‘I try not to even think about it,’ she replied. ‘But I do, all the time. I can’t shut it off.’ She put her fist to her forehead and closed her eyes. ‘God, I’m sorry. This was supposed to be fun.’
‘Oh, this is just as fun as I’d expect visiting an abandoned building’s roof would be,’ I said seriously, and she smiled a little. ‘Look – why don’t you tell me why you think it was your fault? Then you can go back to umbrella-dancing if you want to. But we’ve basically got the rest of the night here, and it’s me, so you might as well.’
Suzanne bit her lip and looked away, considering. When she looked back, apprehension had clouded her face. She looked like a child. ‘If I tell you, I can’t take it back.’
I didn’t say anything, just looked at her levelly, waiting. I was sure she’d start speaking eventually and, sure enough, she pushed her fingers into her pockets and started.
‘You know how I told you that I tried to kill myself? Well, the doctors wanted to get social services involved because they said I was still a suicide risk, but my parents said no, it was fine, they’d handle it. That was when Sarah came to live with us. And it’s true that my dad stopped hitting me, but nothing was better. Nothing was fixed. No one talked about what had happened, no one said sorry. It was just my dad keeping out of my way, basically. And the longer it went on, the worse it felt. It was like the only difference was that everyone was on eggshells around me, like it was my fault.
‘Then, one night, it was just too much. I overheard my dad say to my mum, “One day she’ll move out and we can have our lives back.” Like it was all me. Like I was the problem, like I’d ruined his life. And so I went into the kitchen when it was just him, and I . . . I fucked everything up. I could have just stayed away from him, which was what I was supposed to do. But I was so mad. It was so unfair. I wanted to get a rise out of him; I know it was stupid, but it’s the truth. I wanted him to hit me, so they’d all see what the problem really was. I said a bunch of stuff, I can barely remember it now, but I think it was something like that he was weak and pathetic. I can’t really believe it now. I’m probably making it sound like saying that stuff to him was nothing, but I was terrified of him, Caddy. I don’t remember ever not being scared of him. But at that moment I was more angry than scared. And when he lost it and punched me, this is fucked up, but I was pleased. And then he hit me again. And then he wouldn’t stop.’
Neither of us said anything. All I could think about was how he’d looked when we’d seen him at the marina. So ordinary.
‘You’re not saying anything.’ There was a catch in her voice, a note of panic.
‘I don’t know what to say,’ I said honestly. ‘But nothing you just said makes me think it was your fault.’
‘Well, what did it make you think? You can tell me. Just say it.’
‘It made me feel really sad for you,’ I said, treading carefully. ‘That you can go through something as awful as that and come out of it blaming yourself.’
‘But if I hadn’t goaded him . . .’
‘Suze, he hit you. That’s all him. And it wasn’t even like that was the first time, right? How old were you when it started?’
‘Seven.’
God. ‘Well, then. There you go.’
‘But he never hit Brian,’ she said. Her voice was soft. ‘It was always me. So it has to have been because of me.’
‘No.’ I suddenly felt like I might start crying, but I tried to keep my voice light, so she wouldn’t shut down. ‘Inaccurate. Try again.’
‘Sarah says he has problems,’ Suzanne said. ‘With anger, and control, you know? She says he doesn’t mean it. And it’s true – he did used to go into these rages, where it was like he was a different person – but he could be really mean, even on normal days. And only to me.’
‘It definitely sounds like he has problems,’ I said.
‘But people say that about me.’ Her voice cracked. I could tell she was near tears. ‘That I have “problems”. So what am I going to turn into?’
‘You’re going to turn into an older version of my friend Suze,’ I said. ‘A headcase, yeah. But the best kind.’
She did start crying then. I stepped forward, the closest I’d been to the edge of the roof, and pulled her in for a hug. I looked out over her shaking shoulders to the rest of Brighton, still and quiet, oblivious to us. Was it my imagination, or was it starting to lighten?
‘What if I turn out bad?’ she asked, so quietly I almost didn’t hear.
I squeezed my arms tighter around her, trying to put the weight of our friendship into a single hug.
‘You won’t.’
We stayed like that for a minute or two more, before I deliberately disentangled myself and reached for the umbrella.
‘You want to teach me the moves?’ I offered.
She wiped her eyes, nodding. ‘You’ve really never seen Singin’ in the Rain?’ Her voice was raspy, but regaining its normal strength.