Broken Dreams Boxset

by Rebecca Barber

  Obviously, she wasn’t used to rejection. “You’re nothing but a fucking tease, you know that? You think that having money makes you better than me? That you can just buy me off? I’m better than that. I’m not some cheap whore. I deserve better than you. You’re an arrogant son of a bitch…” her voice trailed off as the taxi crunched the gravel and turned back onto the road.

  It took me forever to fit my key into the lock, I found myself standing in what was left of my lifeless, loveless bedroom. For a moment I’d forgotten about what I’d done. I’d forgotten about all the problems, all the arguments and all the drama that filled my life. But standing in my bedroom with a bare dresser and half the wardrobe empty, I couldn’t hide from the truth.

  Then, sobriety hit me like a freight train. Where was Gillian? Where was all her stuff? I remember packing it up, but I’d left the boxes by the door. Now there wasn’t a box in sight. The house creaked, and I realized that for the first time in a long time it was quiet. It hadn’t been that way since the day we’d brought Charli home and she screamed for hours.

  I was running through the house, throwing open doors with wild abandon and switching on every light. Gillian had left and she’d taken the girls. My girls. Their rooms looked like they did every day. The pink bedspreads pulled up neatly, the toys packed away, and all the clothes folded neatly in the cupboards. I breathed a loud, heavy sigh of relief when I spotted Morris, Bianca’s much-loved moose, laying on the end of the bed with his velvety antlers drooping over the side. I knew she’d never leave without him. So, where the hell was Gillian’s stuff?

  Nervously, I pushed back the door to the spare room. I knew that it would’ve made sense to look there first, but thinking straight wasn’t happening tonight. Steadying myself with the door frame, I saw everything that Gillian had done today. No longer was her stuff shoved in boxes, but it was all neatly put away—typical Gillian. But then the punch came. The hardest hit I could imagine and I had no one to blame but myself. Sitting on the bedside table was a photo of Charli and Bianca smiling happily, Gillian wedged between them. I remembered the afternoon it was taken. I’d been at work. I was always at work. They’d been so excited. Gillian had taken the girls butterfly hunting. It was the first crushing blow, but not the only one. Sitting beside it, like almost an afterthought, was an ultrasound photo. One I’d never seen before. It was the first picture of our baby.

  “Gillian!” I howled. But no answer came. The house was sadly silent—no giggling, no arguing, no singing, just heart-breaking silence.

  For the first time since my life began to nose dive, I realized what my life would be like without my family. And I wasn’t convinced that I was ready to be alone.

  I collapsed onto the sofa in the dark and waited. Surely if Gillian was out with the girls, she wouldn’t be late. She was a lot of things, but an irresponsible mother wasn’t one of them. So, I sat. And I waited. Three hours later she still hadn’t shown up. Frustrated, I finally gave up and found my phone. I’d been ignoring calls and messages since I walked out of the office this morning, but now I needed to know if Gillian had even bothered to contact me. Forty-six unread text messages, not one from Gillian. Eighteen missed calls. Not one from Gillian. I couldn’t blame her, I’d been a prick, but she still should’ve called. It hurt more than I was expecting.

  Bored and with nothing better to do, I started scrolling through the messages to try and kill some time. It was the same usual crap. Messages from Mum checking in, another an automated reminder about a dentist appointment I couldn’t remember making, a few from unknown numbers asking me to call them about a property they’d seen on a website. Then there was a mysterious, cryptic message from Samantha.

  Samantha: Answer ur phone—don’t come 2 the office til u speak 2 me. Not a joke. U r not allowed in office—under investigation. Work from home til advised.

  And there it was. In less than one hundred- and sixty-characters my carefully constructed world crumbled. I was suspended indefinitely. What the fuck had I done to deserve it? Or, more frighteningly, what bullshit rumour had they bought into this week? There were just so many. Depending on which one they were referring to would ultimately determine whether or not I’d even have a job to go back to.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  GILLIAN

  “Mum, I’m tired,” Bianca whined, squirming in my lap.

  “I know, sweetie,” I tried to placate her, stroking her soft hair. She wiggled and squirmed, trying to get comfortable, and eventually nuzzling into my neck and sighing heavily. “I should really get these girls home. It’s getting late.”

  Rhiannon looked at me with drunk, sympathetic eyes. The past four hours had been full on. Like the friend she was, Rhiannon let me dump everything on her. I’ll admit it felt good to finally share everything with someone. All the pain and all the trouble that I’d been going through was out there now, and suddenly it didn’t feel so heavy. And Rhiannon said all the right things. She promised me that it wasn’t my fault and I didn’t deserve it. Repeatedly, she reminded me that Joel was just an arsehole and he had his own issues he was taking out on me.

  “Charli,” Rhiannon called out to her.

  Surprisingly, she came bouncing in, still full of beans. “You called?” she asked. I knew that sneaky smile any day of the week. She’d been lying low, in hopes that we would forget she was still not in bed and let her stay up past bedtime.

  “How would you and Bianca like to have a sleepover at Aunty Rhiannon’s tonight?” Rhiannon offered, briefly glancing in my direction.

  “What about Mum?”

  “I suppose she can stay too. What do you think?”

  “Can we, Mum? Please?” Charli begged, looking up at me with cocker spaniel eyes.

  Stealing a glance at Rhiannon, she just nodded, and to exhausted to protest, I found myself nodding along with her. “Yep, just for tonight though,” I stated, for my own resolve more than anything.

  “What about my pyjamas?” Bianca added.

  Instantly I felt guilty. This wasn’t a planned slumber party they didn’t even have a toothbrush or their pyjamas not to mention Morris.

  “Well, Bianca,” Rhiannon began, scooping her up from my lap, “I’m pretty sure I have some Elmo pyjamas that will fit you and a spare pink toothbrush. Will that work?”

  “Yep,” she sang happily.

  I watched as Rhiannon carried Bianca down the hallway. I could hear the giggling and squealing as she got them ready for bed and tucked them in. Both the girls were tucked up in the spare bed leaving my choice of the sofa or I was sharing with Rhiannon.

  While she was gone, I found a bottle of Midori and some pineapple juice and mixed up a deadly concoction. Looking at the three empty wine bottles on the counter and the two empty bags of roasted cashews, I felt drunk and not one bit guilty about not going home. It wasn’t like there was anyone there waiting for me.

  Twenty minutes later, I’d finished another two Midori cocktails when Rhiannon reappeared. “You have two amazing daughters, Gillian. You know that, don’t you? And with another one on the way. With the exception of the arsehole you married, you really do have it all,” she gushed.

  I went white. I felt sick. I’d completely forgotten about the child I was carrying. What sort of mother was I? Before I knew what I was doing, I stuck my fingers down my throat and purged. Just the thought of what I’d done was enough to keep me vomiting until my stomach was empty.

  “What happened?” Rhiannon asked, one hand holding my hair out of my face and the other rubbing my back.

  “Rhiannon,” I gasped between vomit explosions, “I’m pregnant. And drunk,” I said as I burst into tears.

  “Oh fuck!” she exclaimed and her face dropped. She’d known I was pregnant, but with everything that had happened this afternoon, we’d both forgotten.

  “Move!” she exclaimed before joining me at the kitchen sink.

  Forty minutes later both Rhiannon and I were slumped against the kitchen cabinets, sipping ice water, too
afraid to tempt our stomachs with anything stronger.

  “I can’t believe I forgot!” I was so furious at myself that I was no longer angry with Joel. “What sort of irresponsible and stupid mother compromises their unborn child’s health like that?”

  “Calm down, Gillian,” she said unconvincingly. “You and your son will be fine. Yes, it’s not the best idea we’ve ever had, but it’s not like you do this every day. And let’s face it—you’re not the first mother to have a few drinks while you’re knocked up. And you certainly won’t be the last. Come on.” She pulled me up off the floor and led me towards the bedroom.

  I sat on Rhiannon’s bed while she pulled the shirt up over my head as I stared dead ahead, unblinking. The tears had ceased, but the feelings behind them were all-consuming and paralysing. Rhiannon had managed to get me stripped down to my panties and bra and tucked into her bed. All of a sudden, I felt alone. I wanted to be home in my bed, curled up beside Joel, his hands resting on my stomach, promising me that everything would be all right. Just like he had done when I was pregnant with Charli.

  I snuggled under Rhiannon’s quilt and fell into a fitful sleep, Rhiannon sitting beside the bed watching over me like an angel.

  It was after eleven the next morning when I stumbled into Rhiannon’s ensuite and washed my face. When I saw the time, I flew into panic mode. The girls were supposed to be at school and I’d slept too late. Again. I’d let them down because I was asleep. More surprising, they hadn’t jumped on me and woken me before now. And the apartment was weirdly silent. I pulled on yesterday’s clothes, scrubbed my furry teeth with my finger and a dob of toothpaste, and ran my hands through my hair.

  Ducking into the kitchen, I saw Rhiannon sitting quietly sipping coffee and reading the paper. “Morning.” Where I looked and felt like I had been hit by a bus, Rhiannon was disgustingly lively. No signs of a hangover or lack of sleep. “There’s fresh coffee in the pot and croissants in the oven. They’re still warm.”

  “I can’t. I’m really late. I have to get the girls up, dressed and to school and somehow explain all of this.”

  “Gillian!” Rhiannon snapped. “Sit down. Have a coffee and listen,” she bossed, pouring me a cup. “The girls are already up, dressed and at school. I dropped them off this morning, after a quick stop at the shops to buy them some new clothes. I didn’t want them in yesterday’s clothes; they’d never live that down. I packed lunches, drove your car with their booster seats, and explained to their teacher that I was their godmother. Everything’s okay Gillian. Promise.”

  “But how? What? Why? When?” I babbled, talking large gulps of scalding hot coffee, trying to numb the pounding behind my eyes.

  “Just breathe…I was up at six, they needed me. And even if you don’t want to admit it, you needed me to. You were absolutely exhausted, Gillian. And I love you and that little boy you are carrying. I know how much you’re going through, so if letting you have some peace and quiet for a couple of hours is all I can do to help, then that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

  Rhiannon was so different than the carefree girl I had known years ago. The old Rhiannon would have gotten me drunk and then laughed as I stumbled through the next day feeling sorry for myself. But now she was going above and beyond. She was the everything I didn’t know I needed. And as much as it pained me to admit it, she was exactly right. I needed the break. Usually Adele helped, but right now I couldn’t bring myself to tell her what was going on. I knew she’d find out eventually, but for now I had to keep it to myself. If Joel did, that was his business, but I wasn’t prepared to answer her questions.

  “So, your girls are sorted. Now, what’re we going to do with you?” Rhiannon asked, refilling her coffee cup.

  “I need to go home.” As soon as I said it out loud, I felt shivers run through my body. I knew it was time to go home—I’d never planned on staying away this long—but the truth was that I was terrified.

  “Well, then let’s get you home!”

  “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. You’ve been amazing, but this is something I have to face on my own.” I felt bad. Rhiannon had put herself and her apartment at the mercy of my tears, drunken tantrums, and daughters, and now I was telling her to take a step back.

  “It’s okay, Gillian. I know. And I get it. Just remember that my door is open. Today. Tomorrow. In a week. Or even in a year. Just don’t let him win!” She hugged me tightly and I felt the unwelcome but all too familiar tears gather on my eyelids.

  “I’ll try,” was all that I could commit to. I wasn’t about to make promises I wasn’t sure I could keep.

  “Gillian, please just remember one thing for me. You’re a strong, fiercely independent woman with the world at your feet. He might be your husband by law, but if he won’t man up and be the husband he should be, don’t you settle for anything less. You deserve better.”

  “Thank you. For everything. You don’t know how much I appreciate it; I really do. But I have to go. I have to face the truth and deal with the fallout. Besides, it’s almost lunchtime. He won’t be home for hours. He’ll be at work, ’cause he is very important, remember?” I laughed aloud and I was shocked at how good it felt.

  “Yep, that’s what he keeps telling himself, anyway. Call me if you need me.”

  “Promise,” I agreed, and with one final hug I forced myself out the door.

  As I turned the key in the ignition and turned onto the main road towards the inevitable, I cast my mind back over the past twenty-four hours. I can’t begin to describe how thankful I was to Rhiannon. She’d done all she could, and I knew there was nothing I could do to ever repay her. She’d said and done all the things that I needed her to do, with, the exception of feeding a pregnant woman large quantities of alcohol.

  I pulled into the driveway, relieved no one was there. I felt cheap and dirty. I could think of nothing that I wanted more desperately than a long, hot bubble bath. I parked on the driveway; I had to collect the girls from school later and I promised myself I would be early. There was no way I was risking being late two days in a row. The last thing I needed right now, was to be known as a negligent mother.

  I got to the front door and was astounded to discover it wasn’t locked. Panic roared through me. I couldn’t help it. Joel was such a security-conscious freak he wouldn’t have left it unlocked. And why wasn’t the security alarm blaring, deafening the entire street? Carefully I pushed open the door and jumped off the ground when it squeaked. Typical. It’d never squeaked before, but the one time that I needed it to stay quiet it made more noise than Charli after she’d finished her red slushie.

  I stepped cautiously into the lounge, but nothing seemed out of place. The television was still there. The DVD, even the digital camera on the coffee table hadn’t been touched. We obviously weren’t being robbed.

  “Hello?” I called out. No one answered. Just the eerie sound of my own trembling voice echoed back.

  Maybe Joel had just stuffed up and not pulled the door shut hard enough when he took off to work this morning. It was weird but not completely impossible. Standing in the middle of the lounge I looked more closely. The only thing out of place was a throw on the couch.

  I dropped my handbag on the bench and headed straight into the bathroom. It felt strange taking my bath in the main bathroom instead of the ensuite. I’d never used it before. As I sunk into the steaming water, I felt all my anxiety evaporate. I closed my eyes and simply went with it.

  “About fucking time you dragged your arse home!” Joel boomed, throwing the door open and letting it slam against the wall, punching a hole in the plaster board.

  In that moment my heart stopped. When it started again it was racing. I jumped five feet in the air, water splashing everywhere. “What the fuck!” I swore, scrambling out of the bath and almost slipping as I reached out to grab a towel.

  “This is my fucking house. Where have you been? And where the hell are my girls?” Joel spat angrily.

  I looked at him a
nd didn’t recognize the man standing there glaring at me. Tragically, in that moment, I remembered the first time Joel had caught me in the bathroom. It seemed like a million years ago now and I had never imagined that all the romance and love would fade as quickly as it had. But that just went to prove how young and stupid I’d been.

  “The g-girls are at school,” I stuttered, too afraid to offer anything more.

  Huffing and puffing, Joel paced back and forth, rage gathering on his quivering top lip. “Don’t…where have you been?” Joel snapped, holding up a finger indicating that he wasn’t done with me just yet.

  I stepped back, my legs crashing into the side of the bath. Joel stepped towards me menacingly. In all honesty I’d expected this kind of outburst. It was what I was most afraid of. But stupidly, I’d thought I’d have had a few more hours to prepare. He should’ve been at work, then I wouldn’t have been caught so off guard. I would’ve had a chance to come up with the answers to his questions. I would’ve made sure he didn’t catch me in a room where I was cornered between the wall and his explosive temper. I would’ve been fully clothed for a start. But instead he had the upper hand. Again. He had all the control. And I was back pedalling as fast as I could, just fighting to stay in the game.

  “We stayed at Rhiannon’s last night,” I admitted. As soon as I said it, I felt guilty. I should have never have mentioned Rhiannon’s name. Now she was smack bang in the middle of my mess.

  “So, you and I have a slight disagreement and you run to Rhiannon? Fuck, Gillian. Grow up. Why do you always have to run to your friends?”

  “Because I don’t have a family. Screw you, Joel. You kicked me out of my bedroom. Tell me, what sort of personal life do we have? We’re fucking flat mates. The only thing we have in common are the amazing daughters that you fathered then conveniently forgot,” I dared.