Another day in Paradise

She remembers hiding under her bed when her mother reached for the bottle of whiskey. From a very young age, she knew that the amber contents of the bottle would soon result in an argument between her mother and her mother’s boyfriend, Arthur. 

So Ashley became familiar with the dark places in her house. She clung to the shadows, as one would to a life preserver. Shadows became her friend. The less the grown-ups saw her, the better. 

Ashley’s life mimicked the chaos at home, as neglected children’s lives often did. She often brawled with classmates. At age 12, Ashley was sent home for a week because she had cut off Brooke Dalrimple’s braid with craft scissors. Brooke’s only crime was looking at Ashley “funny,” as Ashley so childishly put it at her disciplinary hearing. 

At age 15, she was suspended for scratching the word “slut” into Michelle Horner’s car. Ashley had no real reason to do this, beyond hearing a rumour that Michelle, a popular senior, had had an abortion. The rumours were unsubstantiated but like her mother, Ashley didn’t need a reason to act out. 

At age 16, Ashley had been given the option to transfer to a technical high school, where she could learn a trade. She was failing academically. She was intelligent enough but was a victim in the bureaucratic public school system where caring teachers were overburdened and intervention programmes underfunded. She decided to take a transfer to the local technical school to pursue a career in culinary arts. And soon realised that the staff of the school did not care whether Ashley showed up for her classes or not. Ashley’s attendance went from erratic, to dwindling to non-existent. Instead, she filled her time at the skate park with older kids, who wiled away their time smoking various substances and cheap booze.  

She quickly built an unstable and volatile group of friends from the misfits at the skate park. The self-appointed leader of the group was a girl named Samira. Samira was an older girl with dark hair and extremely fair skin. 

The inky darkness of her pupil spilled over onto the iris of her right eye, creating a perfect keyhole shape. Some of the boys tried to call her “Locksmith” for a little while. One of them limped off with a broken ankle when they tried to call her Locksmith to her face. No one gave Samira a nickname ever again.

“It’s called a coloboma,” Samira said, with an irritated edge to her voice, when she caught Ashley staring. 

“Does it hurt?” Ashley had seen Samira’s acknowledgment as an invitation to ask about her condition.

“No,” the curt reply.

“Are you blind?”

“Would I be able to skate if I was blind in one eye? You need depth perception to skate, you idiot!” 

“Oh. Yeah. Sorry,” Ashely muttered meekly.

“Look, kid, I’ve seen you hanging around here a bunch of times, but this is not a daycare. You don’t belong here,” Samira said.

“This is a public space. I don’t need your permission to be here,” Ashley replied calmly, skating off.

A few days passed before Samira spoke to Ashley again.

“Hey, kid. You got some nerve talking to me the way you did the other day,” Samira said.

Ashley swallowed hard. 

“I like your moxie,” Samira smiled. Ashley smiled back.

Her friendship with Samira grew quickly. Some nights she would crash on Samira’s couch. Her trips home became more infrequent. Her mother didn’t seem to care- not even when Ashley stopped coming home altogether. 

Samira lived in a breezy, cramped flat on the wrong side of town. The floorboards were loose, and the smell of mold clung to the air. Every morning at 2 a.m, a freight train would pass fifty feet from the window, rattling the windows and shaking the walls. Samira and Ashley soon settled into a rudimentary routine of domesticity that consisted of cooking and cleaning. 

“Kid, you’re almost part of the squad,” Samira said one night, while they were washing dishes.

“Almost? Dude, I’m couch surfing on your couch. How is this almost?”

“Chill!” Samira laughed. “Look, you just need to pass the test and you’ll be in!”

Ashely looked skeptical.

“Fine! What’s the test?” Ashley sounded braver than she felt. She suspected that Samira was brokering a deal that would push them both further beyond the border of ethical behaviour.

“Well, tonight you just need to go collect a package and deliver it to Jed.”

Ashley swallowed. Jed considered himself a drug lord. He supplied subpar ecstasy cut with baby powder that was sold by his “guys” to kids at raves.

“What time?” Ashley asked.

“Now. He is expecting you at 20:00,” Samira said.

Ashley looked at the clock. It said 19:45.

“Samira, that’s in 15 minutes. His house is all the way across town!” Ashley screeched

“Better hurry then,” she said, throwing the drying towel over the clean dishes and disappearing into her room.

Taking a deep breath, Ashley picked up her jacket and left.

***

The slam of the door woke Samira with a start. Asley hadn’t returned by the time she had gone to bed at 1 am. 

“Ash, that you?” No answer.

She got up carefully and tiptoed to the door. Opening it slightly, she peeked through the crack between the door and jamb. Ashley was frantically running around, stuffing her clothes into her duffle bag. Her hair was wet and she was wearing clothes she didn’t leave the house in.

Samira threw the door open. 

“Why didn’t you answer me? What’s going on?” she demanded, suddenly angry.

“Samira, pack a bag. We need to leave town.” Ashley didn’t slow down. 

“Why? What’s wrong?” 

Ashely froze in place and slowly looked up at Samira. 

“I killed him.”

“Who?” Samira asked confused.

“Jed.” 

A moment of silence passed before Ashley resumed her frantic packing.

“How? Ashley, just stop and tell me what happened!” Samira screamed, panic rising in her throat.

“Look, I went to Jed’s house as you told me. I got there late. I was late because of you, Samira!” 

Samira was surprised to see that Asley’s face was wet with tears. 

“Rubbish. You had enough time.”

Ashley drew a deep breath as if to gather her thoughts.

“Anyway. I got to his house. Jed was angry that I got there late. He kept asking me if I was stupid and slow and soft in the head because I couldn’t tell time.”

Samira waited. 

“It made me angry,” new tears filled Ashley’s eyes, threatening to spill onto her cheeks. “I’m not stupid, Samira. I’m not. I know how to tell time.”

“And then?” Samira coaxed.

“I stabbed him. When his back was turned, I took out my knife. When he turned around, I stabbed him. Right in his cold heart.”

The silence that hung between them was heavy. 

“I showered and got dressed in some clothes I found in his closet. Threw my clothes in the river,” Ashley said, wiping her eyes. 

Ashley put her hands in her pocket. When she took them out, Samira saw her clutching a roll of notes. She counted out some money and handed it to Samira.

“Here, take this money. Go down to the bus station and buy us both a one-way ticket for the next bus out of town. I’ll meet you at the station,” Ashley said, zipping up her duffle bag. 

“Where did you get the money?” looking at the money in her hands. Samira couldn’t think straight.

“Don’t worry about it. Just get your stuff packed and go to the bus station. Don’t phone or text me. They might be tracking us. I will see you in an hour at the station.” 

Ashley left.

Samira scrambled, her actions echoing that of Ashley a few minutes ago. 

She left the house, locking the door behind her. Whether she would ever see her flat again, she didn’t know. She made her way to the street and stopped a passing taxi cab.

“To the bus station, please,” she asked politely. 

Once at the station, she walked up to the ticket vending machine. The next bus out of town was departing in 30 minutes. She purchased two tickets.

A surge of hope filled Samira. She was finally leaving this place. Did you expect her to stay? She hated this place even when she was a kid. Whichever way it was coming about, there was a new start on the horizon.

Samira made her way to the bench near the entrance to wait for Ashley.