out what happened, sir. Who are you?”
Ascot kept hugging his niece. He ignored the officer.
“Uncle, uncle. I’m sorry,” Deedee cried. “I’m so sorry,” she said, and the tears continued to flow.
“It’ll be alright,” Eric said.
He held Deedee, hoping she believed him. He wasn’t sure, but the phrase seemed to fit. He loved his niece. Eric had raised her since she was six years old, when her father, his brother and partner, was killed.
“Are you the uncle?” Officer Brown asked. “I have a question about—”
“What’s your question?” Eric interrupted her.
“Did you loan your niece the car tonight?”
There was a long pause. Ascot smelled the stench of the hospital and it brought back a rush of memories about his brother’s death. The police had rejected Eric’s argument that the killing took place during a robbery. His brother’s death had been labeled a drug-related incident. There was no trial. The police didn’t care enough to pursue it.
Ascot did some research on his own, paid an informer for the information he needed, and took the information to the police. He was certain they would find and prosecute his brother’s killers. But the authorities saw no reason to reopen the case, and Eric couldn’t produce the informant. As far as the police investigation went, Dennis was just another dead drug dealer. Eric knew this was wrong. This was a dishonor to his brother’s memory, and Eric felt cheated.
Fuck these cops, he thought and said, “I am not answering anymore questions until I speak to my lawyer,” Eric said.
“Listen,” the officer said. “We’re asking real simple questions here. Your niece was raped and beaten up, according to this report. We’d like to catch the bastards who did this sick thing, so it would be very nice if you would just cooperate.”
“We don’t have to do shit. As a matter of fact, we’re not gonna do shit, because you guys have never done anything to help me,” Ascot said. He turned to his niece who was staring at him, bewildered by what she had just witnessed. My uncle never gets angry, she thought.
“Let’s go, baby,” he said, grabbing Deedee by her arm and stomping past the rape counselor.
“We’re trying to conduct an investigation. A carjacking and rape. You can’t let the scum who did this get away,” the officer pleaded.
Ascot wasn’t listening. He rushed out the doorway, into the hallway and out of the hospital, dragging Deedee along. They hurried to the parking lot. He quickly found the green Range Rover and helped Deedee into the passenger seat.
Eric Ascot drove, paying close attention to the morning traffic. He tapped his thumbs frantically on the steering column. Deedee heard him breathe loudly through his nostrils, but neither said anything to the other. Her usually talkative uncle had secluded himself in the quiet of his thoughts. He didn’t even look at her. Maybe he was ashamed of her. She shuddered and looked away.
Deedee pressed the window control and welcomed the rush of the wind. It drowned the unbearable silence, and brought the refreshing smell of fresh air to the car’s interior. Deedee had longed for the feeling of freshness, which the morning’s episode had erased. She recalled the hospital and the medical examinations. Those damn tests, she thought, just like being raped all over again. The goal of those doctors, police officers, nurses and rape advocates seemed to be to make her re-enact the whole ugly scene. They were all so cold with the exception of the advocates.
Then she heard music. Eric had turned on the stereo. She watched as he adjusted the volume. He always asked if the volume was good. That had always been her chance to critique any of the new recording artists her uncle had recently worked with in the studio. More importantly, it gave her uncle a chance to share quality time with her.
The moment he opened his mouth, Uncle E. would start bragging and really loosen up. She always felt he was trying to sell the new group or artist to her. Then the ‘they’re-gonna-blow-up’ discussions would begin. She felt these types of conversations had also taken place between Eric and her father before he died.
But, this was not an ordinary drive home. There would be no discussion of recording artists. Deedee’s thoughts forced her back to the present. I was raped and he’s just driving me home. Like he just picked me up after a fight at school or something.
“Oh, I have to take these pills. They’re like birth control pills. Morning after,” she said. “Can we stop so I can get something to help me swallow them?” Deedee was seeking verbal reconciliation, but it was to no avail. Eric guided the vehicle to the curb without saying anything. Then she started out the door. The move brought a reaction from Eric.
“Um, I’ll get it,” he said, jumping from the vehicle and running across the street to the store.
“Apple,” she yelled. Deedee watched as her uncle disappeared into the store. Tears clouded her vision. “I’ll take apple, uncle E.” she said, softly. Then she cried.
Eric Ascot could not hear her. He was already across the street and in the store. As soon as he entered, he wiped his shirt-sleeve across his eyes, determined to keep Deedee from seeing his tears.
Maybe he had let her down somehow, he thought, reaching for any juice. She likes apple, he recalled and grasped the bottle. After paying, he walked lazily out of the store. He stared in the direction of the green van. She looks so much like my brother, he thought, and probably just as tough. No mother, no father, just me.
Deedee watched him approach. It was hard to tell, but he looked angry.
Well, she reasoned, I did take the car without his permission. He should be angry.
“I’m sorry, Uncle E.,” she said as he neared her side of the vehicle. But Eric had purposely walked around so he could apologize to her.
“Sorry for what, baby? You have no reason to be.” He handed her the apple juice. Eric was overcome with emotion, no sound came from his lips. He was afraid she would see his tears.
Deedee swallowed the tablet and gulped the juice.
“Thanks, uncle,” she offered, her words tainted by a disheartened tone. Eric went around to the driver’s side and leaned against the hood. Without thinking, he put a cigarette to his lips and lit it. Ascot stared fiercely across the street, desperately holding his tears, as he continued to puff on that occasional cigarette. The smoke did nothing to hide the pain he felt.
Deedee saw his six-foot frame slouched against the Range. She watched as her uncle crushed the cigarette against the side of the vehicle. He has to be really mad; she thought as he wrenched the door open and slammed it shut. He never treats his car, or any property, for that matter, this roughly. A quick reverse and they were moving forward to rejoin the flow of traffic.
Deedee turned to watch as the hospital disappeared in the background. Eric thought he should take Deedee to the home in the Hamptons. They made a left onto the Expressway and then were on the familiar path. The silence emphasized Ascot’s heavy breathing. Deedee saw his nostrils flare in the corner of her eyes. She wouldn’t mind staying in the Hamptons for a couple days, she thought.
We could talk about it, Uncle E, she wanted to say. But the words never came, they remained in her thoughts.
Ascot
