Читать книгу The True Story of Canadian Human Trafficking - Paul H Boge - Страница 13

chapter six

No doubt Kedisha knew something was different.

Abby could tell her friend was noticing changes in her. Even when they were just hanging out, she felt Kedisha observing her, studying her. Abby had experimented with different makeup, different hairstyles and different clothes. The changes weren’t obvious from one day to the next, but over a week, over a couple of weeks for sure, they compounded into significant changes. Abby seemed altogether different.

Like a patient who gets a sudden new lease on life after a blood transfusion, Abby felt like she had been injected with a drug that made her into a whole new person.

She noticed it herself the most when she approached the lunch table occupied by her peers. Before she had felt apprehensive, even scared, about sitting down. Will they get up? Will they make fun of me? Or worse, will they even know I’m here? But now it was different. Now she was self-assured—she had a confidence that enabled her to approach them and not live and die with someone else’s reaction.

“So who is he?” Kedisha asked as Abby spun the combination at her locker. She pulled on the lock and opened the door.

“Who is who?”

“You know who. How did you guys meet?”

Abby avoided eye contact. “We’re just friends.”

“So there is someone,” she said, raising her eyebrows. “Name.”

“None of your business,” Abby whispered, hoping Kedisha would do the same and not draw attention to their conversation.

“Come on. Out with the details. How did you guys meet?”

“I have to get to class.”

“You’re smart enough. You can afford to skip a few minutes to give me the—”

“We met online,” she said, thinking that giving Kedisha a few details would get her to stop her inquisition. “A friend of a friend.”

“Is it that guy I caught you staring at on your phone? Cute. What does he do?”

“He’s graduated.”

“And doing what now?”

“Lots of questions, Kedisha,” Abby said, grabbing her biology textbook and closing the door.

“What do you really know about this guy?”

That didn’t go over well. Abby did little to hide her reaction. “Thanks.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Can always count on you, Kedisha.”

“Abby.”

“Always seems to be so fitting that you have a super guy with you all the time, but poor, pathetic Abby, she couldn’t possibly get a guy. So when she does, he must be a creep.”

“Abby, I’m just curious.”

“No, you’re not. You’re surprised.”

The walk home usually gave Abby a chance to let her mind wander—to explore places without any restrictions. But today, the memory of the conversation she had earlier with Kedisha plagued her thoughts. She tried to get rid of it the way people do when they want a particularly awkward or painful event out of their mind. But the more she tried, the more it came back. Like a boomerang returning. Every time she attempted to throw that thought away, it seemed to come back twice as strong, until it felt impossible to shake loose.

Why was I so defensive around Kedisha?

It’s her fault. The tone in her voice was so judging.

She’s a friend. She’s just asking.

Yeah, asking how I could possibly find a great guy.

She punched in her code in the garage door—the basketball hoop may as well have been invisible—and entered the kitchen. The moment she did, her phone buzzed. A message. A jolt of excitement ran through her. She checked. Jake.

“Canada’s Wonderland tonight?”

“Hi, sweetheart,” her mom said from the kitchen. The words were normal. The tone was not. To any outsider it would have seemed like any other greeting on any other day. But when people know each other well, and for a long time, even the slightest nuance in how they say things conveys much, much more than the simple words themselves.

Something was wrong.

“Hey, Mom,” Abby replied, wondering if her own tone conveyed that she had discovered something odd in her mother’s tone.

“How was school?”

Sucked. It was awful. My friend doubts that I can have a boyfriend—Come to think of it, Mom, do you doubt the same thing? Do you think I deserve a good guy? Would you believe me if I told you this great guy took me out to a super nice restaurant, called me beautiful and gave me a—

“It was good.”

“Your nose a hundred percent?”

“It’s fine,” Abby said, heading up to her room to respond to Jake.

Her mother poked her head around the corner. “Why don’t you come sit down. Let’s catch up. I haven’t seen you a while.”

Haven’t seen Dad either. He always comes home late and is so bagged. Business. I know. Pay for the mortgage. I get it. He has lots on the go.

“I was just going to go out tonight,” Abby said, stopping on the stairs.

“Great. With Kedisha?”

“Maybe. Some other friends.”

I just lied. Why did I lie? Big deal. She wouldn’t understand … Or maybe she would?

“Supper is in a bit. You want to get washed up?”

No. Not really. I just want to get out of here and hang out with Jake.

“Sure.”

Abby’s mother smiled and returned to the kitchen. Abby looked at her phone as she went to the back hall sink.

“Hey, Jake! Canada’s Wonderland sounds great!”

“Super. I’m looking forward to seeing you again.”

“Me too! It’ll take me a while to get there by bus.”

“Bus? Not my girl. Let’s go by car.”

“That’s a long way to go.”

“Your worth it.”

“Awwww. Thanks. And by the way it’s spelled you’re as in you are.”

“You see. Pretty and smart.”

“Want to pick me up at my house?”

“Would love to.”

“Super.”

She put the phone in her pocket and was about to head to the kitchen when it buzzed again.

“Actually, want to meet at the Richmond Hill Centre platform? That might make it faster for both of us.”

She admired his ingenuity. If she took the train towards him and he drove towards her, that would speed up the time for them to meet. It reminded her of math. If a bus heading towards Jake leaves in half an hour and travels at an average speed of 50 km/hr, and Jake drives a car towards Abby travelling at an average speed of 70 km/hr, what time would they—It didn’t matter. Even if it didn’t make chivalry sense, it did make romantic sense. People doing what they could to see each other as soon as possible.

“For sure. See you there.”

She entered the kitchen and saw her mother blowing on dough in the oven.

“Sorry,” she said. “I tried to rush the process. Wanted us to have fresh garlic bread for supper. Ruined it.”

“No worries.”

She sat down with her mom. Spaghetti and meatballs. Her favourite. How to eat and not get sauce all over herself? It didn’t usually bother her. Not until recently.

She ate faster than usual. They talked. Exchanged words, really. Talking takes sharing of each other’s opinions. Opening up. Allowing people to see in, or at least as far as you’re willing to let them.

Her mother felt it. Felt the distance. Felt the words that sounded like she was listening to a recording and not to her daughter. That happens. She looked at Abby. Wondering what was going on inside that mind of hers as she wolfed down her food.

Abby tried hard not to look obvious while glancing at her phone sporadically. No phones at the dinner table. That was the rule. But parents have to pick their battles. Better to keep her and her phone at the table than lose them both, right?

Abby was almost finished eating, and her mother felt she was about to slip away. There never is a good time to broach some subjects.

“That’s a nice necklace you have in your room.”

But there’s a good way to do it. And try as she might, Abby’s mother hit the wrong tone.

“What were you doing in my room?”

Torpedo. Torpedo. Torpedo.

Where are the countermeasures?

“I was just walking by,” she lied. It was a half-truth, and both of them knew it. She was concerned. Abby was never one to buy herself a necklace. Not like that. That kind of necklace is a gift. Not from a shopping spree. That would defeat the whole purpose. You have it because someone wanted to give it to you. Because someone considered you valuable enough to have it. That necklace was a whack of dough.

And it concerned her.

“You went through my stuff?”

“It was lying beside your bed. The door was open. It’s a nice necklace.”

The words were fine. Her tone implied otherwise.

“A friend gave it to me.” Abby got up from the table, said a half-hearted thank you, which came out more like Stop interfering in my life, and left, trying the best she could to leave on good terms.

She got off at the station. The conversations—with Kedisha, the one with her mom, the non-existent one with her dad—all vanished. She looked around and found Jake. His face buried in his cellphone. It bothered her.

Is me showing up not worth waiting for compared with that screen?

But she shut that voice out.

It’s normal. Everyone looks at their phone. What’s he supposed to do, stare at the entrance for you? Smile. It’s Jake.

“Hey, stranger,” she said.

“Hey, gorgeous!” They hugged. That felt better. He noticed her gold necklace. “Hey, you’re wearing my necklace.”

She touched the cool metal with her fingertips. “I love wearing it. It’s beautiful, Jake. Thank you again. I don’t know what to say.”

“Anything for my girl.” He pulled back from her. “Ready?”

She nodded. They held hands and crossed over to a parking lot. She was ever conscious of his fingers around hers, hoping her hand didn’t feel clammy. Up ahead she saw an older Honda SUV. Black with rust around the wheels. They approached. She slowed down, expecting him to go to the driver’s side. But he kept walking. She was caught off guard and had to quicken her pace. Strange.

Then she saw another car. Oh yeah. Forget the Porsches. The BMWs. The Mercedes. Bayern Munich was enough Germany for her. Besides, nothing, absolutely nothing, beats a red Ford Mustang.

Convertible to boot.

“This is yours?”

He got in. She opened her door. He started the engine. She loved the sound. That Mustang low rumbling was the most characteristic engine sound she had ever heard. She had wondered if the red Mustang in the photo was his or someone else’s. Now she knew. What a rush. What a car.

She sat down in her black leather seat. Took in the new-car smell. She closed the door. No clunky sound. Just a perfect click like a sound chamber closing—a sound that separated her from the rest of the world.

“Easy Lover” by Phil Collins came on the pristine sound system. The speakers were placed perfectly for the music to envelope her. “She’s the kind of girl you dream of—dream of keeping hold of.”

Jake hit the gas. The car took off. Abby glanced up at the gorgeous streaks of red painting the sky. She wondered how it got that way. “You’re the one who wants to hold her—hold her and control her.”

He parked the Mustang, and they walked to the gates at Canada’s Wonderland. He paid for their tickets at the entrance. Cash. Two one hundred dollar bills. It caught her attention. The amount and the bill. She remembered her history class. Prime Minister Robert Borden’s image was on it. He served in office during World War I, one of the most difficult times in Canada’s history. She had learned that Canada had conscription, and it gripped her soul to know that people were forced into battle. Many of them faced horrific violence.

And death.

He reached for her hand. He didn’t have to go far. Hers was already outstretched waiting for his. He smiled and raised his eyebrows. She looked out at the amazing park and followed his lead inside.

They reached the Medieval Faire section and stood in line. Leviathan would be first, of course. A massive roller coaster reaching speeds of close to 150 km/hr. She told him she had never been on it before. A first time for everything.

“How was your day?” he asked.

Did it matter now? How did Shakespeare from her English class put it? All’s well that ends well. She was with him now. “Great,” she said. “You?”

He nodded. “Thanks for hanging out tonight.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“Means a lot. You could have been doing a lot of other things. Thanks for coming here with me.”

“I’d go with you anywhere.”

Their turn came up, and he motioned her in first to the front of the coaster. Four across. She sat down on the end. Jake beside her. Two beside him. One wearing a retro Winnipeg Jets jersey, the other a Leafs jersey.

The coaster lurched forward and began its slow climb. Higher and higher. An unsuspecting person would have no reason to know what was about to happen. But anyone with experience knew full well what was coming.

It reached the top of the climb and began to level out. Then, without warning, it began to tip over the precipice. She looked over. Fear and excitement consumed her. Her car leaned over. Steeper and steeper. That’s not possible. It can’t go vertical, can it? We’ll fall off. We’ll be killed. It didn’t matter to her that rides like this had been engineered. Tested. Safety checks performed. All that science goes out the door when you’re seized with emotion.

Leviathan raced down to the bottom. Abby screamed like she was heading to the pit of hell. A high-pitched shrill of sheer terror. Jake laughed. Time of his life. Abby felt her head spinning. Like she was in the ocean and a huge wave had crashed over her, making her spin around, causing her not to know which way was up. A rush of adrenalin raced through her. The coaster rolled into a curve, and Abby felt her stomach return from her throat, back to where it belonged. The scream changed to a cheer. When the ride ended she found herself relieved the whole thing was over. And considered herself strong for surviving.

“Want to go again?” Jake asked. His chill sense of humour putting her at ease.

“That’s a lot of people,” she said, hoping to indicate she would go again if the lineup wasn’t so long.

“You want to try Night Mares?”

She knew the ride. It starts off like a Ferris wheel fallen over on its side. But then it spins faster and faster as it rises up.

Abby tried to decide and felt a tug of war within her.

Do I make him think that I’m a chicken and go for something else, or do I go on Night Mares and show him I’m not scared?

What’s to be scared of? It’s a ride.

“Let’s do it!” she said.

He put his arm around her shoulders as they headed off to the ride.

When they stepped in she grabbed his hand. That felt better. The ride started, and they began to lift up. She alternated between looking at the clouds and at the ground. It spun so fast she just let go and let the ride take control. Why fight it? It would be over soon.

Wouldn’t it?

“You okay?” he asked as the ride slowed down.

“Yeah. I think so,” she said, trying to figure out if she was scared or feeling ill.

They both laughed.

“Time for something to drink?”

“Definitely.”

Abby followed his lead. As Jake ordered drinks, Abby sat down on a bench and glanced around at people. Couples mostly. She saw a family heading back to the parking lot with a little boy in a stroller. Late for a child to be out.

Jake came back with two beers. He sat down and gave her one.

Uh, Jake, you know I’m underage, right?

He read her expression perfectly. “You look at least 19. If they’re going to ask anyone for ID, it will be me.”

She laughed and drank a gulp of her beer. It splashed against the back of her throat, and she felt the bitter and refreshing sensation as she swallowed. She’d gotten tipsy at Kedisha’s house when her parents weren’t home. Beer tasted good then. But not as good as this.

Abby felt herself as relaxed as she had ever been. She heard Avril Lavigne’s “Hot” playing through the speakers. “Now you’re in, and you can’t get out … You’re so good to me baby.” Somebody once said that when love happens you know it. She didn’t know what they meant by it then. She did now.

They talked. Connected. She relished the feeling of being herself, of sharing, of speaking her heart and mind. And she felt the same from him as she got lost in his eyes. She loved being there for him. For his points of view. For his thoughts.

She finished her beer. Oh, that was good. She wanted a second. But it would be rude to ask. Wouldn’t it?

“I really like you, Abby.”

“I really like you, too, Jake.” Was that her talking or the alcohol? It was one lousy drink. That wouldn’t be enough. But it might have been enough to loosen the fears a bit. Now might be the time to do Leviathan again.

“I think we have a future together,” he said, his voice quiet.

“That’d be great, Jake.”

They stayed locked in each other’s eyes. She wondered if there was a slight bit of hurt in his. And wondered if she would have what it would take to make right whatever might be bothering him.

“I have something for you,” he said, reaching into his jacket pocket. He pulled out a small purple-wrapped box with a white ribbon. Abby’s heart raced. She knew what came in tiny square packages. Okay, granted, it wasn’t an engagement ring. Heaven knows it was too early for that. But it was a ring. She tried to fight back tears.

Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

Wait a minute. Why not? Why not cry? You have a guy who is taking an interest in you. Why not let this moment sink in?

“Jake.”

“It’s not what you think. I just hope you like it.”

She unwrapped the box. Lifted the lid. Oh my.

A gold band with a row of diamonds and another row of pink sapphires. Abby and Jake engraved inside. She slid it over the ring finger on her left hand.

“It fits?” he asked.

She looked up at him. Her eyes moistened. She touched the ring with her thumb. “Perfectly.”

He gave her a hug. She felt embarrassed for crying and wiped her tears with her sleeve. She stared at the ring. Absolute beauty.

They walked out under starry skies, crowds of people passing by them.

“Thanks for a great evening,” Jake said. He stopped. She did too. Their eyes connected. Abby felt a sudden rush of nervousness come over her. Then, just as quickly as it came, it left again. He leaned forward and kissed her. She put her hands on his waist, her new ring pressing against her finger.

“I got a crazy idea,” he said.

“Yeah. What? Like taking me on Leviathan again?”

“Exactly!”

“No!” she said, louder than she normally would have.

Jake smiled. He was about to ask her something, but he stopped short.

“Jake?” she asked, reaching out and touching his hand.

She felt him hold her slender fingers. A strong, comforting grip.

“This is crazy,” he said.

She nodded. “Uh huh. You mentioned.”

“Okay.”

“Well?”

He thought a moment. “You want to take a road trip with me to Montreal?”

“What?” Absolute craziness. Montreal? But then, as wild as the idea initially sounded, it changed to a rush of excitement. La belle province with Jake. Riding in his red Mustang from Toronto Leafs country to the domain of Habs fans in Moe-ray-ahl. Wasn’t that how her French teacher taught them to say it? She smiled.

“So, what do you say?” Jake asked. “It’ll be a great time.”