‘Sorry. Can’t help myself. I’m a huge ABBA fan from way back,’ he said, blushing a little and shrugging his shoulders.
‘Hey, don’t mind me. Carry on,’ Alice said.
‘Only if you join in.’
And she did. By the time they pulled into the carpark at the airport an hour later, Alice’s chest was aching – not from the pain inside her, but from singing a string of songs that had come on that she and Frank knew the words to. She felt so much better than she had in weeks.
‘Thanks for that, Alice, your mum doesn’t indulge me. She hates me singing.’
‘I don’t know why, Frank, you’re very good.’
‘Thanks, Alice. I had dreams of being on Broadway once,’ he said shyly.
Oh you dark horse! ‘Well, I think you would have been great.’ She was about to ask him more but as they got out of the car the moment was lost.
Frank took her bag out of the boot, and as he walked her to the terminal he put his arm around her, his kindness causing all of Alice’s painful emotions to come flooding back.
They each bought a newspaper and sat in silence flicking through them, as if embarrassed by their earlier shenanigans or not wanting anything to change the happier mood. Though for Alice it had already subsided. She hated goodbyes. It was strange, but while she loathed the way her mother treated her and no longer felt much of a direct emotional connection to the town she’d once lived in, she always felt a certain sadness when she left after a visit. She didn’t know why. Perhaps it was because her mother, yet again, hadn’t treated her as she’d hoped or that such a beautiful little town held so much pain for her. According to most films and folklore, small towns were generally supposed to be wonderful places full of generous people. But Alice knew only too well the toxicity hidden within Hope Springs’ neat streets and carefully tended gardens. Just like her own family, really. Did everyone and everything put on a fake façade?
‘Frank?’ she said quietly, almost hoping he wouldn’t hear her.
‘Hmm?’ he said, head down still reading his paper.
‘I lasted four weeks in my real estate job. The woman I worked for was horrible and I hated it, so I quit. I was too scared to tell Mum.’ Her voice was almost that of a little girl.
He looked up, returned a gentle smile and put an arm around her. ‘I’m sorry you had an awful experience, Alice, and there’s no shame in changing your mind, for whatever reason. But I do understand why you felt you couldn’t tell your mother,’ he said, giving her shoulder a squeeze before removing his arm. ‘Would you like me to tell her, or would you like me to keep it a secret?’
‘Could you tell her, please?’
‘If that’s what you want.’
Alice bit her lip and nodded.
‘Okay then.’
‘Thanks, Frank. I really appreciate it.’
‘You’re welcome, Alice,’ he said, and returned to reading his newspaper.
When she hugged Frank just before heading out to her plane, she didn’t want to let go. She felt the urge to tell him her woes about David and their relationship, even ask his advice. But it was too late now, anyway, and confiding in him might put Frank in a difficult position.
‘It’s been really lovely to see you, Alice. Travel safe,’ he said, giving her a quick peck. And then, putting a hand gently to her cheek, he said, ‘Sweetheart, everything always works out for the best, eventually, you’ll see. Just be strong and kind to yourself.’
‘Thanks, Frank. I will,’ she said, choking on the words before turning and walking out the door. Tears began to fall as she made her way across the tarmac with the other passengers. Thankfully no one asked her what was wrong or if she needed a tissue, and she was able to settle into her seat and snuggle up to the side of the plane. She looked out the small plastic window up to the sky. Big black clouds were forming. Oh, Ruth, she thought. Suddenly a beam of bright sunshine shot through a gap between the clouds, causing Alice to almost completely lose what was left of her composure. Goodbye.
Chapter Twenty-five
Alice looked around when she heard her name called. Her heart leapt at seeing David standing there waving. She rushed over and hugged him. Suddenly everything felt so much better.
‘Phew, I thought I wasn’t going to make it,’ he said a little breathlessly as he took her carry-on bag in one hand and clasped Alice’s hand in the other. The heaviness within her shifted slightly and became a duller ache than the sharp pain that had been plaguing her for the past few days. But her heart sank again and then knotted as David began to speak – almost as quickly as he walked. Alice struggled to keep up.
‘So, how was it?’ Have you forgotten the reason for my trip?
‘Pretty horrible.’
‘Oh. Yeah. Of course. But at least you had your family around you.’
‘I guess.’
There was never going to be much more discussion about her family. Alice knew David found them unsophisticated and not at all interesting. How fascinating was the current wholesale price of potatoes or the thrill of achieving a significant discount with a notoriously tight-fisted supplier when you mixed with the likes of those David mixed with? It was all a little quaint to him, Alice thought. She loved David’s family, but didn’t have anything in common with them, either. His parents were both public servants in Sydney.
‘How’s Bill?’
‘He’s good.’
‘Have you been walking him?’
‘Of course I’ve been walking him, Alice. I can take care of a dog, you know. And you did leave very detailed instructions.’
‘I just thought you might have been too busy with work. Sorry. I didn’t mean to criticise you. I’m tired.’
They made their way across the walkway to the carpark and David paid for the parking.
‘So, did you see lots of people you know?’ he asked.
‘Yes. I think Ruth would have been pleased that so many turned out. And the sun was shining, so that was nice.’ Alice had to give him points for trying. It wasn’t David’s fault he didn’t know anything about grief – that he’d never lost anyone, didn’t know what it felt like. How nice to still be in that position at his age.
Alice thought she’d probably been through more in her relatively short life so far than a lot of other people, though when she thought about her journey it was more with a sense of wonder than self-pity. When it came to her father’s death she never allowed herself to think Why me?, because Alice felt that would bring it back to her. She didn’t believe his suicide was about her at all. He’d believed his life was intolerable, and he’d decided to do something about it. That was his decision and his decision alone. Alice’s mother might choose to make it about her – of course the effect and not the cause – but Alice wouldn’t diminish her dad in that way.
She shuddered at wondering if Frank would get to that point someday too. But no, he didn’t appear to be as deep a thinker as Alice’s father had been – no doubt where she got it from – and he seemed to let things wash right on over. Although no one had realised where her dad’s head had been at until his deed was done. Oh well, Frank knew her number if he ever needed to talk.
‘I’ve got us some chicken schnitzels for dinner. And I’m going to do oven chips and homemade coleslaw. How does that sound?’ David said as he unlocked the car and put her bag in the boot.
‘Perfect. Just what I need. Thank you,’ Alice said, her aching heart swelling a little.
‘You can have a bath while I cook, if you like. Then how about an early night?’ he said, once they were in the car. He patted her leg and then left his hand there. Alice looked at his hand. She knew what he was angling towards. Sex. And it was the last thing she felt like. The thought sent her to a whole new level of weariness. But she’d better pull herself together and participate if she wasn’t to lose him, them, altogether.
‘Any news on the job front?’ he asked as he carefully drove out of the carpark.
‘David, I’ve only been gone two days.�
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‘Well, how do I know if you’ve had any emails or not? You’ve got applications out there, haven’t you?’
‘Can you please stop nagging me? I’m doing my best.’
They drove in tense silence and Alice stared out the window to avoid looking at him and feeling even worse for appearing so unappreciative of him coming out to pick her up. The trip to the airport and back home was not inconsequential. And it saved her a taxi fare of around eighty to ninety dollars, she estimated.
Looking at the passing scenery, Alice marvelled at how built-up the area around the airport had become in the years since she’d moved to Melbourne. So much farming land had been swallowed up by big warehouses and semi-industrial developments, housing and shopping centres. What would it be like in twenty years?
Where would she be? It was both a scary and comforting question, Alice thought. On the one hand she had practically her whole life ahead of her. But on the other she didn’t want to waste it. What if ten years from now she was still looking for the perfect job?
Don’t be silly, she heard a voice in her head say, you’ll be the mother of David’s children by then. But would she? She turned to look at him and somehow saw a flash of what their life might be like in the years ahead. She was at home with a couple of kids, trying to get them fed and bathed while tearing her hair out because, of course, David was hardly ever there to help. He was off travelling or working late at the office. She frowned and chewed on her bottom lip in concentration.
‘What?’ David said, catching Alice staring at him.
‘Are we ever going to get married, David?’
‘What?’
‘Are we ever going to get married?’
‘What would be the point?’
Seriously? ‘Um, how about as a sign of commitment?’
‘I don’t think you can get much more committed than living together, Alice. Where’s this coming from?’
‘So, you really don’t believe in marriage, is that what you’re saying?’
‘Alice, you know my views – we’ve discussed it before.’
‘But, I thought …’
‘What, that I’d change my mind?’
Alice burnt with shame. That was exactly what she’d thought. If she were being honest, she’d say she had wondered last time if he’d just used the first excuse that had come to him in order to deflect from the subject. She knew he wanted kids in the next five years; marriage was closely related to that topic, wasn’t it? It was for her.
‘So, to reiterate – no. No, I really don’t believe in marriage.’
‘Why not?’
‘Why do you believe in it? I would have thought with your track record you’d have been sufficiently cured – having a failed marriage, that is.’
How bloody patronising! But, sadly, true. Alice coloured under his rebuke. ‘I told you,’ she said, ‘commitment, love. Do you love me, David?’
‘Of course I do. Where is all this coming from, Alice? I wouldn’t have thought your mother would have been encouraging you to take another walk down the aisle.’
‘But why don’t you believe in marriage, David? I want to know,’ Alice persisted, despite knowing full well she was sailing very close to the edge of his level of tolerance.
‘I’ve told you often enough, I’m an atheist. Organised religion is a load of shit. Marriage is tied up in religion, end of story.’
‘It doesn’t have to be. We could have a civil service – say, in a park or something.’
‘Alice, I don’t see why I need to further prove my commitment to you – we live together, share the same bed and the bills. Frankly, it’s a bit offensive having my commitment under question. Look where you were when we met. You’re overthinking it. What you need is to get a job to sink your teeth into and stop you being so damned insecure. You’re unsettled because of your friend’s funeral. You need to just calm down.’
Alice wanted to slap him. It was lucky he was driving and she wasn’t ready to die or she might just have done so. He took his hand off her leg and placed it on the steering wheel and concentrated on the road ahead.
‘Well, I don’t want to have kids without being married,’ she said, folding her arms tightly across her chest.
‘So now you’re going to hold that over me as some sort of blackmail? Seriously, Alice?’ He shook his head, which infuriated her even more. ‘I don’t see why marriage is so important to you.’
‘And I don’t see why it’s not to you. So we have a problem.’
‘Why are you making so much out of it?’
‘Because I’ve just been halfway across the country to a funeral on my own and I’m really upset and you don’t seem to care.’ Tears filled her eyes.
‘Of course I care, Alice. Stop being so melodramatic,’ he said with a sigh.
‘Not enough to go with me.’
‘Come on, Alice, I couldn’t, you know that. I had …’
‘I hate that you care more about your job, your fucking project, than you do about me. Money isn’t everything, David!’
‘Alice, don’t raise your voice to me. We’re …’
‘I know. I know. You’ve said it often enough. We’re adults, we’ll discuss it civilly like adults,’ she said, mimicking him. ‘Well, you don’t seem to be hearing me. I’m telling you, David, it’s not working!’
‘Fine, rant and rave like a child throwing a tantrum if you want, if you think it will help.’
‘All I want is your support, your love, your kindness, David – for you to actually show it,’ Alice said quietly, the tears streaming down her face. She felt defeated. What was the point?
‘How can you say that? Who’s the one paying all the bills now you don’t have a job?’
‘Emotionally, David,’ she said with a deep sigh.
‘And, anyway, I’d like to see you live without money. They can all go on about how money doesn’t buy you happiness, but try getting by without it.’
‘Maybe I will,’ Alice said in barely more than a whisper.
‘Sorry? What?’
‘David, this isn’t working. Us, we’re not working.’
‘How do you think you’ll survive out in the big wide world without me propping you up? You can’t be serious.’ Suddenly he seemed to deflate, lose his arrogant bravado. ‘Don’t be silly, Alice. You’re just tired and upset. It’s been a tough few months with moving house and the job and everything. Don’t make rash decisions you’ll regret.’
‘I’m serious, David. I love you, but I don’t think we share the same fundamental values.’
‘What do you mean? We’re both honest, kind, hardworking people. What other fundamental values are there?’
Alice stayed silent. She stared out of the window, her vision blurred from the wash of tears covering her eyes.
The minutes ticked by; the only sound was the quiet hum of tyres on the dry asphalt beneath them.
‘Can I ask you a favour?’ David asked quietly a few minutes later, his hand settling back on her leg gently. She looked at him. ‘If you’re serious about leaving me – and for the record I don’t want you to, I think we’re good together and a good team – please don’t do it until the project is finished. The upheaval would put my whole career in jeopardy. Please, Alice, if you care about me at all …’
‘Okay, David, fine. I won’t make any decisions until then.’ It was a half-hearted commitment. Alice was stuck on the fact that he still hadn’t said the L word. Right now all he probably had to do was profess his love for her and she’d be putty in his hands.
They travelled on in silence, moving slowly in unusually heavy traffic, trapped in the car together in heavy tension.
‘I didn’t realise marriage meant that much to you,’ David said a bit later.
Well, maybe it wouldn’t if you showed your love and emotional commitment and support in other ways. She kept the words to herself. What was so obvious and important to her were things he would never comprehend. That was clear now. And she was so, so tir
ed. She could barely muster the energy to utter another word.
‘If it really means that much to you, I guess we could,’ he said.
Alice looked at him. ‘Is this you proposing, David?’
‘Oh. Well, I guess …’
‘Seriously? No. Not like this.’
‘But I want kids, I want you to have my kids. And if …’ he pleaded.
‘You really just don’t get it, do you? Any of it? I want you to want to marry me, David, and you don’t. Let’s just leave it. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.’
She was no longer angry. But she felt as if her insides had been ripped out and she was completely empty. She was disappointed. In him, but also in herself. How had she been so stupid to buy into the happily-ever-after, love-will-conquer-all, he’ll-change bullshit again? How had she spent more than four years with this person?
At the house they silently went inside, the mood between them a tense truce. Alice rushed in ahead to see Bill. She felt a few pieces of her soul glue back together at his cheerful greeting.
‘I’ll get started on dinner,’ David called as he made his way through to the kitchen.
‘I’m going to take Bill for a quick walk,’ she said.
‘Oh, well …’
‘It’s okay, I won’t be long. Twenty minutes tops.’
Alice picked Bill up and ran to the park, keen to release the excess energy and stretch her limbs after being cooped up in planes and trying to hold herself together in front of her mother and sister and now David, and then sat cross-legged on a bench holding the dog on her lap. It was quiet, with not a soul around. With Bill held close, his heart beating against her own, she gave in to the sobbing she’d been desperately trying to hold in. After a few moments she heard footsteps and saw a jogger approaching. She wiped at her eyes and sniffed back the tears, and tried to pull herself together.
‘Are you okay?’
Alice looked up in surprise at seeing a slightly older woman in running gear standing in front of her with a concerned look on her face.
A Life of Her Own Page 21