More Than Us

by Dawn Barker

  Entrées arrived. I had West Australian scallops, with chilli, lemon and chorizo. They were delicious. I had ordered a Scotch fillet for main, medium rare. It didn’t appear that anyone had ordered a bottle of wine for the table, so I ordered a glass of cab sav. I sipped it through the meal, uneasy, but determined not to be intimidated. The steak was delicious. Paul had a steak too, but no one else did, which was odd for a restaurant that specialised in them. But it was fun. The food was great and the company was good. We spoke about restaurants, what we all thought worked well, what we didn’t like, and how we could achieve something even better. I couldn’t stop smiling at the thought of Paul – and me – being involved in this; we were back. After we had finished, I declined the waiter’s suggestion of dessert as, once again, no one else seemed to be ordering anything.

  As we stood to leave, Shona leaned in to kiss me goodbye. ‘It’s been so lovely meeting you,’ she said. ‘Damian really likes Paul, I think they’re going to do great things together. We should catch up.’

  ‘I’d love to,’ I said, although I’d barely spoken to her during dinner and thought it would be awkward. I reached into my bag, found my purse and took out one of my business cards. ‘Here, my mobile’s on this.’

  She looked at it. ‘A physiotherapist? How wonderful.’

  ‘That’s how Paul and I met. I was working with a practice who looked after the players.’

  ‘And you’re working now?’

  ‘Yes,’ I nodded.

  ‘Hopefully you won’t have to soon, if I can believe what Damian says about Paul.’

  I stopped myself from frowning. I didn’t want them to think that Paul had needed to be supported by me. ‘I love my work. No matter what happens, I’ll keep working.’

  She laughed and touched my shoulder. ‘Of course!’

  We all walked out of the restaurant together and said goodbye again in the foyer. The others were heading to the car park; we were heading to the taxi rank.

  Paul and I held hands as we walked slowly towards the glass doors out to the road where a line of taxis waited. We were almost there when we both hesitated and turned to each other. Paul said it first. ‘A drink?’

  ‘Oh my God, yes.’ We both laughed and turned back inside.

  The rest of our night reminded me of when we were younger. We were affectionate and playful with each other, laughed, drank, cheered when someone at our roulette table’s number came in. A band was playing in the sports bar and eventually, we drifted in there. I found a table, sat on the couch next to it and tapped my foot to the music while Paul went to the bar for another drink. They were playing eighties music. Sweet Dreams Are Made of This. I laughed as it came on, thinking of Annie Lennox, of home in Aberdeen, and nostalgia came over me. It had taken a long time to realise that Scotland was part of me, but it no longer was me. I was proud of it but here was my home now, and Paul and the children were what was most important.

  Paul came back with a gin and tonic for me. He put it down on the table. He sat down and sipped his drink as I settled back in the chair. He was biting at the inside of his cheek.

  ‘Are you okay?’ I asked.

  ‘Yes. Why are you asking me that?’

  I held my hand up. ‘No need to bite my head off. I was just asking.’

  ‘I’m fine.’

  I raised my eyebrows and swirled the ice around my drink.

  But he wasn’t fine. He sat on the edge of his chair, pretending to listen to me while his eyes darted around the room. Then he stood up, grabbed his drink, and walked off. ‘I’ll be right back,’ he shouted above the music as he disappeared into the crowd.

  ‘Where are you –’

  He had gone. My pulse quickened. He must be going to the bar again. I sipped my drink, checked my phone in case there were any messages from the babysitter, then watched others dancing as I waited for Paul.

  Five minutes passed, then ten, twenty. My drink was finished. Had I just drunk it too quickly? No, there had been at least a few songs played since he left. Living on a Prayer, I Wanna Dance with Somebody, Come On Eileen. Maybe he’d gone to the toilet. But why would he have taken his drink? Anyway, the queue for the toilets couldn’t be that long, not for the men’s. He’d probably met someone he knew, or who recognised him. I checked the time, waited for another couple of songs then called him. No answer. I’d lose the table if I went to get him but now I needed to use the bathroom, and I needed another drink, otherwise I’d start to feel tired and have to go home. I gathered up my bag and stood up.

  I went to the ladies’, then checked the bars and walked around the tables. He wasn’t there. Where was he?

  Something pulled me towards the casino floor, my eyes blinking hard in the bright lights. I couldn’t see him on any of the tables there either, although it was a pretty big area and he could have been anywhere. I walked past the roulette tables, the blackjack tables, the poker tables, and towards the rows of slot machines.

  Bandits, we used to call them in the UK.

  There was a sad delineation between the frenzied action of the main casino floor, with groups of people milling around tables, drinking and laughing, and the isolation of each solitary body perched on a high stool adjacent to each machine. I hesitated as my eyes scanned the bent backs of the figures pressing the buttons over and over and over. At that moment, for that fleeting second before it really registered that it was him, Paul looked just as stooped and defeated as the others, as they robotically fed coins into the machine with one hand and pressed the buttons on the machine with the other. Paul’s blue checked shirt stretched across his broad back, dark crescents under his arms. The patterned carpet of the room was sticky underfoot, and even though smoking had been banned years ago, the stench of stale cigarettes still clung to the paint. The noises that had been faint background chatter from the main floor were, in here, overwhelming: beeps and buzzes and clicking and jangling and ringing and canned laughter and electronic applause.

  I walked over to Paul and from behind him, rested my head on his shoulder. ‘You winning?’

  It was as if he hadn’t heard me. He pushed the flashing button again; the four reels spun and stopped seconds after each other, from left to right, thunk, thunk, thunk, thunk. He shook his head, then curled his hand into a fist and hit the button again, hard. ‘No. I’ve put forty dollars into this, and nothing back.’

  ‘Oh well,’ I said in a voice that even to me sounded like forced nonchalance, as I lifted my head from his shoulder and put my hand there instead. ‘Never mind. Come back through to the bar. Actually…’ I looked at my watch. ‘We should probably go home, it’s getting late.’

  ‘You got any cash on you?’ He swivelled round to look at me.

  I frowned. ‘No.’

  ‘You’ve got your bag though.’

  ‘No, Paul. I don’t have any cash. Come on, let’s go.’

  ‘It’s close to a win though. There was a guy here before me must have put fifty bucks in, so it’s due for a pay out.’

  I put my hand on my bag, knowing that even while I hesitated that of course I would give him money. But I had to hesitate to show him I didn’t approve, and I really didn’t, but now that he was here and I was here and the slot machine was full of money and ready to pay out then what was the harm? Part of me wanted to linger too, maybe to win again, when it felt like we’d been struggling to just keep even for so long.

  ‘This is all I have,’ I said, taking two ten-dollar notes from my purse and handing them to him. ‘Then we have to go.’

  He smiled at me. ‘Thanks. Do you want to press it? Maybe you’re my lucky charm…’

  I shrugged and smiled back then stood in front of him. What did it matter? It was only twenty dollars; just a bit of fun. But at the same time, it really wasn’t much fun at all.

  He wrapped his arms around me and I grinned, wiggled my fingers, and then flattened the first note and fed it into the notes slot.

  Five

  Paul

  ‘The scho
ol emailed me again,’ Emily said as she stacked the dishwasher after dinner. She still wore her work uniform, black trousers and a teal coloured polo shirt with the clinic’s logo on it. Her feet were bare. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail, though strands had fallen loose, and she’d taken out her contact lenses and put her glasses on.

  I filled the kettle and switched it on. ‘Why?’

  ‘The paediatrician had asked me to get them to do some classroom observations, remember?’

  ‘Yes, I was there.’

  ‘Alright, no need to be like that.’

  I saw her shaking her head. I sighed. ‘Sorry, I’m just tired. I’m frustrated with work. It feels like we’re going nowhere.’ I’d been working with Damian for about six months now. It was harder than I had thought, but I had to keep pretending that I knew what I was doing. Sometimes, I felt like a cute new puppy being led around on a leash. People were keen to meet me, but then I lost track of what they were talking about and they turned away from me.

  ‘It was never going to be easy to start a new business. But hey, they’re paying you.’ She raised her eyebrows and smiled.

  They were. Though it wasn’t enough. We were so behind financially from all the time I spent out of work, that I couldn’t get ahead. As soon as I earned money, it was gone again, and I hated the feeling that we were just hanging on and any moment, it could all disappear again. The work meetings were often in restaurants, and I had to take out my credit card and contribute, sometimes paying for everything. I had to get taxis – I could hardly walk away from the taxi rank and down into the train station in front of all the clients and bankers. Damian knew what I was being paid – he was the one paying me after all – and sometimes I wondered if he was testing me. I couldn’t fail; without him, I really did have nothing. I was probably being too sensitive: he wasn’t to know how much we’d lost. Besides, he promised that soon, once we were open, things would change, and I’d get a share of the company.

  I sighed and looked at Emily. ‘It’s just all new to me. I guess before, with soccer, I just did what I was told from the coaches, the managers, and sponsors. Now they talk of capital raising and licences and marketing and I’m a bit lost but have to pretend to know what they’re talking about.’

  She turned around and looked at me, eyes concerned. ‘I know, sweetie. It’s a different world. You’ve never done it before, but don’t lose confidence. They asked you to join them; you’re as important as they are to that business. Don’t be afraid to tell them when you feel out of your depth.’

  I sighed, then got the teabags out of the pantry cupboard and put one in each mug. ‘You’re right. I’ll just fake it ‘til I make it.’

  She smiled at me. ‘That’s my man.’

  I smiled back, then sighed again. ‘So, what did these school observations show?’

  ‘I don’t know yet, I have to go in to meet the school psych to talk about what she thinks, but ultimately we have to wait until the appointment with the paediatrician next month.’

  ‘Cam’s doing alright, though, isn’t he? He seems more settled.’

  She sighed. ‘Yes. Maybe. I don’t know. Part of me wants them to say there’s nothing wrong with him, but the other part wants the paediatrician to give me a diagnosis, to explain it all, maybe to have something we can treat, and simply to be able to say to people, "Hey, he can’t help it," you know?’

  I looked up from pouring the boiling water in the mugs. ‘I do know. But really, I’d rather nothing was wrong.’

  ‘Me too! I know that, it’s just… he’s just not like the other kids, Paul, and it’s hard for him.’

  And you, and us, I wanted to say, but there was no need.

  I put the kettle back on its stand. ‘I just find it frustrating, Em. They’ve talked about so many things in the past and I thought they said he didn’t have any of them. Surely, they’ve observed him every day at school since Year 1? Here we are in high school and we’re still going back and forwards to all the specialists. Honestly, he’s seen at least two or three psychologists, an occupational therapist, a speech therapist, the paediatrician heaps of times. How many ‘specialists’ does it take?’

  ‘It’s not as easy as diagnosing a broken leg, Paul. They said that sometimes when the demands of school increase, the symptoms become more of a problem. Now he’s expected to organise himself and he just can’t do it. He’s away with the fairies half the time, and you’ve seen his grades. Remember when we saw the neuropsychologist—’

  I raised my eyebrows and smiled a little. I’d forgotten about that specialist.

  She smiled a little but kept going. ‘His IQ was above average and yet now, he’s barely reaching the standard.’

  ‘Nobody tells us what the standard is. Whatever happened to As, Bs and Cs?’

  She sighed. ‘He’s barely getting Cs then.’

  ‘Neither did I at school,’ I said.

  She tutted. ‘Oh Paul. I know that, and look how amazingly well you’ve done. I don’t care what grades he gets as long as he’s reaching his potential. The issue is that along with all the trouble he’s getting in, now his grades are slipping and I don’t want to let this go on any longer. Look at his social skills, how he interacts, how he copes, how he concentrates. He’s so anxious all the time. Kids with an autistic spectrum disorder—’

  ‘I thought they were talking about ADHD? He’s not autistic!’

  ‘I know that, Paul, but it’s a spectrum, you know. It’s not all like Rainman. They’re linked. They said he might have that when he was little, remember?’

  ‘Yes, then we paid a fortune for all the assessments and tests and then they said he didn’t. You also were convinced he had OCD then.’ I shook my head, then screwed the lid back on the milk carton and put it back in the fridge.

  ‘Well, help me then, Paul! I’m confused too, I don’t know what it is but something’s not right, he’s not happy and I’m just looking for an answer because if I know what’s wrong with him then maybe I can make him better.’

  I sighed. ‘I’ll talk to him.’

  ‘Will you, Paul?’ she said, eyes pleading. ‘It’s just that I don’t know how to get through to him. At least you’ve been a twelve-year-old boy. I know where Tilly’s coming from: I can remember how confusing it is when your body changes.’

  I screwed up my face. ‘That’s definitely not my area.’ I remembered Tilly pushing away her cereal this morning, hardly touched, and before I could say anything, she had walked out of the kitchen towards the bathroom to do her hair, presumably, which seemed to take an inordinate amount of time.

  ‘Girls’ stuff.’ Emily smiled, folding up the tea towel then putting her hand on my arm. ‘So, you can do the boy’s stuff. I thought that boys would be less… moody. Oh, look, I don’t even think he’s moody. There are no… undulations. He’s constantly tense. And everything has to be just right. Jesus. I never thought I’d complain about having a child who was so determined to do everything perfectly. I thought teenagers were meant to be messy and lazy?’

  I smiled. ‘You trained them too well.’

  ‘It’s not funny.’

  I sighed. I knew that he hadn’t been himself. And I knew how stressed Emily was about this, on top of everything else. She did so much for the family, working – something that she shouldn’t have to do – and managing all the things with the kids as I got busier and busier. Since my career ended, now two, three years ago, it was she who had held us all together.

  My face flushed with shame as I thought about how hard Emily was trying to keep everything under control. Self-control was something I was finding harder and harder. But I could change; I would try harder. ‘Come and sit down, babe. Whatever it is, it is. And we’ll deal with it. We’ll go to the paediatrician’s appointment, we’ll find out what the problem is, then we’ll sort it out.’

  She looked at me, biting her lip, but then she nodded and picked up her mug. I switched off the kitchen lights.

  * * *

  ‘You sa
id you’d be able to come, Paul!’

  I cringed as Emily’s voice shrieked through the car’s hands-free phone system. The appointment with the paediatrician that had seemed so far away when we had talked about it weeks ago was today. But today, every day, I had too much to do, too much to think about.

  ‘I’m sorry, Em. I’m sorry, I know, but there’s this meeting with the Board and I have to go. Maybe you could change the appointment—’

  She cut me off. ‘Paul. I’m trying to be calm, I really am. I’ve just dropped the kids at school, I’m late for work because, as usual, your work has taken priority, despite the fact that my job is no less important than yours. I’ve already had to tell Lucy that I’m leaving early and can’t see any urgent appointments today, so I’m losing money and she’s pissed off at me. It took months to get in to see this doctor, you know that. And it’s not fair to delay Cameron’s care because of your work. Can’t you just explain to them how important it is? Surely, they can do the meeting without you? It’ll take, like, an hour or something.’

  ‘I tried—’

  ‘Did you? Really? Have you even mentioned it to them? They have children, I’m certain that they would think that taking your child to a specialist’s appointment is more important than a meeting.’ I heard the scepticism in her voice; my face burned.

  ‘Yes!’ I hadn’t. Damian had called me and told me about the meeting. I had thought about Cameron’s appointment, but instead of saying something, I had said I’d be there. Damian had a way of talking that didn’t allow you to disagree. He was my boss, after all, and he had believed in me when I had almost stopped believing in myself. I knew how much it meant to Emily for me to go to the appointment, but it was also important for me to show Damian that I was serious, that I was dependable. I couldn’t lose this job. Not with the way things were. We would go under.