You Can't Break Her

Four| She was my best friend

May 1993

I was shaken from my peaceful night's sleep by large hands gripping my shoulders.

"Wake up. We're leaving."

The putrid smell of beer and cigarettes on his breath wrenched my insides, forcing me to peel open my eyelids.

"It's time to go. Wake up," the man's voice coaxed.

After rapid blinking for a few seconds, I could see my mother's ex-boyfriend's unshaven, age-marked face staring back at me.

"Ben, why are you here? What's going on?"

In the dull, yellow glow of my lamp, he looked like a monster. If I didn't wish for attention, I might have been frightened by his appearance in my room.

A cool breeze rolled over my nighty-covered body, my blanket balled up at the end of my bed. I searched for the source of the draft - my mother had closed my window before I went to sleep. It was open now.

Ben staggered back, wobbling closer, adjusting his stance. "Your mother is a bad woman. You deserve a better life. Come with me. You can have anything you want." He began bagging my belongings as I watched in a disoriented haze. "You can have a happier life with my new girlfriend and me. I promise we will never hit you or yell at you, the way she does." He sneered in the direction of my mother's bedroom.

His words slurred together more each time he opened his mouth like the alcohol was working in reverse, making him more drunk with time.

I nodded, hopping out of my bed. "I need my movies," I stated in a groggy voice.

He grabbed armfuls of Disney VHS cases from the floor and tossed them into a black garbage bag. "Is that everything?"

I nodded and shuffled out of the room behind him. I was in no rush to escape the evil grips of my mother. Despite what others said about her, she was my best friend.

We rushed down the stairs and out of the house. "Where are we going?"

He looked back at the house while helping me into the car. "Somewhere safe. We are going where no one will hurt you ever again." He tussled my hair, closing the door. He jogged around the car, sitting in the driver's seat. Next to him was his new girlfriend staring out the window into the pitch-black neighbourhood.

The engine roared to life and we slowly rolled into the road. I turned to look back at the house with just enough time to see my mother's bedroom light turn on. I could only imagine the fit of rage she would go into when she realized I was gone.

"Are you hungry?' he asked, not taking his intoxicated attention from the road.

"A little bit."

"What would you like? You can have anything you want," he offered.

"Hmmm..." I put a few minutes thought into what I wanted. What food was I not allowed to have often? If my safety wasn't in question, food ruled my mind. Without it, there is no survival. "I want a steak."

"We will have that tomorrow. It's too late," Been said with a chuckle. "Do you want pizza? The place downtown is open late."

I yawned, stretching my arms over my head before nodding.

The clear navy sky was speckled with stars. It was like I was in my mom's favourite show, 'Star Trek: The Next Generation'. Warp speed had been achieved, and we had zipped off to find pizza.

We parked in the back of the pizza place and walked toward the front door. Ben paid while we sat on one of the benches that lined the restaurant.

I only lasted a minute before I slid off my seat. " Can I go into the back?" I inquired. My second wind had hit. "What's this?" I asked, pointing at the gumball machine in the lobby. "How do you make a pizza? Can I see it?" I babbled, not allowing for any answers. "How does this work?" I walked behind the counter, climbing the shelves to get a better look at the cash register.

"Stop that right now," Ben ordered from the bench. "You're going to hurt yourself." He shook a pointed finger as if that would change my mind.

The level of tiredness that I had reached had effectively turned my ears into useless skin flaps on the sides of my head. I was not listening; I was observing, exploring, learning. Nothing anyone could say would change that.

"I'm going into the back," I announced while walking toward the rear of the pizzeria.

"Is this hot? Is this where you cook the pizzas? What's this? How does this work? What do you do with this?" I continued until the worker escorted me back to the waiting area.

Ben and Tina anxiously awaited the pizza then chauffered me to his vehicle. "I think we've made a mistake."

Not long after that, I was back home. My mother was relieved, but I was left in a tizzy of what had happened. Had they expected a different outcome from a three-year-old whose sleep had been interrupted?

It was clear by my quick return to my mother that they had underestimated the powers of annoyance in a sleep-deprived toddler.