really thought about what you would say to to the world on your way out?  Sometimes the sentences string together flawlessly in my mind. Of course the first thing somebody asks you when you tell them you feel like dying is “Why?”  Of course I ask myself this question all the time.  

Why? Why? Why? 

I don’t understand

You don’t understand.

That’s right I don’t understand.

What is it that you don’t understand?

Life, the universe, everything.  I just don’t know the right way. I don’t know the answer.

You’re telling me that you feel like dying because you don’t know the answer to the meaning of life, the universe and everything?

Well…it’s a bit more complicated than that.  The answer is 42.  It’s the question I’m stumped on.

At that point I make myself laugh.  Those that have read the Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy will get my drift.  But there is so much truth in my sentance.

 I don’t understand.  I don’t understand what the point of life is in the face of so much personal tragedy.  I don’t understand why my father hates me, why my mother killed herself and why I can get straight A’s but can’t make enough money to pay my bills.  I don’t understand.  I don’t understand how people can become soulless and greedy.  I don’t understand humanity.  I don’t understand why my baby had to die. I am an unknown soul.  No one knows me.  They know bits and pieces but not all.  The stories are too deep, too vast, too dark.  The secrets are dangerous, the truth painful.

Maybe you need to tell them.

Tell who?

Tell the stories.

Oh, yeah.  Those. Where could I possibly start?

Start with one that scares you.  That you fear people will find out.  Other stories will come.  Don’t try to write them in order.  Just let it flow out of you.

16 years old. Standing in line at the convenience store I’m counting out change to the teller.  It feels so odd to be paying someone.  I haven’t counted out coins in years.  I haven’t paid for anything.  I was locked up.  I feel the anxiety rising up in me, unspeakable panic, unused to the real world.  I dump the change on the counter and look at her.  ”Can you just take what I owe you, please, actually - just keep all of it.”  I grab the coke and head out the door.  Walking towards the house, staring at the ground.  An empty chip bag catches the wind and bounces across the road.  I am like that chip bag. Hollowed out. Empty. Finished.

I had just come from His office.  The one that they want me to talk to.  The one who is supposed to “fix” me.  Leather chairs stick to your skin when you sweat and I remember peeling my leg off slowly, and laying it back down.  They can’t make me talk about it.  They can’t make me go back there. I can’t do it….I can’t…

But I did. I went back to the dark, to running away from home, back to the rapes, to the terror, back to when I lost my mind in the mountains of Northern Idaho.  I went there for a split second - and then my mind suddenly went blank.  I couldn’t remember anything.  I stared at the old man with the kind eyes and the glasses and said nothing.  I peeled my leg off the chair again.

“Why did you steal the car?” He had asked.

Because I had to get out of there. I had to DO something.  I needed to go somewhere else. Somewhere people wouldn’t call me names and tell me how useless I was. Somewhere with normal people, real family.  A place I could be wanted, loved, taught. A place I could control. Somewhere without lies, betrayls and hypocrisy.  Somewhere else…anywhere.

“How old were you?”

I was fourteen.