by Imbi Neeme
She told Donna-Louise about the promise Trent had made and the fight they’d had and all the anger and confusion and loneliness she had felt. She left out the envy.
‘If you ask me,’ Donna-Louise said when Samantha had finally finished talking, ‘it’s a matter of regaining control of the situation.’
‘But I did try to control the situation,’ Samantha said, confused. ‘I made him promise that the bucks’ night wouldn’t get out of hand, and he went and got drunk.’
‘Ah, there’s the problem right there,’ Donna-Louise remarked. ‘You made him promise. That’s not how marriage works. You see, it’s impossible to control another person, not a hundred percent. And even if you could, you would probably be like me: you would get bored quickly.’ Donna-Louise took a careful sip of her tea. ‘If he really wants to drink, let him drink. But just make sure he only does it according to a set of rules you’ve agreed on together.’
‘Rules?’ Samantha didn’t understand. ‘But aren’t they the same as promises?’
‘Promises are for children. Rules are for life,’ Donna-Louise responded. ‘However do you think I manage to be in a relationship with your father? We have rules.’
Samantha instantly thought of how Nicole always called the Mount Lawley place ‘The House of No’ precisely because it was held together by rules: no shoes inside the house, no feet on couches, no running inside, no clutter on the kitchen bench, no showers between 9pm and 7am, no outside voices inside. Neither of them had ever considered that the rules would extend to Craig and Donna-Louise’s relationship as well.
‘Think of the circumstances in which you could let Trent drink in the future – if he chooses to, that is,’ Donna-Louise continued.
‘I don’t ever want to see it,’ Samantha blurted out.
‘There’s your first rule: away from the house. He never drinks in the house or in front of you.’
‘And I don’t want to smell it.’
‘There’s another rule: he sleeps on the couch if he’s been drinking.’
‘But I don’t want him to sleep on the couch every night.’
‘Another rule: only once a week, or once a month. You can negotiate that with him, let him think he has some say in it. Maybe even allow him to suggest a few rules for you. Ultimately, Trent needs to be allowed to be his own person from time to time, not just live life within your tight grasp. It will make him a better husband in the long run.’
Samantha nodded and sipped her tea. She’d been holding onto Trent so firmly for so long, the thought of letting him go, even just a little, was terrifying. But then she remembered him grinning at the ceiling and how happy he’d seemed. Maybe if she cut him back too much, he might never bloom again.
Trent was waiting for her on the couch when she got home. She could see that he had vacuumed and done the laundry while she was gone.
‘You went without your shoes,’ he said, jumping up.
‘Donna-Louise gave me some socks,’ she replied, busying herself with putting the car keys back on their hook and taking the socks off.
‘I saw you re-arranged the CDs,’ he said, pointing at the shelves awkwardly. ‘You only do that when you’re upset.’
‘Yes. I did it last night while you were asleep on the couch.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ Trent said, rushing to hug her. ‘I’m so very very sorry. I’ll never do it again, I promise.’
‘It’s okay,’ she said, hugging him back. ‘We can work through this. We just need to set some rules.’
‘Some rules?’ Trent’s brow knitted.
‘Yes,’ said Samantha, suddenly feeling stronger than she ever had before. ‘Some rules.’
Piece #12: 1997
‘Are you ever going to try to get a proper job?’ Darren asked Nicole as she emerged from the bathroom, her hair wet.
I will, when you do, Nicole thought. Darren and Trent were on the same project team at the moment and Trent had confided that Darren spent most of his workday playing Minesweeper. Nicole, however, worked almost every second she was on the clock in her job as a kitchen hand and yet he was the one with the ‘proper job’.
‘You didn’t even touch the paper I bought you yesterday,’ Darren continued, when it became clear Nicole wasn’t going to answer his question.
This was true. The copy of the West Australian remained unopened on the dining table. Nicole had meant to have a look, even just to put on a show for Darren, but she had ended up reading her book instead.
‘I’ll look at it after I’ve dried my hair,’ she lied. ‘Have you done the dishes?’
Darren groaned. ‘Jesus, Nic, I’m exhausted. The last thing I want to do after a long week at work is more work.’
Nicole wanted to tell him that just because he got paid more didn’t mean he worked harder but she didn’t push it. The rent was due on Thursday and she needed him to sleep in the flat until then. If they had a fight, he might go stay at his parents’ and deduct those nights’ rent from his share, like he had in the past, and she was struggling to pay her half this month as it was.
Darren turned up the volume on the television, thus ending all talk about dishes and proper jobs, which suited them both. Nicole decided to make coffee.
‘We’re out of milk,’ Darren shouted over an ad for Chicken Treat.
‘I’ll go get some,’ she shouted back, but then realised she should probably stay near the phone. Samantha was past her due date and could have the baby at any moment. ‘Actually, Sam might ring. Can you go?’
Darren made a single, emphatic gesture towards the television as if that explained exactly why he couldn’t move. She had no idea what he was even watching.
‘Okay, then,’ she sighed. ‘Can I at least take your mobile so you can ring me if Sam calls the landline?’
Darren finally turned the volume down and gave his own sigh. ‘No, I might get a call from work.’
‘But the baby is due any moment.’
‘I’m on call, Nic. That comes with certain responsibilities.’
And the intranet going down on a Sunday morning when nobody is at work anyway is more important than my sister having a baby? Nicole wondered as she pulled her shoes on.
‘Can you get me some Twisties?’ Darren asked. He turned the volume back up without waiting for her answer.
As Nicole trudged down to the milk bar, she looked at the other houses and wondered about the lives that were being lived inside them and if there were other people shouting at each other about the dishes over the drone of the television.
She passed a woman pushing a stroller with three small children dangling off it like Christmas ornaments.
‘Good morning,’ Nicole said.
‘Is it?’ the woman asked, but she was smiling.
Nicole thought of her sister and her hard-boiled-egg stomach, waiting for her life to change. Samantha’s path had always been clear: career, husband, baby. Nicole’s path felt as clear as Darren’s reasons for not going to the shops to get milk.
Still, she reflected, things weren’t too bad right now. While her current job wasn’t exactly a career, the hours were reasonable and the people were nice. And while Darren wasn’t her husband, she could at least call him her boyfriend – for the moment, anyway. It had been almost four months since he had last broken up with her – the longest stretch they’d had since they first got together – and he’d promised to take her for the smorgasbord at Miss Maude’s when they got to six months. She’d already chosen what she was going to wear.
But as she went into the milk bar, she caught sight of her reflection in the glass of the door and was surprised to see how large she looked. In her mind’s eye, she still had the lean frame of a hungry teen, but, in real life, there was padding on that frame in all the wrong places.
No wonder Darren kept telling her she was fat.
When she returned to the flat, Darren was in exactly the same position on the couch.
‘Catch!’ she said, throwing him the big bag of Twisties she’d bou
ght him. He caught them, without thanks, and started eating them while she put the kettle on to boil.
‘Do you want coffee?’ she shouted out to him.
‘Yeah. Can you bring a bowl for the Twisties?’
Nicole silently added the missing thank you and please.
As she handed him the bowl and his coffee, he turned the television on mute and, feeling his biceps, said, ‘You know, I could get a younger girlfriend if I wanted. The girls at work think I look twenty-five.’
Nicole wasn’t sure there was much to celebrate there. Darren’s actual age was twenty-eight.
‘I wonder how Sam’s going,’ she said, reaching for the phone. ‘I might ring her.’
‘Oh, yeah. Trent rang while you were out.’
‘Why didn’t you say?’ Nicole jumped up onto her feet.
‘You didn’t ask,’ Darren said, like he actually believed that was a valid reason. ‘Anyway, they had the baby and blah blah blah. You can go visit it in the hospital later today. Visiting hours start at two. Or three. Actually, I can’t remember what he said about that.’
Nicole dug her fingernails into the palm of her hand and spoke as calmly as she could. She needed to swallow her anger and avoid the fight. ‘You said “it”. Did he say it was a boy or a girl?’
‘Don’t think so.’
Jesus. ‘Did he say anything else?’
‘No. Except can you tell Tina. There was also something else about Tina visiting. Or not visiting.’
Double Jesus.
Darren had taken the television off mute so Nicole took the phone into the kitchenette to ring Tina.
‘Mum,’ she said, when Tina answered. ‘Sam had the baby!’
‘Oh, how wonderful!’ Tina exclaimed. ‘Is it a boy or a girl?’
‘I don’t know. Darren spoke to Trent . . .’ She let the sentence dangle so that Tina could fill in the blanks. Even though he was watching the television, there was always a chance Darren could still be listening in.
Tina knew exactly what she was trying to say. ‘That Darren has such attention to detail,’ she said, with a sigh. She always called him ‘That Darren’, like he was more object than human.
‘Yep,’ Nicole nodded, glancing over at Darren, whose eyes were still on the television. ‘So I was thinking of going into the hospital this afternoon. At two. Or maybe three. I have to ring to find out visiting hours. Do you, um, want to come with me?’
Thanks to Darren’s meticulous message-taking, she still wasn’t sure if Samantha wanted Tina there or not, but she was willing to take the risk. This was Tina’s first grandchild, after all.
There was a pause on the other end of the phone. ‘No, sweetheart. I’ll wait until she’s back in the comfort of her own home. That whole hospital scene can be pretty overwhelming.’
Nicole wasn’t sure if Tina meant for herself or for Samantha.
‘Send my love, though,’ Tina said. ‘Tell her my love for her and her son-slash-daughter is as solid as a Pritikin you-know-what.’
Nicole was still laughing when she hung up.
‘What was your mother saying about me?’ Darren demanded.
My sister just had a baby. The world doesn’t revolve around you. ‘Nothing.’
‘Why are you laughing?’
‘Just a private joke about scones,’ she told him. ‘I’m going to ring the hospital to check the visiting hours. Maybe we can pick up some flowers on the way?’
‘Can’t go, sorry. Got karate.’
Nicole swallowed. ‘Well, can I use the car?’
‘Sure. You can drop me at karate and then I’ll stay at my parents’ house tonight instead of catching the bus. The buses are shit on a Sunday.’
Nicole had a moment of panic. ‘No, it’s okay. You drop me off at the hospital and keep the car. I can catch the bus home.’
She ran into Trent in the hallway of the maternity ward. He was carrying an empty champagne bottle and looking dazed, tired and happy all at the same time.
‘How are they both doing?’ she asked, after giving him a hug.
‘Sammy’s tired and a bit tender. The C-section wasn’t quite what either of us had been expecting, but she’s doing great. And so is little Rosemary.’
‘Ah, so it’s a girl,’ Nicole said with a smile. ‘Darren was a little scant on the details.’
‘I’m not surprised. He didn’t even turn down the volume on the TV when I rang. He didn’t come with you?’
‘He’s on call this weekend,’ she said, but then instantly knew she was telling the lie to the wrong person.
‘Yeah, it must be hard to relax when there’s all those mines to sweep,’ Trent said with a wink.
Nicole nodded at the champagne bottle, keen to change the subject. ‘Parenthood already driven you to drink?’ she joked.
‘Dad brought it in – you know, to wet the baby’s head and stuff,’ Trent replied, slipping the bottle into a nearby bin.
‘I bet Sammy loved that,’ Nicole said, as they began to walk down the corridor.
‘Actually she had some. Two glasses, in fact.’ Trent must have noticed the surprise on Nicole’s face because he added, ‘Maybe they accidentally swapped wives in the nursery. I should probably make sure I take the right one home.’
Nicole laughed. She always enjoyed Trent’s company more when he wasn’t standing in Samantha’s shadow.
By now, they were outside Samantha’s room. Trent took a dramatic deep breath. ‘Are you ready to meet the fruit of my loins?’ he asked.
Nicole paused. Samantha had always been the baby of the family and now that baby had had her own baby. Suddenly, Nicole felt very old. She took a deep breath. ‘I’m as ready as I’ll ever be,’ she replied and they walked in together.
The first thing that Nicole noticed was not the baby but Samantha. Her long dark hair was messy and loose around her face and her eyes looked puffy, as if she’d been crying for hours, and yet she looked the most beautiful she had ever looked – serene and saintly with a sleeping baby in her arms.
‘Look what I made,’ she exclaimed when she saw Nicole. She held the baby out to her. ‘Do you want a cuddle?’
Nicole nodded. She took Rosemary in her arms and looked down at her little face, her tiny nose, her delicate eyelashes. Her small perfection.
‘Where’s Darren?’ Samantha asked.
‘Karate,’ Nicole replied, without thinking. She was too busy focusing on Rosemary’s tiny fingers curling around her own index finger to be diplomatic about Darren’s whereabouts.
‘Karate? If Darren ever ends up in hospital, remind me to go get my nails done instead of visiting him.’ Samantha pouted. ‘I almost died, you know.’
But Nicole wasn’t really listening. For the first time in forever, she felt a powerful surge, coming up from deep within her. She knew she truly wanted something. She knew she wanted a baby of her own, with or without Darren.
And the knowledge that something could mean so much to her was absolutely terrifying.
Samantha
When I arrived at the Charlie Gairdner after work, I found Nicole already by Celine’s side, holding her hand. It confused me. Having spent a decade rolling our eyes in unison at pretty much everything Celine did and said, I was fairly certain that Nicole had almost as little love for Celine as I did, and yet, there she was.
‘Hi, Celine,’ I said. ‘I brought you some flowers.’
‘Thank you,’ Celine said, her voice a thin wisp. ‘You can put them over there, next to Nicole’s ones.’
I couldn’t help but notice how small my flowers looked next to the huge bouquet Nicole had bought, no doubt using Jethro’s spare change. I knew I had spent very little time, effort or money on my purchase but somehow, it still irked me to be outdone by Nicole again. I thought briefly of the big bunch of red roses next to Tina’s hospital bed, but quickly pushed away the memory.
‘How are you feeling?’ I asked Celine as I sat on the other side of the bed from Nicole.
‘I’ve felt bette
r,’ Celine said. Now that I was looking at her properly, I could see that she didn’t have a hint of make-up on. It was the first time I’d ever seen her face naked that way and she looked so much younger than her forty-four years.
‘I was so sorry to hear about your loss. How many weeks were you?’
‘Fifteen. We thought . . . we thought we were in the clear.’ Celine started crying, big fat tears rolling down her bare cheeks. ‘My cervix started dilating too early. They say they’ll have to sew me up when I get pregnant again. If I ever get pregnant again.’
Nicole was nodding and squeezing Celine’s hand in support and I had no idea how to process that.
‘Where’s Dad?’ I asked. I wondered if he was finding Nicole and Celine’s newfound closeness as unsettling as I was.
‘He went to the cafeteria to get some coffee,’ Celine told me. ‘But he’s been gone a long time. Can you go find him?’
I stood up, glad to have been given something to do. ‘Sure.’
I found Dad alone in the ground floor cafe, stirring his coffee with a plastic spoon.
‘There you are,’ I said gently. ‘How are you holding up?’
‘Okay,’ he said, but he looked so sad, sadder than I’d ever seen him. I sat down opposite him and put my hand on his arm.
‘Why didn’t you tell us Celine was pregnant?’ I asked.
He sighed. ‘It took us so long to get this far, we didn’t want to jinx it.’
‘I had no idea you were interested in being a father again.’
Craig looked surprised. ‘I’ve always wanted to have more kids,’ he said. ‘Of course, DL wasn’t interested. Too much mess. But Celine was up for it right from the start. When I first met her, one of the first things she told me was that she wanted to be a mother.’
I thought of Celine’s perfectly manicured nails and fondness for all-white outfits and wondered if babies would be too much mess for her, too. But then I remembered how much attention and love she had always showered on Rosemary. There had been times when I’d been certain Rosemary loved her Aunty Celine more than she loved me.