Simone
SIMONE
A few days after Remy’s visit, Simone answered another knock on her door.
If Simone had still been indulging in sleeping pills, she’d think Jenni was a figment of her imagination.
The two sisters simply stared at the person opposite them, each one drinking in the changes obvious in the other.
The darker shade Jenni turned in the summer; the weight Simone had lost. Jenni had never seen Simone’s hair in French braids and Simone had never seen Jenni wear anything floral like the yellow skater dress she currently wore.
Jenni spoke first, quickly explaining that Remy was the architect of her impromptu arrival. For Simone, the shock of Jenni’s appearance outweighed the shock of Remy’s involvement, and Simone invited her sister into the flat.
Both women ended up lying on Simone’s bedroom floor in a straight line so that the tops of their heads touched while they faced the ceiling.
They would do this whenever one had to apologize to the other, but in the past that was typically about tops or jeans that Jenni had borrowed that hadn’t been ripped or bedazzled before Simone had loaned them. This was new territory for them both.
“How do you know Remy?” Simone asked.
“She walked into our church one Sunday,” Jenni answered. “She didn’t know who I was, like, as in your sister, but she guessed I was. She was trying to leave when I went over and started talking to her. Then I asked her out to coffee.”
“You did?”
“Yeah. I’ve…” Jenni paused. “I’ve been kind of lonely since, well, you know, everything fell apart.”
Simone was surprised to hear this; she had always been in awe of her younger sister’s ability to cultivate friendships. “What about all of your friends?” she asked.
Because the tops of their heads were still touching, Simone felt Jenni shrug.
“We kind of drifted apart. This year I learned that being alone and being lonely are two different things. I was never alone before but… anyway, I asked Remy for coffee because of that, and she just seemed cool. Easy to talk to, a bit chaotic but in a good way.”
Simone nodded knowingly. “Yes, that’s Remy.”
“She told me about her book, by the way,” Jenni said. “About what she’d written.”
Simone remembered that Remy had also written a character called J, whose inspiration was now obvious.
“And?” Simone asked, but Jenni shrugged again. “She feels bad,” Jenni said. “She looked a little rough this morning. Maybe that’s all that matters. Depends on how you feel, though. Did you know I’m in it?”
Simone frowned. “You sound pleased.”
“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be? No one’s ever gonna know unless I tell them, and I would tell them!
” Jenni crossed her legs and swayed her ankles from side to side; the fear and anxiety she’d felt when standing outside Simone’s front door had already dissipated.
“Doesn’t matter, anyway. It’s not like it’s getting published. ”
Simone turned her head to the side. “How do you know?”
“Remy told me. She’s scrapped the book and her agent is furious. Shame.”
“So, you don’t mind that Remy wrote about our family?”
“It’s not really our family, though, is it?
” Jenni said. “I mean, not exactly. I get why you’re upset because of the sex work bits but can’t you ask for some royalties or something?
” Jenni suddenly gasped. “If they turn it into a film, you could be like, one of those people who make sure it’s factual…
a consultant? How cool would it be if you end up working in TV?
Not that your current job isn’t cool… I’m just saying, I’d be okay with her writing about me, in that case.
Or maybe not, but I would forgive her for all this.
It’s not worth… I mean, I know how much resentment can cost someone. ”
Simone tilted her head as far up as she could. “You do?”
Jenni sighed. “For me, it wasn’t what you were doing for work,” she said, “but the fact that Dom had been involved. I just kept thinking, what are the chances? And then I started thinking, what if it happens again, you know? What were you going to do? Ask all the men you work with if they know your baby sister? That afternoon at the restaurant, Mantl, I panicked and ran away. But since then, I’ve been journaling, going to therapy, and it’s helping me process things.
Like I said, I’m not that bothered about your job.
I just needed time to understand that the Dominic thing wasn’t your fault, it was his for seeing you while in a relationship with me. ”
“I appreciate that,” Simone said. “And I’m sorry I left and never came back. I thought it would be easier to distance myself for a bit, and then return when things had cooled down, but then the longer I stayed away, the harder it was to come back.”
“We should have come after you, and we didn’t.
” Jenni paused. “It would be great if we could all just move on and pretend it never happened, but maybe that wouldn’t even work.
I want to say it’s all going to be great from now on, but I can’t promise that either.
That night was such a big… thing , you know?
None of us handled it well, which we can’t change now but we can look forward.
Mum’s ready; she’s been ready. Dad’s gonna need more time, maybe a lot more time. ”
“I know,” Simone said. “I can only expect so much.”
Jenni sprang up. “Come to dinner on Sunday; I’ll tell them you’re coming.”
“I don’t know…”
Jenni swiveled round and crossed her legs so that when she looked down, she was looking at her older sister. “You’ve got to be brave, Simi,” she said. “If this is the job you’ve chosen, then you’ve got to face them eventually. And… and you’ll have me there.”
Simone reached up to gently stroke the cheeks of her baby sister. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll come on Sunday.”
Jenni smiled and Simone felt her cheeks bloom in her palms. “The prodigal daughter returns.”
“Hardly!” Simone scoffed. “They won’t be happy to see me.”
“Mum will. She’s been fighting Dad to reach out. Will he be ecstatic, no. Relieved? Yes. But you’re an escort and he’s an old-school Christian—you need to keep your expectations realistic.”
“Fair enough.”
Jenni returned to her previous position. “Have we made up?” she asked, frowning. “This feels a bit… anticlimactic? Like, maybe we should be slow-motion running toward each other in a field of flowers or something?”
“I have allergies.” Simone smiled. “I’ll happily take this version.”
The sisters allowed a few moments of silence to pass between them before Jenni whispered, “I’m sorry I missed your birthday.”
“I’m sorry I missed yours.”
“I got your gift though.”
Simone smiled. “I know. I can smell you wearing it.”
Fredrick was a stubborn man, but he prided himself on admitting when (he felt) he was wrong.
So, when it came to his elder daughter’s chosen profession, every fiber of his being would not allow him to accept it.
And who could dare blame him? Who in this world could raise their hand and claim that knowledge of their daughter being a prostitute did not bother them, that it led to nights of peaceful sleep?
Such a world failed to exist. As a father, Fredrick would never be okay with a man merely touching his daughter, let alone strange men from who knows where doing much more than that!
He couldn’t bear a world ruled by the fear of one day hearing Simi had gone missing, or worse, had been found in a hotel, dead.
Men were dangerous, and every man knows this.
No, no one could convince Fredrick Beduah that he was wrong to be distraught.
However, buried within his pride was still love, and while he allowed his ego to cost him dearly, he did not allow it to cost him everything.
He knew Simone was well. He knew from the messages between her and his wife.
He knew from the parking spot where he had sat a few mornings recently, camouflaged by a sea of other cars, and watched Simone walk in through the school’s gates.
This particular act of surveillance had been a recent addition to his schedule, inspired by none other than Simone herself.
Every Sunday morning, Fredrick would arrive to church early, and the street would be empty of cars.
But at the end of the service, without fail, he’d spot a black Volkswagen Golf parked across the street.
He’d assumed it belonged to a member of the congregation until one Sunday, he’d seen her.
Simone had ducked down out of sight, and must have thought herself quick enough, but Fredrick had been quicker.
It was Simone who camped outside their church every Sunday. He did not know why she made this weekly pilgrimage, only that she never came in.
But perhaps… it was only a matter of time before she did.