Five: A Maor Novel (Maor series) (4 page)

As I stare, dumb-founded at my father, some of my anger begins
to fade as reality sinks in.

‘But what about my friends?’ I whisper.

‘You’ll make new ones, baby,’ Mom says.

Her answer infuriates me. She knows I’ve never found it
easy to make friends.

‘Easy for you to say, you’re not the one who has to
start over in a new country - alone.’

‘You won’t be alone.’ My mother clasps both hands
tightly together, as though to stop herself from reaching out to me again. ‘Nan
will be there and it’s not a new country; you did spend the first seven years
of your life there.’

‘It’s not like I can remember that mom.’

‘But you know Nan.’

‘Having a couple of telephone conversations every few
weeks is not the same as living with someone.’

My father shoots me another warning look but I pretend
not to see. I feel nauseous and hot, sick with the reality of the life that overnight,
is falling to pieces around me. How can they expect me to leave now, just when
my dreams are beginning to take shape?

‘How long before I can come home again?’ I ask, gripping
my upper arms painfully in an attempt to keep my composure.

My mother drops her gaze to the plush, cream rug beneath
the coffee-table and there is a moment of awkward silence; Dad clears his
throat and steps around the couch.

‘We won’t be coming back to South Africa, Shaylee, we’re
moving back permanently to Aylburton.’

‘What?’

I take an automatic step backwards and sink to the edge
of the leather chair behind me, my mind reeling and all the air whooshing out
of my lungs. Dad reaches out and brushes a hand over my hair.

‘You know we’ve been thinking about going for a while.’

‘For a visit – yes, not – permanently…’

‘You’ll understand soon enough.’

His words are distant and meaningless. Moving
permanently… Never coming back… My mind is stuck like a broken disk, repeating
these words over and over again as precious memories flash through my mind, the
way I imagine they will when I die.

There will be no more dancing with Luke, no movies with
Jenne, no summer pool parties, no lazy Sunday afternoon braais and definitely
no School of arts next year. Every routine I have established, every friendship
I have nurtured, every dream for my future is about to be bleached off the
canvas of my life.

And nobody will tell me why.

It’s you
, I think, glaring daggers at my mother,
you always want to run my life, to make me do things your way, to live
out your dreams.

I feel the burn of suppressed tears in my throat and I
know that I’m either going to burst into angry tears or explode, neither of
which I am willing to do in front of my mother.

I take a step forward; look her straight in the eye and
say:

‘I’ll never forgive you.’

As her face crumples, I turn and flee from the
room.
  

Chapter
5

Incapacity

Tastes like: Your tongue
after three ice lollies.

Smells like: The sour
breath of a predator.

Sounds like: Glass
shattering in the middle of the night.

Feels like: The graze of
twine against your wrists.

Looks like: The expressions
on the faces of on-lookers seconds before two trains collide.
 

‘Mom, you’re being ridiculous!’

‘It’s not safe, Shaylee.’

‘It’s less than a kilo down the road, what could
possibly happen?’

‘You need to -’

‘Trust you – yeah, whatever…’ I ignore the way my
mother’s breath hitches in her throat and insist: ‘Luke’s waiting. I’ve already
put him off two days and I can’t just leave without saying anything. I owe him
an explanation.’

‘You can’t tell -’

‘Relax mom, I won’t say anything about the mark or the
dream,’ I say, and add more to myself: ‘It’s not like he’d believe me anyway.’

Mom sighs and leans her palms on the edge of the kitchen
counter, while I stand, hand on hip, glaring at her from the doorway.

‘I’ll take you myself,’ she says.

‘Oh, come on -’

‘That’s my condition, take it or leave it. And you need
to take some of the medicine I picked up from Dr Theron before we leave.’

‘But I feel fine!’

‘It’s not negotiable, Shaylee.’ Mom gives me a stern
look and holds out the small crystal vial, filled with amber liquid.

I close my eyes, trying to reign in my frustration. If
I’d thought my parents were over protective of me before, it’s cake compared to
the way they’re acting now.

With an annoyed sigh, I march across the kitchen, snatch
the vial from my mother’s out-stretched hand and tilt half its contents into my
mouth. The sickly-sweet medicine trickles down my throat, leaving a warm trail
in its wake. Dr Theron has tried to mask the bitter herbs with raspberry
extract, but I can still taste traces of garlic, lemon grass and caraway. I
swallow quickly, and glare at my mother.

‘Happy now?’

She gives a curt nod and grabs her car keys from the glass
dish on the counter, almost knocking over the vase of lilies beside it in the
process. She ignores the vase, which wobbles precariously for a moment before
settling back onto its thick base as she turns and heads silently through the
interconnecting garage door. I blink after her, stunned. She has no make-up on.
A chill races down my spine as I follow her into the garage.
 

I climb into the Mercedes, glance once at my mother’s weary
profile and turn away. There is something uncomfortable simmering below the
surface of my anger when I see her in this state. It feels a lot like guilt,
but I refuse to acknowledge it.
I’m
the one who has been wronged.
 

As we drive down the street, I stare out of the window
at the familiar houses in our street and deliberately turn my thoughts away
from my mother to the task at hand.

Luke.

We’ve been training so hard for this competition and now
he’s going to have to find himself another partner, impossible at such a late
stage. As for me…well there is a very distinct possibility that I might not be
able to continue my dancing. I take a fortifying breath and shove the thought
away. Dancing is not an option, it is a necessity. I will find a way.

Luke’s Polo is parked outside the school hall when we
pull up. I leave my mother waiting in the idling car and traipse toward the door,
rehearsing the words that will break Luke’s heart.

He is stretching when I walk in, but he pauses and turns
toward me with a smile, which immediately transforms into a frown as his eyes
run down my Levis.

‘You’re not in your leotard.’

I stick my hand into the back pocket of my jeans, taking
comfort from the worn page corners of
Five
and cut to the chase.

‘I can’t stay. I just came to tell you I’m leaving.’

‘Leaving? What, like, going away for the weekend? I know
it’s your birthday Shay, but it’s pretty bad timing with the competition coming
up.’

‘I won’t be here for the competition, Luke,’ I interrupt,
my attempt to brush away my emotions making the words sound harder and more
abrupt than I’d intended. ‘I’m leaving the country.’

He gives me a confused look.

‘Leaving the country? For how long? What do you mean you
won’t -?’

‘We’re immigrating to the UK,’ I blurt out. ‘I leave on
Wednesday and I won’t be coming back. Ever.’

There is a sense of finality to that statement that stings
me as much as it seems to stun Luke. I turn to look out of the window so he won’t
see the twitch of my jaw or the shimmer of tears that have begun to gather in
my eyes. Damn those stupid tears, I thought I’d cried them all out. This is
turning out to be harder than I’d expected. My own words are double-edged
swords, sinking deep into my own heart even as they pierce Luke’s.

I draw in a calming breath and steal a quick glance back
at his face, which reflects an internal battle. I think he is frustrated, sad and
maybe a little angry with me and I wonder which emotion will win out. I hope it
isn’t anger; I don’t want to leave on bad terms. This friendship is still
important to me and I don’t think I could ever forgive my mother if I lose it.

‘I’m sorry; I know the competition is only two weeks -’

He holds up one hand to silence me and shakes his head.

‘I just –’ he exhales and lifts his hand to rub his
forehead. ‘Why didn’t you tell me sooner, Shay? This isn’t the kind of decision
you make in a day.’

‘I didn’t -’

‘I mean, why did you even bother training with me if you
knew -?’

‘I didn’t know, Luke!’ I shout. My hands curl into fists
at my sides. I take a step toward him and the words just tumble out. ‘You think
this was my choice? You think I want to leave everything, my friends, my life –’

My voice breaks and angry tears spill onto my cheeks. I try
to brush them away with a quick gesture but more tears replace them, so I cross
my arms in front of my chest and look at my sneakers, still muddy from the most
recent Joburg Summer thundershower. I’m furious with myself for breaking down
in front of him but it’s like the dam is full and I can’t stop the water from
overflowing its banks.

‘I don’t want to leave, but I don’t have a say.’

I lift my face and Luke takes one look at my
tear-streaked cheeks and closes the distance between us.

‘Please don’t cry, Shay, I’ll talk to your parents.’

I shake my head and drop my gaze to my feet again but he
puts both hands on either side of my face and tips my chin up.

 
‘You could stay
with me?’ There is an ominous desperation in his usually warm voice and when I
meet his eyes, I’m unprepared for the stark emotion shining in them.

‘I can’t,’ I whisper, unable to look away, fascinated
and horrified at what I see. The train wreck I’ve been carefully avoiding these
past months is heading my way and I’m like a deer, caught in the headlights. His
next words are going to change everything.

‘Why not?
 
I’ll
take care of you, I promise,’ he says. ‘You must know how I feel about you?’

I make a last ditch effort to stop the train but I know
it’s too late.

‘Luke, I -’

My sentence is cut short as he collides into me and crashes
his lips against mine. At first, I just stand still, too shocked to react but
he seems to take my lack of response as acquiescence and with a groan that
seems to come from his belly, crushes my body to his. His lips are hard and
insistent and when I feel his tongue touch my bottom lip, I am jolted from my
paralysis into action.
 
I try to pull
away but he just hauls me closer, slipping one hand onto the back of my neck to
immobilize my head and shoving his tongue into my mouth.

Shock gives way to fear as I push ineffectually against
his chest with both hands. He doesn’t seem to notice my response, and caught up
in the power of his own passion, he shoves me against the wall. I feel his
hand, fumbling at the button on my jeans and it catapults me into full blown
panic mode. I use my entire body weight to push against him and bite down hard
on his tongue. Luke pulls his head away quickly and I think he is going to come
to his senses and release me but instead, he circles one hand around my throat,
forcing my head back against the wall.

‘Luke, stop. You’re hurting me,’ I choke, unable to
breathe with his tight grip at my throat. He frowns at me strangely, like for a
moment, he can’t remember where he is but then his gaze fastens on my mouth,
dips to the pulse at my neck, fluttering wildly against my skin.

‘God, you smell good,’ he says burying his face into the
soft flesh at my throat. His voice is deep and husky, unrecognizable and his
eyes – it’s like there’s a dark beast in there, staring out at me.

‘Stop…’ I intend it as a scream, but his hold on my neck
is so tight that it comes out as a hoarse whisper. Silver dust particles dance
before my eyes and I realize with a sick feeling that I’m about to pass out. I
claw at his hand, uncaring of the deep grooves I am scoring with my fingernails
into his skin because I have to get away, if I pass out now…

And then suddenly, the pressure against my neck is gone
and there is nothing holding me up anymore. I collapse onto the floor, back
against the wall, gulping in huge breaths of air. The silver takes a moment to
recede from my vision, but then I see Luke, lying sprawled across the floor on
the opposite side of the hall – beneath my mother’s booted foot.

He looks bewildered as he stares up at her but he turns
his head in my direction and his confusion dissolves into horror.

‘Oh, God, Shaylee. I’m so sorry,’ he says. He tries to sit
up but my mother grinds her boot-heel into his stomach. He whimpers, stops
moving and looks across the floor at me, paling visibly as I put one hand
tentatively to the angry red marks at my neck.

‘I don’t know what came over me, I didn’t mean to -’

‘Stop,’ I say, in a voice that rasps like sandpaper.

I don’t understand what has just happened and I don’t
think there are any words in the world that could justify it. I do not know
this man who looks like my friend and I don’t want to be anywhere near him. I use
the wall behind me as a support to shimmy up onto wobbly legs, surprised at the
amount of energy it costs me. The burst of adrenaline that has carried me
through the last few minutes is gone, leaving in its wake a mind-numbing
exhaustion. I need to get home, curl up and fall asleep before my brain starts
computing the
what ifs
.

What if
I’d never come here today.

What if
I hadn’t fallen apart?

What if
my mother hadn’t been there to stop him…?

‘Good-bye, Luke,’ I say, without looking at him, and
limp toward the door.