Emerald (Steele Investigations) (5 page)

Chapter 5

I guess one of the positives of my life was that I left home
when I was sixteen.  Growing up I lived with my Mom and Dad in a small house
outside Austin, Texas.  My Dad was always away during the day, sometimes the
night as well, and my Mom never had a whole lot to do with me.  I had to fend
for myself because she was always locked in her room.  Our house was definitely
not
a happy household.  Growing up, we never seemed to have much money,
I deduced this because we never had a lot of food in the house.  Many times I
skipped breakfast and lunch because there was nothing in the cupboards to eat. 
My Mom always took extra care preparing dinner for the nights that my Father
would be joining us to eat.  I learned early on that my Father was top-dog in
our house.  He was the boss, what he said went, and if you didn’t like it, or
you didn’t toe the line, he simply communicated with his fists.  I remember one
night more vividly than the others.  I was ten years old…

My father always told my mother of his plans for the
week, at the beginning of said week.  This was because he wanted his dinner hot
on the table the minute he walked in the door.  Usually he would be home to eat
three or four nights out of seven.  This was to say, I was guaranteed food on
those nights.  The other nights, when he wasn’t home, my mother never cooked so
dinner for me was whatever I could scrounge up.  One night, my father came home
unexpectedly.  Of course my mother was holed up in her room doing whatever it
was that she done and I was in mine reading a book I’d borrowed from the school
library.

 “Cynthia,” my father barked, so loudly that even though
I was a room away, I still jumped out of my skin.

“Raymond?” My mother asked as I heard her scurrying to
meet him.

“Where the fuck is my food, you stupid bitch?” He roared

Even though he couldn’t see me, I still cowered in my
room. 

“You…you said you wouldn’t be home tonight, Raymond,” my
mother stuttered, fearing lacing her every word

“Are you calling me a liar?”  His words were forced out
and I was sure his teeth were clenched together.

“No...No…Nothing…I would never call you a liar, John. 
I’m sorry. I must have gotten mixed up.  I’ll rustle something up now.  It
won’t be long, I promise,” my mother says in a placating tone.

I hear a guttural sound at the same time I hear my mother
whimper and the sound of flesh hitting flesh.  Then I hear it again.  My lungs
burn and I release my breath and suck in another one, not realizing until that
moment that I’d been holding it. 

“Please, Raymond, don’t do-,” my mother doesn’t get to
finish her pleas because my father punches her again.  From the crack I hear
and the scream that tears from her throat, I know he’s hit her somewhere on the
face; likely her jaw.

Panic races through my veins and against my better
judgment I tiptoe towards my bedroom door.  Slowly I crack open my door and
peek out into the living room just as my father pulls my mother up by her hair
like she weighs nothing and tosses her on the couch.

“You’ll learn the hard way, you stupid fucking cunt. 
You’re a worthless piece of shit.  Got me fucked why I put up with you.  You’re
lucky I do ‘cause sure as shit ain’t nobody else would have someone as useless
as you,” my father rants.  My mother cries. And I am standing frozen at my
door, praying that he doesn’t turn his wrath on me, praying that he doesn’t do
any more damage to my mother and silently begging him to leave so I can see if
she needs an ambulance.

I watch from my frozen position as he tears her panties
away, lifts her dress, unzips his pants, pulls out his penis and slams it into
her bottom. 

“Please, Raymond, NO. Please,” My mother is screaming
hysterically and the bile I’ve been swallowing down makes it way up my throat
and I vomit into my hand.  I race from my room, screaming and crying towards
the bathroom.  I empty my stomach into the toilet bowl and wash my hands before
I hear my Father calling,

“Jemma, get your ass out her you little mutt,”

I wipe my face and sobbing and hiccoughing, I make my way
back towards the living room making sure to keep my eyes cast downwards. 

“Get over here you little bitch.” 

I hesitantly make my way toward my father, trembling more
and more with every step.

When I stand in front of him, he turns his attention to
my mother who is sobbing loudly from her curled position on the couch, “Fuck
off you noisy cow,” he barks.

She clambers off the lounge and scurries into the
bathroom.

“Did you like that, Jemma?  Did you like what you seen
Daddy do to Mommy?” He asks in a soft, gentle, coaxing voice.

“N…N…No,” I sob

“But you like it when Daddy comes into your room at night
and he lets you play with his thing, don’t you?  You’re my special little helper. 
Mommy can’t please Daddy the way that you can, Jemma.  You want to make Daddy
happy don’t you?” His tone is cajoling and soft with a tender lilt.

I’m so confused, but one thing I know for certain is that
I do want a happy Dad, I do want to please him.

“Yes,” I tremble

“Okay, well why don’t you sit here on the lounge next to
your Daddy and play with his thing like I taught you.  Good girl.”

****

That wasn’t the first time my Father sexually abused me, it
wasn’t the last and it also wasn’t the worst.

Looking back, obviously my Father and I had different notion
of what ‘pleasing him’ meant!  I just wanted a Daddy like all the other kids
had at school, but in my mind, it also often occurred to me that this was
‘normal’ and it did happen to every other girl.

Shaking the negative thoughts from my head, I concentrate on
the positives that have come from it.  I escaped my shitty household and now I
live in a place that is all mine, decorated how I like, I also eat three solid
meals per day, I have a job that I love and now I also have friends.

I think my father was always frightened that if I made
friends I might tell them what was happening to me, so he frequently threatened
me that if I told any of my friends, he would do the same to them.  Of course,
I never wanted that to happen, so I never made friends.

I know Selfish Jemma is overtaking Rational Jemma by
continuing to convince me that I can keep my friends, but I never thought it
would feel this nice, and believe me, I’ve thought about it a lot.  I also know
that the friendships I’ve made can’t last but I’m hoping I can make enough
happy memories so that when it does end, I’ve got a whole stock full of
reserves to get me through the bad times.  Of course I realize the likelihood
of my father finding out about my friends is relatively low, however I also
know that my father constantly drummed it into me that he would
always
be watching me, and waiting for me to fuck up, so then he could ‘play with’ my
little friends.  I don’t doubt for a second that he would find a way to watch
me if he could.  I haven’t spoken to him or my mother since I left home six
years ago but seeing as though they had lived in the same house for twenty
years before I left, there’s a fair chance that they’re still in Texas plus the
fact that most of their monthly paycheck comes from
me
, it’s a good bet
that they’re nowhere near me… Gosh, now I think Selfish Jemma is taking a leaf
out of Rational Jemma’s book!

Shaking the jumble of thoughts from my head, I take myself
to bed, studiously refusing to think about my date tomorrow night with Travis. 
It doesn’t take long for me to fall into a deep slumber.

*****

The next morning I wake up with a dull headache but other
than that I feel fine.  Perhaps I wasn’t drunk enough to give myself a hangover. 
I busy myself cleaning and tidying up around my place, doing a load of washing,
ironing and folding some clothes…basically anything and everything that would
take my mind off my date tonight and how nervous I am.  Finally when absolutely
everything in my house is sparkling, crease-free, clean or folded, I make
myself a ham sandwich and sit down to eat it, then my phone rings.

“Hey Rae,” I answer

“What time is your date tonight? Why didn’t you ring and
tell me? What are you wearing?  Where’s he taking you?” her questions come out
rapid-fire fast and I am stunned into silence

“Uh…” I manage to mumble but she cuts me off,

“We’ll be over in five”

She doesn’t give me chance to reply or to ask who ‘we’ is,
so I put my phone down and stand up and begin to pace.  I feel the claws of
panic digging into my skin around my chest, my heart thumps harder in my chest
and I can hear it pounding in my ears.

Big deep breath in, two, three, four

Hold it, two, three, four

Let it go, two three, four

In, two, three, four

Hold it, two, three, four

Let it go, two, three, four

Visualize the air as a positive coming in and taking the
negative as it leaves…

My heart starts to slow and my body relaxes as the fear
drains from my body.  I calm myself down and make my way to the fridge for a
glass of cool water, all the time concentrating on controlling my breathing. 

Two minutes later the doorbell rang and there stood Rae,
Kami and Tom, arms full of bags and a mixture of scowls and smiles on their
faces.
Okay.  I can do this.

“Hey,” I smile brightly as I open the door and move to the
side to allow them entry.

“Right, we’ve got jeans, belts, tops, jackets, cardigans,
skirts, shoes, boots, and jewelry and make up,” Tom says as he marches in and
dumps the bags on my lounge.

“Hey, Girl,” Kami says as she comes in, “Tom, careful with
our stuff.  Some of those tops crease easy,” she snaps at Tom while she
straightens out the bags he’d just dumped

“Hi Jem.  We came to help you get ready, and we bought
supplies,” Rae says as she gestures to the lounge, “thought you might need some
help ‘cause you’ve never been on a date before, plus I know how that feels.”

Rae had told me that she’d only ever been on one disastrous
date before Elliott, so I knew this, but it still shocked me.

“Jemma,” Tom snaps

I look over and he’s scowling at me.

“What I wanna know is, why you didn’t ring me as soon as you
agreed to go on the date?  Totally not cool, girlfriend!”

“Stop being dramatic, Tom,” Kami says on an eye roll

“
Dramatic?”
Tom screeches, “Do
not
be calling
me
dramatic.
She’s never been on a date.  Her first date is going to be
with a hot badass motherfucker named Travis.  She doesn’t call to give me the
details, like how he asked her, why she said ‘yes’ when she told me the last
time he asked her she said ‘no’, what made her change her mind. 
Yeesh!
”
He shouts

“Look, Tom, I’m sorry I didn’t ring you.  Or you girls. 
Travis dropped me home last night and…well, he sort of kissed me and it was
really nice and I was in a Travis Trance and then he told me he’d be here to
pick me up at seven and then he told me if I wasn’t here that he would find me
and he could do that because he is a Private Investigator and that’s what he
does…he finds people.  And then he walked me to my door, touched my nose and
then he was gone.  I put it to the back of my mind, I went to sleep, I got up
this morning and I cleaned, washed, ironed and folded almost every item I own
because I didn’t want to think about it. 
Then
Rae rang, now you guys
are here, and I’m
thinking
about it and I really don’t want to because
I’ll just get all worked up and –“

I don’t finish my rant because Rae wraps her arms around me
and pulls me in for a hug.  I stiffen at first, not used to platonic (or
innocent) affection from people.  This stiffness last approximately two point
five seconds before I relax into her and wrap my arms around her middle.

“Shuddup,” she hisses at Tom and I imagine she’s giving him
a glare that may or may not cause him to disappear in a puff of smoke.

Humph
, Tom grumbles as he walks over toward the
kitchenette. 

“Sorry,” I whisper to Rae as she lets me go

“Don’t be,” she whispers back.

Then we get busy choosing me an outfit to wear on a date
with a hot badass motherfucker named Travis.

With lots of arguing back and forth between Tom and Kami,
they finally settle on an outfit for me to wear. 

“I don’t do clothes.  I do shoes,” Rae had told me while we
sat and watched Tom and Kami arguing, our eyes flitting from one to other and
back again like we were watching a tennis match.

“I could always just wear something out of my closet,” I try
to offer, helpfully.

Tom gasps like I’ve just told him Louis Vuitton went broke
and closed all their stores.

“You will do no such thing,” he snaps at me before whirling
around and continuing his argument with Kami.

They decide on a pair of faded JC jeans, a thick brown belt
with a large silver buckle, a beautiful whimsical lavender chiffon top with
ruffles on the sleeves and down the centre near the buttons and a brown blazer
style jacket to match the belt.  Rae then gave me a pair of brown strappy
sandals with a wedge heel and a pair of silver earrings that hang down in
twists.  I paired all of this with my chunky silver watch that I love.  It has
cubic zirconia stones all around the face of it and it’s chunky as all get
out.  I only wear it sometimes, and not for long (and not in water) because
it’s super cheap and made from plated silver so if I leave it on too long or
get it wet, it leaves a green ring around my wrist.  The plating on the bottom
of the band is chipping away but you can’t tell if you don’t closely and
because no one is ever close enough to me, I haven’t had to worry about this
before.  Something tells me, Travis is not the kind of man to worry about
watches (or jewelry) so I’m not worried about him noticing it either.