Memoirs of a Wild Child (4 page)

It was cryptic. I hadn’t seen either of them in so long, but I knew there was something wrong, and I knew it was my Rosie. As I ran down the stairs, Dad met me in the hallway, and I stopped in my tracks at the look on his face, he knew something. “I’ll walk you there, princess.” He said solemnly, and that’s when I knew something terrible had happened.

I didn’t ask Dad; I didn’t want to hear a word from anyone but my best friend. As we approached the Alvez house, we saw the police car, and Joaquin, talking to the officers out front. I found myself running into the house and up to Rosie’s room without a second thought. I burst through the door, to see her sitting, in a ball, in the corner on the other side of her bed. I stood still, not wanting to hear what had happened to put her in that state, but needing to know.

Rafe appeared behind me and ushered me into the room, encouraging me over to his sister. I turned and looked into his eye, they were so full of both heartbreak and fury that I had to swallow down the vomit that rose in my throat. I knew what had happened to her.

I approached Rosie slowly, and she moved to sit on her bed, she didn’t lift her head to look at me, not even once. She was broken.

“What's happened, RoRo?” I asked quietly, as I sat on the bed. She didn’t respond. I reached out to take her hand in mine. “He forced you didn’t he?” I asked, tentatively, already knowing the answer.

For the first time, she looked up at me, and I gasped. Her face was swollen and heavily bruised; her lip was split open and bloody. “Rosie.” A lump rose in my throat as she started to sob quietly. I wrapped my arms around her; I was going nowhere.

Rosie’s attack happened on a Friday night. For the rest of that weekend, I stayed by her side, when Monday came, both my dad and Rosie’s called our school to tell them that we wouldn’t be going in. Once they knew what had happened to Rosie, they didn’t push for me to return, they knew she would need me.

As the days passed by, Rosie eventually told me the details of the attack. Jonah had tried to get her to have sex with him, she’d told him that she wasn’t ready, but he said he was sick of waiting. He had already forced her to give him blowjobs and handjobs in his car, even though she hadn’t wanted to. I hated myself for being so distant; I should have been there to stop him.

Jonah got so angry with Rosie when she denied him that he slapped her, and then dragged her out of his car by her hair. He was strong, and Rosie was tiny. He raped her; beat her, and laughed as he dumped her at her parents’ front door, a bloody mess.

I found it difficult to process my anger. There was nothing that I could do to make it better for her. I had spent the previous few days crying because Joshua had used me and then lost interest, but he had never forced himself on to me. Taking that step with him had been entirely my choice.

I thought about my best friend and me, we had both been virgins only a few days earlier, and we’d both been used by men who took that away from us. In different ways, but used all the same.

The day that Jonah went to prison, I watched him smile at Rosie in court. She was so strong. As he stood up, he grabbed his dick through his jeans and laughed along with his Neanderthal friends. Joaquin had to be removed and went to join Rafe, who had already been taken out. I looked at Jonah’s friends, those boys, thinking they had the right to use women like that, to look at us like that. They thought we were there solely to please them, and didn’t deserve an ounce of their respect.

That was the day I made the decision that shaped most of my adult life. I would never be the used; I would be the user. Sex would be for my pleasure, and when my needs were met, they could leave.

I looked at Rosie’s mother, Bernie, crying in the arms of my mum, as my dad wrapped a protective arm around the shoulders of my best friend; and then I looked back to Jonah in the dock. I saw the fear in his eyes as he was found guilty and led away. I saw his weakness. I didn’t need a weak man in my life, I was strong, I was powerful, and I would never need a man to validate me. I made the decision that day, to be happy, to be single, have fun and live for today. And that’s exactly, what I did.

Smells Like Teen Spirit

“Baby,” Holly cups her hands around my belly button and talks to her soon-to-be-born sibling, “Can you come out and play now, please?” I suppress a giggle as she sits back and waits, for her request to be answered.

“The baby just needs a little longer in Mummy’s tummy, Poppet.” I try to explain to her.

“I didn’t need this long,” she says, placing her hands on her hips and frowning. We made the mistake of telling her a few weeks ago, that she was already with us by that point; every day since then she has pretty much demanded that I give birth. Apparently, it’s totally unacceptable that her brother or sister needs a little longer. She has a point though, I’m massive, and exhausted, and so sick of people saying, ‘Have you not had that baby yet?’ I mean, you can clearly see that I haven’t, do you really need to ask?

There’s a knock at the door and Holly’s face lights up. Rosie and Jackson are in London for a week for work, and we’ve been waiting for Rosie and the kids to get here all morning and she was just about reaching breaking point with her patience.

“Now who’s bad at timekeeping?” I joke as Rosie follows her three munchkins and Holly into the living room and leans down to kiss me on the cheek. I’m the one who is always late; I’ll probably be late to my own funeral, and Rosie hates it.

“Just wait until you have to manoeuvre three of these things around, and then tell me about timekeeping,” she says, sounding frazzled but amused as I laugh. No, thank you, two will be quite enough.

Holly takes Beth, Bobby and Alfie to her room to play, and Rosie puts the kettle on, telling me to stay put. We haven’t seen each other for a few weeks, so she feels the need to mother me. I’m okay with it though; I can’t be arsed lugging my lump of a body around if I don’t need to.

“You look great, babe,” Rosie says as she sits cross-legged on the sofa opposite me, “Massive, but great.” She smiles and sips her tea, and I groan; I am huge. Rosie looks around at the house, the last time she was here, we had just moved in, and it was chaos. “The place looks good,” she says, but I can hear the sadness in her tone. “I’m still gutted you’re moved back to London though.”

I sigh, Ben and I had moved back to Buxton when Rosie was heavily pregnant with the twins; we bought a cottage there and still own it, but Ben got offered a great contract down in the capital, it was too good to turn down, so we’re renting a place here for the three years of the contract, and then we’ll reassess.

“I know, babe, me too, but...”

“I know, Pip, I understand. I just miss you.”

After a couple of hours gossiping and generally catching up, Rosie takes a picnic lunch to the kids, for them to eat in the bedroom den they have made, and I decide to show her what I’ve been using Vinnie for.

I’m nervous, not only is she a writer, so I’m worried what she’ll think of my storytelling, but also, the things I’ve written are about her too, and really personal. I hope she’s not offended by any of it.

“So, the journal that you gave me,” I know I sound strange and she eyes me curiously, “I decided to use it to write down my story.”  Rosie swallows the gulp of tea she just took and opens her mouth to question me; I continue.  “You know, the important moments in my life that I feel led me to the person I am now, and to the life I lead now. It's something for me to look back on when I’m old, and you’re dead, and I have nobody to talk to anymore.” I wink, and Rosie laughs.

We always joke about which one of us will die first, and that we should probably make a pact to die together when we’re old and grey, run our Zimmer frames into the Grand Canyon or something.

“I see. Have you finished? Can I read it?” She puts her tea down on the coffee table and looks at me, genuinely.

“I’m not finished yet; I’m just about to start on the ‘uni days’. I’m enjoying it, though.”

“Let me see then,” she says, smiling excitedly.

I push myself up from the sofa and make my way over to the window seat. I sat there yesterday, reading over what I had written so far and left Vinnie there. I hold him in my hands for a minute before turning and walking back towards Rosie.

“Okay, you better know, there are things in here about you too. I don’t want you to be upset.” I say, anxiously.

“Pip, I spent almost every day of my life with you, of course, I’m in there.” Rosie winks and holds out her hands, “It’s fine.” She reassures, and I hand him over.

I decide to distract myself while she reads and go to look for something in the fridge that I can cook for tea when Ben gets home. When I sit back down on the sofa and look at my friend, she’s holding Vinnie in her hands, he’s closed, and she’s quiet.

“I love it,” she says, in almost a whisper. “Pip,” she looks me in the eyes, “I love it.”

Rosie smiles and puts Vinnie on the coffee table, and I take a deep breath, we’re good.

After Rosie and kids left, Ben and I eat dinner and take a bath together. Rosie has taken Holly for a sleepover; insane, I know, happily letting herself in for a night with four kids in their fairly small London flat; Jackson will be so pleased!

Ben and I decided to make the most of some quiet time. Before Holly, on a Saturday night, we would have fucked like rabbits, drank champagne, listened to music and fucked some more, tonight though, we take a bath, drink hot chocolate and decide to have an early night and watch Family Guy in bed.

Ben is such a peaceful sleeper. He snores if he’s had a lot to drink or isn’t well, but generally, he is sickeningly angelic. Breathing softly while his long, dark lashes rest on his cheekbones, peaceful, and out cold. I can’t sleep, though. I’m so uncomfortable. My back hurts, and I feel sick, so I get up and try to make myself comfy on the window seat.

It’s raining, heavily. The rhythm of the drops hitting the window is calming and settles my stomach somewhat. I lean my head back against the cool wall and watch as the water continues to fall, creating movement on an otherwise still suburban street in the dead of night.

I’ve always been a bit of a night owl, usually choosing to be in a nightclub or a bar at this time rather than in my pyjamas, sitting in my living room window, but right now I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. It’s quiet and calm. The room is cool and still, and exactly what I need right now. A pain in my lower back causes me to wince slightly; a thought crosses my mind that Holly’s wish for this baby to hurry up may just be granted, but I push it aside. Her birth was fast and early, and I panicked, I’m not doing that this time.

I make my way over to the sofa, pick up Vinnie from the coffee table and settle into the soft cushions. I read over the last few lines that I’d written, and get excited at the prospect of remembering the next step in my life, probably the best time I ever had as a single woman. I turn to a blank page and run my fingertips over the paper, before clicking the end of my pen, and starting to write.

My dad was totally devastated when I didn’t apply to university. I could have gone if I had wanted to, I’m a smart girl, and I did well at school and college, but what was the point? I knew what I wanted to do, and the opportunity had already been opened up to me without the need for student loans and a Pot Noodle diet.

By the time I was eighteen, I was booking regular modelling work, and my photography was taking off. I had earned enough money to buy my first decent camera, and I’d learned enough of the technical side of photography, at college and at work, to put my creative eye to good use.

When Rosie got offered a place at university in London, I took up an offer of an apprenticeship with a photographer I had worked with a few times, and Rafe took a job managing the student union at Rosie’s University. Escaping to the capital was just what we needed.

Rosie was doing really well two years after her attack, but the mental scars were still tender. Being surrounded by daily reminders of Jonah in Buxton wasn’t good for her, and Rafe and I needed to spread our wings, and our legs, somewhere new. So we all got a flat together in London, and piled down there in Rafe’s car, followed closely by both sets of our parents who needed to check out our new home.

That time in our lives was wild. Rosie studied hard and partied harder. She let go of everything. I really admired her for that, her resilience. She didn’t let what had happened to her ruin her exams at school, it didn’t affect her college work, and it didn’t put her off men… far from it. She screwed around just like the rest of us when we arrived in London, but it wasn’t long before she made it official with someone. Rosie can be crazy, but at her core she is a hopeless romantic who just wants to be happy and in love. Rafe and I, however, were the total opposite.

Once we were settled into our new home, and new jobs, the three of us soon found ourselves on top of the world. We were having such a great time. My photography was going from strength to strength, Rosie loved her course and on top of having a brilliantly fun job, Rafe was finally able to embrace the benefits of being an out-and-proud, gay man. His family had always been supportive about him coming out, but being gay in a small village wasn’t easy, and he felt he had to hide a lot.

It took only a matter of weeks for Rafe and I to challenge each other to a competition, whoever could fuck the most men by the end of the year would pay for the other to go on holiday in the summer. We had a wall chart and those different coloured sticky stars that you see on primary school workbooks; the meaning of our stars though were more ‘massive dick’ and ‘trimmed pubes’ than ‘good spelling’.