by Dawn Barker
I rubbed my face then sat up, waiting a moment for my head to stop spinning. I sipped the water by my bed and swirled it around my sour tasting mouth, cleared my throat from the dry exhaustion of such little sleep, then walked out of the bedroom in my bare feet. I looked towards the front door. There were no shoes kicked off in the hallway, no keys or wallet or jacket flung on the hallway table.
The door to the spare room was closed. It wasn’t really spare: we used it as a TV room for the kids. Tilly practiced her viola in there. I turned the handle and pushed the door open. It creaked, and I peeked in. The sofa bed hadn’t been unfolded, and the room was cold and still. My hands began to shake.
I walked on my tiptoes, trying not to wake the kids, towards the back of the house but he wasn’t in the living room either. His clothes weren’t discarded in the bathroom. I wanted to cry. I went back through to the bedroom and got under the covers, not sure what else to do. My phone was still charging on the bedside table, but there were no missed calls or messages. I tried calling him, but it was still off. Maybe he hadn’t been able to call an Uber if he was out of batteries? But surely, he could have flagged down a taxi? I opened Facebook on my phone to see if I could trace his night out through people tagging him, but there was nothing on his page. God, anything could have happened to him. He could have been robbed, mugged, hit by a car. Should I call the hospitals and police? That seemed a bit dramatic. It wasn’t even 7am. I forced myself to breathe slowly. He’d probably gone to some club and would stagger in soon, then I would scream at him but at least he’d be safe. Maybe he was avoiding me and crashed out at his brother’s, and soon Jane, Alasdair’s wife, would call me when she woke up and saw him on her couch. For now, I had to carry on as normal, have a shower, get the kids ready for Saturday morning sports, and when it was a decent hour and the kids were occupied, I’d make some calls.
* * *
‘Where’s Dad?’ Cameron said, clomping down the hallway towards me, his kit bag slung over his shoulder.
‘He had to go out early. He’ll be back soon. Are you ready? Let’s go.’
I looked over at the clock on the oven. ‘Are you ready, Tilly?’ I shouted.
‘Coming!’ Tilly came into the kitchen in her PE gear and bare feet, tying her hair up as she walked.
‘Socks? Shoes?’ I leaned over the sink and filled up her water bottle.
‘Where’s Dad?’
‘At work. Hopefully he’ll make it there.’
‘His car’s here,’ shouted Tilly as she peered out of the window.
‘I think he got a taxi,’ I said quickly, and shook my head as the tears threatened to fall. ‘Just get in the car, would you? I’ll have to drop Cameron at rugby today, then get you to hockey. He’ll meet us there.’
Paul never missed Cameron’s rugby. No matter how late he’d gotten home, no matter how hung over he seemed, he was always there. He took Cameron to his game, and I went with Tilly to her’s. He talked to the other dads; I sipped coffee and chatted with the hockey parents. I enjoyed my Saturday mornings; it was a chance to see the mums that I rarely saw any more. When the kids were younger, we’d always chat as we waited at the school gates, but as the children have become older and grown away from us, we mothers have started trickling back to work, and now we just drive through the slipway, and the children and bags and sports gear tumble out. At the end of the day, they bundle themselves back in and we speed off to the next activity.
I knew that Paul enjoyed those mornings on the sports field too. He missed playing, and this was the next best thing, even if Cameron had chosen rugby over soccer. He’d been pretending to be happy with the restaurant, and sometimes he did seem genuinely relaxed, but he’d been distracted, stressed. But when he watched Cameron play, I could see him find himself again. I glanced at my phone on the kitchen bench; still no calls.
‘Mum…’ I heard Tilly’s singsong voice. ‘Mum? Mum!’
‘What, Tilly? Don’t yell at me like that!’
‘Aren’t we on oranges today?’ Tilly said.
‘Shit!’ I hit the tap with my hand to switch off the running water, then held on to the edge of the sink for a moment and let my head fall. I took some deep breaths and forced myself to relax. ‘Just get in the car, please, both of you. With your shoes and socks and shin pads and hockey sticks and mouth guards and whatever else you need. Just help me out today, please, you’re old enough to get yourselves ready.’
They walked out quietly, and I could feel them looking at me. Where the hell was Paul? I could kill him for doing this to us. Using all our money, and now disappearing and leaving me to pick up the pieces, without any explanation of where the money had gone, or where he was.
I breathed deeply and slowly for three breaths, to force myself to calm down, then took the bag of oranges that thankfully, I’d bought a couple of days ago, out of the drawer in the fridge, grabbed a kitchen knife, a tea towel, and a chopping board, then shoved them in a bag. I’d have to chop the oranges up on the side of the field. As I hurried to the car, I tried Paul’s mobile again. Nothing. Tears sprung to my eyes and my breath shuddered. I couldn’t rationalise this anymore. Something was wrong.
Nine
Paul
‘Paul, mate…’
There was something heavy on my shoulder, and a deep, sonorous voice in my ear, rising and falling in volume. I tried to open my eyes but I couldn’t. Where was I?
I was on my feet somehow, but my legs were so heavy that I just wanted to let them fold at the knees and my neck seemed to have stopped working as my head lolled forwards onto my chest.
‘Come on, mate, on your feet… no, no, don’t call an ambulance, he’s okay, I’ve got him…’
‘Damian?’ I tried to say but instead I heard my voice slur, ‘Daaaa…’ and my tongue and mouth and lips felt thick and numb, the sounds that came out lagging long behind my thoughts.
‘You’re alright, come on.’
Was I still at the casino? ‘Where…?’ My head pounded.
‘It’s Damian. You’re at my house. Taxi driver said you passed out in the cab, said you gave him my card just before and told him to call me. He did and dropped you here. Let’s get you inside. Can you walk?’
I wanted to say no, that I didn’t think I could make it one step further, but somehow, I managed to shuffle a few steps and then fell back onto the soft cushion of a seat.
‘You’re not going to throw up, are you?’
I shook my head, but I wasn’t so sure.
‘Anything I need to know, mate?’
‘No…’ What did he mean?
‘You just pissed?’
I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know. I must be. I must be. I shook my head.
‘That eye looks bad.’
Eye? I managed to lift my hand up to my face; I flinched as I touched it.
‘You spoken to Emily? You got your phone?’
I leaned to the side and patted the pocket of my trousers but there was nothing there. I reached across my body to the other side; I felt my wallet but no phone. ‘Jacket pocket,’ I mumbled.
‘You haven’t got a jacket.’
I had a vision of it hanging on the back of a chair at the casino.
The casino. The memories erupted, and I let out a wail.
‘Mate, come on, it’s only a jacket. It’s probably in the cab; we’ll track it down. At least you’ve got your wallet.’
I felt him take it from my pocket; I let him.
‘Did you have cash? Has someone cleaned you out? You haven’t got a dollar in here.’
The skin under my right eye stung as tears dripped into it. This was my best suit. Emily would kill me. ‘My jacket…’
‘Good job you got him to call me first, Paul, not Emily. You’re probably in enough trouble for staying out all night without turning up like this.’
I managed to turn my head enough to look at him. When I forced my eyes to open, the right eye wouldn’t oblige. ‘You don’t know the half of it,�
�� I croaked, and then I slumped forwards and began to cry in complete and utter despair. I wished I was dead. Not in a cry-for-help way; really and truly, I wished that cab driver had thrown me out of the car and run his taxi over the top of me.
But when I peered through my swollen eye, a concrete brick of shame crushing me, I saw Damian. And he wasn’t screaming at me, nor looking at me in pity or disgust. He was smiling. ‘Right, I’m going to put the kettle on while you have a shower, and then we’re going to get you sorted out.’
* * *
I didn’t want to come out of the shower. I turned the water as hot as I could stand it, at full force, until I had managed to stop my hacking sobs. Look at me, I thought. What a disgrace. Why the hell had I called Damian, of all people? He was the last person I wanted to see me like this. My head pounded and nausea racked my body; I couldn’t think straight. I considered climbing out of the bathroom window and running off. But I’d probably get stuck and look even more of a fool when he pulled me back through. I had a scrap of dignity left. I would leave by the front door.
I got out of the shower and dried off, then splashed my face with cold water from the sink. My eye was swollen and red, and the rest of my face was puffy. Jesus, what had I done? My breath quickened again, and my body tensed and tensed until I was sure my bones would snap and I smacked my right fist into my left as my face crumpled again.
There was a knock on the door. ‘Paul? I’ve left some clothes for you just outside the door.’
I cleared my throat and gripped the edge of the sink. ‘Thanks. Just coming.’
I waited a few moments, trying to compose myself, then opened the door a fraction and took the clothes. Dressed in Damian’s shorts and tee-shirt, I felt like a child wearing the spare clothes at school for peeing your pants. What an embarrassment I was. I had to go out and face him. I had to. I couldn’t hide. I would go out, say thank you, and sorry, then leave. I shouldn’t be here.
I inhaled, then exhaled slowly as I left the bathroom and walked into Damian’s living room, views of Sydney harbour visible through the patio doors out onto his balcony. Two mugs were on the glass coffee table, and the smell of mint wafted off the steam rising from them. Damian sat on a black leather armchair, looking concerned. He was in dark blue jeans and a red polo shirt. His thick dark hair was combed with some sort of glossy product in it. He was clean-shaven. He looked bright, healthy. I contrasted him with my own sorry appearance, and the smoky smell of Scotch already oozing from my pores despite the shower. I hovered, my arm on the back of the matching sofa. ‘Thanks, Damian. I’m sorry… I’m sorry for calling you and turning up like this. Thanks for your help. I guess… I must have been attacked or mugged or something. I don’t know what happened.’ I pointed to my eye.
He shook his head slowly. ‘I think you do.’
As he stared at me, I felt compelled to sit down. I came around the edge of the sofa and perched on the edge. ‘Is that for me?’ I nodded towards the mug.
He nodded; I picked it up and sipped at the hot peppermint tea, hoping it would settle my nausea, then put it back on the table.
‘Are you okay?’ he asked, after a few moments of us sitting in silence.
I swallowed hard, then again, as my chin began to quiver. I stood up. ‘Sorry,’ I managed to say. ‘I need to go. I’ll explain everything later.’
He stood too, then reached over and put his hand on my shoulder. ‘Stay.’
I closed my eyes and felt my body swaying. Tears began to fall, and I collapsed back down on the sofa. I couldn’t stop myself from breaking down again. I covered my face with my hands. All I could hear were my own pathetic sobs and gasps and sniffs. Now I’d lose my job too. What an idiot I was.
‘What happened?’ he said.
I don’t know how long passed before I was able to speak, but Damian waited. I heard a clock ticking somewhere in the room. Such an old-fashioned, comforting sound. It reminded me of sleeping in my grandmother’s house as a child.
‘I’ve ruined everything,’ I croaked.
He shook his head. ‘It’s never that bad.’
‘It is that bad. You don’t understand. I’ve lost everything. I thought I could fix it but we’ve been so behind with everything and Emily has been working so hard and I thought that maybe I could just win a little to make things easier and it got out of hand… it’s gone, everything has gone, I’ve lost everything… I… I wish…’ I lifted my head as some clarity came over me. ‘It’s over for me, Damian. My life is over. I’m sorry I’ve let you down.’ I started to stand up again, my legs ready to flee, somewhere, anywhere.
‘I know how you feel,’ he said, calmly.
I shook my head, then sat back down.
‘I know you don’t believe me, but we all have a past, Paul. We’ve all done things we regret.’
Irritation surged up; there was no way that he had been where I was now. ‘Not like this. You don’t understand what I’ve done. I’ve lost it all, Damian, every cent we have and more. There’s no coming back from this.’
‘You’re wrong. There’s always a way back.’
‘No!’ I shouted. ‘Emily will leave me. The bank will take my house. My kids will hate me. I have no money, nothing at all. I have tried to beat this but there’s something wrong with me, something wrong inside me and they’re better off without me, you all are.’ I hated the sound of my whining, but I didn’t care. It was how I felt, and I had never been so certain of anything but the fact that I was a liability to them all. My family was better off without me.
‘I can help you, Paul.’
I sneered. ‘It’s too late. Nobody can.’
‘I can.’
I shook my head quickly, tears blurring the sight of Damian leaning towards me. He sighed, looked around the room, then spoke softly. ‘Have you ever heard of Phoenix?’
I shrugged. I’d seen it written on some documents at work, heard it mentioned at meetings. I’d assumed it was just one of Damian’s numerous companies.
‘I don’t talk about it to many people, but I know I can trust you. There’s a few of us at work who are members – Tim, Lucas; we have members all over the world. We are people who have been where you are, Paul. Not just gambling, but drinking, unhappiness, struggling with life generally. Many of us have been told there’s something wrong with us, but we have taken control of our lives back. Back from the doctors who make a career from keeping us sick, from the pharmaceutical companies whose drugs make us worse, from the advertisers who brainwash us with their processed foods ads and make alcohol taste sweet to get us addicted, and the media who fuel it all. Paul, you have no idea how good life can be. Free of all that, you can have this.’ He swept his arms around the room. ‘The dream, Paul: the house, the boat, travelling the world, a clear mind, a fit body. I don’t tell many people about it, only people who I believe are strong enough, and I know you are. You just have to say the word and I’ll help you.’
‘It’s too late.’
‘It’s never too late. I can get you help, now. Today even. Phoenix has treatment centres all over the world, and there’s one just outside of Sydney. One call and I’ll get you in there. No doctors, no medicine, just help to see how the world can be.’
‘I have to go home, to Emily…’ Emily. How could I face her?
‘You can go home first, to pack your bag and say goodbye to your family. But look at you. What other choice do you have?’
I did look at me: bare feet, wearing my boss’s clothes, crying, penniless, bereft, bruised. Yes, look at me. My face burned, and acid churned in my throat.
‘Paul. We can help you. You need proper help. You need to get away from this, until you can see things for what they are again and then, and only then, your life will turn around. I guarantee it.’ He was staring at me.
‘I’ve got no money.’
He waved his hand. ‘Money is not an issue. You will pay me back when you’re back on track. That’s how it works when you join us. Phoenix helps people who need
it most, and then, when you’re better, you help us, and you look out for others who need help. We pass it on. And while you’re in the centre, I’ll make sure that Emily is okay, and the kids.’
‘I don’t know how I’ll pay you back.’
‘We’ll sort it out once you’re well. You’ll see: money will be no concern for you. You just have to say that you want us to help you, and we’ll be there for you.’
I hesitated, shaking my head. His words swirled round my head. I wanted to run away, to not have to face up to what I’d done to my family. But as much as I wanted to end it all, clearly, I hadn’t wanted that enough: I’d called for help. Maybe this was the help I needed. Maybe if I explained to Emily that I was going to change, then she’d forgive me and I could salvage something. And if not, if it all failed, then I still had the option to leave it all behind.
‘What do you say?’ he said.
I rubbed my face with both hands. What else could I say? ‘Yes.’
Ten
Emily
Alasdair answered straight away; he always did. Even if he was at work, he always answered, unlike his brother, Paul. I didn’t call him very much, I never had need to, but being the only family we had in Australia, we looked out for each other. He’d come out to Sydney after we did, after visiting us and seeing the life we had. He was a few years older than Paul. He’d studied mining engineering in Aberdeen, did his time on the rigs and then got sponsored to work out here. He had married an Australian, Jane, and never looked back.
‘Emily,’ he said, a lilt in his voice. ‘How are you?’
‘Hey, Al. I’m good.’ I tried to match his carefree tone. ‘Look, this is probably nothing, and I know you would have called if he was, but is Paul with you?’
‘Paul? No. Why?’
I bit my lip as I tried not to let the panic out. The background noise of Alasdair’s own kids’ sport quietened, and I knew he was moving away from watching Rosie play netball. ‘Don’t worry. It’s nothing. It’s just that he went out last night to a function and he didn’t come home, I thought maybe he’d stayed at your place.’