Three Hours Late

by Nicole Trope

  After a few hours or maybe even a whole day his father would come and find him and suggest going out for a burger and then Alex knew that he was okay again.

  How come Liz couldn’t do the same thing?

  He was a human being and everyone had bad days. But she wanted to talk and she pushed and she needled and she did things he didn’t like and sometimes he could see that she was pleased when he exploded, pleased when he lashed out and hurt her. She cried afterwards, of course, but in the moment, that one moment before it all went wrong, he could see that she wanted him to hit her. They didn’t put that up on the internet. No one wrote articles about it either.

  She wanted him to get help from some shrink but he’d tried that once at university and it was all just a load of crap. All the woman wanted him to do was talk about his mother.

  ‘I can’t remember her,’ he had said.

  ‘You just think you don’t,’ said the shrink, ‘but you were five when she left. You must have a lot of memories of her. Maybe you just don’t want to remember her.’

  He had stood up then, ready to leave. The woman was pushy and demanding. His father told him to stay away from the pushy ones.

  ‘We still have half an hour left today,’ said the shrink.

  ‘I don’t want to talk about my mother.’

  ‘It’s not really a matter of wanting,’ she said, giving him a small smile with her thin lips. ‘You need to discuss her because her leaving has probably had the greatest effect on your emotional development. You talk about getting angry all the time and I think it’s possible that emotionally you haven’t fully moved on from being five and feeling abandoned by your mother.’

  Alex hadn’t stayed to hear any more crap.

  ‘Cunt,’ he had whispered on his way out the door.

  ‘What? What did you say?’ she had screeched, but by the time she got out of her chair he was long gone.

  He really couldn’t remember his mother. He knew what she looked like now but he couldn’t remember who she had been when he was five. Sometimes he dreamed of a woman with hair that matched his. It hung down her back and flashed gold in the sun. He saw her smile and he knew that she liked to wear a blue dress with red piping. Mostly what he remembered was the way she smelled. In cake shops the smell of vanilla always brought her back to him.

  She had always been cooking or baking something. He had imagined she actually lived in the kitchen. When she had first left he had begged his father to buy him cake, any kind of cake. He would take his piece and inhale the fragrance that reminded him of her. Now the smell made him sick. If Liz had wanted to bake he would tell her to go to her mother’s house.

  How could you say something about a person when all you had left was the smell of vanilla?

  The phone showed twenty-seven missed calls. Liz was a dog with a bone. If she could just learn to let go sometimes they would all be better off. Still, it was good that she was worried about him, about them. It was good to be able to finally be the one not answering calls. Served her right.

  She told him that she wasn’t coming back, not ever, but he knew she was just angry. The ache in his heart wanted him to admit that she was serious but he couldn’t imagine the possibility of living his life without Liz. She was just trying to get at him because she was angry about Luke being out so late and because she was probably angry at herself about last night.

  She was the one who needed a shrink. She was the one who loved him and then hated him and then loved him again. He wasn’t like that. He knew that he loved her with all his heart and all his soul and he only hated her when she pushed him and when she told lies.

  Liz liked to lie. He hadn’t known that about her until the day she left.

  In the last five months all he had been handed were a whole lot of lies. He knew that she was always at the house when he dropped Luke off. He knew she was probably hiding in the kitchen and just waiting for him to leave but she lied about everything now. She even got her mother to lie for her.

  Maybe she was lying now when she told him she was never coming home. It was possible. You never knew with women.

  That was another thing his father always said: ‘You just never know what they really want, son. They probably don’t even know themselves.’

  Alex felt his heart lift a little.

  She was lying. She really did want to come home. Her whole hissy fit was just part of some game she was playing with him.

  In the quiet of the car he allowed himself a small smile. He would call her again and give her another chance. You could never take too many chances on love. He was sure that she was just waiting for him to call so she could tell him that she had lied about not coming home. That’s what all those calls were about. She wanted him to know that she was ready to be with him again. She was missing Luke and she was missing him.

  He had been stupid to turn off the phone but now he would make it right again.

  She picked it up on the first ring.

  ‘Hey,’ he said.

  ‘Hey,’ said Liz. ‘Are you okay? Is Luke okay?’ Her voice was soft, pleasing. Her voice was desperate.

  His heart raced with the knowledge that this was the way it should be. He could feel the ache in his heart lift. He could feel her love over the phone.

  ‘Yeah, he’s fine. He’s just having a little rest now. It’s been a big day.’

  He looked over at the boy. He had let him climb over into the front seat when he stopped the car and one minute they had been talking and the next Luke was asleep. He slept like he was dead. Nothing disturbed him. He was deep in his dreams and Alex loved him so much he wanted to wake him and just hold him but he had to talk to Liz now.

  He knew how happy Luke would be when he told him that they were coming home again and he could go back to his old room and his old bed.

  ‘You must be tired. He can be quite a handful.’

  ‘I am, I guess,’ he said.

  ‘So,’ she said, ‘do you think you might be ready to come home now? We could get pizza and maybe watch a movie or something.’ Softly pleasing. Pleasingly soft.

  Alex thought about this for a moment. When they had all been together it had been his favourite time. As long as he got to pick the movie. Sometimes Liz ruined the whole thing by insisting on some feminist crap and then he had to put his foot down. Once she’d had to explain to the video guy how the disc got broken in half, but he had warned her not to choose something he wouldn’t like.

  He loved movie nights. They would put Luke to bed and then curl up on the sofa and feel like they were dating again. Alex would look around his house and think, ‘Everything I need is right here, right now.’

  ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘That would be nice. It would be good to be together again, Liz. I think you can see now that we have to be together. If you want Luke . . . to be happy, we need to be together. If you want Luke to grow up and be a happy kid you need to put our relationship first. Do you understand what I’m saying, Liz?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Liz. ‘I understand you perfectly.’

  She sounded so different to the way she had sounded the last time he had called. It had been a good idea to turn the phone off.

  He couldn’t believe he had finally got through to her. All these months he had been trying to find the words that would make her understand that she just needed to come home and for them to be a family again and now, finally, she understood. Alex felt like he could breathe properly again. The ache on his chest lifted completely. He took a deep breath and smiled.

  Keeping Luke had been the right thing to do. Liz had missed them both and now she knew it was time to come home.

  ‘I’m glad,’ he said. ‘Now we can be together again. I need you to tell me that we can be together again—together forever, I mean. No more of this running away and leaving me shit.’

  She was silent on the other end of the phone. She was thinking, but that was okay. He could give her time to think and time to put the words in the right order. He felt warmed by the knowledge
that she was finally going to use the words, ‘I’m coming home.’

  He would be a better husband. He would buy flowers and try to be more patient and maybe they could have another kid so Luke had someone to play with. He was almost lost in the idea of a beach holiday for the three of them, or even just for the two of them, when Liz’s voice broke in.

  ‘Alex, I think we can talk . . .’

  ‘Liz, I’m through with the endless discussions. You know that, don’t you? I’m done talking. It’s time for you to make up your mind.’

  Liz was silent. Alex waited for her to say the words he needed to hear. He was patient. He could wait.

  ‘Okay, Alex. Bring Luke back and then we can pack up our things and come home.’

  ‘Do you mean that?’ said Alex.

  ‘Yes . . . yes I mean it.’

  ‘Do you promise, Liz? You have to promise because otherwise I can’t come back. I can’t just bring Luke back and then spend another night in that empty house. Do you promise, Liz? Do you really promise?’

  ‘Yes, Alex, I promise. Bring Luke home and everything can go back to being the way it was.’

  ‘And I don’t have to go into therapy? Promise that I won’t have to talk to some shrink, Liz, because you and I both know that there’s nothing wrong with me.’

  ‘No, Alex, you don’t have to go into therapy. Just bring Luke back and it will all be all right.’

  Alex felt like he could fly. After all these terrible months he had finally done it.

  ‘Oh, Liz, I’m so . . . so . . . you just don’t know how happy you’ve made me. We’ll be a family again. A real family.’

  ‘Yes, Alex,’ said Liz. ‘We’ll be a family again.’

  Liz didn’t sound overjoyed. Her voice sounded flat. She wasn’t feeling the same euphoria he was. She could have been reading her words off a card. She could have been . . .

  Alex felt his body grow cold.

  ‘Is someone there with you, Liz?’

  Liz hesitated. It was just a momentary pause but Alex heard it. Then she said, ‘There’s no one here, Alex. It’s just me and Mum. We’re just waiting for you to come home with Luke.’ Her voice wobbled a little. It sounded like she was trying not to cry. What was she crying about? She should have been laughing. She should have been shouting her delight to the heavens.

  Maybe she didn’t mean what she was saying. She could be lying again. She could be lying just to get him to bring Luke back.

  ‘I’m going to ask you one more time, Liz, and I want you to tell me the truth. Who is there with you? Is someone telling you to say these things to me?’

  ‘There is no one here, Alex, I promise . . . Please, just come home now. It’s very late. You’re very late.’

  Liz was crying properly now. Alex was confused. What the fuck was she crying about?

  He wanted to tell her to shut up. He wanted to yell at her to stop being so dramatic but he held the words inside. Something else was going on. He could feel it.

  Who would tell her to just agree with everything he said? Who would tell her to lie and say that she was going to come home with him?

  She sounded like she was being coached. She sounded like she was on television on one of those stupid cop shows. She sounded like . . .

  ‘You’re lying,’ said Alex and as he said it he knew it was true.

  ‘No, Alex—why would I lie to you? There’s no one here but me and Mum. Please just come home, okay?’

  In the background there was another sound that Alex couldn’t quite place. It sounded like a cough. It was deep and a little rough. A man’s cough. Why would Liz have a man in the house? If her father was there she could just have said. There was no way Alex wanted to run into Jack. Every time the man saw him Alex would watch him push back his shoulders and curl his fists. He didn’t want to see Jack but there would be no reason for Liz to lie about him being there.

  Liz was quiet on the phone. Her breathing was loud and puffed like she was running and Alex realised that she was scared. She was being so strange, so careful. Who was watching her? Who could be listening to her? And then he knew who else was there and he knew what she had done and the rage rose inside him and he wanted to pound her into the ground.

  ‘You’ve called the cops,’ he said. ‘You’ve actually called the cops just because I was a little late. You stupid, stupid bitch. Who the fuck do you think you are? I have every right to keep my son for as long as I want. You can’t stop me, Liz.’

  ‘No, Alex, please. I haven’t called anyone. I promise.’ She was really crying hard now and then someone else took the phone and he could hear Liz’s crying move into the background.

  ‘Mr Harrow, this is Senior Constable Robert Williams from West Wood police station. You know we’re here now, Mr Harrow. Please bring the boy back. Your wife is very upset. I’m sure that this will all work itself out if you come home now.’

  ‘You can’t,’ said Alex, trying to stop himself from screaming at the man. ‘You can’t tell me to bring my son home. You have no control over me. I know my rights. A father has a right to see his son. That’s the law. You can’t do anything to me and you cannot tell me when I have to bring my kid home. He’s my son. I bring him back when it fucking suits me.’

  ‘Look, Mr Harrow—Alex. I know you’re angry. I get that. I’m divorced too, mate, and I know how hard it can be. Why don’t you just come home and we can all have a chat. It’s getting close to the end of my shift. Maybe we could have a beer or something.’

  Alex listened to the words and he thought that it might be nice to talk to someone who understood. None of his friends were even married. They couldn’t understand why he was so hung up on Liz. He took a deep breath and then he realised that the cop was lying as well. He wasn’t stupid. The man wanted him to bring Luke home and then he would help Liz make sure that Alex never saw his son again. He felt white hot fury flood his body. ‘I want to talk to Liz,’ he said quietly.

  ‘Now listen, mate,’ said the cop.

  ‘I want to talk to her now,’ he said.

  He heard the man call for Liz and then he heard her breathe down the phone. She had stopped crying but her nose was all blocked.

  ‘Come home, Alex,’ she said.

  He spoke slowly and carefully so she would know the truth. He spoke quietly so she would have to strain to hear him, and he told her. He used the words he had wanted to use since the day he came home to an empty house. Since the day he knew that another woman who was supposed to love him had left him.

  ‘You’ve fucked up big time, Liz. You’re going to be sorry you called the police. You’re going to be sorry you left me. You’re going to be sorry you took my son. For the rest of your life, every time you think of me you’re going to be sorry.’

  ‘Please, Alex . . . please, I’m begging you. Just bring him back. Nothing else matters. Please just bring him back.’

  He hung up the phone then. He couldn’t believe she had done that. She had no interest in getting their marriage back on track. She was probably sitting in her house with the police just laughing at how stupid he was to want her back. Well, she would be sorry. He knew that now. If he thought about it properly he had always known it. Since the day she left him and took his son he had known that one day she would be sorry for all the pain she had caused him. He knew what he needed to do. He had known all along.

  He was prepared. Everything he needed was already in the car—had been for months now. Some days he needed to know it was there just so he could make it through to the other end.

  It was her fault. If she had loved him the way she was supposed to, if she had been a better woman and a better wife, she would have been able to live a happy life with him—but that was all over now. She had betrayed him.

  The betrayal sat heavily on him. He wanted to cry but he had no tears left for Liz. He had no tears left for himself. He was overcome by a weariness that he knew he would never be able to shake. She was never coming back to him and she was never coming home. The year
s laid themselves out before him, threaded through with petty arguments about pick-up times and who paid for what. The loneliness was a taste in his mouth. He couldn’t do this anymore. He couldn’t go on.

  It was quiet in the park. The cold had driven everyone inside and his was the only car around. He was probably not allowed to park here under the trees but fuck them. Fuck them all. He had driven over the oval and into the small canopy of trees at the back. Without knowing why, he had felt the need to hide. He enjoyed the feel of the grass under his wheels. The runners would be pissed at the mess in the morning. They would stand in their stupid shorts and shake their heads at the tragedy of their messed-up oval, not realising that just under the trees there was a man with a broken heart and a broken soul.

  He turned on his phone again and dialled his father.

  His father hadn’t liked Liz much.

  ‘She reminds me of your mother. They both have that way of looking down on you, like you’re a piece of shit.’

  ‘Liz is not like that, Dad,’ Alex had said.

  ‘You think that now, boy, but just you wait. She’s pretty full of her own opinions. Women like that are hard work.’

  Alex had laughed at his father then. Laughed at him, sure in the knowledge of the love he and Liz had for each other. He had known then that there was nothing they could not face together, no problem they couldn’t get through. What did he know now?

  ‘Nothing,’ he whispered into the fusty air of the car. ‘Nothing at all.’

  12

  ‘Hey, boy,’ said his father when he answered the phone.

  ‘Hey, Dad. How have you been?’

  ‘You know. Can’t complain. What’s up?’

  Alex tried to imagine his father as he would be now. He would be sitting in his favourite chair with a beer or he would be fixing something in the house. His father had gone crazy fixing things after his mother left. Doors that jammed and windows that stuck were sanded and moved until they were perfect. Light bulbs blew and were replaced immediately. Catches and hooks were screwed in correctly and a new fence appeared in the garden. He fixed at night, sometimes waking Alex. Sometimes Alex was the helper and the two of them had made the house perfect. Everywhere Alex looked there was order and perfection. His father seemed soothed by the act of restoring the house.