by Jessica Leed
‘Where were you Patrick?’ she demanded, ignoring his question. He looked away, pausing as though he needed time to form an excuse. His eyes gave away nothing.
Silence.
‘Patrick?’
‘For fuck’s sake.’ He pushed past her and stormed into the study. She followed him in there. ‘Where were you?’
He abruptly turned to face her and positioned his face inches from hers. She threw her neck back, startled.
‘Remember how I told you that I was seeing someone about my drinking? For years you have nagged me about it and in the last few weeks I’ve had the courage to do something about it. I haven’t wanted to talk to you about it because I didn’t need you thanking me for it, praising, treating me like a five-year-old.’
She took a tentative step backwards, widening the distance between them. He only closed it back in.
‘The last thing I need is for you to be constantly on my back. I’ve tried to be patient with you, I did the expo thing, I’m looking into bloody counselors to shut you up, but you don’t know when to stop, do you?’ He was barracking her against the wall now.
She felt herself being trapped in as he hovered over her possessively, like a lion claiming his prey.
‘And now you are questioning me, questioning my faithfulness when I’m doing everything you have asked.’
She felt his breath heavy on hers as he secured his hands either side of her face and pinned her against the wall.
‘I don’t know what you want from me, I have a decent job, I work myself into the ground, I stop drinking. ’ His eyes flickered an anger that suddenly frightened her. ‘I come home to you every night, don’t I? But nothing is ever enough for you, is it?’
Tears sprung into her eyes and she started to cry.
‘DON’T PULL THAT CARD ON ME!’ he shouted.
The sobs came harder now as she tried to break free from under him. But he had her trapped, closed in with nowhere to go.
He slammed his fists into the wall, missing her face by what must have been millimeters. ‘Why are you crying?’ he roared. The ricochet sent a vibration through the wall, rattling her head on impact.
She squeezed her eyes shut. ‘You’re scaring me, Patrick.’
With two hands, she pushed against his chest, maneuvered her body from under him and made a run to their room before he had a chance to pull her back in. She locked the door behind her and crumpled to the floor in a heap. She trembled all over, feeling the cheeseburger that hadn’t had a chance to digest, sitting somewhere half way down her throat. She could feel the vile bubbling its way up her esophagus as she frantically scanned her eyes around the room. She reached for the nearest shoe box, throwing the journals that were inside across the room.
She vomited.
‘Sienna…? Babe?’
She could hear his pleading voice from the other side of the door. She forced whatever was left inside to come up a second time and vomited again.
‘Are you ok? Can you please let me in?’
With the vomit induced box in her lap, she rested her head against the wall and stared helplessly at the ceiling. Her eyes were clouded with salty tears and her throat burned like hell.
‘I’m so sorry baby, can you please let me in and we can talk about it?’
She could picture him pressed up against the other side of the door, regret finally hitting him.
But it was too late now.
He kept calling out to her but all she could do was sit quietly and wait. She didn’t know what she was waiting for, but she couldn’t move, couldn’t respond.
And she wouldn’t.
After about an hour of silence, with wobbly legs, and very little energy, she stood to her feet. She felt as though her insides had been drained from head to toe.
It wouldn’t be far from the mark.
Ever so quietly she unlocked the door, opening it just enough to peak through. The study door opposite was wide open, the computer screen turned off. She didn’t hear any noise from the kitchen, or from the TV, so she tiptoed down the corridor into the lounge room.
It was empty. She entered the kitchen. It was also empty.
He was gone.
After disposing the vomit induced shoe box, she sourced a new hiding place for her journals. After washing the horror of the day off her, she dragged herself into the lounge room, reached for her handbag and took out her phone.
A single text.
She considered not opening it. She didn’t want to hear a word he had to say. She went into it anyway, but It wasn’t from him.
It was from Ethan.
She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, took a shaky breath and read it.
I’m sorry I missed your call, hope you are well.
I’ve done some thinking…and think it would be best for everyone if I keep my distance.
And just like that, she felt more alone than ever.
Eighteen
She still felt shaky the next day at work.
The rest of the night was spent half slumped over the coffee table while the other half of her body hung on the hard, wooden floor. She must have spent a good hour staring vacantly at the message from the one person who had given her the slightest glimmer of hope.
Patrick never returned home. She had turned her phone off after that and hadn’t looked at it since. She drifted through work with a fabricated energy, her mind shattered in pieces the same way her heart was. She didn’t want to stop, think, or take a single moment to reflect on the hundred strands of thoughts knotted in her mind. She would get through today, then tomorrow, and press on every day after that.
Nolan was absent today. Somehow through her out of body experience, she had noticed that much. In a way she was relieved as she didn’t have the brain capacity to dissect the parts belonging to his case. It could stay tangled inside with everything else, for now.
By the time the day drew to a close, she was wrecked. She had never felt so emotionally and physically drained, and she had barely scratched the surface of the new term. After conversing with a few parents with the usual; ‘how is my child progressing at school?’ conversations, she flopped onto her swivel chair and refreshed her emails. As always, there were about a dozen to go through ranging from parents, to upcoming seminars, lunch duty covers, fundraising campaigns, timetable changes, shout outs for extra volunteers for co-curricular activities, upcoming staff meetings—it just kept going.
She stared at the screen, massaging her temples with her two index fingers. She had no desire to respond to a single one of them. She pushed her laptop back and rested her head on the cool, tempered glass. Her heavy eyes flickered as she fought hard to keep them open. She hadn’t slept a wink last night. She hadn’t even made it past two feet of the coffee table. Instead, she had switched on the TV and let Netflix suppress her swelling pain. One movie rolled into two, then three. Before she knew it, she was in for the full marathon until the sun seeped through the blinds, signifying it was time to rise from the floor.
Bizzzzzzzzzzzzz
Her head slammed against the desk. She was well and truly awake now. Probably bruised too. She took the classroom phone and held it to her ear.
‘Sienna, are you able to meet me in my office?’
Everything about the question was so textbook, formal. Her stomach churned at the seriousness of his tone.
‘Yes, of course. I’m on my way. Is everything—’
Damian hung up before she had a chance to finish. She pushed back her chair and felt her head spin from a blend of exhaustion, hunger and anxiety.
She didn’t remember how she got down the stairs but somehow, she arrived at his door. Out of curtesy, she knocked twice before entering.
‘Sienna.’ He smiled at her as she peered through, and her stomach settled. It wasn’t a smile with an underlying intention. For once.
He studied her. ‘You look a wreck.’
She lifted her eyebrows and let out a loose laugh. ‘Thanks Damian.’
He frowned and leaned forward to get a better look at her. ‘Is everything ok on the home front?’
She knew he meant well but she was tired of being interrogated. She tucked an oily strand of hair behind one ear and gave him a convincing nod. ‘Yes, fine. You wanted to see me?’
He stood to his feet, walked to the door and closed it. Suddenly, the settled feeling was gone and she was nervous again.
‘Tell me, was Nolan at school today?’ He took a seat again at his desk.
‘No, he wasn’t. Why’s that?’
He nodded slowly. ‘I received an email from Miranda. She isn’t happy with the special treatment Nolan’s receiving.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘She also feels attacked.’
‘Attacked?’ She was definitely wide awake now, and fuming. This woman was unbelievable.
‘She also doesn’t believe Nolan qualifies for the sessions he’s having with Anita. She’s upset that we went ahead without her consent.’
She gripped onto the end of her hair, flung it over shoulder and slouched deeper into the chair. ‘She feels attacked?’
‘Feels although her parenting has been questioned.’
‘If she’s even his mother.’
‘We can’t assume otherwise and either way, that’s irrelevant right now.’
She nodded. He knew of her concerns and speculations over the whole mysterious case.
‘She said until she has our trust, Nolan won’t be returning to school.’
Something inside of her snapped.
‘Is she serious? Why now? Why not a week and a half ago when she first had a problem? She’s already doing him a massive disfavor pulling him out half way through next term, and now she wants to take him out sooner? It sounds like she’s threatened to me. Over what, I’m not sure. But there’s something going on. I know you think I’m reading deeply into everything but something’s not right Damian.’ She inhaled, catching her anger as it exploded everywhere like flying debris. ‘Did you reply? How did … what did you respond to that?’
He was smiling again, to her disbelief he was actually smiling. It was hardly a smiling matter.
What the hell was wrong with him?
‘Well that’s why I’ve got you here, I thought we could work on a response together.’ He spun the screen around so it faced her and clicked on the reply button to the email.
She leaned in and scrolled over the foolishness of Miranda’s words. She could feel his eyes on her as she squinted her eyes over what the woman had to say.
‘Nah, that’s not going to work, come here,’ he said, laughing. He wiggled his fingers, gesturing her to join him on the other side of desk.
‘It’s ok, I can see from here.’
‘You might be able to see Sienna, but you need to be able to read it. Come on, swivel your sexy self over here.’
It was basically an order, one that made her want to run for the door. What choice did she have? The issue meant more to her than his usual flirty behaviour. She stood and obediently wheeled her chair over, making sure there was an appropriate distance between them. She sat down for a full three seconds before he took her chair and pulled it in closer so their shoulders brushed together. Her heart began to pound the same way it had when she was alone with him last. She glanced her eyes towards the door, relieved that it was closed from potential snooping eyes. At the same time, she wished it wasn’t so she had an open pathway to flee.
Why did she always find herself in positions like these?
She sent him a hurried smile, then focused her attention back to the screen. She could see from the corner of her eye that the email was the last thing on his mind.
‘What are your thoughts? How do we best approach this?’ She positioned her hands on the keyboard, ready for his input.
He inhaled and redirected his focus to the screen. ‘I don’t think there’s much we can do other than agree with the woman. Like you said, Nolan won’t be seeing out the school year, he’ll be gone soon so we don’t want to aggravate things or give her any reason to take him out sooner. We’ll just have to take him off Anita’s hands and keep a close eye on him.’
She nodded. ‘I’m happy to work with him outside school hours, like I had been doing.’
He scrunched his nose. ‘I’m not sure that’s wise, she’s made it clear she doesn’t want Nolan having any one on one attention.’
‘What difference does it make? She’s never around, she wouldn’t even know about it.’ She flung her back against the chair. ‘She doesn’t know the first thing about her own child,’ she murmured under her breath.
He hovered his hands over where hers were positioned over the keyboard, ready to type. ‘Maybe I’ll take the reins on this one since you’re all worked up. I’m a little concerned where that could lead,’ he joked.
‘Couldn’t do any more damage than the damage she’s inflicting on her son.’
He lowered his hands onto hers. She flinched and sent her hands to her lap. Did he just try to hold her hands? What a creep.
‘You’re always on edge around me, Henderson,’ he smirked.
‘I’m on edge in general.’
‘Anything I can help you with?’ his voice deep, slow and seedy. She had to commend him for his persistence. He never gave up, that was for sure.
‘I just need to learn how to switch off. Need to meditate or something.’
She could see that his mind was dancing.
He raised his eyebrows. ‘Always turned on, are we?’
‘Excuse me?’
She was done here. She needed to leave. This email wasn’t going to happen. His hands were already off the keyboard, his fingers now drumming a galloping rhythm on his desk. His shoulder brushed against hers again, harder this time.
She pushed her chair back.
‘You’re always on, I haven’t seen anyone as wired as you. You really don’t know how to relax, do you?’
She shrugged, lost for words.
He placed two hands on her shoulders and began to work his strong fingers on the stringy muscles at the base of her neck. ‘When was the last time you had a massage?’
‘Damian … ’ She shook his hands off her, but he only tightened his grip.
‘It’s ok, I might be able to release this giant knot you’ve got going on here,’ he said seductively.
She cleared her throat. ‘The email.’
‘Yes.’ He sent little squeezes down the sides of her arms now, from the top of her shoulders, right down to her forearms. ‘Don’t worry, we’ll get it done. You need to relax first, we need to settle that overactive mind of yours so you’re in a position to think more clearly.’
We?
The only thing that involved any form of inclusiveness was getting this email written.
‘I appreciate the thought but I think you should stop.’ The assertiveness of her tone surprised herself. She slapped his hands away and pushed her chair further back this time. It was the firmest she had ever been with him.
As ordered, he released his hands from her. The relief that washed over her was immediate. She couldn’t look at him, couldn’t meet his eye. She didn’t need to, she could already sense his rejection.
He hesitated for a moment, as though he was about to respond, then started typing a reply. His eyes hazy, halved in sized compared to a moment ago. His fingers moved at a similar speed as her racing heart.
She stared as she watched, contemplating what to do next. There was a knock at the door. The door opened and Judy from reception poked her head in.
‘Damian, your four o’ clock has a
rrived.’
Sienna looked at the way he stared blankly at the woman.
‘Gary Thornton,’ she clarified.
‘Right, Gary. Of course, I’ll be there in two.’
Judy nodded before quietly shutting the door behind her.
He peered at the clock on the wall and turned to face Sienna. ‘I’ll be sure that the email gets sent to the Livingstons before I leave tonight. Thank you for your input, Sienna.’ Just like that, he was all professional again.
She nodded, stood to her feel and swiveled it back to its position on the other side of the desk. ‘Thank you for that, I appreciate it.’
His eyes were still focused on the screen. He didn’t look at her, he didn’t nod. She walked to the door, looking back at him as his fingers continue to tap away at the keyboard before she closed it behind her. She only hoped she hadn’t made another enemy, it would be more than she could handle.
When would something go right? Anything. Was it really too much to ask?
Her past record so far told her that it was.
She returned to the classroom, exited her many unanswered emails, took her bag, turned off the classroom lights and made her way to her car. She was done. She was ready for the day to be over, even though home was the last place she wanted to be.
She wished she didn’t associate seeing Patrick’s car with such dread. But she couldn’t help but experience the word in its entirety as she pulled up beside it. She glanced at the time. It had just gone four thirty. He didn’t finish work until five.
Maybe he had finished early, desperate to come home and apologise. Maybe she would find him on his knees begging for forgiveness as she opened the front door. Or maybe he would be in the kitchen, putting together an ‘I’m sorry for being an asshole’ dinner. Even now, she held onto that visual.
It wasn’t until she reached the front door where she realised she was holding her breath. She darted her eyes to the left; the kitchen was empty. He wasn’t in the lounge room either. She walked the corridor that led to the study. Sure enough, there he was, with his headphones securely in place, his fingers scurrying over the keys as little animation figures darted across the screen. Instead of saying hi, she dumped her handbag onto their bed, peeled off her shoes and sank into the mattress. The number of times she found herself on her back staring at the ceiling these days …