Suzy K Quinn - Not My Daughter

‘You have sole custody?’

I hesitate. ‘Yes. He’s … not a good guy.’ I pause, considering my next words carefully. ‘He’s famous. It’s hard to explain.’

‘What’s her father’s name and address?’ the policewoman asks.

‘Her father’s name?’ My throat goes tight again. I know what comes next. I know what happens when I say his name. It’s like a witch’s curse.

I look up then, seeing my scared face in the sliding-door glass. White skin. Black hair. Blue eyes cornflower coloured again, bright with fear.

‘Michael Reyji Ray.’

There’s a long pause.

‘Michael Reyji Ray?’

‘Yes.’

‘Michael Reyji Ray is your daughter’s father?’

And suddenly the policewoman’s tone totally changes – a subtle thing, but I feel it. She’s gone from being on my side to thinking I’m crazy.

This is Michael’s power. A man she’s never met is controlling her.

‘Yes.’

‘But your daughter’s never met him before?’

‘No. She’s never met him. I don’t want her meeting him. He’ll use her to get at me.’

Another pause.

‘I thought … Michael Reyji Ray is married, isn’t he? Has been for years.’

‘Yes. Married men can still have children with other women.’

‘Have you … do you stop your daughter seeing her father, then?’

‘Of course I do.’

‘So she’d have a good reason for wanting to meet him?’

‘He isn’t the person you think he is,’ I say. ‘This kind, environmental, happily married man. It’s all just an image.’

‘Sometimes when people hurt us—’

‘He’s a bad person.’ I shriek the words.

The police officer’s voice becomes more serious. ‘Listen. I understand why you’re feeling threatened, but let’s not start throwing accusations around. You’re worried. Your daughter is very young to just be packing a bag and leaving without telling you. But she is legally allowed to do so.’

‘Please. You have to get her back.’

‘Look, we can’t go knocking on Michael Reyji Ray’s door, accusing him of taking your daughter away. If she’s sixteen and he … well if he is her biological father, she has a right to see him. She has a right to leave home if she wants to. Have you tried calling her?’

I put a hand to my throbbing forehead. ‘I took her phone away last night.’

‘Oh. Right. Why did you do that then?’

I pause. ‘Because … because she was looking up things about Michael.’

‘Listen, we’ll send someone over,’ says the policewoman. ‘But I think you’re playing a risky game. If you’ve stopped your daughter see her father, well, this is the age they rebel, isn’t it? And there’s no law against that. You can’t control them when they get to this age, Ms Armstrong. At some point, you have to let them fly.’

‘No.’ The word is firmer than I meant it to be. ‘She can’t fly. It’s not safe out there.’

There’s a long pause.

‘We’ll get someone over to you. In the meantime, try to stay calm. I’ve been in this job a long time. This sounds like something that will blow over. Not as bad as you think.’

‘It’s absolutely as bad as I think,’ I say. ‘Every bit as bad.’

The day after I slept with Michael Reyji Ray, he was all I could think about. If I’d been obsessed before, that was nothing to how I felt now. It was like being a drug addict, wanting another hit.

Michael Reyji Ray was in my head, like a catchy song.

Danny, Michael’s driver, dropped me off outside my shabby brown walk-up apartment, and I climbed three flights of stairs, dropped into bed and stayed there all day.

When the light started to change, Dee came into my room with a bowl of curly noodles. She was soft and round in Minnie Mouse pyjamas – the outfit she always wore around the apartment because she said day clothing cut into her excess weight.

‘Do you want some?’ Dee asked. ‘I’ve found this great trick. You put the powder on after you’ve drained the water. You can really taste the shrimp flavouring that way. Here. Try some. There’s too much here for me.’

I knew this was a lie. Not about the shrimp flavouring. That there was too much food for Dee. I’d known her eat a can of eight hot dogs, plus buns, in one sitting and still have room for dessert.

‘I’m too lovesick to eat,’ I told her.

‘I can’t believe my sister slept with Michael Reyji Ray.’ Dee sat on my bed, and it squeaked under her weight. ‘You actually had sex with a real live famous person.’

‘I know. It was amazing.’

‘You were careful, right? You know what the hospital said about infections.’

‘It’s fine. I’m telling you, Dee, this was meant to be.’

Dee placed her noodles on the floor. ‘Sounds like a dirty old man slept with a teenage fan to me. But it’s happened. Can you cross him off your list now?’

‘My list said marry Michael Reyji Ray,’ I said. ‘I haven’t married him yet.’

Dee laughed. ‘You’re too late. He married his childhood sweetheart already. Even I know that, and I can’t stand his pretentious Pink Floyd rip-off music.’

‘Don’t remind me. I thought he and his wife must have split up or something. But they haven’t. He asked me to come on tour with him. But … he said I’d have to stay a secret from his wife.’

‘Ugh. How gross. Was he into weird rock-star shit?’

‘No. He was nice. Good.’

‘Maybe you should sell your story. Teach him a lesson for cheating on his wife.’

‘Come on. I’d never do that.’

‘You look weird,’ Dee decided. ‘Your eyes are all glazed.’

‘I told you. I’ve really fallen for him. I keep thinking about the tour invitation.’

‘Oh, no. Do not be a teenage idiot who runs off on tour with an old, married rock star.’

I gave a romantic sigh. ‘It feels like I just passed up destiny.’

‘Hey – Pretty Woman ’s on in half an hour. If you want fantasy land, why don’t you watch that with me?’

‘I just want to be alone.’

‘And no noodles?’

‘No thanks.’

Dee left me then, taking her noodles with her and eating as she walked.

I lit two lavender tea lights, watching them burn and flicker on my dressing table.

Breathe in, breathe out. Focus on the breath.

It was sunset outside, all pink and purple and grey. The city winked and glimmered, dusty and brown.

Breathe in, breathe out. Focus.

Breathe in, breathe out and Michael, Michael, Michael.

We were soul mates. He was the reason I’d been kept alive. I’d just walked away from my destiny.

As I tried to clear my mind and find answers, there was a ‘bang, bang, bang’ on my door.

‘Lorna?’ Dee’s voice sailed through the cardboardy wood.

‘I’m meditating,’ I called back.

‘Um … I think you might want to stop for a minute.’ Dee opened the bedroom door and peered around it. ‘There’s someone here to see you.’

I untwisted my legs. ‘Who?’ I asked.

‘You’re not going to believe this.’

‘What?’

‘It’s Michael Reyji Ray.’

‘You’re kidding me.’ My heart began to pound. ‘No way. If this is a joke … this is a joke, isn’t it? I didn’t tell him where I lived.’

‘His driver took you home, right?’ said Dee.

‘Michael’s here? He’s really here?’ The words were almost a squeal.

‘He’s really here. But Lorna, don’t go doing anything silly now.’

‘I … hang on.’ I checked my reflection in the mirror, pulling fingers through my hair to give it more volume, then drew on the same kohl eyes I’d worn last night.