Page 19 of Just Say (Hell) No
The two of them had stood guard, his dad at the front door with his deer rifle, Marko between the back door and the bedroom with the bat, and he’d watched his father’s baby sister pack her things. Hers, and her daughter’s.
He’d seen the tears dripping from an eye that was swollen shut, the hands that shook as she yanked clothes from drawers and closets and stuffed them frantically into rubbish bags. And all the while, Ella had sat on the floor between the bed and the wall, her Barbie in her hand, and waited. Silent. Still. Hidden. Like she’d done that before.
Five years old.
That time, Jakinda hadn’t gone back. Because that time, Drake had hit his daughter, too.
Give Jakinda some credit. She’d left, and she’d done her best to keep Ella safe ever since. And now? Maybe she’d seen it all happening again, and she couldn’t bear it.
That was then. This was now. Ella was sitting back, sniffing away the few tears she’d let fall, and Marko got up, tore off some paper toweling from the roll on the counter, and thought,Have to buy some tissues.
The doorbell rang. The kitten, woken from her nap, was on his shoulder again. He pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and told Ella, “We’ll get it sorted. But first, we’ll eat. When did you eat last?”
She shrugged and blew her nose. “Dunno. I had to wait for the bus at Britomart for ages, and then you weren’t here.”
“Door,” he said when the bell rang again, and went to get it. Food would help.
Ella seemed calmer, although silent, when they were eating vegetables and chicken. Finally, she took a long drink of water and said, “Crying sucks.”
He laughed out of sheer surprise. “Yeh. Does. And no worries. It’s a situation, that’s all. We’ll get it sorted, and you’ll cope.”
“Wish you’d tell Mum that. I thought she was going to have a stroke. First thing she said was, ‘We’ll get you an abortion. No other choice.’ I thoughtIwas a bad Catholic. So first thing Monday, we were at the doctor’s. You have to see two, did you know that? And they both have to say your health would be in jeopardy if you stayed pregnant. Which they do say. That law’s stupid.”
“I did know that,” Marko said.
“The doctor was quite happy to say it, of course. ‘Because she’s sixteen,’ he said. ‘No good for her, and no good for a baby.’ Like I’d be some monster mum or something. Worse than those ones you see screaming at their kids in the Countdown carpark? Yeh, right. And he talked to Mum, not to me, which was annoying. He told her to hurry and make the appointment with the second doctor because it looked like it was almost too late, because I had to be seventeen or eighteen weeks already, and Mum said, ‘No worries. She’s doing it.’ And when I said it was my choice, she started tocry,there in the exam room, and said, ‘I’ve tried so hard. Am I going to be punished forever? I made a mistake. Ipaid.My little girl. My baby.’ Like it was abouther.I’mthe one who’s pregnant! And then she got all quiet and asked me, ‘How did this happen?’ Like it was a big mystery. And whenIsaid, ‘Well, you know, Mum, the usual way,’ she said, ‘Oh, my God’ again, like it helped, andthenshe asked, ‘Did he force you? Is that why you didn’t tell me? Because if he did, and that’s why you didn’t say anything sooner—we’re going to the police.’ Like it would’ve been better if I’d been… you know. All in front of the doctor. Awkward much?”
“Awkward heaps,” Marko said. “But you haven’t been to the second doctor yet.”
“No. I came here instead. The weekend was rubbish, and Monday, too, but on Tuesday, I thought—well, at least I know, and I can make a plan. I didn’t want to leave school, but I didn’t want to beinschool. Notmyschool. It’d be awful, and Mum’s over the top. Round the bend. You weren’t there, or you’d know. I talked to Caro, and she said I should come to you and go to school here, so I could go home afterwards without all the drama. And I thought—brilliant. So that’s my plan.”
She looked like she thought that should explain it. His head was spinning more than a little. “You might have rung me first.”
“Well,” she said, “then you might’ve said no.”
“It’s possible.” He had a feeling he was about to get much more than he’d bargained for. “What are you doing about this baby, then?”
“There, you see,” she said. “That’s the brilliant part. That’s the other reason I came. They have a whole system. You get to choose. Caro and I looked it up. The parents fill out papers telling you all about them, and you choose which ones. They’re vetted before, so you know the baby’s going someplace safe where they’ll love it, and you don’t have to worry.”
“Ah. We’re doing an adoption?”
“Well,yeh.Obviously. Because then I’d be doing a good thing for somebody else, which would make it right that it happened, or at least not like some tragedy. And the baby could seem like anything the parents were, as long as they’re not gingers or blondes or something. Because Julian’s Samoan, and I’m all mixed. And besides, here I am, doing well at school, not using P or being an alcoholic or in prison or on the dole. Julian’s all right, too, got good parents and all. So that’s all good, because genes, right? Other than my dad, of course, but what are you going to do. And my mum, maybe, but she’s not horrible, just all emotional and involved. And at leastI’mnot weeping all over the shop and panicking every time something happens, so that must be a recessive gene. Heaps of people would want the baby, I’d think, and it would be good. Like a service. Like a good deed.”
“It would be that,” he said, feeling his way. “Not an easy road, though. Are you sure?”
“Yes.I know Mum thinks I’m sixteen, and that I don’t know. But I do. It wouldn’t be easy no matter what I did. I thought, though—it could be almost like a gap year, if I came to Auckland for it. Maybe it could be like… an adventure, if I thought of it like that. It’s not like you’d have to do some kind of caring for me like you may be thinking. Mum isn’t always the best about going to the shops and cooking tea or paying the rent, you know. I’d just be a housemate. And it won’t even be for that long. I got through almost half of it already, and I didn’t even know! I thought I had a nasty tummy bug, that’s all. And then that I had cancer. So—you see.”
Marko had a feeling it was going to be tougher than she thought. A journey? Yes. An adventure? Maybe not. “Have you spoken to somebody about that, then? About adoption?”
“I thought—better to do it all up here. So I’ll be far away. After.”
“Find adoptive parents in Auckland,” Marko guessed.
“Yeh. Better, I thought. For when I go home. To be far away.”
She was running her thumbs over her nails again. Looking too young for all of this. Looking sixteen.
He could send her back. To Tekapo, which didn’t just mean Jakinda. It meant Marko’s parents as well, and his little sister Caro, and their grandmother. That would be the smart thing to do. It definitely would be the easier thing as far as he was concerned. But as hard a road as Ella would face in Auckland, would it be any easier in Tekapo? She didn’t think so. And itwasher road to walk, for better or worse.
