Broken Promises

by Rebecca Barber

  Charli was born at three a.m. on a Tuesday. Joel was by my side through the whole thing, leaving early to shower and head back to the office. Since I had moved into Joel’s house, he had started working harder and longer hours, spending more and more time at appointments and out of the house. I tried to talk to him about it but he dismissed my concerns. I was worried I’d intruded on his life and driven him out of his own home.

  “Don’t be daft,” he’d counter. “It’s your home too. I’m just working really hard now before the baby comes so that when he or she arrives I can spend more time at home with you two.”

  It sounded reasonable. When our baby was born, I wanted him to be there with us both, so I didn’t fight it. Then Charli was born and nothing changed. He stayed away more than he was there. So, when almost two years after the birth of Charli, we discovered I was pregnant again, surprise nearly knocked me on my arse. Joel seemed to be okay about it, although he didn’t say much.

  It was a very different pregnancy than the first. I was constantly exhausted. I suppose chasing a toddler around all day didn’t help. And my back ached. Joel wasn’t as attentive as he had been with Charli, but I couldn’t fault his affection and dedication to his daughter.

  He’d often sneak away from work early in the afternoon for an hour or two and come home and play with Charli. He played whatever it was that she wanted to play. Some days they watched Wiggles and other days they had tea parties with her dolls. It was the best time of the day for all of us. Charli always squealed with delight as Joel breezed through the door, Joel’s face broke out in a huge, dopey grin and I got a very welcomed rest.

  Seven months later we welcomed Bianca to our family. I remember clearly the day I brought Charli home from the hospital I had been terrified. My hands trembled and I was too scared to be alone with her for the first two weeks. What if I did something to hurt her? What if I wasn’t good enough? The hardest part was I didn’t have my own mother to call and ask for advice. None of my girlfriends had kids and I was completely clueless. I was alone with my fears.

  When I brought Bianca home, Joel unpacked the car in the driveway and then took off back to work. He didn’t even step foot in the house. Luckily his mother was at our place looking after Charli.

  “Where is Joel?” Adele asked, trying to contain the disgust plastered across her face.

  “He dropped me off and headed back to work,” I tried to explain, feeling pathetic as I defended his thoughtlessness.

  “Gillian?” Adele offered.

  “I’m fine,” I whimpered, tears welling in my eyes.

  The truth was I was embarrassed. I’d grown used to Joel treating me like this, like I was the one who made his life something he didn’t want it to be. But it was my own private pain. No one else knew about it. No one had even seen this side of our strained relationship and I hadn’t told anyone about it. The truth was, I hated that I’d let my life slip into this state.

  “Gillian,” Adele commanded, taking my hands and sitting me down on the sofa. “What’s been going on around here?” she asked me sweetly.

  Ever since Joel and I married, Adele had become my pseudo-mum. She knew what I’d been through and that I had no family of my own, so she took it on herself to fill the void the best she could.

  “Nothing spectacular. We are just both really busy. Joel is working long hours and I am flat out with Charli and now Bianca. But we’re okay,” I defended. As I admitted the words out loud, I realized for the first time how bad things had become. We weren’t happy. We weren’t a normal family. At this point Joel and I were barely friends.

  “I know he’s my son and I love him, but if he’s being an arse, it’s okay. You can tell me.” With the offer on the table, I wanted to tell her everything. I wanted to tell someone everything I was feeling and facing, but I didn’t. I couldn’t tell Joel’s mother about all the problems with our rushed marriage. “It’s fine. I’m just on hormone overdrive this week. We’ll be fine,” I added hastily. I wasn’t sure if that was an attempt to reassure Adele or to convince myself. Either way, to me it just sounded like more empty promises.

  As the months passed our beautiful daughters grew and continually surprised and amazed me. But Joel grew more and more distant. No matter what I did or said, Joel just grew angrier and more aloof. Some nights after I had fed and bathed the girls and they were tucked up safely in their beds, I would sit alone on the sofa sipping my tea, waiting for Joel to come home. I yearned for an adult conversation, something more than Dorothy the dinosaur.

  “Why do you always sit in the silence? Turn the TV on or something,” he’d snap as he walked through the door.

  “Your dinner is in the microwave,” I pointed out.

  “Nah, I already had dinner with some clients.” He would wave his hands dismissively.

  Each time we danced this dance, I grew more and more frustrated. I promised myself that next time he wasn’t home for dinner, I wouldn’t bother. But the next time came and I’d cook his dinner, and place it in the microwave as expected.

  The day Bianca turned three, Joel and I received an unexpected shock. I was pregnant again. How it happened must almost be considered a modern miracle. Not only had the communication and affection dried up in our relationship, but by that time it was virtually a sexless marriage. It seemed that when I was awake and, in the mood, Joel was nowhere to be seen. And when he was horny, I was asleep or running around after the girls.

  “How can you possibly be pregnant again?” Joel spat angrily as I told him one night.

  He’d come home late as usual, but in a foul mood. He wouldn’t tell me what had happened; I just had to bear the brunt of his frustration. I had tried to sit him down and tell him the news, but that too had backfired.

  “We barely even have sex these days! Are you sure it’s even mine?”

  Coughing at his deliberately hurtful and hateful comment, I climbed off the sofa and stormed outside. Inside I was fuming. How could my husband think I would cheat on him? Not to mention where I would find the time or energy to do it? I wanted to scream at him, and throw things. But with the girls in bed, I didn’t want to wake them. Walking away was easier.

  Stupidly, I thought Joel would follow me. Once he realized how much of a prick he’d been, stupidly I believed he’d come after me. After three hours sitting by the pool, I went inside and crawled into bed only to find Joel already snoring.

  When I woke the next morning, he was already gone. Pregnant, pissed off, and sick of dealing with his bullshit, I called Adele and asked her to come over and look after the girls for a couple of hours. When I told her that I was expecting another child she was cautiously delighted. “How’d Joel take it?” she asked nervously.

  Tired of protecting Joel’s perfect image from his mother, I told her his spiteful words. Clearly shocked by her son’s tantrums, Adele assured me that no matter what Joel said or did, I had her full support. She never even doubted the child I was carrying was her son’s.

  While the girls enjoyed an exciting morning with Grandma, I went looking for my husband. I knew where he’d be but I was tired of how we were. This was going to end now.

  “Can I sit?” I asked, pulling out a chair in the cheap café around the corner from the office.

  Joel was busy stuffing his face with toast, bacon, mushrooms, and scrambled eggs. When he looked up into my face, I saw him gulp down his food and shake his head.

  “I don’t want to do this, Gillian. Not here. And definitely not now,” he stated firmly, leaving no room for debate.

  “No,” I countered as firmly as I could. Taking a deep breath, I tried to steel my resolve. “Last night I told you that we’re having another baby and you asked me if it was yours. How could you even ask me that?”

  I know he could see the pained look on my face and he had to know that he was responsible for it. Guilt danced in his eyes, but then it was replaced by something else. Something I hadn’t seen before. “How could it be mine? We never see each other,” he
spat under his breath.

  “You are the only person I see. Male or female. From the time I wake up in the morning to the time I go to sleep, more often than not alone, the only people I see are Charli and Bianca or your mother. You don’t even bother to come home and spend time with your daughters anymore. Do you hate your family so much that you can’t even bear to be at home with us?”

  “Is that what you think?”

  “Yes. And if I’m wrong, tell me why you won’t come home. I know you work, but you don’t show houses at ten o’clock at night.”

  “I don’t hate you,” was all he offered.

  Sighing, I felt my resolve weakening. Something was going on with him, and I was desperate not to let him make me feel sorry for him. Everything he was going through was a direct result of choices he made. “What’s going on with you?”

  “I just have to work. Don’t you understand that? I have to work long hours and weekends to keep you girls in the life you have. I need to pay for all of the swimming lessons and Wiggles concerts and ballet tutorials. I work so my girls can have everything.”

  “Well, if that’s the case, sell the house. We don’t need a house that big with a swimming pool. Or the fancy cars. What your girls need is their dad. They need to know that he loves them and that he will be there for them. Charli was devastated that you didn’t make it to her ballet recital the other day, and it had nothing to do with money. She wanted her dad to be there so she knew that he was proud of her,” I tried to explain.

  “I am proud of them. They’re my girls,” Joel admitted. He looked so miserable. The look on his face showed I was getting him to see what he had done wrong. In trying to provide for his family he had failed to give them the most important thing.

  “So, what about this new baby?” I asked nervously. I wasn’t sure I actually wanted to know his answer, but I had no choice.

  “What about it?”

  “What do you think about it? What do you think we should do?” I rushed. The questions dribbled out of my mouth before I could stop them.

  “Are you sure we’re in a position to bring yet another baby into our already hectic life?”

  “Well, I’m only seven weeks at the moment, so we have options.” I can’t believe I said that. Abortion was not an option for me, and never had been, and here I was giving Joel the choice.

  “No…no. It’s not that. It’s just I wasn’t expecting to be going through this. Not again.” For the first time since I had sat down, Joel actually looked at me. He stared at me for a long time, not saying another word.

  “You know that I didn’t do this on purpose?”

  Shaking his head, Joel conceded. “I know.” He smiled, lifting my hands to his mouth and kissing them gently.

  It was the first time in a long time that Joel and I had time to be ourselves. I remembered that first night in the bar, and there we were, seven years later, having our first real conversation in months.

  “Look, Gillian,” he began, and I knew the moment had passed. “I have to get to a meeting now. But I promise I’ll be home for dinner tonight, and then once the girls are in bed, we can talk. Sound okay?”

  I shrugged despondently. What could I say? He wriggled into his jacket before bending down and kissing me lightly on the centre of the forehead. “Gillian, you know that I love you, don’t you?”

  I didn’t answer. I didn’t trust myself to say anything. Joel smiled again, and his hand came to rest on my stomach. He rubbed it gently, kissed my cheek, and vanished.

  I watched him walk down the street, frustration bubbling inside of me. I was furious at the way he had dismissed my concerns. He hadn’t even bothered to answer my questions. He’d just said “not now” and walked away. Surely, I deserved better than that.

  I gathered up my things and walked away, slipping my sunglasses on to hide my red eyes. I knew Adele wouldn’t mind looking after the girls for a while. I needed to walk. Take the time to figure out what I wanted. I knew it wasn’t what we had now, but what it was that would make me happy—I had no idea where to even begin trying to figure it out.

  I wandered down to the lake and started around it. It was a bright sunny day; the breeze was refreshing on my face. The lake was dotted with people rowing, kayaking, and fishing in the shallows. There were kids riding bikes along the edge, dads running nervously behind making sure there were no crashes.

  I walked for almost two hours before I made my way back to the car. I’d made some decisions about what was going to change. My biggest problem was getting Joel to put his ego aside and listen. The truth was I was afraid of Joel. In all the time we had been together I had only seen him truly pissed off once, and all I had wanted to do then was duck for cover. When Joel was in a bad mood I was petrified. Not just for me, but for my girls as well.

  GILLIAN

  “Would you keep your bloody voice down? The girls are in bed,” I snarled under my breath.

  Joel was in the middle of yet another drunken rant. I could barely understand a word he was saying. He had come stumbling through the door at almost ten o’clock. He’d missed dinner with his family, but luckily he hadn’t missed drinks with a client.

  “Don’t you dare tell me to keep my voice down! This is my house. If I want to yell and scream when I come home, I damn well can!” Joel boomed fiercely.

  “Your house?”

  “I pay for everything. So yes, it is my house!”

  “And what do I do?”

  “That’s a very good question. What the fuck do you do?”

  “You’re kidding me, aren’t you?”

  “Do I look like I’m telling jokes here?” he slurred angrily.

  “I look after your daughters. It’s not like you’re ever around to do anything for them!” I countered.

  “I can’t be here! Someone has to work.”

  Sighing, I found myself softening. “You still don’t get it, do you?” I shook my head. It was the same argument we had been having since Charli was born. “They’d be happy without the money. We don’t need fancy cars and holidays. Your daughters need their dad. They want their dad. They’d be perfectly happy to spend an afternoon in the park playing on the swings with you. That’s what is important to them.”

  Staggering towards me, Joel grabbed a hold of my arm roughly. He squeezed it making it sting with pain. I tried to wriggle out of his grasp but he held firm. “We don’t all have the luxury of sitting on our fat arses all day. Some people have to work. And my job, that’s the job that keeps you in the lifestyle you had no problems settling into.”

  We were standing face to face now. Joel’s cheeks were red, his eyes half closed, and the stench of bourbon was heavy on his breath. “Well, I’ll get a job and go back to work and you can stay at home all day,” I offered. I knew I was treading on dangerous ground, but if that’s what his big problem was, it didn’t seem like rocket science to make it better.

  “Don’t be fucking stupid!” he snapped, releasing my arm and pushing me away from him.

  I wasn’t expecting the shove, and fell backwards into the corner of the granite kitchen bench. A shot of intense pain seared through my body and I slumped over.

  “Who the fuck would give you a job?” he continued. He grabbed my chin and forced my eyes to meet his.

  This time I managed to wriggle out of his grasp. Stepping away from him, I wrapped my arms around my stomach protectively. “I could get a job doing lots of things,” I answered meekly, my resolve faltering under the pressure.

  The decisions I made earlier were now just a memory. I wasn’t game to push Joel on anything at the moment. In all honesty, I just wanted this to end. I was praying Joel would give up, go to bed, and just pass out. I didn’t want to talk to him or even be near him when he was drunk. And now was definitely not the time to be making decisions or trying to have a real conversation with him.

  “Don’t you get it? No one would hire you. You have no skills. You’re nothing!” He was mad. If it was possible, steam would have bi
llowed from his ears.

  “That’s what you think,” I mumbled under my breath, immediately regretting saying anything at all.

  Instantly he was back on me, his hands pinching my collarbones. When he started shaking me violently, I couldn’t help but whimper out loud. Tears were streaming down my face like a waterfall.

  In the years we’d been together, and through all the ups and downs we had faced, Joel had never been physically abusive towards me. I’d received more than my fair share of emotional abuse, but he had never laid a hand on me. Now I was shaking on my own. My legs were barely holding me up.

  “Fuck off! You think someone would employ you? For God’s sakes, Gillian, you’re knocked up again. Remember? Who would hire someone that is up the duff?” Tiny bits of spittle flew from his mouth. I didn’t say anything. Things were deteriorating faster than I could have imagined. Nothing I could say at this point that would make anything better, but I knew that anything I did say would just make it worse. Much worse.

  Obviously fed up with my lack of fight, Joel pushed me away and I fell to the floor. By this point I was sobbing uncontrollably, cowering on the floor. Joel looked at me, shook his head, and stalked off. With a slam of the door I knew the tirade was over. For tonight, anyway.

  After a long while I scooped myself up off the floor and stumbled back to the lounge. Staring in the mirror, I saw the huge red marks already showing on my shoulders. I knew tomorrow they would be deep, blue bruises. Not game enough to go to my own bed, I checked on the girls. Luckily, they had slept through the whole drama. I returned to the lounge, curled up on the sofa, and cried myself to sleep.

  I awoke the next morning stiff and sore. I was more bruised than expected and the night curled up on the sofa didn’t help. The sun wasn’t up yet and the girls were still sleeping. I padded quietly into the kitchen and made myself a cup of hot chocolate, something I hadn’t had for years, but right now it was the only thing that could make me feel better.

  As I swallowed the last mouthful of chocolate, I realized I wanted a shower. I needed one. Dreaming of the hot water cascading over my aching body, I trudged slowly towards our bedroom. I know it was stupid, it was my home and just my husband on the other side of the door, but I was trembling again. I didn’t want to wake him. I shouldn’t have worried.