Fractured

by Barker, Dawn

He looked straight at the camera. ‘Hi, mate.’

  ‘Tony! Come up.’

  Lifting the carton onto his shoulder he pushed the gate with his hip as he balanced a half-bottle of vodka under the other arm. He struggled up the stairs to the third floor, and walked through the open door. The news blared from the television, and Sean was perched on the edge of the couch eating a burger and chips. His work shirt was untucked, and his red hair was dishevelled.

  He looked up, licking the salt off his fingers. ‘Come in, mate. What’s up? Don’t usually see you on a school night.’

  ‘Want a drink?’ Tony wrenched open the top of the cardboard box and pulled out a six-pack. He cracked the lids off two bottles with the bottle opener on his key ring and handed one to Sean. After taking a long swig of his beer, he opened a cupboard and found two glasses. ‘Vodka?’ he offered.

  Sean laughed. ‘Bit much for me, mate, I’ll stick with the beer. Got work in the morning. As do you.’ He wrapped what was left of his food in the paper bag it had come in and stood up to put it in the bin. ‘You OK?’

  Tony rummaged in the fridge. ‘You got any juice?’

  ‘Nah. Should be a can of Coke in there somewhere, though.’

  ‘Doesn’t matter.’ He closed the fridge door, then twisted the top off the vodka bottle and half-filled one of the glasses. He took a big gulp, then coughed.

  ‘Tony! What’s going on?’ Sean said, frowning.

  He finished the glass and coughed again. He pulled out one of the kitchen stools and sat down with his beer. Shaking his head, he looked up at Sean. ‘I don’t know where to start.’ His voice cracked. He really didn’t know how to say it. ‘Anna’s in hospital.’

  Sean’s eyes widened. ‘Oh shit. What happened? Is she all right?’

  He shook his head again. ‘She’s in the psychiatric ward.’

  Sean raised his eyebrows. ‘I’m sorry to hear that, mate.’

  ‘And Jack …’ Tony couldn’t continue.

  ‘What? What about Jack?’

  He bit his lip; he had to say it out loud. ‘Jack’s gone.’

  ‘Gone? What do you mean, gone?’

  ‘Gone.’

  Sean’s face froze. ‘Gone as in missing, or …?’

  Tony rubbed at a spot on the kitchen bench with his thumb. ‘The second option.’

  Sean’s mouth opened, then closed again. His face leached of colour. ‘He died? Is that what you mean?’ He gasped. ‘Jesus. What happened?’

  Tony’s eyes filled with tears. ‘I don’t know. I just can’t understand it. Yesterday morning everything was fine. I went to work, then my mum went over to the house but they were gone and we couldn’t find them, then they found her, but Jack’s —’

  ‘Shit. Mate, I … But how? Was Jack sick? I didn’t know —’

  ‘No, he wasn’t sick.’ He stared at Sean. ‘He was perfect.’

  Sean was pale. He shook his head slowly. ‘I can’t believe it. I’m so sorry. But I don’t understand …’

  Tony cleared his throat; the whole length of his gullet burned from the alcohol. He couldn’t let himself think about Jack in any detail, to picture his face or his smile or his cry; he had to just stick to the facts, to what he knew for certain. ‘I don’t know what happened. They were found at the beach – looks like they fell down a cliff. Anna’s covered in bruises, and she’s in some kind of … trance, she won’t say anything. And Jack … There’ll be an autopsy. Mate, I looked everywhere for them! But I was too late.’ He stared at the wall across from him.

  ‘Jesus. I don’t know what to say. How’s Anna?’

  ‘Not good. I don’t know, they’ve done tests and scans and they say she’s not hurt but if you saw her … She’s just lying there, not saying anything. It’s like I’m not even there.’ Tony felt his cheeks start to redden with guilt at the thought of Anna lying in that hospital bed, wondering where he was, when he was here, drinking. He should be with her. But he couldn’t be. Not tonight. Besides, Wendy was there.

  He lowered his head. ‘The police are involved.’

  ‘Why? What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, that’s what I mean, it’s ridiculous! She just wouldn’t have done that —’

  ‘Wait.’ Sean held his right hand up, palm open. ‘What are you talking about? Done what?’

  It was such a relief to hear the shock in Sean’s voice; it proved to him that he wasn’t crazy for believing in his wife. ‘Get this: they all seem to think that maybe she did it deliberately, like she went there with a plan to kill him – I have no idea what they’re thinking. Everyone keeps asking me if she’d ever tried to hurt him, or herself, and if she’d been depressed, and was she on tablets. They’ve locked her in this mental ward, and she even has a fucking policeman guarding her!’

  ‘Oh mate, there’s no way …’

  ‘I know! Jesus, she wanted to have a baby so bad, and she was so happy. You saw her when Jack was born – at the hospital, remember? – she couldn’t stop smiling or staring at him.’

  ‘Tony, come and sit down over here.’ Sean put his arm around his friend, guiding him to the sofa. He picked up the remote and switched off the television. ‘Think I will have that vodka with you, after all.’ He walked back over to the kitchen area and reached up into the cupboard for a glass. He poured himself a nip of vodka, then opened two more beers as Tony kept talking, staring at his lap.

  ‘Maybe, I don’t know, someone stole Jack or something. People do that, you know, you hear about it all the time. She could have been trying to save him. Or she was carjacked, and she’s in shock …’

  ‘Slow down.’ Sean handed Tony another beer and sat down beside him. ‘Of course Anna wouldn’t do this. They’ll work that out. Jesus, I can’t think … Mate, I’m so sorry about Jack.’

  Tony covered his face with his hands and sobbed.

  Sean was quiet for a moment. ‘I just can’t believe it, I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.’

  Tony took his hands away from his face and wiped his nose with his arm. ‘She’s locked up. Like a criminal. God, what she must have gone through.’

  ‘Where’s your folks, and her mum?’ Sean asked. ‘Do they know you’re here?’

  ‘Her mum flew in this morning, she’s gone to the hospital. I just couldn’t … face it, you know?’

  ‘Of course not, mate.’

  Tony stood up again. ‘Look, do you mind if we don’t talk about this any more? I don’t want to think about it any more.’

  Sean nodded. ‘Sure. Stay here, I’ll run down to the DVD shop and get us a movie or something.’

  As Sean grabbed his wallet and keys, Tony slumped back on the couch. He closed his eyes; the room was spinning. He kept his eyes closed, not sure if he could prevent himself from vomiting. Some time later, he heard the door open and close again as Sean returned. He tried to sit up, then shook his head, lay back again and closed his eyes; it could all stay away for just a few minutes longer.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Two days after

  Wednesday, 16 September 2009

  Wendy rubbed her gritty eyes as the taxi approached the hospital grounds; she may as well have been grinding grains of sand into them. Her eyes watered and she wiped them with the back of her hand. Seeing Anna for the first time yesterday, just lying in the hospital bed, had been overwhelming. She understood why Tony had stayed away. By the time she had made it back to Emily’s flat last night she was worn out, but she’d still barely slept. Her mind had churned everything over and over. She had even found herself thinking back to the sight of Jim and Ursula squabbling over the ticket machine. She missed the intimacy of having a partner, even the bickering. She wished she had someone to talk to right now, someone to share the pain with.

  As she stepped out of the taxi, she smelled the damp, dusty odour of rain steaming from roads that had been dry for weeks. It was just a drizzle now, but she pulled her jacket closed at the neck and folded the top of the plastic bag in her hand to stop the magazines inside
getting wet. She walked down the path towards the mental health building – less intimidating in the daylight than it had been the night before – stepping over small puddles that shimmered in the sunlight that was breaking through the clouds. Inside the reception area, she signed the visitors book then sat and waited. Seeing her reflection in the glass door, she smoothed down the tendrils of her hair that had sprouted like shoots in the rain. She looked at her brown leather boots, reached down and rubbed at the scuffed toes.

  ‘Mrs Shafer?’

  Wendy jumped and looked up to see a young woman in a grey fitted dress with dark-framed glasses. ‘Yes, hi.’ She stood up, snatching her handbag and the plastic bag from the floor.

  ‘I’m Dr Morgan. Thanks for coming. Come through, please.’

  The doctor held the door open for her, and Wendy walked through, then paused in the corridor beyond. Dr Morgan closed the door behind them; Wendy heard the clunk as the lock fell into place and her stomach lurched. She followed the psychiatrist down a corridor to their left, past several closed doors and into a small room that was empty except for four chairs. She hesitated, then chose the seat nearest the door. Dr Morgan pulled one of the other chairs from the corner of the room closer to Wendy, sat down and crossed her legs. Wendy noticed her shiny black patent heels, and tucked her own feet under her chair.

  ‘Sorry about the decor,’ Dr Morgan said, smiling.

  ‘I’ve seen worse,’ Wendy said. ‘I tried to get hold of Tony, but his phone was off, and his mum couldn’t reach him either.’ She was painfully aware of his absence, terrified as to what it might mean.

  ‘That’s a shame. I’m sure he’ll be in touch soon. I can’t imagine how he’s feeling.’

  ‘No.’ Wendy shifted back in her seat slightly. ‘I saw him yesterday, before I came in last night, he was … Well, you know.’

  Dr Morgan nodded. ‘The nurses told me that you came in to see Anna.’

  ‘Yeah, but I don’t think she even noticed. She barely opened her eyes, and when she did, she didn’t seem to know what was going on at all.’ Wendy sniffed and reached into her handbag for a tissue. It had been the hardest moment in her life. Nothing could compare to seeing your child in such anguish, being unable to reach her or do anything to make it better. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Don’t apologise – it’s fine.’ Dr Morgan looked away while she blew her nose and dabbed at her eyes, then continued, ‘I’ve been to see her this morning, and there’s not much change. The nurses tell me she hasn’t said much, and she’s barely moved. I’m also worried that she hasn’t been eating or drinking since she got to hospital. We’ve been giving her fluids through the drip, but …’

  Wendy shook her head. ‘I’ve never seen her like this.’

  ‘It must be very hard for you.’

  ‘Tony might know more. Anna hasn’t lived at home since she left for university.’ She looked up and smiled. ‘Did you know she’d gone to university? Here, in Sydney? She’s always done so well.’ She realised how proud she was of Anna; she wondered if Anna knew that. Had she ever told her?

  Dr Morgan wrote something on her notepad, then tapped her pen on the paper. ‘I don’t know much about her at all. That’s why I’m glad you’ve come today. I do need to ask you about her background, her childhood, the family history, things like that.’

  Wendy nodded. ‘Anything.’ She was glad there was something she could do to help. Wendy had thought about Anna’s childhood a lot over the years. Wendy was young when she’d become pregnant, only eighteen. She’d thought she was in love with Anna’s father, that they’d raise their child together, but three years later he was gone. Those three years had been hard. Anna was a delight, but he drank, and when he drank, he became belligerent. She’d told herself that Anna was too young to understand the violence she witnessed, too young to be affected, but now, she wasn’t so sure. Or, maybe having a father in her life would have prevented Anna from ending up here. Anyway, Anna had stopped asking about him years ago, and Wendy was happy to leave it that way.

  She turned her attention back to the psychiatrist.

  ‘One other thing we do need to discuss urgently today is Anna’s treatment.’ Dr Morgan leaned forward and Wendy held her breath. ‘I’m very worried about her mental health – and her physical health if she continues to refuse to eat. I’m going to start her on some medications, but I’m worried they’ll take too long to work. That is, if she’ll even take them. What I want to discuss with you – and Tony – is giving her electroconvulsive therapy: ECT.’

  Wendy closed her eyes; suddenly she had a pounding headache in her temples. Lights flashed on her eyelids, and she could feel her teeth grinding together and her limbs flailing. As soon as the sensation started, it stopped again. She opened her eyes again and rubbed them. She wished that she was surprised, even horrified, at the suggestion, but she wasn’t. She looked up at Dr Morgan, who was waiting for her to respond, and she nodded.

  * * *

  ‘Shock treatment? Do they still do that?’

  Tony held the phone away from his ear as his mum’s voice pierced through his aching head. The light from the window in Sean’s flat was hot on the side of his face, so he lay back on the couch in the shade. He had woken at 10 a.m. and switched on his phone to face four messages. Surprisingly, only one was from his mother. Wendy called a few minutes later. After talking to her, he’d rung Ursula back.

  ‘Well, they must do, Mum, that’s what Wendy said. I don’t know the details – she had just finished with the doctor when she called.’

  ‘Haven’t you spoken to the doctor? You’d be her next of kin, not Wendy.’

  ‘Not yet. I will, in a bit.’ He could almost hear his mum forcing herself to bite her tongue. ‘I don’t want to talk about this on the phone. I’ll go and get Wendy, then we’ll come over. I just need to run home and get changed.’

  ‘Home? Where are you?’

  ‘I’m at Sean’s.’

  Ursula sighed. ‘Anthony, I know this is difficult, but —’

  ‘Mum! Leave it, please.’ He threw the blanket back and sat up, running his fingers through his hair.

  ‘Wendy might not feel like coming over,’ she went on. ‘She must be exhausted. She probably doesn’t want to have to talk to all of us.’

  ‘What do you mean? I’m sure she needs the company.’ He walked over to the kitchen and turned on the tap, holding his hand under the water until it ran cold. Cradling the phone between his shoulder and ear, he filled a glass. ‘What is it, Mum? I can tell you’re dying to say something.’ He took a big gulp of water.

  ‘Sorry, Anthony. I don’t know if I’m up to talking to anyone today.’

  ‘What else am I supposed to do? She’s here on her own, I can’t just leave her.’

  ‘Anthony, it’s not your job to look after her, you’ve got enough on your plate. Just let her deal with Anna and the doctors and shock treatment. You deal with … Jack.’

  He put the glass in the sink, which was piled with dirty plates and mugs. ‘I am dealing with Jack, and that also means dealing with Anna. She’s my wife! I don’t understand —’

  Ursula took a big breath. ‘I’ve been thinking about this all night, and talking to your dad. If she did do this, even if she is depressed —’

  ‘What?’ Tony’s head pounded. Was his mum really about to say this? ‘Do what?’

  ‘Anthony …’

  He closed his eyes. He could see that envelope falling out of his bag in slow motion, floating down like a feather, swaying from side to side. In his mind, he saw himself catching it before it hit the ground. How long had it been in there? If his mum hadn’t called him at work to say Anna was missing, would he have noticed it when he took his papers out of his bag for the presentation? He would still have been too late. If the traffic had been faster would it have made any difference? He opened his eyes again. He felt nauseous; a cold sweat trickled over him. The letter proved nothing. And he didn’t need his own mother making judgements when no one knew wha
t had happened that day yet.

  ‘You’re as bad as the police! Number one, we don’t know what happened. And number two, she’s not just a bit depressed, she’s really sick. Jesus, Mum.’

  ‘OK, OK, I’m sorry.’

  His voice broke. ‘Wendy feels the same as you, the same as all of us. He’s her grandson too. This isn’t her fault. I’m going to get her from Emily’s and we’ll come over.’

  ‘You’re right. I’m sorry. It’s just …’

  ‘I know. Look, I’ll see you soon.’

  Before his mum had a chance to say anything else, he hung up. He didn’t need accusations and assumptions flying around from his own family. That wasn’t going to help. If the police even suspected that Ursula had her doubts – or, worse still, that he had a tiny sliver of uncertainty – they would pounce on Anna. He put both hands on the kitchen bench and tried to breathe deeply, but he retched at the smell of alcohol evaporating from his pores. He straightened slowly, found his car keys, then headed outside.

  * * *

  Tony usually loved driving over the bridge, but today the view of the harbour made his stomach churn. He looked straight ahead, concentrating on spotting the turn-off towards Emily’s apartment. A few minutes later, he drove into the car park of a towering white building and looked up. The sight of the wavy edges of the balconies interlaced above him made his head reel, so he looked away again towards the glass doors of the apartment block. He got out of the car, pressed the buzzer, and stared at the small video camera. Wendy answered and said she’d be right down.

  He waited in the car with the door closed and the air conditioning on full. It wasn’t hot outside, but he still felt clammy.

  A couple of minutes later, Wendy opened the passenger door and leaned in. ‘Hi, you haven’t been waiting long, have you? I just thought I’d sit down for a second and —’

  He clenched the steering wheel. ‘No, only the two minutes since I buzzed your apartment.’ He heard the sarcasm in his voice and regretted it instantly. It wasn’t her fault; why had he let his mother rattle him so much? ‘Sorry, Wendy. How are you?’