Page 21 of Queenslander
Sirens outside. Flashing lights.
She opened the oven door, releasing a cloud that set off the smoke alarm.
In a daze, she turned off the oven, stepped over the motionless body that was too horrible to look at and the wreckage of a silverware drawer upended across the floor, found a loaf of bread, opened the fridge and made herself a sandwich. She couldn’t remember whether she had eaten breakfast and she knew she hadn’t had lunch or dinner.
Cops beat the locked front door and back door. They would break one or both down this time, for real. This wasn’t a rehearsal. This was the last one.
Holding the side of her stomach made it hurt less. Hopefully it was only a muscle sprain, not something to do with the baby. She rubbed the sharp pain under her belly button.
Time stopped. The trash bag with everything she owned waited hopefully beside the front door like a dog that didn’t know its owner had died. She felt bad for it.
Focused on eating the sandwich, she walked away as the front door splintered and flew off its hinges like in a movie.
Cops piled in with guns drawn—semi-automatic handguns, she noticed, Glocks. She liked those. Her mother had an illegal one. The van was more of a gun cabinet than a camper, didn’t even have proper beds. She walked to the bathroom, locked the door, sat on the toilet and continued eating the sandwich. Turkey, ham, and cheese, with lettuce, tomato and mustard. It tasted bloody good.
“I don’t mind shaking down drug dealers who owe you money, I mind being tricked into doing evil shit to innocent people! You sent me to the wrong house because I wouldn’t have sex with that guy!”
She wondered what juvie would be like, wondered if it would be like television.
“You need to apologize to me and admit that sending me to bash a random house was fucked up!”
The ultrasound tech had said the baby was a girl.
“You know I’m pregnant! Why the fuck did you send me to get my head blown off? I could have lost the baby! You would sic Shaky-eyes on me and my baby?”
Sitting on the toilet, she wiped her cheeks with cold hands, cradling her burning stomach and the welt that would be a bruise tomorrow.
She took another bite of the sandwich. Maude had been her last vestige of a social life. There had been so many red flags. Maude would have pimped Ronnie’s daughter out to pedophiles and convinced her it was her own idea.
Ronnie’s life didn’t matter now. If they locked her up, her daughter would be safe, escape this place and grow up anywhere else. That was all she could think of to do, to protect her kid. She could get her out of this bloody house.
Reg would be so disappointed. Ronnie’s phone had cracked in spiderwebs, but miraculously still worked. She dialed with shaking hands, then leaned forward on the toilet, closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. The line rang.
A policeman opened the bathroom door and stared down at her. Ronnie held up her finger, then pointed to the phone.
Her dad answered, sleepily. “It’s the middle of the night.”
The officer shouted something back to the other officer.
Ronnie’s eyes burned as she swallowed the sudden lump in her throat. “Dad, I fucked up.” She hid her eyes with her hand. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m not mad, baby. I’ll come get you. Where are you?”
“Maude’s house. Gordonvale. The police are here. I’m in trouble. I’m sorry.”
“Remember what we talked about. Stay calm, do what they tell you, and ask to speak to a lawyer.”
“I will. I love you, Dad.”
“I love you, too, Brum. I promise it’ll be all right. Just try to stay calm and think happy thoughts.”
She wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand.
“Do you remember my phone number?” He recited it.
She recited it back to him, voice quivering. Now three police officers were in the doorway staring at her, talking to each other in low voices.
“Good girl! You memorized it! See! You are so smart! All that practice we did paid off. You can do hard things. I’m so proud of you, baby. Remember what we talked about. If they take you into custody, I probably won’t be allowed to call you since I’m not legally your dad. They won’t let me call you. You’ll have to call me. Call me.”
