Aban's Accension

Chapter 25: The Law

Chapter 25: THE LAW

by Shireen Jeejeebhoy

Aban awakens, feeling bereft. The enormity of yesterday’s fight with Mom hits her. She’ll never see Mom and Dad again. She doesn’t want to, yet...she can’t never see them again. They’re Mom and Dad. They’ve been in her life since she can remember. These almost three weeks are the longest she’s been away from them, and then she had to fight with Mom. Yet...it felt so good standing up to Mom. Why couldn’t Mom see? Why did Mom always have to have her own way and not let anyone be? Why can’t Dad fight for her? Aren’t Dads supposed to stand up for their little girls? Matthew did it for Anne in Anne of Green Gables, and he wasn’t even her dad! It’s not fair! It’s all El’s fault, she decides. If he hadn’t gotten into her head, she’d still have a family. She’d still be the old, familiar Aban. Yet she likes doing things herself, not having Mom boss her around, disapproving of her all the time. But El bosses her, and he disapproves. Maybe he should go too.

She flings herself out of bed and dresses quickly. She storms down to confront El. Yeah, he has to go too. Her T-shirt reads “Meet people where they live.” Well, he didn’t do that, did he, meet her where she lives. He’s always telling her how stupid she is and how she doesn’t get it. She gets it. He took her away from where she lived. Time to go. She stood up to Mom – she can stand up to El too. She can stand on her own two feet. She doesn’t need him.

“You have to go,” she tells El as she enters his kitchen.

He looks up from where he’s seated, eating his cereal of psyllium and chocolate rice puffs with oat and wheat brans, drowned in skim milk. “I see.” He contemplates her furious face for a minute then says, “You can’t evict me.”

“Yeah. I can. I own this house, you know.”

“Yes you do. But you are also bound by the terms of your grandmother’s will.”

“We’ll see about that.” She turns on her heel and slams out of the house. She’s so angry, she spurns the northbound bus she sees coming up the hill and slogs through the humid air to Greenwood subway station. She enters Greenwood station soaked and digs her hand into her wet pocket for her wallet. The wallet’s empty. She doesn’t have any tokens neither. How will she get to the lawyer’s?

“Where do I get money for the fare,” she asks the attendant behind the thick glass. He points to a round, mesh black thing above the open slot. She frowns. What’s he mean? He jabs at it again, and finally she understands. She leans toward the round, black thing and yells into it her question. He replies, “Turn right out of the station and go to the Danforth. Turn right and go to Greenwood. There’s a Scotiabank there.”

“But that’s not my bank.”

He looks at her as if she’s stupid, “Doesn’t matter lady. You can get money from any bank.” He turns away from her. She stands there a minute, then slowly trails out into the haze of the day. She follows his directions and enters the cold bank. The temperature is a relief. She stands in front of the machines, not knowing what to do. She remembered that woman showing her how to use these things, but she doesn’t remember what she did. She pulls her wallet out of her pocket and the card out of its slot. She stares at it, hoping it’ll tell her what to do.

“Do you need some help?” A man in a uniform asks her.

“Um, I need money.”

“Alright, well you can use the ATMs or maybe you’ll find it easier to go to one of the tellers inside,” he says as he points through a set of doors.

“Uh, thanks,” she replies and goes through the doors. She goes up to a woman behind the counter, who points to a metal tent sign on the counter that says, “Closed.” Aban frowns. The bank is open. How can it also be closed? Besides, the man said to come in here. She opens her mouth to protest, when the woman says to her as she points to her left, along the counter, “The teller there will be happy to help you.”