“I don’t want anything from you, Maggie. Why don’t you figure out what it is that you want?”
“What?”
“You think I can’t see how unhappy you are? I’m not the only one who isn’t happy in this marriage, Maggie.”
“So what? Why does that even matter?”
“Of course it matters.”
“Why? Why now? Why all of a sudden does what I want matter?”
“What are you on about? Are you crazy? It’s always mattered. You’ve always mattered.”
“You wouldn’t know it.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all.” It wasn’t worth making this any worse than it already was. If it could even get any worse. I didn’t think it could. Seemed like Drew had a different idea, though.
“Here.” Drew handed me the glass he’d just poured and went back to get another. I wasn’t a big drinker and definitely not of the hard stuff. Tonight though, maybe this would work like anaesthetic, numb the pain for a minute. One could only hope. Sending up a silent prayer, I took a sip. It burnt my throat and tasted like jet fuel but it warmed me from the inside.
A moment later, his own glass in hand, Drew sat down opposite me. If this wasn’t my life and so excruciatingly painful it would’ve almost been comical. To anyone watching it would’ve looked like we were readying for battle. An intense chess match. Which I guess in many ways we were. Except this game was the game of our lives. One wrong move and everything would come crashing down in a spectacular thud.
“If you could have anything, what is it that would make you happy, Maggie?”
Setting my drink down, I pushed the blanket off my shoulders and looked around. I’d spent a million hours or more in this room. I’d lain on this couch and read books. Lost hours watching movies and even spent a night or two curled in Drew’s arms. Right now though, at Drew’s question I felt like the walls were closing in on me and I was searching for the emergency exits.
I loved Drew. I really did. Deep down I knew I did. How could I not? He was my best friend. He was my person. The one I wanted to tell my secrets to and the one I wanted beside me when my dreams – our dreams – came true. But was I in love with him? It was the million-dollar question. Honestly, I wasn’t so sure anymore. I’d been avoiding asking myself. And not just since he’d told me but perhaps even before that. I knew I wasn’t happy, but I’d convinced myself I didn’t deserve to be. In my own twisted mind, I believed that this was as good as it got for me and it was something I just had to suck up and deal with.
Pushing the lace curtains aside, I stared out the window not really focused on anything. Rain splattered the glass, leaving puddles on the concrete. In the distance, the flickering of the lights from an incoming plane cut its way through the night sky. In the distance I could hear a siren. There was always something going on out there.
“Don’t shut me out, Maggie. Talk to me.” Drew had softened. The chain reaction he’d triggered had caught us and now all that was left was to try and deal with the consequences. “What would make you truly happy?”
“I don’t know,” I murmured sadly.
It was the honest to God’s truth. I had no idea what would make me happy these days. What could ease this burden I’d been carrying around? What could make everything just a little bit lighter? Fresher? Shinier?
“If I could give you anything in the world, money’s not an object, what would you ask for?”
Here it was.
Right now.
Right here.
It was the perfect moment to tell him.
The moment to confess.
To say the words that had been on the tip of my tongue for months. Years, probably.
I knew what I wanted more than anything in life. But I couldn’t have it. And no amount of money was going to be able to fix this.
“I… I….” I couldn’t say it. Coughing, I choked on the words.
“Say it, Maggie. Say it.”
Looking at Drew, I felt worse than ever. He looked like he’d been dragged out the back and had the crap kicked out of him. That was the last thing I wanted. He was hurting. Sure, he’d hurt me and I was barely breathing, but as much as I wished it was different, seeing him so broken didn’t help. Instead, I shook my head and said “I can’t,” before fleeing up the stairs and locking myself in the bathroom like a hormonal adolescent.
That night, as I laid in the bath until the water cooled, mentally I started packing up our lives into his and hers boxes. There was some stuff that was obvious but then others, things that held so much sentimental value I hoped we wouldn’t end up fighting over.
It was three months ago. And we were still playing this unhealthy game of house. We both came and went, pretending nothing was wrong when all the time the truth was bubbling just below the surface, threatening to swallow us if we dared turn our backs for even a second.
We were trying. Doing our best. It’s all we could do. And this time I wasn’t the only one trying to fix this. Drew planned a weekend away and brought home my favourite chocolates. We took time to do things together that we both liked. As hard as it was trying not to get my hopes up, I couldn’t help it. When he planned a dinner with my family for my birthday, I started to believe we had a chance. We just had to find the fun again.
Then Christmas arrived.
Christmas.
A time for happiness and fun and family. And Drew bailed. He fucking bailed. It cut me more than it should’ve and worst of all I was left all alone trying to stem the bleeding. I couldn’t tell anyone how bad things had gotten because then I’d ruin their holidays too. They didn’t deserve to get caught up in my shit. Instead, I plastered on a fake smile and went through the motions. It was horrible. And something I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.
When he’d arrived home after his boys’ trip to Bali, the one he assured me was guys only, I lost it. I hadn’t meant to. I’d planned to keep it all tightly bottled up inside and deal with it like an adult. But when he’d sauntered through the door in low-slung board shorts, sunglasses and a tan I just flipped my shit.
“Have a nice time?” I spat out icily.
“Yeah. It was great. Weather was perfect.”
“Good for you.”
“What’s wrong? Didn’t you have a good Christmas with your parents?”
I was staring at this man. The one I’d loved, admired and trusted for such a huge hunk of my life, and I barely recognised him. When had he become this stupid? So selfish? Surely, he wasn’t as dumb as he looked right now.
“Are you freaking kidding me?”
He dumped his duffle bag on the ground at his feet, before putting his hands on his hips and turning to face me. “What now? What can you possibly have to bitch about today, Maggie? I’ve just walked through the door so I can’t have pissed you off yet.”
“Fuck you, Drew.” Damn he’d become an arsehole. I don’t know when or where it had happened but there was no doubt about it. Drew had become a self-centred, self-entitled prick and someone I didn’t particularly like, let alone love.
“What? What is it now, Maggie? Just tell me what it is you think I’ve done wrong this time so you can get over it and move on.”
Did he even care? Was there any point? Probably not. It’s not like he was going to listen. “Don’t even worry about it. I’m going for a shower.”
Leaving him standing there, I headed upstairs managing to make it into the bathroom before the pain crushed me from the inside and the tears came in a heavy, fast falling waterfall threatening to drown me. Just before the door clicked shut, I heard Drew muttering behind me. “Whatever, Maggie. Time for you to pull your head out of your arse and realise life’s not a fairy tale. And you’re not a princess. There’s no glass slipper, and fairy godmothers don’t exist.”
Maybe this was a fairy tale. My fairy tale. But I was beginning to think that perhaps Drew wasn’t my Prince Charming, and that was the problem.
CHAPTE
R THIRTEEN
MAGGIE
PRESENT DAY
Getting to the airport was a nightmare. Even though I’d paid the extra for the shuttle bus and left with plenty of time to spare, it seemed like the world was conspiring against me. Between the terrible drivers, a few near misses, and the police operation going on in the middle of an intersection, by the time I was scrambling out of the back of the van I was stressed and annoyed.
My mood didn’t improve once I was inside the terminal. The queues were crazy. People shuffled back and forth not really having a clue where they were headed or supposed to be. What was worse, I couldn’t blame them. I was completely lost in a sea of people. After being bumped and bustled, I spotted a sign for my airline. Getting to it, however, proved more than a challenge. The obstacle course between me and the check-in counter looked more than a little daunting.
After finally finding where I was supposed to be, I held my breath as they hefted my suitcase onto the scales. I’d bought literally one thing – a single zebra-print scarf – so there was no possible way it could be over. I had four kilos to spare coming across and a single scarf wasn’t going to push me over. So when the scales beeped “heavy” I tried not to panic.
The guy behind the counter glared at me, obviously unimpressed. I smiled my most pathetic, damsel-in-distress smile. After a few non-coherent jumbled words and a grunt or two thrown in for good measure, he attached a bright-orange ‘heavy’ tag around the handle and pushed it through.
“Next time I won’t be so nice,” he snarked gruffly, handing me back my passport and waving me through.
Heaving a sigh of relief, I just had to find my gate and hopefully some food before I had to board. Walking down the corridor, I watched people join the flow. Couples laden with bags, a family trying to steer a pram and juggle a screeching toddler at the same time. It did not look like fun. Then, as if I wasn’t over travelling enough already, I rounded the corner and entered a great room filled wall to wall. Like chock-a-block, sardine-crammed-in people. They were being herded like sheep wandering off in all directions; no one really having a clue what was going on.
Standing up on my toes, I spied the front of what should be an orderly queue. We were in the immigration hall. At the front of the room, eight booths blocked the masses from shopping malls on the other side. Beside them, guards heavily armed with guns slung across their torsos watched on menacingly but didn’t appear to be actually doing anything to calm the chaos. In fact, no one seemed to be doing anything.
“This is insane,” a tall, blonde guy with the most intense blue eyes I’d ever seen said as he was nudged directly into me. “Sorry.”
“No worries.” Even though his huge feet landed on my toes, I couldn’t be annoyed with him. He had no choice. None of us did.
Spying the clock high on the wall, I realised I only had an hour before my plane was due to depart with or without me on it. I knew I had to fight my way to the front of the line and get to my gate. Given the rest of the challenges this airport had already presented, I could only imagine finding where I was supposed to be would be like taking a leisurely stroll through a labyrinth.
Tucking my handbag under my arm and carrying my carry-on bag in front of me, I squeezed through a gap left between two very loudly spoken Middle Eastern gentlemen. Ignoring the dirty looks they tossed in my direction, I pressed on, darting through any gap I could find. I ducked under waving arms and stepped around screaming kids who’d decided that right now, in the middle of the crowded chaos, was the perfect time and place to throw themselves down on the ground and have a hissy fit. Actually, I wondered briefly if that would work for me.
Seventeen minutes later I made my way to the front of the room and there were only four spots in front of me before the stern-looking lady perched in her booth. She was someone I didn’t want to mess with, so I stayed exactly where I was. Perfectly still and silent until I was summoned forward.
I don’t know why I was worried. I was under the microscope for barely two minutes before she wished me a safe flight, handed me back my stuff and waved me through.
In front of me was a cheesy gift shop. One filled with ugly trinkets people buy last-minute when they realise they’ve forgotten to get their nephew a jumper or their sister a shot glass. Why I found myself inside browsing, I had no idea.
Twenty minutes later, my wallet a hundred dollars lighter, and a plastic bag filled with crap I didn’t need, and I was headed towards where I needed to be. Of course, it had to be at the complete opposite end from where I was, but I tried not to be annoyed. Given I’d be sitting on my arse for the better part of the next fourteen hours, taking advantage of the walk wasn’t the worst thing in the world.
When I arrived at the gate, I glanced out the window to see bare tarmac and no airline staff in sight. There was no sign on any plane anywhere. The corridor was filled with people who were slumped against walls, reading books and playing games on their phones.
Overhead, the announcement crackled. It sounded as old and decrepit as the whole airport looked. It was battered and bruised and run down. Nothing a good clean and a fresh coat of paint couldn’t fix, but still. It wasn’t as pretty and shiny as I was used to.
“Passengers aboard flight QF1698 to Sydney, your plane has been delayed. Please check the boards for updated flight times.”
Around me the groans and complaints started almost instantly. I didn’t bother. What was the point? Really? I mean, sure I was annoyed, I’d rushed to get here but it wasn’t like grumbling was going to change anything. Instead, I turned around and headed back towards the restaurant I’d spied as I scurried past. One that boasted burgers, fries and beer. That sounded bloody good to me.
Taking my time, I sat back, flipped through a trashy magazine that someone left behind and enjoyed my dinner, all the time keeping my eye on the departures board. From my seat in the corner I had the perfect view of the runway where I could watch the massive planes taking off or completing a perfect landing before slowing to a crawl.
My flight was delayed again.. No rescheduled departure time was given. This was getting frustrating. Fourteen hours was a long time to travel anyway without the extra headaches of delays.
Paying my bill, I stood up and with nothing better to do, I headed back towards the gate. As soon as I did, I wished I’d stayed where I was. There were two young women getting bombarded with questions from disgruntled travellers demanding answers. They wanted to know when we’d be leaving. While I understood their frustrations, giving the airline staff a mouthful wasn’t going to get the plane here any faster. They did their best to reassure passengers that as soon as they knew something, we’d know. Trying to block it all out, I found a spare spot against the wall, slumped down, kicked off my shoes and wiggled my toes.
Three hours later a plane finally taxied into the gate in front of me and a collective sigh of relief combined with a few cheers erupted. Before the passengers on the incoming flight had a chance to disembark, people were already on their feet, grabbing their bags and forming a line. I stayed right where I was. There was no way this was going to be a quick turnaround.
Tucking my book back in my bag, I grabbed my phone and connected to the local wi-fi. Since Kristie was expecting me, the only one who was waiting for me, I wanted to give her the heads up what was going on. Not that she couldn’t find out if she didn’t want to. I’d been out with her a million times where she’d logged on and tracked the progress of a flight. She was a strange one that one.
Seeing she was online, I changed my mind and sent her an instant message instead.
Maggie: Hey!
Kristie: Hey there weary traveller
Kristie: Shouldn’t you be 30k feet in the air by now?
Maggie: delays at the airport
Maggie: haven’t boarded yet
Kristie: bugger
Maggie: yeah. Nothing I can do though
Kristie: have a good time?
Maggie: had the best time. Thanks
&nb
sp; Kristie: ready to come home
Maggie: ???
Kristie: Yeah, I get that.
Maggie: I didn’t see my elephant
Kristie: I’m sorry sweetie
Maggie: yeah
Kristie: want me to pick you up???
Maggie: Nah, I’ll get an Uber. Not sure what time we’ll be landing
Kristie: you sure?
Maggie: yep
Kristie: OK then
Maggie: see you when I get there.
Maggie: IF I get there
Kristie: see you soon
With time to kill, boredom and stupidity took over and I checked Drew’s social media accounts. I rarely did because he never posted. It was like he had it because he thought he should, not because he was interested.
The moment I did it I knew I shouldn’t have.
While Drew might not have posted, it didn’t stop him from being tagged in a bunch of posts and photos. Photos which could easily be misinterpreted. From the looks of it, the moment I was out of the country, Drew had let loose and was out for a good time. He’d been tagged at various restaurants and nightclubs; clubs I was certain Drew didn’t even know existed. There were photos of him behind a line of empty shot glasses and dead wedges of lime with blood shot eyes, a busty red-head leaning over his shoulder, half her boobs falling out the front of her low-cut halter top. Not that he looked like he minded. The problem was, I minded. I minded a lot. A whole fucking lot.
We were still married. Our marriage might be riddled with problems and on the verge of collapse but it still existed. In the eyes of the law, we were still technically husband and wife. And fuck that, I deserved better. Sure, I’d left the country without telling him where I was going but I didn’t cheat. I wouldn’t. I couldn’t.
Broken Dreams Boxset Page 13