“Daddy!” he screeched delightedly. “Guess what, guess what! Where are you?”
I watched in horror as Lucas raced about the house banging on doors and waiting for something that I guessed would prove to be nothing more than yet another bitter disappointment. I’d learnt years ago not to expect anything from Joel, and tragically both Bianca and Charli had learnt the same lessons the hard way, no matter how much I tried to shield them from it. Lucas reached up and tried to turn the door handle on Joel’s bedroom door. It wouldn’t budge. It was locked again.
“Daddy!” he squealed, becoming agitated.
I couldn’t simply stand by and watch as his innocent heart broke. “Lucas, come here and show me what you did at school today. Daddy’s gone out. You can tell him about it when he gets home.” I felt as though I had just murdered his dreams. In my heart I knew that Lucas wouldn’t get the chance to tell Joel what he had done on his first day. It was more likely that Joel would stumble through the door reeking of cheap perfume and alcohol long after Lucas was tucked up in bed.
Lucas didn’t bother to hide his disappointment, I don’t think he even knew how to as he perched himself on the sofa next to me and pulled papers out of his backpack. “You didn’t eat your lunch!” I scolded, noticing the mangled sandwich in the bottom of his bag.
“Oh, Mum. I was busy.”
“Yeah? Doing what?”
“Playing,” he said. His wide toothless smile was convincing; seeing that, I couldn’t be mad at him.
For twenty minutes Lucas told me about his new friends and the playground and his teacher and everything else that had happened in his day. In his eyes it was the best day ever. All he wanted to do was share it with his dad. And Dad was missing in action. Again. My heart broke at his repeated requests for his father. I wished Joel would wake up to himself and appreciate what he had right in front of him, but he didn’t. And he wouldn’t. And I couldn’t make him.
“Can I go play Lego, Mum?” Lucas asked. Not trusting myself to speak, I faked my best smile and nodded. Before I even opened my eyes, Lucas was bounding down the hallway. It was when I turned over a crumpled piece of paper that Lucas had squished into my hand that I realized what it was: a crayon drawing of Joel and Lucas swimming in the pool playing with a ball. I didn’t know where Lucas had dreamt the scene from, because it definitely wasn’t a memory. Joel had never once got in the pool with Lucas. Not since the day he was born. No one had been in the pool that I knew of for at least the past two swimming seasons. It too, like everything else, had begun to fall apart. Tiny blue tiles had fallen off and dotted the bottom of the pool like confetti. The filter was overflowing with leaves, twigs, and anything else that had happened to wiggle its way under the cover, that it too had long ago been abandoned.
Frustrated at everything, I stomped into the kitchen and stuck a post-it note to the picture. ‘Your son’s dream’ was all I wrote, and left it on the bench in the usual spot. It was sad to think that the only way Joel and I communicated these days was, post-it notes stuck to everything. The bills, kids’ permission slips, notes asking for money, information to be shared. It was a truce we had established after he closed the joint bank account and drained it without even telling me. He left me with nothing and took off. For almost two months he was MIA. Lucas was less than three weeks old and Joel just up and left. I found out later that he’d flown to the Gold Coast, first class, and spent his time drinking in bars, wining and dining beautiful women, and staying at some fancy hotel in a spa suite. In less than two months he blew most of our savings and the rest he kept tucked away for himself. Without the four ladies in my life who were always there, there was no way I ever would’ve survived.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
JOEL
The phone call came and I knew it was bad news before I even picked it up. I scrunched up my face in disgust seeing Samantha’s name flash on the screen. “Hello,” I spat out as politely as I could through gritted teeth.
“Good morning, Joel, it’s Samantha,” she said, exceedingly bubbly.
Bitch was enjoying tormenting me. “How can I help you this morning, Samantha?” I forced, almost spitting her name.
“If you could come in for a meeting tomorrow at eleven, it would be appreciated. It will be in the corporate office.”
“I guess I could be there.”
“Right, I’ll see you then.” She clicked off.
My heart sank reading into every word she said and every word she didn’t. Things weren’t looking good. Staring around the walls of my bedroom, I silently fumed. This was my prison. Beyond those walls was noise and dirt, squealing kids and a clingy wife, and a life I’d never asked for, a life someone else wanted and yet somehow, in some cruel joke, I’d ended up unable to escape.
Unlocking the door, I stuck my head out the door and yelled, “Would you all just shut the fuck up? I’m trying to think.” Then, with the slam of the door and the click of the lock, visiting hours in the prison were over. Instead, I fired up my computer and began looking for a new job. I wasn’t an idiot. I knew what was coming. And I knew there was nothing I could do to stop it. Office politics would end my career. That and the tramp behind at the reception desk.
The days since my suspension had been a blur. A whirlwind of drunken nights and hazy days. I was grateful for the hours when the girls were at school and Gillian fucked off. She seemed to spend less and less time at home these days, especially when the kids weren’t with her. Part of me hoped she was out looking for somewhere to live. The sooner she was out of my life the better. For the first time I regretted making her sell the ratty little apartment she’d been living in when we’d met.
After two hours, finding nothing appealing, I gave up the job hunt and headed out into the main part of the house.
It wasn’t the house I wanted anymore. Toys littered the lounge floor and there was a stain on the white carpet. It wasn’t the home I’d spent years and thousands of dollars building. Seeing the state of the house just infuriated me. Then, without hesitation, I made a decision. It’d been a long time coming, but the spill on the white carpet forced my hand. I was no longer going to allow anything else to fall victim to Gillian’s carelessness and lack of respect. I’d worked too long and too hard for everything to fall apart around me.
I worked methodically. Starting in the kitchen, I went through every cupboard, taking everything I wanted and stashing it in my wardrobe. All the crystal glasses, the entire contents of the bar, anything with any value found their way into the wardrobe. An entire six-person dinner set and the silver cutlery. Napkins, a tablecloth, a vase. If Gillian didn’t appreciate nice things, then I’d get them out of her way before they too ended up worthless. Then I moved onto the lounge, disconnecting the wide screen television and the DVD player and setting it up in my room. Pictures came down from the walls and rugs were rolled up and all found a new home in my room.
Three hours later, with a thin film of sweat covering my entire body, I was finally satisfied. For now. The house looked half empty, as if someone had broken in and ransacked the place. All that was left was the chipped coffee table, a stained cushion and the pile of Wiggles DVDs. But I felt better. Like I was taking control back of my own life. It’d take time, but eventually I’d have my house, at least the part I was imprisoned in, exactly the way I wanted. After a quick shower, I threw on a pair of Calvin Klein jeans, and took off for my favourite place to be—the bar down the street.
In a little over a week I’d become a regular. I knew the other drunks sitting at the bar chain smoking. I knew each bartender by name and cup size. For some reason, they loved me here. It didn’t seem to matter what I said or did, they just kept welcoming me back. Probably because every day, I picked up the tab. Even if the drunks got there and started drinking hours before I’d even arrived, I’d simply walk in, place my credit card on the bar, and sign on the dotted line when it was time to go. I never once looked at the amount. By the time I signed, I could barely read the small print
anyway.
“Joel, buddy.” A toothless bald man smiled happily at me.
“Afternoon, Cameron.” I forced a smile back. The truth was Cameron disgusted me. He was everything I hated in life—a leech. He’d received an insurance payout years earlier and lived on that until the funds ran out. Now he spent his days drinking and sleeping and drooling on himself, living off government handouts and strangers’ generosity.
“Jack and Coke,” I ordered with a wink. Hours passed and I finished drink after drink. The sun was already rising by the time I was helped into a taxi and sent home, barely hours before the meeting which would determine my fate.
Unable to get the key in the bedroom door lock, I slumped against it and passed out. I think my eyes had been closed for barely twenty minutes when the girls started bouncing on me and blabbing something about a good morning. Pulling myself up, I sat there and looked at them. They stood there, hopefulness written all over their faces. I couldn’t stomach it. Or maybe it was the bottle of bourbon I couldn’t stomach. Before I could turn away, I vomited next to Charli, covering her favourite pink ballet shoes. Hearing her scream for Gillian rattled my head. Without thinking, I reached out and slapped Charli’s face, shutting her up instantly. Bianca raced off crying, but Charli stood frozen to the spot clutching her face. It took barely seconds for a furious Gillian to appear and scoop Charli up. “You ever touch them again and you’ll regret it,” she threatened.
Surprised by my own actions, I watched Gillian as she grabbed the kids and fled. I heard the car crunch the gravel and take off down the street before I passed out in the puddle of vomit.
The vibration from my phone in my pocket crushed beneath me woke me with a start. “Fuck! Shit! Fuck!” The phone ringing could only be yet another bad sign. And when I checked the caller ID I saw I was right. It was the wicked bitch of the west, Samantha.
“Hi,” I puffed down the phone, as I pulled myself to my feet.
“Nice to hear you’re still alive, Joel,” she said frostily.
The words I wanted to say were on the tip of my tongue, but I knew it was a bad idea. If I wanted my career back, my life back, or even just a second chance, playing nice with Samantha was a painful necessity. “Yeah, still alive. A few dramas this morning getting Lucas off to school. Wouldn’t let Gillian take him, he wanted Dad. Then he cried and cried and just wouldn’t let go.” I lied easily. There was a funky stench somewhere and when I looked in the mirror and spotted the chunks of vomit in my own hair, I wanted to hurl again. But instead it just inspired another lie. “Then he made himself sick all over me so I just dashed home to change. Sorry I’m running late.”
“Fine,” Samantha stated dismissively, her tone indicating she didn’t believe a word but she didn’t push the point. “How long do you think you’ll be? Michael and I have other appointments so we can’t wait around all day.”
The mention of Michael’s name sobered me instantly. He was the CEO, and while lovely ninety-five percent of the time, if you let him down, lied to him or embarrassed him in any way, the consequences were dire.
“Ten minutes tops,” I confirmed, slamming the front door behind me and sprinting to the car. My Audi was still at the pub, but luckily Gillian’s old shit box was still parked in the driveway. Why she’d insisted on keeping it all these years was beyond me, but for the first time in forever, I was glad she didn’t listen to me. “Running out the door now,” I said, and for the first time I was telling the truth.
The tiny car had never moved so fast as it did that day, darting between cars and running red lights. By the time I made it to the office, only eight minutes had passed. I’d had time to splash water on my face, swallow half a bottle of mouthwash, and pull on some clean clothes, doing up my fly and tie in the car as I’d sped through the streets. “Not a bad effort,” I congratulated myself, jumping out of the car and taking the stairs three at a time.
Out of breath, I was completely bewildered when the nasty receptionist in the corporate office told me to take a seat and she’d check if Mr. Thomas was available. Two weeks ago, I used to breeze through the door like I owned the place, barely bothering to acknowledge the receptionist. It wasn’t a good sign.
After fifteen painfully drawn-out minutes going insane waiting, I was finally summoned to Michael’s office. It was large and intimidating and everything the CEO’s office should be.
Gulping down the lump that had formed in my throat as I nervously walked down the corridor, palms sweaty and my stomach still gurgling from last night’s effort. I hadn’t planned on drinking that much, but since the first went down so easily, by the tenth it was like drinking water.
I stood in the doorway and waited for Michael to wave me in. Watching him rise from his high-backed leather chair and move towards me. As inconspicuously as I could, I dried my palms on my pants as I reached out to shake Michael’s hand.
“Thanks for coming in today, Joel,” Michael offered professionally.
“No problem.” I flashed a grin that in the past had gotten me out of so much trouble.
I’d been in Michael’s office so many times over the years and never before had I been so damn intimidated, but today was different. Samantha just nodded in my direction, refusing to even say hi. I’d always considered Michael more than just a boss, but like a friend who understood. Very few people actually did, but Michael was one of the few who did, at least I thought I did. He knew what it was like to be in this shitty situation, but today I barely recognized the man staring back at me.
“Have a seat, Joel,” Michael indicated, pointing to the chair next to Samantha. Sliding into the seat, I kept my mouth shut. It seemed like my best option at this point. “It frustrates me that I have to have this conversation with you, Joel. Nevertheless, it is my responsibility. You may or may not be aware I’ve received a serious complaint about your conduct. You were temporarily suspended until I’d had the chance to investigate.” Michael paused briefly to sip his water. Samantha continued to stare out the window, at the floor and anywhere else but at me.
I gulped. I was gone. The look on Michael’s face made it obvious, but I had to sit through this shit, whatever happened. “It was a very serious allegation made against you personally and it was my duty to fully investigate. I’ve now got to the bottom of my enquiries and unfortunately for you, I’ve got no choice but to inform you that from this moment on you are no longer employed at Max Meredith & Sons.”
Michael paused and waited for my reaction. Unfortunately, I wasn’t the first agent Michael had fired over the years, and I probably wouldn’t be the last, but from the pained look on his face showed he wasn’t really enjoying it.
“Okay,” I said, no louder than a whisper, after a long while.
Michael watched me and waited. I guess he was waiting to see if I lost my shit. He was probably expecting it, if I was being honest. When I said nothing else he continued, “The nature of the complaint was disturbing and I’ll admit I was extremely troubled and upset to hear that such a thing had happened. I’ve convinced the young lady involved to not press charges, and I gave her my word that I’d deal with the situation. You are not to go back to the office. Samantha will clean out your desk for you and arrange for your stuff to be delivered to you. You will, however, need to turn your swipe card and keys in immediately.”
Even though I was expecting it, I was still a little stunned, I reached into my pocket and pulled out the keys and swipe card, dropping them silently into Samantha’s hand. “I’m sorry it ended like this, Joel. Whatever’s going on with you, and I’ve known you long enough to know somethings up, you need to deal with it. Get some help. Sort yourself out,” he offered before standing up and effectively ending the meeting.
Silently, I got up and walked out. This chapter of my life was over. I thought about fighting it, making a scene, letting everyone know I wouldn’t tolerate this, but I knew there was no point. It was over. Best to just walk away with what little dignity I had left. I went home and walked straigh
t into my room. I shut the curtains, shut out the daylight, shut out the world and passed out.
A week later I emerged from my own private hell and unleashed my rage on the world. First my family and the woman who ruined everything. It was the day I made the decision to cut them completely from my life. Cut out all the toxic and then I could focus on the good. I had a lot of work to do, but I’d get there. I was still young and resourceful and, more importantly, I had money saved for a rainy day. And today it was pouring.
That night I told Gillian exactly what I thought of her. With a well-timed slap, a punch and a kick, I let her know exactly where she stood. When she returned ten days later, she was terrified. Yet another accomplishment, and after only six weeks of living under the same roof, after that night I flew to the Gold Coast for some time off. I needed to escape this nightmare.
That was six years ago now. When everything had gone to hell, I stupidly believed it’d only take six months to fix this fucked up life I was stuck living. It was now six years later and things were just as bad, if not worse than ever. And I was more miserable than I ever imagined possible. Even the booze couldn’t dull the pain and fill the emptiness that consumed me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
GILLIAN
Adele was my angel. From the moment she’d seen her son, her only child, kick me, their relationship dissolved. From what I have managed to extract from her over the years, she and Joel had had a huge argument when she got back from the hospital to pick up some clothes for the girls. She’d disowned him until he sorted himself out. He never had. Selfishly, I thought that was the end of not only my relationship with Adele but also my children’s. But Adele was better than I gave her credit for. She stood by us in ways Joel never knew. I’d often find random deposits in my bank account. We were invited for dinner at least once a week and the presents were out of control. Any excuse to buy one of the kids a new pair of shoes or outfit, Adele pounced. Without a mother of my own, Adele became one of the only people in my life I trusted with the truth. Even with my best-friends, I just couldn’t bring myself to admit how bad everything was.
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