Misconception

by Rebecca Freeborn

  ‘I’ve already told you.’ Her voice shook. ‘There won’t be another baby.’

  ‘Ali, please.’ Tom reached across the table and took her hand in his. ‘I don’t want to continue like this. Maybe… maybe it’ll give us something to look forward to again.’

  She wrenched her hand away. ‘You think we can just replace her? That having another baby will cancel her out, that suddenly everything will be fine again?’ She could hardly see through the tears in her eyes as she pushed her chair back and stood up.

  ‘Of course I don’t think that.’ His eyes were filled with despair. ‘I just don’t want this to be it.’

  His vulnerability cut through her anger, and she sat down in the chair beside him and placed her hand on his cheek. ‘I’m so sorry, Tom. But we’ve had three tries. I can’t go through that again. I just can’t.’

  His face crumpled and his choking sobs followed her down the hallway, rending her heart even as she walked up the street towards the bottle shop.

  Tom

  Jason had already bagged a squash court and was hitting a ball against the wall when Tom arrived. Tom dropped his gym bag in the corner and stretched his limbs to ready himself for action. It had been so long since they’d played squash, and the renewal of their years-long ritual was both a comfort and a reminder of what they’d both been through.

  Tom watched as Jason hit the ball hard into the wall and missed it on the rebound. As his friend turned to follow its trajectory, he spotted Tom and came over. They shook hands awkwardly.

  ‘Hey,’ Jason said. ‘I’m a bit early. I can’t stay too long.’

  ‘No worries,’ Tom said. ‘How’s Anthea?’

  Jason’s mouth collapsed into a pained smile. ‘She got another infection last week, but the doctors have given her this medication that’s supposed to boost her white blood cells so she can fight off viruses. So hopefully she’ll stay out of hospital this time, but apparently it’s going to cause her bone pain instead. Fuck. I don’t know how she does it. I feel like it’s killing me, and I’m not the one who has to go through it.’

  ‘How are the girls coping?’

  ‘They’re worried about their mum, of course, but they stay pretty cheerful. Kids, hey? We’re so lucky to have them.’

  The words stabbed through Tom’s heart and his breath caught in his throat.

  Jason took in his expression and let out a groan. ‘Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.’

  Tom forced the hurt aside, as he’d trained himself to do over the months. ‘Don’t worry about it.’

  ‘How’s Ali doing?’

  Tom just shook his head in response. Mostly, people had stopped asking him how he was. Almost as if he’d only been on the fringe of the loss. But they still asked after Ali.

  ‘Want to get started?’ He bounced the ball a couple of times and moved into position, bobbing up and down on the balls of his feet.

  There was a certain comfort in the familiarity of slamming the ball into the wall, busting his arse to get across the court to return it, the shriek of their shoes on the shiny floor, the thock of racquet on ball and their grunts of effort. He’d been running every day, but it was a solitary exercise, and Tom craved company, even if it was the relative anonymity of a sport that gave him little opportunity to talk.

  Their game was hard and fast, neither man giving way to the other. Tom lost the point after a long rally and they paused, hands on their knees, breathing hard.

  ‘So is Ali OK?’ Jason asked between breaths. ‘She seemed a bit… messed up when we saw her the other week. Anthea was worried about her.’

  Tom hadn’t thought he wanted to talk about it, but now the words began to pour out of him. ‘She’s the walking dead. She eats, sleeps, works, but that’s it. She won’t talk to me. She won’t discuss Elizabeth. It’s like she never even existed.’

  ‘Shit,’ Jason said.

  ‘She started seeing a psychologist and I thought that might help, but she won’t tell me anything about her sessions. I’ve dropped hours at work to support her, but she just brings work home with her and avoids me. She’s cut her friends out of her life. Sometimes… sometimes I think she doesn’t want to be here anymore.’

  ‘You think she wants to leave you?’

  Tom felt Jason looking at him and he met his gaze. ‘Not just me. Life in general.’ It was the first time Tom had spoken his deepest fears out loud, and he hated the way it made him feel.

  Jason’s brow furrowed. ‘Wait, she hasn’t done anything crazy, has she?’

  Tom sighed. ‘She drinks. She stopped for a while, but now it’s every night.’

  ‘Jesus,’ Jason said. ‘Have you talked to her about it?’

  ‘I tried. I even took all the wine out of the house, but now she just brings vodka home. I guess that probably wasn’t the best way to go about it, but I had to do something. I want to have another baby.’ He took in a shuddering breath. ‘But she won’t even consider it.’

  Tom felt Jason’s hand on his shoulder. ‘Maybe it’ll just take her a bit more time. She’s been through a lot.’

  So have I, thought Tom.

  They backed into the wall beside their bags and settled down side by side, their game forgotten.

  ‘Under normal circumstances, I’d get Anthea to talk to her,’ Jason said. ‘She’s good at that kind of thing. But I can’t. Not now.’

  ‘Of course not,’ Tom said.

  ‘Maybe down the track…?’

  Tom nodded. They sat in silence for a while. The sweat dried on Tom’s back and made him itch, but he didn’t move.

  ‘If you think the relationship is worth fixing, you should do everything you can,’ Jason said eventually. He looked at his watch. ‘Sorry man, I’d better go. I don’t want to leave Anthea alone for too long.’

  He got to his feet and zipped his squash racquet into its vinyl cover.

  When he was gone, Tom bounced the ball that was still in his hand, then hit it against the wall with as much force as he could put into it. His muscles, cooled down from the brief activity, protested, but he ignored them, flinging his body across the court in pursuit of the ball. But no matter how hard he pushed, he couldn’t block out Jason’s words, nor the suspicion that had begun to plague him—the suspicion that maybe the relationship couldn’t be fixed.

  Ali

  This time it wasn’t so hard to walk into Meena’s office.

  ‘How are you today, Alison?’ Meena asked with a smile.

  ‘I’m… fine.’ Ali lowered herself into the chair and used the excuse of putting her bag on the floor to avoid Meena’s eyes.

  ‘How’s work been since we last spoke?’

  ‘Better.’ After a moment, Ali began to talk about the stress she was under at work, the pressure Alex was putting on her, how the constant frenetic pace helped her to stay focused. She knew she was stalling, avoiding voicing the real issues, but Meena let her talk until she ran out of words.

  ‘What about Tom?’ Meena said after a brief silence. ‘How are things going with him?’

  Ali breathed in, held her breath for a few seconds, then let it out again. ‘He thinks I’m drinking too much.’

  ‘Do you think you’re drinking too much?’

  Ali focused on the weave of her skirt. ‘Do you think I’m becoming like my mother?’

  Meena gave her a gentle smile. ‘I can’t tell you that, Alison. But I do find it interesting that every time we talk, the topic seems to come back to your mother.’

  ‘I don’t need a shrink to tell me I’ve got mummy issues.’ Ali allowed herself to smile just a little. ‘But this has nothing to do with Hazel. I’ve always been a big drinker, ever since I was at uni. Yeah, I guess I occasionally use alcohol to dull the sharp edges a bit, but don’t we all? I can control it. Not like her.’

  ‘What do you mean by “control it”?’

  ‘I can stop any time. I went almost a week without drinking at all and I was totally fine. Tom overreacted. He took all the alcohol out of the
house, like I’m some kind of delinquent teenager, can you believe it?’

  ‘How did you react to that?’

  ‘How do you think I reacted?’ Ali was aware that she kept answering Meena’s questions with more questions, but it gave her a sense of control over the conversation. ‘I was angry. He made up some excuse about wanting to try for another baby, but I know what he was really thinking. He’s worried I’m going to turn into her.’

  ‘Are you worried about that?’

  Ali’s insides became hot, angry. ‘I’m nothing like her! She had a daughter who depended on her; I don’t. I have a career, a purpose in life; her only purpose was to serve a master, and when the master was gone she huddled in the corner like a dog who’d been kicked one too many times.’ Ali sat back in her chair, startled by the words that had gushed out of her.

  There was a look in Meena’s eyes that Ali couldn’t interpret. ‘What do you mean by that?’

  Heat rose in Ali’s cheeks. ‘She’s never had any control over her own life. I’m different from that.’

  ‘What was your father like?’

  Ali smiled a little. ‘He was lovely. Most people would’ve described him as a gentleman. He could be a bit old-fashioned, I guess, but he was the one who taught me to stand up for myself.’

  ‘Have you had any more flashbacks?’

  The sudden change of subject startled Ali, and she jumped as if stung. ‘A few.’

  ‘What usually triggers them?’

  ‘Anything… the smell of antiseptic, fluoro light, a phrase that reminds me of the time in the hospital.’

  ‘Have you ever had any other episodes like this? Before you lost your baby?’

  ‘No. I’ve always been—’ Ali stopped abruptly. Her mind cranked over as she tried to grab at the sudden flurry of thoughts. Meena waited patiently. ‘Actually, I did have something like this for a while when I was a kid… maybe five or six.’

  ‘What caused them?’

  Ali pressed her fingers into her temples, squeezed her eyes shut. ‘I can’t remember.’ She looked up at Meena with a quizzical smile. ‘That’s weird, isn’t it?’

  Meena studied her face for a second. ‘Do you remember how long you had them for?’

  Ali thought hard again. ‘No. My dad used to rub my back until it was over,’ just a bad dream ‘then they just’ bad dream bad dream ‘went away after a while.’

  baddreambaddreambaddream

  Ali shook her head roughly.

  ‘Are you OK?’ Meena said. ‘You look a bit shaken up.’

  ‘Fine.’ Ali smiled. ‘I’m fine.’ She glanced up at the clock on the wall. ‘Looks like our time’s up.’

  * * *

  Ali slipped through the dense Friday-night crowd to the bar. It’d been a long week and she’d been looking forward to a beer all afternoon. She could almost taste the metallic tang on her tongue. It had been four days since her last drink and Tom had a function tonight, so for once he wouldn’t be home waiting for her, all stiff and judgemental, as if he’d never let loose in his life. She felt free without the weight of his expectation hanging over her.

  The bartender served up the four beers she’d ordered, and Ali was about to pay when she reconsidered and asked for a couple of shots of vodka as well. She downed them quickly and waited for the familiar warmth to spread through her limbs.

  ‘Nice one, sister!’ said the young guy standing beside her at the bar. The admiration felt good, and she smiled back at him before carrying the beers over to the table where her colleagues were. They were typical political advisers—young, ambitious, doing their time in a minister’s office in the hope of getting preselection for a seat in a future election. They were single and childless, no domestic responsibilities to stop them from having a good time. And after the last few weeks, Ali was ready for a good time.

  ‘So,’ Ali said as she sat down at the table, ‘is it just me, or is Alex being a real butthead lately?’ She took a long draught of her beer.

  ‘I think it’s just you, Ali,’ Kamala said and they all laughed.

  ‘Why’s he giving you such a hard time?’ Eddie said.

  Ali sighed. ‘I guess we disagree on how to handle the Dixon thing. I think we should get rid of him, but Alex is too gutless to give Geoff the advice he needs.’

  Eddie raised his eyebrows in surprise. ‘Alex is the chief. I’m sure he knows what he’s doing.’

  Ali tossed back more of her beer. ‘But he doesn’t know the media like I do. Once Dixon is gone they’ll have nothing to come at us with. Geoff could easily appoint another CE before Christmas and we could go into the election with a fresh new direction.’

  ‘I reckon you should go into politics, Ali,’ Linh said.

  Ali raised her almost-empty glass with a smile. ‘And I reckon it’s your round.’

  ‘Far out, I’m barely halfway through mine! You’re a machine, woman.’

  She grinned. ‘I’m fifteen years older than you. What’s your excuse?’

  They went another couple of rounds and their conversation got louder. Ali was feeling good. When it was her round again she downed another couple of shots. Her body buzzed with enjoyment.

  ‘You guys agree with me though, don’t you?’ she shouted over the crowd. ‘Alex’s judgement is seriously off with this issue. Dixon’s gotta go.’

  ‘It’s not our call, though, is it?’ Kamala said.

  ‘Well, maybe it should be. You’d be an ace chief of staff, Kamala. Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.’

  ‘Ali!’ Kamala looked genuinely shocked. ‘You’re not seriously suggesting what I think you’re suggesting, are you?’

  ‘New chief of staff, new chief executive. New start.’

  Kamala, Eddie and Linh exchanged nervous glances.

  ‘I don’t think this is the best time to talk about daggers in the night,’ Linh said carefully.

  ‘I disagree.’ Ali took another gulp from her glass. ‘Now would be the perfect time to make a move on Alex.’

  ‘No, I mean right now. Tonight.’ Linh’s eyes had turned cold. ‘You’re drunk, Ali. I think you should be careful not to say something you might regret later.’

  Ali looked from face to face, but no one was smiling now. ‘Come on, guys. It’s not like I’m putting myself forward for the job. All I’m saying is that we all go to Geoff together on Monday morning… I bet we could convince him that this is the right thing to do.’

  They all stared at her for several seconds, looking uncomfortable. Ali felt reality slide sideways. She had the feeling she’d said something she shouldn’t have, but her memory was woolly, indistinct, and she couldn’t grasp the words that had just come out of her mouth. Three sets of eyes drilled into her and her sense of control began to slip away; desperation rose thick and choking in her throat.

  ‘We should go to that new bar on Peel Street, have some cocktails.’ She forced a smile to break the tension around the table.

  ‘Reckon I might call it a night,’ Eddie said awkwardly. ‘I’ve got basketball in the morning.’

  ‘Pussy!’ Ali flicked a dismissive hand at him. ‘Linh? Kamala? You guys are up for it, aren’t you? We’ve only had a few drinks.’

  ‘We’ve had six, actually,’ Linh said icily. ‘And don’t think we didn’t notice you sneaking a few extra at the bar.’

  Anxiety clamped down on Ali’s chest. ‘I needed to let off some steam. I’ve spent all week trying to justify Dixon’s numerous unnecessary trips to Europe with his mistress.’

  ‘Ali! Lower your voice!’ Kamala’s voice was sharp. ‘What if someone heard you? What if this got out?’

  ‘Maybe it fucking should!’ Ali cried. ‘That’s what we’re here for, remember? To work for the public? We should be trying to make this state the best it can be, not protecting arse wipes like Dixon.’

  ‘I think we should all go home.’ Linh got her phone out of her bag. ‘Want me to order you a cab, Ali?’

  ‘No, I’m OK.’ Ali stood up from her chair a
nd the blood rushed from her head. She clutched at the table for support.

  Kamala put a hand on her arm. ‘Take it easy on the weekend, OK? You’ve been working really hard lately. And don’t worry— we won’t tell Alex what you said.’

  ‘What?’ Kamala’s face blurred in Ali’s vision, became clear, then blurred again. Ali’s body had become jelly. What had she said? Was it because she’d called Eddie a pussy? ‘You know I was just joking around, right?’

  Kamala’s face seemed to twist, break apart, come back together. Her eyes were worried. ‘Are you OK to get home on your own?’

  ‘Of course! You guys go, I’m going to the bathroom. See you next week.’

  Kamala lingered a second longer, her brow furrowed, but Linh and Eddie were already threading their way through the crowd towards the exit. Ali waited until Kamala had disappeared before heading for the bar.

  Tom

  Tom looked at his watch when Ali walked in. Agitation boiled inside him. Her eyes were reddened and bleary, her step uneven. She straightened when she noticed him sitting at the dining table.

  ‘You’re home early,’ she slurred. ‘I thought you had a function tonight?’

  ‘It’s 1am, Ali.’

  ‘Oh.’ She looked confused. ‘That’s weird, I thought it was only about nine.’

  ‘You’d know the time if you checked your phone once in a while. I sent you six messages asking if you were OK. I thought you were lying in a gutter somewhere.’

  Ali came up behind him and put her arms around his neck. ‘Sorry. My phone went flat.’

  It was the first time she’d initiated contact in the last few weeks, and it was what Tom had been longing for. But the anger was still fresh in him, the fear still lurking deep inside. Her breath was sour with alcohol. His stomach turned and he stood up, breaking her embrace. ‘I’m going to bed.’

  ‘Oh,’ she said again. She went to the bench and put her bag down. ‘You don’t want a drink?’

  Tom clenched his jaw. ‘I’ve been waiting up for you for hours. I’m tired.’