A Suitable Lie

by Michael J Malone

  Her arms waved, her once fearsome mouth hurled ribbons of sound at me and I looked on, amazed at my own detachment. Her eyes betrayed a spark of insight; my reaction wasn’t the usual one. Something was not quite right here. She continued her attack on my eardrums, on my sense of self-worth. I could see the thought impose itself on her brain. It had worked beautifully before; she would just have to raise the bar a little.

  I leaned against a doorway, as if we were discussing where to go on our next holiday together. Her lips whitened as she drew them across the rictus of her mouth, displaying perfect teeth. She would not allow her uncertainty to show. The stream of invective continued to flow. She was unaware that she was now adding strength to my determination to win.

  Words that had once been nails hammering into my psyche now drove into the lid of a coffin. A coffin that held any affection I ever felt for her. All I saw before me now was a frightened little girl. A little girl who had grown into a woman who wore her fear like a shroud. What she wanted all along was to be loved, but she didn’t know how. She didn’t know what love looked like. Her experience had been formed at the hands of men who knew only about power and how to abuse it. This was the cloth with which she bound her heart and her fists.

  ‘Are you even listening to me?’ she demanded.

  ‘I’ve heard it all before Anna. It means nothing. You mean nothing.’ I took relief in the truth of my last statement.

  ‘We’ll see if I mean nothing.’ She stepped towards me and raised her fist as if to strike. I stood my ground, opened my arms and smiled.

  ‘You mean nothing, Anna. You have no substance. You’re just a sad, wee girl who used to pull the wings from wasps and soak up all the poison they could sting you with. The problem is it toughened you up too much. Now you don’t know what love is, you don’t know what happy feels like.’

  ‘You think you could have made me happy?’ She moved back, her eyes never settling on the one surface. ‘You gave me nothing. Apart from a roof … and a lovely wee boy.’ She scored with that one; a small smile of victory was her reaction as the barb bit. ‘Two lovely wee boys. I need them. I’ll be a good mother to them. I just won’t let their father near,’ she spat.

  ‘The only reason you want them is to spite me, you sad bitch.’

  ‘Oh, hark at the name-caller now,’ she crowed. Mentally I gave myself a shake. I’d forgotten rule number one in any skirmish with Anna, she fed off negative reactions the way hyenas feed off a dying animal. Always circling, feet and mind never still. Looking for a sign of weakness. Darting in for a nip, a bite; tearing flesh with razor teeth.

  ‘Do you really love the boys, Anna?’ I asked.

  ‘Of course I do,’ she hissed. ‘What do you take me for?’

  ‘Someone without conscience. Someone without regard for herself or others, unless there was something in it for her.’

  She sagged a little. ‘Andy, I’m tired. Why don’t you get what you came for and just go?’

  ‘I’ll get my clothes now, but I’ll be back for my boys another time.’

  ‘Dream on. You’ve lost them forever. Deal with it. You’ve no job, no fixed abode. No life. What judge is going to give you the boys? You won’t even get Pat. The boys shouldn’t lose one another. As little disruption to their family life as possible, that’s what the judge will order.’

  ‘That’s where you’re wrong. Pat is my biological son. I’ve looked after him on my own right up until the last few years. Right up until I picked you, thinking you would be a good mother to him.’

  ‘I am a good mother too him.’ Her nostrils flared.

  ‘Aye, right. What good mother would deny her son access to his father? And let me inform you of my circumstances, so the next time you speak to your lawyer, you’ll get it right. I still have my job. The real thief owned up. And I do have a “fixed abode”. I’m staying with Jim at the moment. I’ll move in with Mum shortly. She’s more room in her house. Enough room for me and the boys. A nice house with a built-in babysitter. What judge in his right mind would deny that when faced with the competition? Anyway, we could stand here all night scoring points off one another. I’ll go get my stuff and the next time I’ll see you will be when I come to pick up the boys.’

  I walked up the stairs. Anna followed.

  ‘What’re you doing?’ I asked.

  ‘I’m coming to make sure you don’t take anything you shouldn’t.’

  I shrugged.

  Our bedroom, her bedroom, looked as if I’d just stepped out of it for a moment. Nothing had changed. My clothes were all in their drawers or on their hangers. Anna must have caught my look of surprise.

  ‘Everything’s here. I moved nothing. Didn’t even take a pair of scissors to your ties.’

  ‘Good.’ I reached under the bed and pulled out a suitcase. The symbolism didn’t escape me. This really was the end.

  Nor did it escape Anna. She sat on the bed. Her body language of someone calm and full of reflection. More like the Anna I’d fallen for.

  ‘How did we get to this, Andy? We were good once. How did this happen?’ she asked.

  I pulled some suits from the wardrobe and dumped them in the case. Tidying sleeves and trousers, I answered, ‘Well, I seem to remember it starting on our wedding night. Then there was the beatings, the manipulations, and let’s not forget the humiliations.’ I faced her. ‘How could you, Anna? I loved you and you treated me worse than an animal.’ Ghosts of beatings past, memories of insults upon insults threatened to weaken my resolve. How had I let the woman in front of me treat me in such a way? Sat on the edge of the bed, I couldn’t detect one ounce of threat from her.

  ‘I couldn’t help it, Andy. You drove me to it. I couldn’t control myself.’

  ‘Aw, for fucksake, Anna. Crap. You just chose not to.’

  ‘Ssssh, Andy. You’ll wake the boys.’

  ‘Tell me something…’ I lowered my voice. ‘If we had been the subject of one of those fly-on-the-wall documentaries. If we’d a camera in here twenty-four hours a day, broadcasting live on TV our every move, would you have been able to control your anger then?’

  ‘Of course I would.’

  ‘Well don’t you see? You simply chose not to control yourself. You had all this anger, all this … hate, and you let me have it. That’s what happened, sweetheart.’ My often-used endearment was sullied with irony.

  She bit her lip as if fighting back tears. ‘I’m sorry, Andy. Why don’t you stay for a while? We could talk this thing through.’ She folded her arms and crossed her legs. She looked smaller, frightened, more vulnerable and exhausted by our fighting.

  I fortified myself against my rising feelings of sympathy. ‘You just don’t know when to stop, do you?’

  ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she looked up at me.

  ‘Don’t give me the eyes, the face … the legs. Stop with the manipulation, Anna. I don’t love you anymore. Congratulations, you killed it. Stone dead.’ I pushed the last of my belongings into a bag. ‘We’re over, finished, history. Now, I’ll be happy to be civil to you for the sake of the boys.’ I walked out of the room carrying my luggage. ‘I’ll just see that they’re tucked in.’

  Using the light from the hallway, I walked into their room.

  ‘Dad. Is that you?’ Pat squinted from his bed. ‘Mum said you were still in Campbeltown.’

  ‘Ssssh. Watch you don’t waken up your brother.’ I sat on Pat’s bed and ruffled his hair. Bedtime was always my favourite time with the boys. They were at their cutest. Hair combed after their bath, cheeks shining with health and just a little too tired to remind you how they could misbehave. I pulled Pat from his position and wrapped him in my arms. His hair was satin against my cheek; his small body warm with spent energy.

  ‘Love you, son,’ I whispered. I couldn’t trust my voice. Breathing deep, I fought to control myself. Everything had to be as normal as possible. He was used to raised voices coming from our bedroom. Me in tears would definitely not come across well. />
  Anna cleared her throat from the door. Her presence broke the spell.

  ‘I’ve just come back for some clean shirts, son. But I won’t be away long.’ With as much tenderness as I was capable of, I lay him back down on his bed and straightened his sheets. I traced the silk of his cheek with the back of a finger.

  ‘You look after your brother,’ I said.

  He nodded, half-smiled, still fuzzy with sleep. ‘Love you, Dad.’ He then turned and burrowed down into his pillow.

  I walked next door to Ryan’s room and bent over his cot. His small body formed an exclamation mark of peaceful ignorance. He’d kicked off his covers. He always got too hot. He was on his back, one arm thrust up behind his head, as if stretching for a toy. A toy that would remain out of reach all through his dream. Frightened I would disturb him, I kissed the fingertips of my right hand and lightly touched his forehead.

  ‘Sleep tight, son.’

  Outside the room, I closed the door behind me. I faced Anna.

  ‘You cause harm to one hair on their heads and I will kill you.’ I knew the threat was unnecessary but I let the emotion of the moment get the better of me.

  ‘Andy,’ she admonished me. ‘I would never hurt them. How could you say that?’

  The emotion was too raw to apologise even though I knew I was wrong. Anna chased me down the stairs.

  ‘Andy, you’ve got to believe I would never harm the boys.’

  ‘Yes, yes. I know. You reserved all your punishments for me. I’m bigger than you are. I needed taking down a size or two. Your power over the boys is assured, taken as read, they’re no threat to you. Yet.’

  She flinched, as if she’d read my real feelings for her for the first time. Strangely, this small sign of weakness didn’t thrill me. It saddened me.

  ‘The boys are my chance to get things right,’ she said in a tiny voice, and I knew she was being genuine. ‘Please don’t ever doubt that I have nothing but their best interests at heart.’ A single tear shone like a torch on the alabaster of her cheek. And I could see that here there was no agenda, no attempt at manipulation.

  Just the loneliest expression of emotion I’d ever witnessed.

  ‘Anna, the next wee while is not going to be the easiest for any of us. Let’s try and make it as easy for the boys as we can.’

  ‘Okay.’ She caught the tear on a hankie before it spilled on to her cheek. She walked towards me and reached out for my hand.

  ‘Andy, I’m truly sorry for how things turned out between us.’ She bit her lip. Closed her eyes tight. Opened them and looked at the floor. Eventually her eyes met mine. ‘You deserved better than me.’

  I looked down at her hands and wondered at the damage they could inflict. What could I say in response?

  Nothing.

  She breathed deep as if bracing herself. ‘Go on, get out of here.’ Her tone was not unkind.

  ‘Right.’ Now that the moment had come I wasn’t sure how to behave. What is the protocol for leaving an abusive spouse? They don’t teach you that in the marriage manuals.

  ‘Come here, give us a hug, you big lump,’ she said. There was not a trace of rancour in her voice. Only an acceptance that events had finally taken a turn that they had to. If both of us were to retain our sanity than we would have to let them play out.

  As we held each other, I thought of chances lost and lives warped by a cycle of despair that had begun before either of us were born. One abuse of strength led to another, to another, to another. Until here we were, saying goodbye, knowing we had no other option.

  I felt the heat of her. The softness of her cheek on my neck. Noted a feeling of affection and quashed it.

  A small voice filled the hall. It came from the doorway. I hadn’t heard the door opening.

  ‘Dad, are you staying?’ It was Pat. Hope was a prayer filling his expression. Ryan was by his side holding his hand.

  Love surged from my chest to my throat, constricted my breathing.

  ‘Hey, guys.’

  I walked over and knelt in front of them. Ryan jumped into my arms, while his older brother kept his distance in what I judged was an attempt to protect himself from disappointment.

  Ryan’s little body was warm and compact in my arms. His hair smelled of bath-time. I savoured his presence and realised I couldn’t walk away now without them. I couldn’t leave them here. One more moment away from them was unthinkable.

  I took a deep breath. Girded my spine for the fight I was about to instigate. I turned to face Anna just as Pat came to stand by my side. Something in him knew what the situation was and it pained me to see him turn to Anna with an expression that begged. He wanted me to stay, or he wanted me to take him with me and he didn’t know how he could make this happen.

  The phone rang, breaking the spell.

  Anna walked through to the hall to answer it. I could hear only her mumbled replies and moments later she returned. She looked at me. Then looked at the boys. There was a strange light in her eyes. A rare softness.

  ‘When did we become my parents, Andy?’ she asked, her voice distant and winsome.

  I could only shrug

  She bit her top lip as if she had just reached a painful decision. ‘You put your bags in the car and I’ll get the boys ready.’

  ‘Eh?’ This sudden turn of events threw me completely. I looked at her as if she had just spoken to me in Swahili.

  ‘Go on.’ Her smile was weak and laced through with pain and a thousand unspoken apologies.

  ‘Who was that on the phone?’ I asked.

  ‘Nobody,’ she said. ‘It was nobody.’

  It took a matter of minutes to get the boys into their coats and put a collection of their clothes and toys, along with my clothes, into the car.

  ‘You be a good boy, Pat.’ She stuck her hand in the car and ruffled his hair. ‘Never give your dad any bother, okay?’ Then she opened the back door and leaned over to kiss Ryan. He didn’t stir as she pressed her lips against the cushion of his cheek and held the kiss for a few seconds.

  ‘Anna.’ I leaned back and spoke over my shoulder. ‘I … thanks.’

  She dismissed my gratitude with a flick of her hair, ‘Just you look after my boys. They’re all I’ve got. Tell them I love them.’

  17

  Mum’s face was a study in confusion when I arrived at her door with one sleeping and one almost sleeping child.

  ‘Andy, what’s going on, son?’

  ‘I’ll tell you later, just help me in with the boys and their stuff.’ I stopped on her doorstep. ‘You ok if we spend a few nights with you?’

  ‘What a stupid question.’ She adjusted the sleeves of her jumper and beamed. ‘Of course it is.’ She bent forward to look at Ryan.

  ‘Right,’ she said. ‘The boys can have my bed. You have the spare room and I’ll take the sofa.’

  ‘What? No way am I putting you out of your bed.’

  She just looked at me. On this occasion her word was law and would be obeyed. ‘Look at the size of you. That sofa is no bed for a man.’ She shook her head. ‘It’s decided.’

  ‘Mum,’ I protested and then gave up. The no-nonsense way she was taking over made it appear as if our nocturnal visit was completely normal and had the effect of calming me down.

  ‘You tuck your boys in, I’ll bring in the rest of the bags and make us both a wee cup of tea,’ she said.

  My mother’s bedroom was as I remembered. A large bed with a mattress on it that made you feel you were lying on a cloud. I could barely see the boys for the mound of pillows and the thick, pink quilt. Climbing roses adorned the wallpaper and their dark pink heads winked out from behind the many photographs and paintings that crowded the walls. There was a new addition on top of the dresser: a portable TV.

  Removing some of the pillows, I re-arranged the boys so that they wouldn’t smother each other. Pat turned on his side and Ryan registered nothing of my ministrations.

  ‘They sleeping?’ Mum asked in a whisper when I reached
the living room.

  ‘Mum, why are you whispering, when the TV here is on so loud?’

  She looked at me dryly. ‘Are your sons asleep?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Right, there’s a coffee and a biscuit. I’ll turn off the TV and you can explain to your old, befuddled mother what the hell is going on.’

  For the second time within a matter of hours, I explained to one of those dearest to me what my life had been like over the last few years.

  My mother, for her part, gave a definitive performance of how to listen properly. She only spoke when my explanation required clarification and prompted me only when emotion threatened to overcome me and halt my speech. She didn’t judge or pass comment, she only listened.

  ‘Do you see what an idiot your son has been then?’

  ‘Not at all. I see a brave man who gave, gave and gave. I see a man…’ she dabbed at her cheek with a white, linen handkerchief ‘… who, if his father were alive today, he would’ve been very proud of. Oh, son…’ she cried. ‘Why didn’t you tell me? I could have helped you in some way. I could’ve done something.’

  ‘Mum.’ I sat on the arm of her chair and hugged her. ‘The only person who could do anything was me. I had to come to my senses. No one could have done it for me.’

  We hugged in silence for a moment. A moment when touch transcended words, a moment when words would have been as effective as an ocean without the pull of the tide.

  ‘Right, no more tears, as the song goes. What a day. And to think it ends with me getting my boys back.’

  ‘Isn’t it marvellous, son?’ She reached up and kissed my cheek. ‘I’m so happy that things have worked out.’

  ‘Let’s not get too excited, Mum. It’s early days yet. I can’t explain what got into Anna that made her let the boys go so easily. She definitely wasn’t herself, though. She’ll be on the phone first thing in the morning demanding she gets them back.’