Day 61 / 18:22
‘My dad says these people, you know, the lesbians and gays, the BLTS—’
‘LBGT,’ says Willa quietly, putting down their fork. ‘Lesbian, Bisexual, Gay, Transgender. LBGTQ, if you want to be more specific. There are other terms too. I can direct you to a good website to explain—’
‘BLT, LGB – whatever. He says we need to legislate against them, not for them. Stop them infiltrating our society. He says they’re sick and if we don’t do something, the sickness will spread.’
Noah can’t believe Sadie just said that. Nor can Willa. They’re looking at her in amazement, like she’s a strange creature who should be caged before she bites and the poison spreads.
She’s slouched forward, her eyes glinting. Sadie isn’t as dumb as she makes herself out to be. Her whining, her ‘poor-me, pity-me’ is deliberate, aimed at making everyone hear, see and reassure her.
Now, though, she’s taken her attention-seeking to a whole new level.
Willa’s face is white. ‘Does your father often talk like that?’ they ask.
Juliet’s furious. ‘Do you have to share all this crap with us, Sadie? I can’t tell you how tired I am of your “My father says” bullshit.’ She picks up her knife. She’s eaten her chicken, and now she uses her knife to separate the bones.
‘First your father says that the present government should never have come to power. Then he says that abortion is a crime. But Sadie, when you think about it, is it? Is it really?’ One small bone parts company from another. ‘Imagine how much better this world would be if you hadn’t made it to the nine-month mark.’
Sadie squawks in protest but Juliet holds up her knife-wielding hand. ‘Let me finish. Ms Turner isn’t here to bitch at, so you can just listen to me.’
Willa looks over at Juliet. ‘Don’t,’ they say. ‘Please, Juliet, don’t.’ They’ve put a lot of effort into getting ready for supper, their hair styled, a faint blush to their cheeks, their eyes ringed with dark eyeliner. ‘You’ll just make it worse.’
‘And if she d-d-d-doesn’t?’ Wandile asks. Juliet’s hand drops of its own accord.
Wandile who never talks, hasn’t said a word in group since he talked about bullying, looks at Sadie. ‘I f-f-f-eel so s-s-s-s-sorry for you, S-S-Sadie,’ he says.
‘Sorry?’ Sadie yelps. ‘Why should you feel sorry for me?’ Then she goes for it. ‘My dad says you shouldn’t even be here. Not in a facility like this. Especially with me. I’m his only daughter, after all.’
‘Yes,’ says Wandile. ‘It’s a sh-sh-sh-shame you have him as a f-f-f-father. A great shame.’
Suddenly Willa laughs. ‘You’re right,’ they say. ‘You’re so right, Wandile. Sadie’s cursed with her father, I’m cursed with mine.’ They pick up their napkin between thumb and forefinger and use the corner of it to wipe the tip of each finger. ‘I suppose quite a few of us are?’
Noah nods. It’s not like his father’s loving every little thing about him right now.
‘My father left when I was seven,’ Simon says. ‘It’s just me and Mom-and-Gran at home now.’
‘You mean Mrs Regular-Bowel-Syndrome?’ Juliet asks.
‘That’s her,’ Simon says. ‘The one and only.’ He’s smiling. ‘Loosening up’ is what Juliet’s been saying and Noah can see what she means.
Wandile’s nodding too. His father’s one of those guys who wants his son to be a copy of himself, a perfect mini-me.
‘If only your father was a little kinder, Sadie,’ Vuyokazi says. She picks up a crust from her side plate and nibbles, small mouse-sized bites.
‘My dad is kind,’ Sadie says. Her voice has lost its little-girl whine. ‘My dad is very kind. He loves me. I’m his precious girl. Just because you don’t have nice fathers, don’t take it out on me. I’ve got the best dad, hey Morné, haven’t I?’
‘Have you had enough of your chicken, Vuyokazi?’ Morné asks.
She nods and slides it onto his plate. Then she looks at Sadie. ‘I don’t think your father is kind,’ she says. ‘Why don’t you ever talk about him in group?’
‘I do!’ Sadie yells. ‘I tell you about him all the time. What he thinks, what he says, what he says about me.’
‘Yes,’ Vuyokazi nods. ‘But you never tell us what he does.’
These people. Seriously, how much longer do you have stay here?
Noah’s head fills with noise for the first time that day. He can’t listen, though he’s trying to hear what Willa’s saying.
Willa’s being kind, kinder than Sadie deserves. ‘Shame, Sadie—’
Sadie spits at them, her mouth loose and ugly. ‘What do you mean, “shame”? I don’t want your pity. I don’t want any pity from a screaming faggot. That’s what my dad calls people like you: “screaming faggots”.’
Willa doesn’t say a word, nor do they drop their head. Sadie’s staring at them and they stare right back, until she looks away. ‘That’s what my dad will say when he comes to see me on Sunday,’ she mutters. ‘What’s that screaming faggot doing here, Sadie? What’s this place coming to?’
‘That’s what I’d like to know, Sadie,’ Juliet says, ‘because they sure as shit dropped the bar when they let you in.’
Do what you need to get out of here. Tell that Turner woman anything you have to. And whatever you do, get away from this table.