The Accident

by S D Monaghan

  David stepped out of the hole. ‘Why?’

  The officer reddened. ‘That’s what your neighbour said when we stopped him from wrecking your house.’

  Remember where you live. The filth are your friend. ‘Yeah, I’m a history lecturer.’

  ‘Wow,’ the officer said, scanning the back of the house and then the sprawl of garden. ‘I should’ve paid more attention to history in school. I mean, what’s it good for, really? When you look at the world, like, the state it’s in, what does it teach you?’

  David stared into the uniform’s face. ‘It teaches you that you’re better off winning a war than losing it.’

  The officer returned David’s stare, trying to make up his mind about him, when a second officer appeared from the woodland with Shay.

  ‘My colleague took your neighbour for a chat as he was getting upset,’ the first officer explained. ‘Especially when we tried to explain to him that the existence of the blocked pipe did not legalise his actions in any way. Honestly, I thought we’d have to Taser him.’ He chuckled, and David knew that he was supposed to chuckle too, but he’d forgotten how to laugh.

  Shay and the second officer stepped up to the shattered travertine and joined the rest of them. David watched Bruno watching Shay, who was watching the police, and for a moment felt like he was partaking in some ridiculous caper. Finally, Shay spoke: ‘David, you drove me to this. You left me with no choice. I told you what we were going through in there. So fine, have me arrested. Throw the book at me. I have nothing to be ashamed about.’

  ‘I’m not pressing charges.’

  ‘What?’ the first officer said. ‘He broke into your property and caused about a grand’s worth of damage. I urge you to reconsider.’

  ‘Seriously, man, it’s fine. I’m sorry for the time you’ve wasted here.’

  ‘If he entered here without your permission, then I have a duty to—’

  ‘He had my permission.’

  Shay, who had been holding out both wrists as if expecting to be cuffed, looked to David and then back to the police, like he was choosing his moment at a busy intersection. Then he asked, ‘So what’s going to happen now? It needs fixing.’

  David said, ‘You think that’s an original observation? Jesus, Shay, I’m not going to have you arrested. And I’m not going to sue you. And I’m going to fix it. Today. So what else do you want from me? Bruno, can you get going on repairing the pipe and patio? I’ll sort you for two days’ work. No, three days. Whatever you want. Shay – off my property. Right now.’ Then, turning to the two officers, he said, ‘I’m sorry that police time and resources have been wasted. But everything is now fine.’

  After Shay was helped back through the hedge by his wife, David walked the police out to the driveway and made a big deal of cheerfully thanking them in front of the neighbours, who were still watching the show. As Bruno departed in his van for the wholesaler’s, David’s phone began to vibrate. He took it out and looked at his architect’s flashing name. Fighting the urge to slam it mindlessly on the driveway, he answered with, ‘Ryan’s alive.’

  Whatever Gordon was about to say, he replaced it with silence.

  David continued, ‘See, Ryan broke the sewage pipe when he fell. And then you failed to fix it before filling it in. It’s over. You don’t have any cards left to play.’

  ‘We have Tara.’

  Slowly, David withdrew the phone from his head as if it was a dangerous animal that didn’t like him and never would. Steeling himself, he put it back to his ear.

  ‘The fact that you know about Ryan just saves me a whole lot of explaining. So pay attention, because this is the new situation: Tara followed me. And then she ran into our good friend, Ryan. The first rule of the observer: never be a witness. Your wife just broke it. She’s now with Ryan, and she’s not happy about it. But she’s not as upset as Ryan is about not getting his money. Let’s hope he doesn’t lose his temper. After all, her husband did throw him out of a fucking window.’

  ‘Look, whatever Tara said or did, that wasn’t part of what I’d planned.’ Across the road, a neighbour was getting into her SUV. She waved over at David. He waved back. ‘Gordon, you are going to get your money. Tara just went off on one.’

  ‘I was just listening at the door to the lovebirds reacquainting themselves. You know, Dave, the difference between men and women only comes down to our use of verbs and adjectives. For example, when women show their worst selves – such as how Tara reacted to Ryan being still alive – we call it “passionate” or “mental” – depending on how hot or ugly they are. But when men do their worst – such as what Ryan is threatening to do right now – it doesn’t matter what they look like. We just call it “psychotic, cold-blooded, preconceived mayhem”.’

  David closed his eyes, locking himself into the blitzkrieg of his brain.

  ‘So I hope you understand how delicate the current situation is?’

  ‘What do you want me to do?’ But David was talking to dead air – Gordon had hung up.

  He turned away from the world of Lawrence Court and the smell of freshly cut grass that carried on the breeze. Situations like this do not happen to ordinary men. This doesn’t happen to regular everyday good husbands. He – David – had to be fundamentally flawed. Why could he not protect his wife? Why had he failed her? And if he couldn’t protect his wife, how could he have ever believed that he could protect his child?

  At the steps to the house, just as he was about to put away the phone, David noticed a text from Tara sent less than an hour ago.

  61 Heffernan Place. Gonna sort it with Gordon here. Call you after if you don’t come.

  Before David had a chance to process this information, the phone buzzed the arrival of a picture: a close-up of Tara’s frightened face, the extended blade of a box-cutter pressed against her throat. The text read:

  Meet you at bank in fifty minutes. As planned. Then Tara is released.

  David quickly replied:

  I’ll be there. You’ll get your money.

  He waited, staring down the road, as second by second the quiet, warm summer slipped away. David thought of today’s date. As a student of history, dates were important to him. The ones he remembered, the dates he cared about, were either glorious victories or terrible defeats. What would he eventually remember this date as?

  David reread Tara’s last message. He knew the address well.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Tara was alone in the room. Remember, there are two of you now. Start thinking like a mother. Her gag was tied too tightly, so she sucked panicked inhalations through her nose. Then she found that if she focused on the stiff pain of her raised, handcuffed arms, she could calm down and breathe normally.

  Her mind was exploding. The same thought was spiralling around: You have lost all control. That one-off intimate coupling with Ryan was meant to have been the perfect bookend to all that had happened before life got captivatingly serious with a husband, money and pregnancy. Even when they had parted that night, there had been an adult casualness about it – as if there was no drama left lingering; as if it would all be just a memory of something naughty that had happened and would never happen again.

  The door opened now and Ryan returned. He pulled the gag from her mouth and said, ‘Dave knows I’m alive. And after he saw the pics of his beautiful wife, he’s about to do the transfer. And I’m sorry – really sorry – cos you’re the last person on the planet I’d want to hurt. Does that tell you how much I need the money? You’re the only one... the only one that, I suppose, was real.’

  Ryan sucked in his lip, preparing to move the conversation to safer, shallower waters. But Tara knew that she needed to keep him talking. He’d let his guard down. He was giving her a chance. Part of him must care for her. What she had to concentrate on was her face. What she had to put all her work into was her expression, and the business of what she had to do with her mouth – smile, breathe; and her eyes – widen them, fill them full of brightness. Show
none of the mayhem that was inside.

  Her eyes watered and she swallowed. ‘I was lonely when I came to the city. I thought you were nice. And you know? You were nice. You were nice to me. That’s what I saw in you. That was our bond.’ She needed Ryan to like her all over again. She needed him to remember that they had something – a spark, a connection, chemistry. Though it occurred to her that their type of chemistry tended to blow things up: a chain reaction.

  ‘You tell yourself that, T. But I remember it all. You’re the same person now. Sure, there was once a healthy farm-girl quality about you. But you got rid of that real quick. You wanted cocktail parties, spinning classes and all that shite. I’d never have fitted. That was the one thing Christine has that you never did and will never have – feet firmly planted on the ground. No interest in all the bullshit airs and graces. Not wanting to be something she isn’t. Even if Christine had got all her family’s money, she wouldn’t have wasted it on all the crap that you do. Tara and a builder? Nah. You’re too fake for that.’

  It took a mental effort to suppress the anger flaming beneath her watering eyes. She needed to not antagonise him. He had to feel something for her besides sex. Tears formed, but not enough to fall. ‘Ryan, don’t hurt me. Please…’

  ‘Ah, T, leave it out. You can’t wrap me around your finger now. After a certain age it doesn’t really work any more. I mean, at least in the past you sounded like you believed yourself. Wow, you were so good at getting what you wanted. You always had that look about you – like you didn’t know what you were doing. Remember back when I was playing lead with The Hunger and you danced in front of the stage, trying to sing along, keeping your eyes on mine, and you looked so innocent – yet so fuckable? It was like you hadn’t a clue that every man you met was thinking manky things about you within two minutes. But fuck that – you knew. Oh yeah. Well, that’s over now. That power, that skill, it only belongs to the young ones. You just can’t pull it off.’

  It took an actual physical effort to swallow back her anger and suppress the urgent itch to strike back with her own vicious words. She swallowed, caught her breath and said, ‘I know you don’t mean that. Let me go, Ryan. Let me go and I swear I’ll forget all about it. David will, too. I’ll make him.’

  ‘What do you see in Dave, anyway? I hate him. Always have.’

  And just like that, something snapped inside her and Tara sprang upwards before the handcuffs yanked her back. ‘You hate David? Yeah, I get that. Some men can’t help but hate a guy who’s better-looking than them, smarter than them and more successful than they’ll ever be.’

  Ryan reddened, but as he was about to speak, Tara continued, ‘And he’s tougher than you. I mean, when he wanted you to leave his house, he literally threw you out the window. Christ, how humiliating is that? But don’t answer. Your face is already doing a roaster. Oh yeah – and I forgot to add a crucial character trait of David’s. My husband is a good man.’

  ‘Don’t make me laugh, T. When did you like “good men”?’ Ryan let his question hang in the air, letting the complex truth it contained further murk the room. ‘So, when you thought that your morally upright, principled, hard-working husband had murdered a man, did you still think that he was your cool, clean hero? Cos – newsflash – most people would see him as a villain.’

  ‘Really, Ryan? Everything in the world is still that black and white for you? Wow – you’re so emotionally stunted, you’ve still to learn that your adolescent days of “either/or” are long over. Adulthood is more complicated, Ryan. Jesus, you really are a fucking idiot.’

  ‘Yeah, well once you saw a future with this fucking idiot.’

  ‘Time for a reality check, you dull, stupid animal. I don’t remember those days. I never think of them. But it’s nothing personal. It’s only because you’re a nonentity.’

  ‘So what are you saying? That me and you was nothing much? That you and me—’

  ‘My days hanging out in uni were more important to me. When I think back to that time, that’s what I remember. You were something in the background – a dude in a crap band. Obviously I knew I was going to quickly outgrow you, like anybody with a drop of ambition or talent would.’

  ‘Bullshit. I remember—’

  ‘Remember the letters you sent me? I threw them all out after we split up. And you know why? Because sending them back to you just seemed too theatrical, and I just didn’t care that much about you.’ Tara laughed, before promptly switching from mirthful to bored, hoping that Ryan wouldn’t guess that she was lying about throwing out his letters. ‘I mean, think about it – what girl doesn’t hang onto her lover’s letters? I’ve hung onto others. But not yours.’ Already Tara’s thoughts were refocusing on her dilemma. ‘David’s not going to give you the money. He’s just going to kick your head in. Again.’ For a moment, Tara was back in that downstairs toilet half a decade ago, replaying David’s fist smashing into that guy’s short snout and slow, chimpanzee eyes. How she wanted to see David do that to Ryan.

  Ryan’s face darkened and his shoulders spread, tightening his shirt against his chest, making his strength abundantly clear – demonstrating how much of him was pure muscle, how much of him was all outside and not inside. ‘Bring it on. Dave’s punch was cheap. A mosquito bite. I fell out that fuck’n window.’

  The door opened and Gordon joined them. He passed Ryan like he wasn’t there, just like he’d strolled around Tara’s house, treating it like something he had conjured up from nothing. Then he said, ‘I have to meet Dave at the bank. So you stay the fuck away from Tara. Get Christine to mind her while I get the money. I’ll give it to Fenton. Then we all move forward with our individual lives and our remarkable new realities. Comprende, Ryan?’

  Tara was crying. She hadn’t even felt the emotion building. It just happened – a brief shudder, tears and two quick sobs.

  Somewhat reluctantly, Ryan handed the key of the cuffs to Gordon and said, ‘Tara, you’re the one chained to a bed. Not me. So who’s the stupid animal now? Huh? Nah – forget that. Look, I’m sorry. I was just... Well, none of this was supposed to happen. I was going to just split the country. But what happened, happened and... It is what it is, right? I mean... What the fuck do you want me to say?’

  He slammed the door closed as he left.

  ‘What he’s trying to say,’ Gordon said, ‘is that we all have problems. I have lots of my own. Ryan has lots of his own. But this one – our big one – it’s now yours.’

  Tara squeezed her eyes, as if that would wring them dry. Get your shit together, she admonished herself, suddenly realising that by breaking down she had ceded an important advantage. ‘You’re going to take our money and then feed us to Fenton?’

  Gordon was suddenly irate. ‘You’ll survive. You have Dave. Vermin doesn’t die. He burrowed his way out of this hole, all the way up to Lawrence Court. You two will figure something out. Jesus, I’ll even arrange for you to be top of the housing list for one of these refurbished beauties. A goodwill gesture. David would love it up here. No more having to act like a real person. He could just relax back into the scummer he is beneath the Hugo Boss suit and the Beamer. It’ll be good for you, too. He’ll be a happy husband for a change. So you won’t have to commit adultery every six months just to feel alive.’

  Tara craved to defend David, but she wasn’t in the right frame of mind to match Gordon’s cruel intelligence. ‘And Fenton? You know what he’s capable of.’

  ‘All I know is what you know. Fenton’s a degenerate. And Christine made a grave error to get involved with him. Yes, you’re right to be scared. A man like Fenton will put a few bags under your eyes, a few more notches around your mouth. I’m sure he was once just an everyday adolescent cum-stain with a long future on the dole ahead of him – or a short one wearing a uniform in some desert. But then he decided, “Nah, I’ll use my aggression and wiles for myself and become a considerable danger to anyone who displeases me”. He does terrible things to people because he is ruthless. Or m
aybe he does terrible things to people because he’s evil. It’s not that uncommon, apparently.’

  ‘Why don’t you just kill us yourself?’

  Gordon sighed, and then spoke almost sympathetically: ‘Fenton won’t hurt you as long as you don’t try and hurt him by going to the police. You’ll have signed a contract with me – your money will be legally mine. And then the money will be his. I’ll convince him that you and Dave will be good kids. I’ll promise him that you’ll behave. I’m sure he’ll leave you alone.’

  Tara felt like they were playing chess – except Gordon was the only one who could see all the pieces. ‘Gordon, why are you involved in this? Why were you at Lawrence Court on Sunday night?’

  Gordon laughed, but not unpleasantly. ‘To stop Ryan from leaving.’

  ‘But what difference would it have made to you? He’s just a nobody builder, in way over his head.’

  Before she could push him further, footsteps sounded outside on the landing and Christine entered. She was holding the now mostly eaten breakfast roll on a napkin, fried egg and brown sauce oozing out the sides. Looking down on Tara, she made a face like she’d spotted a stubborn stain on the floor. ‘Gordon, you let that slut follow you. She doesn’t work for Mossad. She’s a pregnant housewife. And you allowed her to mess everything up twice in less than an hour. You should’ve parked in the back estate like me, and only come into the house through the laneway entrance. They’re watching us.’

  ‘They’re watching you.’

  Christine kneaded her temples with her spare hand. ‘If I hadn’t just got back with this gross sandwich, she’d have found Ryan in the kitchen.’ She threw the last piece of the sandwich into her mouth and allowed about five seconds of chewing with her eyes closed before continuing. ‘And then she would have run and told the police, or worse – she’d have told Fenton where we are.’

  Gordon blinked once, slowly, as if deleting everything he’d just heard.