Читать книгу Ghetto Girls - Anthony Whyte - Страница 9

THREE

In the emergency room, Deedee lay on a stretcher. Her eyelids felt heavy, but she could not sleep. A nurse sympathetically smiled down at her. Deedee had just retold the most horrifying saga in her young life. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, she thought. I was just trying to have some fun, but it turned out to be the worst. She had to tell the story to the police, who had brought her here. They showed no compassion. They made her feel cheap, like it was all her fault. Then there were the doctors and nurses, who tried to get more information.

“Did they penetrate? Was it oral, anal or vaginal?”

Damn it, I was raped, Deedee wanted to scream at those fucking rape advocates, with their phony ass promises. Yeah sure, it will be forgotten. Deedee was lost in thought when the smiling nurse approached and began to speak.

“Feeling a bit better? Can I get you some water?” The smile annoyed Deedee. She wanted to lash out at the next person in a white uniform. She wanted to yell, “I’ve been violated. I want my virginity back!” But she just lay on the stretcher. Finally, she sat up.

“Water please,” she said.

“Oh sure,” the nurse replied. She brought a cup of water to Deedee. “You may get dressed anytime you wish. The bruises will soon be gone,” she added.

“I’m scarred for life,” Deedee said. The words poured out in a soft cry.

“It will get better. It’s going to take some time. You’ll have to come back for a follow-up, or you may see your family doctor. Call this phone number for the results of your HIV tests. Your uncle is here.” The words sent a chill through Deedee.

“My uncle is here?” Deedee echoed and took the card with the phone number.

Her mind lingered. How was she gonna face him, she wondered. He was gonna be so mad at her. Deedee felt ashamed and instinctively covered her body with the hospital robe. This was not enough. She glanced around the room. It seemed everyone was staring at her, or talking about her. They all knew. She could see it in their eyes, even though they were all in the hallway, and she had a screen around the stretcher.

“Nurse, where are my clothes?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Here you are. Your uncle brought these,” the nurse said and handed Deedee fresh clothing. They were her own gears but she didn’t feel right putting them on.

“Thanks,” Deedee said. She sat on the stretcher, and a younger woman in a dark suit approached. Here we go again, thought Deedee.

“Hi, I’m Maxine Singleton and I am a rape victim counselor.” Her stare made Deedee uneasy. “Here’s my card,” the woman said. “Feel free to call me. I know you’ve had an awful and scary experience. You’re going to need a lot of help. I can provide that. All you need to do is call the number on the card and I will call to check on you periodically. But you should call me whenever you need someone to talk to. Call me and I’ll try to help,” concluded the counselor. Deedee took the card and stared past the fast-talking counselor.

“May I leave now?” she asked.

“I think the police have some more questions. I’ll stay with you if you don’t mind.”

As if on cue, a policeman and a woman came around the screen. Deedee’s uneasiness returned. She lay back on the stretcher and crossed her legs.

“My name is Officer Brown. I’m from the District Attorney’s office,” said the woman, dressed in a blue suit with black shoes. She looked more like a lawyer than a cop. She even smelled like one. Her perfumed hand was highlighting every word.

“How’re you feeling Deedee?” the male officer asked. Deedee mumbled something inaudibly. Everyone peered at her when she cleared her throat. “Can you tell me what happened?”

“We know it’s a very difficult thing for you to do, but please, you have to try and help us catch the men who did this to you.”

Deedee was close to tears. The query made her go back to the ordeal, which she sought to escape. It assaulted her mind, and started an ache in her stomach that rose to her throat. She cried uncontrollably.

Her uncle, standing just outside the screen, dashed in and grabbed Deedee. She sobbed into his chest. He held her close, reluctant to let go. Officer Brown interrupted.

“We need to find out what happened, sir. Who are you?”

Ascot kept hugging his niece. He ignored the officer.

“Uncle, uncle. I’m sorry,” Deedee cried. “I’m so sorry,” she said, and the tears continued to flow.

“It’ll be alright,” Eric said.

He held Deedee, hoping she believed him. He wasn’t sure, but the phrase seemed to fit. He loved his niece. Eric had raised her since she was six years old, when her father, his brother and partner, was killed.

“Are you the uncle?” Officer Brown asked. “I have a question about—”

“What’s your question?” Eric interrupted her.

“Did you loan your niece the car tonight?”

There was a long pause. Ascot smelled the stench of the hospital and it brought back a rush of memories about his brother’s death. The police had rejected Eric’s argument that the killing took place during a robbery. His brother’s death had been labeled a drug-related incident. There was no trial. The police didn’t care enough to pursue it.

Ascot did some research on his own, paid an informer for the information he needed, and took the information to the police. He was certain they would find and prosecute his brother’s killers. But the authorities saw no reason to reopen the case, and Eric couldn’t produce the informant. As far as the police investigation went, Dennis was just another dead drug dealer. Eric knew this was wrong. This was a dishonor to his brother’s memory, and Eric felt cheated.

Fuck these cops, he thought and said, “I am not answering anymore questions until I speak to my lawyer,” Eric said.

“Listen,” the officer said. “We’re asking real simple questions here. Your niece was raped and beaten up, according to this report. We’d like to catch the bastards who did this sick thing, so it would be very nice if you would just cooperate.”

“We don’t have to do shit. As a matter of fact, we’re not gonna do shit, because you guys have never done anything to help me,” Ascot said. He turned to his niece who was staring at him, bewildered by what she had just witnessed. My uncle never gets angry, she thought.

“Let’s go, baby,” he said, grabbing Deedee by her arm and stomping past the rape counselor.

“We’re trying to conduct an investigation. A carjacking and rape. You can’t let the scum who did this get away,” the officer pleaded.

Ascot wasn’t listening. He rushed out the doorway, into the hallway and out of the hospital, dragging Deedee along. They hurried to the parking lot. He quickly found the green Range Rover and helped Deedee into the passenger seat.

Eric Ascot drove, paying close attention to the morning traffic. He tapped his thumbs frantically on the steering column. Deedee heard him breathe loudly through his nostrils, but neither said anything to the other. Her usually talkative uncle had secluded himself in the quiet of his thoughts. He didn’t even look at her. Maybe he was ashamed of her. She shuddered and looked away.

Deedee pressed the window control and welcomed the rush of the wind. It drowned the unbearable silence, and brought the refreshing smell of fresh air to the car’s interior. Deedee had longed for the feeling of freshness, which the morning’s episode had erased. She recalled the hospital and the medical examinations. Those damn tests, she thought, just like being raped all over again. The goal of those doctors, police officers, nurses and rape advocates seemed to be to make her re-enact the whole ugly scene. They were all so cold with the exception of the advocates.

Then she heard music. Eric had turned on the stereo. She watched as he adjusted the volume. He always asked if the volume was good. That had always been her chance to critique any of the new recording artists her uncle had recently worked with in the studio. More importantly, it gave her uncle a chance to share quality time with her.

The moment he opened his mouth, Uncle E. would start bragging and really loosen up. She always felt he was trying to sell the new group or artist to her. Then the ‘they’re-gonna-blow-up’ discussions would begin. She felt these types of conversations had also taken place between Eric and her father before he died.

But, this was not an ordinary drive home. There would be no discussion of recording artists. Deedee’s thoughts forced her back to the present. I was raped and he’s just driving me home. Like he just picked me up after a fight at school or something.

“Oh, I have to take these pills. They’re like birth control pills. Morning after,” she said. “Can we stop so I can get something to help me swallow them?” Deedee was seeking verbal reconciliation, but it was to no avail. Eric guided the vehicle to the curb without saying anything. Then she started out the door. The move brought a reaction from Eric.

“Um, I’ll get it,” he said, jumping from the vehicle and running across the street to the store.

“Apple,” she yelled. Deedee watched as her uncle disappeared into the store. Tears clouded her vision. “I’ll take apple, uncle E.” she said, softly. Then she cried.

Eric Ascot could not hear her. He was already across the street and in the store. As soon as he entered, he wiped his shirt-sleeve across his eyes, determined to keep Deedee from seeing his tears.

Maybe he had let her down somehow, he thought, reaching for any juice. She likes apple, he recalled and grasped the bottle. After paying, he walked lazily out of the store. He stared in the direction of the green van. She looks so much like my brother, he thought, and probably just as tough. No mother, no father, just me.

Deedee watched him approach. It was hard to tell, but he looked angry.

Well, she reasoned, I did take the car without his permission. He should be angry.

“I’m sorry, Uncle E.,” she said as he neared her side of the vehicle. But Eric had purposely walked around so he could apologize to her.

“Sorry for what, baby? You have no reason to be.” He handed her the apple juice. Eric was overcome with emotion, no sound came from his lips. He was afraid she would see his tears.

Deedee swallowed the tablet and gulped the juice.

“Thanks, uncle,” she offered, her words tainted by a disheartened tone. Eric went around to the driver’s side and leaned against the hood. Without thinking, he put a cigarette to his lips and lit it. Ascot stared fiercely across the street, desperately holding his tears, as he continued to puff on that occasional cigarette. The smoke did nothing to hide the pain he felt.

Deedee saw his six-foot frame slouched against the Range. She watched as her uncle crushed the cigarette against the side of the vehicle. He has to be really mad; she thought as he wrenched the door open and slammed it shut. He never treats his car, or any property, for that matter, this roughly. A quick reverse and they were moving forward to rejoin the flow of traffic.

Deedee turned to watch as the hospital disappeared in the background. Eric thought he should take Deedee to the home in the Hamptons. They made a left onto the Expressway and then were on the familiar path. The silence emphasized Ascot’s heavy breathing. Deedee saw his nostrils flare in the corner of her eyes. She wouldn’t mind staying in the Hamptons for a couple days, she thought.

We could talk about it, Uncle E, she wanted to say. But the words never came, they remained in her thoughts.

Ascot adjusted the volume of the radio, and Deedee closed her eyes. She awoke to find her uncle slowing down and making a right, easing the car into the driveway. Uncle must have figured I didn’t want to be in the city, she thought as he parked the Range and assisted Deedee from the vehicle. Deedee was tired and clung to her uncle’s arm. Then she shook free and walked quickly toward the house.

“Uncle E., whenever you’re ready, we can talk about it,” she said. She didn’t fully understand why she had said it.

“Well, maybe you should clean up. Uh, I mean, do you want to take a bath, get refreshed?” He asked in a disjointed manner. Eric Ascot was not sure of exactly what to say. Deedee stared up at him, confusion pasted on her youthful face.

“Yeah, I think I will...” Her voice trailed off. “My mouth is getting sore from all this jawing.” She was exhausted, and on entering the house, Deedee headed immediately to her room, slamming the door behind her.

“I’ll come and see you soon,” Ascot yelled and headed for the rear of the house to the kitchen. He checked his telephone messages. “Damn! Where the hell is Sophia?” He asked aloud over the machine. There was no message from Sophia. He decided to call her cell. The phone rang twice.

“Sophia!” He yelled with urgency. “They found Deedee. Yeah, yeah, she’s alive, but listen. You’ve got to get here right away, honey. She was raped. I don’t know what the hell to do. I’m not equipped for this situation. This is my niece.”

“Are you—?”

“Yes, I’m serious,” he cut her off. “We’re in the Hamptons. Get out here immediately.”

Deedee stood in front of the oval mirror on the back of the door. She stared at her reflection. This is what happens when you take something without permission. You have to pay. But why is there such a heavy price? Tears welled in her eyes. Deedee’s chest heaved uncontrollably; then she cried hard and loud. Her uncle heard, and froze to the spot where he stood in the kitchen.

“Damn Sophia should be here already. I need her now!” Eric said talking to the ceiling. “And Deedee’s damn drugged-out mother. I don’t even know where she is. Dammit! I swear on my brother’s grave, whoever did this fucking shit, I’ll personally take care of them. I want no help from those fucking police.” Eric was almost on the verge of tears as he collapsed in an easy chair.

Later, as he sipped another brew, Eric heard the keys turning in the door and the sound of Sophia’s footsteps rapidly approaching. They embraced briefly.

“I could hear her from outside. What’s wrong? Why is she crying so loud?” Sophia asked.

“Listen, I really don’t know. She came in and went straight upstairs and locked her door. I didn’t get a chance to talk to her.”

“What? You haven’t even spoken to her? Well...”

“Well, I didn’t know what to say to her.”

“She may have wanted to say something to you. Anything…”

“She had a chance when we were driving from the hospital and—”

“Get me two glasses of cold water.”

“For what? I don’t need to cool down.”

“Who said anything about you? They’re for me and Deedee.”

Sophia took the first glass and drank a mouthful. She set the glasses on a tray and took her black pumps off, then made her way up the short stairway to Deedee’s room.

“Dee? May I come in?” She asked knocking gently.

“Hold on. Just a second, Sophia,” Deedee said and opened the door. She was walking to the bed when Sophia came in.

“Hey, girlfriend,” Sophia said. She was trying to sound upbeat. Deedee mumbled but Sophia ignored the inaudible response.

“I brought some water. Cold water, with a few ice cubes. I thought you could use a little. I know I could.”

“Sophia, have—well no, but—” Deedee looked down on the beige carpeted floor, and then continued. “Have you ever been raped?”

The blunt question caught Sophia off guard. Just for an instant, she wished she could say she had been raped, it was a common thing, but the experience never happened and Sophia could not fake it.

“No,” she replied. “I have never been raped. I can imagine that it’s a most terrible thing.” A brief pause followed. “Do you want the water now?” Sophia asked as she sipped.

“Thanks,” she said reaching for the glass. She sipped and spoke. “It’s bad. It’s really, really awful,” Deedee cried.

Deedee gulped the rest of the water and felt it roll down her dry throat. A surprise burp caused her to look at Sophia, who had been standing in the middle of the room. They smiled. Deedee walked over and hugged Sophia.

“Thanks,” she said. “I’m sleepy, but could you stay with me until I fall asleep?”

The sun illuminated the room. Deedee walked over to the picture window and stood in the first light to enter. She touched her stomach and thought of her mother, wondered if she were dead or alive. Sophia silently watched Deedee. Suddenly it was clear: Deedee was no longer an innocent child; she was the victim of a heinous crime. Sophia walked over to the window and pulled the draperies closed.

“Get some rest, Dee,” she said.

“Yeah, but will you stay?”

“Of course I will.” Sophia answered.

Deedee moved over to the bed and turned toward Sophia.

“I feel like I’ve got to take a long bath,” she said. “Thanks, Sophia.” She went into the bathroom and closed the door. Sophia sat on the bed. Tears rolled down her cheeks.

Deedee undressed and stepped into the shower. The spray sent a sudden chill through her body. She stood under the shower, allowing the water to soak in. It didn’t dampen her thought: If I hadn’t taken that car, none of this would’ve happened. She cried a little. Why such a heavy price?

She thought of the last time she had seen her mother, Denise, who had gotten heavy into drugs after her father’s death. Perhaps she couldn’t handle his dying, or maybe it was the way he was killed. Whatever it was, Deedee remembered vividly that the last month or so before she was carried away, Denise was stealing to support her crack habit. She had lost a lot of weight and looked quite emaciated. Her clothing no longer fit. Deedee remembered feeling real hatred toward her mother.

Uncle Eric had tried to explain, but Deedee couldn’t understand. She wouldn’t listen and changed her name on the school register by forging her mother’s signature. Denise had been part of Deedee’s name. She had been Denise D. Ascot, but changed it to Deedee. Because of her mother’s drug use Deedee despised her. During the period they lived together, Deedee often wished death on her mother.

“Dear God, I pray that you take my mommy back or let her die.” Deedee prayed daily. One day, five years ago, the ambulance had carried her mother away on a stretcher. Denise had overdosed on crack-cocaine and heroin. Deedee felt some type of relief. She hoped her mother would never come back. After the overdose, Deedee never saw Denise again. She would miss her, but kept that a secret. Now she wanted her mother. Eric had assumed the role of her father, and now that he was contemplating marrying Sophia, well, maybe she would have a mother again.

Deedee toweled herself and put on her robe. Sophia rose from the bed so that Deedee could lie down. Deedee brushed her damp hair and fell asleep.

Sophia rejoined Eric downstairs. He had downed two more beers and was working fast on the third.

“Hey, big guy, don’t drink yourself silly. Save me some.” Sophia said.

“That silliness is not a bad idea. As for the beer, there’s plenty in the fridge.” Eric answered.

“Thanks. Please don’t kill me with kindness,” Sophia said.

“Listen, my niece was ...”

“I know. Raped. It is a very, very bad thing. We’ve got to be supportive and try to get something positive...”

“Something positive out of being raped?” Eric asked.

“Out of this evil try to find the good. Maybe you can overwhelm her with good—and goods.”

“Like?”

“Like a shopping spree, getting clothes. Like sending her flowers. And more shopping. The idea here is to try to help her to forget. I have friends who will be able to provide counseling and other support services. In time this horrible experience may be put to the back of her mind.”

“Is that possible?” Eric asked. His eyes widened with the knowledge Sophia had just imparted.

“Yes. You won’t be able to take it all away. But, hey, it certainly won’t hurt to try,” said Sophia between sips of the newly opened brew.

“Sophia, that shit really hurts me. I don’t know...”

“Yeah, I understand. What did the police—?”

“Later for them assholes. They have never helped me. Never!”

Sophia saw anger in Eric. The furrow in his brow became pronounced as he stared at a picture of him and, Dennis, his older brother. She knew where it all stemmed from. Eric’s brother had been murdered not long before Sophia met Eric, so she was with him when he learned the truth about his brother’s death. Something in Eric changed after that, and Sophia knew not to press the issue with him.

Men wearing hoods had tried to mug his older brother, he was told. Dennis fired at them with his .38 Smith and Wesson, but one attacker got behind him and shot him dead. Eric knew Dennis had gone to an address given to him by ‘Xtrigaphan,’ the hot rap group he wanted to sign. Dennis had taken $10,000 in cash with him to lure the group to sign. Eric knew his brother dabbled in cocaine, but also knew Dennis wasn’t dealing. He knew that the cash was a signing bonus. The police weren’t interested in Eric’s version of his brother’s murder. Since then, his hatred of the police bordered on obsession. Sophia decided to try another approach.

“Well, have you spoken to Deedee, to find out what happened?”

“No.”

“Do you know what happened?”

“Not entirely, except that she was raped and the car was stolen.”

“By whom? Where?” Sophia queried.

“Look, the cops told me what happened. They called me and told me they found her badly beaten. Told me that she had been sexually assaulted.”

“So you haven’t spoken to Deedee about any of this?”

“I told you. No,” said Eric. He was annoyed now.

Sophia Lawrence, with her lawyer’s mind, suspended the questioning when she saw Eric’s resentment. She tilted the beer upwards, looking at his reflection through the beer bottle. His face appeared contorted, and he looked fat with anger.

Eric Ascot turned his back. He was rehashing his brother’s death.

“I didn’t want to include the cops,” he said, turning to face her. “Not after the way they treated my brother. They treated him like he was some unknown, drug dealing nigga. Now I’m gonna handle this shit the way it should be handled.”

He turned away. Then he stopped. The pain showed on his face.

“Soph, whatever it takes to make her better. Please don’t spare the cost. Get her the best. That’s my niece laid up there.” Sophia nodded.