Misconception

by Rebecca Freeborn

  Meena pushed the tissue box across the coffee table towards her. After a moment, Ali plucked a tissue out of the box and straightened, dabbing at her eyes. ‘I thought this was supposed to make me feel better?’

  ‘The healing process isn’t straightforward,’ Meena said. ‘But you’ve taken an important step today. I see you didn’t have any flashbacks, either?’

  ‘No.’ Ali was surprised. ‘But—’ She stopped. Meena waited.

  You’re nothing. No one could ever want you.

  ‘Is there something else you want to talk about?’ Meena said.

  Ali squeezed her eyes shut, kneading her forehead. ‘I asked Hazel about the hospital thing.’

  ‘What did she say?’

  ‘She broke her collarbone.’ Once again, the image of Hazel lying on the white pillow filled Ali’s mind. Pale face, sling over one shoulder, her voice hoarse. I should never have taken that job. Small dark spots at her throat… spots that looked like bruises.

  Ali dropped her hands and lifted her head. ‘I’ve got this memory of her saying something about a job… but I can’t remember her ever having a job, or being in hospital.’

  ‘Did she explain to you what happened?’

  Ali clenched her fists. ‘I wouldn’t let her. I’ve got this horrible feeling about the whole thing, like—’

  I’m sorry you had to see that, love. It was my fault. I should never have taken that job.

  Ali’s hand flew to her chest, as if to hold her heart in.

  Look at you! shouted the angry voice inside her head. You’re nothing. No one could ever want you.

  ‘It wasn’t me,’ she whispered.

  ‘What are you saying, Alison?’ Meena said.

  ‘It wasn’t me,’ she said again. ‘It was her.’

  ‘I’m sorry, I don’t follow.’

  ‘I have to go.’

  Ali leapt to her feet and rushed from the room.

  Before

  ‘I saw the way you were looking at him!’

  Ali jolted awake. It was Dad’s voice, no doubt, but she’d never heard it like that before.

  ‘I wasn’t doing anything!’ Her mum, high pitched, shrill with fear.

  ‘Bullshit!’ he thundered. ‘Is that why he hired you, is it? You promised him a bit of action on the side?’

  ‘No!’ Mum sounded shocked and afraid.

  ‘Not for lack of trying, though, I’m sure. I saw how you were smiling at him, licking your lips like you’d just sucked his dick. Slut.’ He spat the last word out with such hatred that Ali sat up in bed, heart thumping, dread pouring through her.

  ‘I didn’t lick my lips at him!’ Mum cried. ‘I was smiling because I enjoy my job. It was nothing more than that, Richard, I promise you. I would never do that.’

  ‘Too right you wouldn’t. You know why? Because you’re nothing. Look at you. No one could ever want you. You’re nothing.’

  Ali was frozen, immobile with fear at the contempt in her dad’s words. This was not happening. It couldn’t be real.

  ‘I haven’t done anything, Richard, I haven’t done anything,’ Mum sobbed. ‘Please, no! No!’

  Then the pistol crack of a hand hitting skin, and Ali swung her legs over the side of the bed and rushed out of her room, her bare feet slapping against the lino floor.

  ‘What have you got to offer anyone?’ SLAP ‘Barren.’ SLAP ‘Defective.’ SLAP ‘Useless.’

  Ali’s heart was almost exploding with fear as she rounded the archway into the living room. Mum was pinned against the wall; Dad’s bulky frame lurched over her, his hand around her throat. Her eyes bulged out of her head; she gurgled as she struggled for air. But she didn’t fight.

  Then Dad loosened his grip and shoved her away from him. She stumbled sideways and fell, slamming shoulder-first into the edge of the dining table. She let out a hoarse cry and dropped to the ground.

  ‘Stop!’ Ali cried, running across to crouch over her mother’s body, heaving with sobs.

  ‘Hazel, are you OK?’ It was her dad, leaning over Ali, his voice returned to its usual gentle timbre. ‘Do you need an ambulance?’

  ‘Why did you hurt her?’ Ali screamed at him.

  ‘It was just an accident, princess,’ he said. ‘I lost my balance. I didn’t mean for it to happen.’

  ‘You were yelling at her. You woke me up.’

  ‘It was just a bad dream, honey.’ One of his hands was on her back, massaging in firm circles, while the other caressed her mum’s face. ‘I think we’d better take Mum to the hospital, what do you reckon?’

  ‘I heard it,’ Ali whimpered. ‘I heard what you said.’

  ‘I think you just had a nightmare, princess. Mum and I were having a bit of an argument, that’s all. Grown-ups do that sometimes, don’t they, Mum?’

  Mum nodded feverishly, her eyes looking imploringly into Ali’s. Dad’s hand went on and on, rubbing her back, his voice saying over and over again, ‘It was just a bad dream.’

  Ali

  Ali could still feel the protests in her throat as the hand on her shoulder shook her awake. Her eyes flew open and her gaze darted around the room, trying to connect her five-year-old self with reality.

  When she’d fled Meena’s office, she’d almost gone straight to the pub, desperate to drown the sudden flood of memories, the pieces that threatened to connect into a terrifying truth if only she had the courage to let them. But guilt had won out, and she’d come home instead, only to find that Hazel wasn’t there. So she’d sat on the couch trying not to think, knees drawn up to her chest, holding on, holding on for her mum to come back and make everything all right. Eventually she must have fallen asleep.

  ‘Were you having a nightmare, love?’ Hazel said.

  Ali moistened her lips with her tongue. ‘Where were you?’

  ‘Work called and asked me to do a shift. It was only a couple of hours, so I figured you’d be all right on your own for a little while. Want a cuppa?’ She straightened and turned away towards the kitchen.

  The slippery blackness of the dream remained with her, tightening its tendrils around her throat. She took in a shuddering breath. ‘I remembered.’

  Hazel swung around and gave her a quizzical look. ‘Remembered what?’

  ‘What he did to you. Dad.’ The tendrils squeezed tighter, and Ali’s shoulders started to shake. ‘I’m so sorry.’

  Hazel came back to the couch and sat down beside her, taking her into her arms. Choking sobs tore through Ali as she finally surrendered to her mother’s ministrations after so many years. But the comfort of her embrace was tied up with guilt and confusion. No wonder Hazel had resented her… As far as her mother knew, Ali had gone on loving her dad, and his memory, in spite of what he’d done. And all these years Ali had been punishing her own mother for the way she’d responded to her father’s death.

  She sat back. ‘I don’t know how I forgot,’ she said shakily.

  Hazel cupped Ali’s cheek in one hand. ‘You were only five, love.’

  ‘That whole period is a blank. I didn’t even remember that you had that job.’

  ‘It didn’t last long,’ Hazel said. ‘I didn’t go back after the… accident.’

  ‘It wasn’t an accident!’ Ali’s voice was sharp. ‘It was abuse!’

  Hazel smiled sadly. ‘Yeah, I guess it was.’

  Ali closed her eyes for a second. ‘Was that the only time?’

  Hazel hesitated. ‘He pushed me around a bit when I upset him, but he was usually careful not to leave a mark, especially after what you saw. He’d play mind games with me mostly, set me up to say the wrong thing and then call me stupid. He was angry that night because he thought I was trying it on with my boss. He could get so jealous. I should’ve known better than to take that job.’

  Ali’s anger at herself, for all the years she’d assumed Hazel was too lazy to work, turned outwards. ‘Stop it! Stop making excuses for him! It wasn’t your fault!’

  Hazel flinched and her hand dropped away from Ali’s
face. ‘I know it wasn’t, love. But it’s a hard habit to break.’

  This woman, the woman Ali had thought was weak, pathetic, had been gaslighted for half her life by a cruel, angry man. And instead of supporting her, Ali had let her believe she was nothing. She’d been so arrogant, so cold, just like Tom had said. She was no better than her father, perhaps had inherited his cruelty; a kind of counterweight to her success. She buried her face in her hands. ‘Was he always like that?’

  ‘Not in the early days. Looking back, there were warning signs, of course. He was a bit possessive, but I thought it was romantic. Things took a turn after you were born.’ Her voice cracked. ‘Richard always wanted at least three kids, but there were complications with your birth and I had to have a hysterectomy.’

  ‘That’s why he called you barren,’ Ali whispered. ‘I didn’t know.’

  Hazel sighed and gazed up at the ceiling. ‘It started with a quip here and there about my appearance, or the state of the kitchen. He wouldn’t let me work… said he liked having me at home with you. And for a while it was nice, being looked after, so I went along with it, and next thing I knew I had to beg him for a bit of extra housekeeping money to buy you a birthday present. He told me I wasn’t smart enough to work. Whenever I tried to make plans to see my friends, something would always come up out of the blue, so I couldn’t go. Then, when you were two, we moved to Adelaide from Roxby and I had no family, no friends, no one I could talk to. I was a prisoner in my own home.’

  No wonder Ali had had little contact with her grandparents growing up. No wonder Hazel had never had any friends. How had she not seen it, all those signs? The snide comments about going to uni so she didn’t turn out like her mother… the rationing of money in pathetically small amounts so Hazel never had any independence. How had she not known what was going on in her own house?

  She threaded her fingers through Hazel’s. ‘I get why you couldn’t leave him when he was alive, but why were you so devastated when he died? You should’ve been happy… you were finally free.’

  Hazel shook her head. ‘I was never free, Ali. He spent such a long time convincing me I was nothing without him, and he was right. He was gone, but I was still in the cage.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ Ali felt as if those words could never be enough. ‘I had no idea.’

  ‘And I wanted to keep it that way. Right or wrong, you loved that man and I couldn’t take that away from you. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t glad to know you’d forgotten about that night.’ Her voice grew thin, reedy. ‘I always assumed you thought I deserved it.’

  Another sob escaped Ali. It was too much. She needed Tom, but he was gone, and she was the one who’d driven him away. She wanted to drink, she wanted to punish herself for all the mistakes she’d made, but she knew Hazel wouldn’t let her be pulled under again. It was time to face up to who she was; try to make amends for the pain she’d caused. She forced herself to look at her mother. ‘No one deserves to be treated like that. I’m sorry I let you believe that.’

  Hazel gave her a tremulous smile. ‘You’ve got nothing to feel guilty about, Ali. It’s taken me this long to get my life back. If I’ve got you, I can be happy again.’

  Ali held her gaze. ‘You’ve got me.’

  * * *

  A tentative warmth began to grow between them. They’d been estranged for more years than they’d been close, and both were still struggling to redefine their relationship. Whenever Ali looked at her mother, she still saw the woman who had abandoned her when she’d needed her, and she suspected that Hazel felt much the same way about her. Nevertheless, Ali depended on her mother more than she’d expected to.

  She had fallen asleep on the couch one afternoon, after two serves of Hazel’s spinach and fetta pie, when her mother shook her awake gently.

  ‘It’s Tom.’ Hazel held out the cordless phone to her.

  Ali sat up, nerves clutching in her belly. She hadn’t spoken to Tom since that day he’d asked her to go to Sydney with him. And she’d taken off, as if he’d suggested she eat live spiders for breakfast. The memory filled her with shame and she wanted to run now, but she reached for the phone.

  ‘Hi,’ she said.

  ‘Hi.’

  Hazel melted away discreetly. Ali clutched the phone to her ear. Was it too late to make up for what she’d put him through?

  I’ve been sober for four weeks! she wanted to cry.

  ‘When do you start your new job?’ she asked instead.

  ‘I fly out tomorrow morning. That’s why I called, actually.’

  Her heart leapt, but she beat it back down again. Even if he wanted to give her another chance—and why on earth would he, after the way she’d treated him?—she didn’t deserve it.

  ‘I was wondering if I could drop around later,’ he went on. ‘Pick up the rest of my stuff?’

  That was all he wanted. Just his things.

  ‘Of course. Let me know when and I’ll make sure I’m out.’

  ‘No! No, I don’t want you to leave your own house. I… I’d like to see you, if you’re up to it.’

  She twisted the corner of the cushion that lay in her lap. Part of her wanted to say no. But she wanted to see him too. She wanted to talk to him, even if only for a short hour. She wanted him to look at her the way he used to, rather than with pity or disgust.

  ‘OK,’ she said.

  ‘OK.’ His voice contained a mixture of relief and apprehension. ‘I can be around in an hour? Say, four o’clock?’

  ‘Sure.’ She forced herself to sound nonchalant. ‘See you then.’

  Her heart was thudding as she hung up. What was she going to wear? How was she going to prepare for seeing him without the false armour of alcohol? How was she going to face him after everything she’d done? She went to look for her mother.

  Hazel was in the spare room, folding clothes.

  ‘Tom’s coming over,’ Ali said.

  Hazel smiled. ‘Don’t worry, love, I’ll be out of your hair soon so you two can get it on in private.’

  ‘Hazel! Jesus!’

  Her mother flashed her a grin as she picked up the stack of folded clothes, and it was only then that Ali noticed the suitcase she’d brought with her when she’d turned up on the doorstep a month ago, lying open on the bed.

  Ali frowned. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘I’m going home. You don’t need me anymore.’

  ‘I do!’ Ali was shocked by her words as they flew from her mouth. She didn’t need anyone. She never had.

  Hazel tilted her head to the side, her expression halfway between pleasure and sorrow. ‘You’ll be OK, love,’ she said. ‘You’ve got a tough road ahead, but you don’t need me hanging around. Anyway, I don’t want to get in the way when the Italian stallion gets here.’ She swivelled her hips in a ridiculous impression of Elvis Presley.

  ‘Oh my god, how old are you?’ Ali couldn’t help but laugh. ‘You don’t have to go at all. Tom’s leaving tomorrow, there’s not going to be a fairytale ending here.’

  Hazel put a soft hand on her arm, her expression serious again. ‘Don’t close yourself off from people, love. Even if Tom does leave, you’ve got friends who care about you. It’s not weakness to let people help you.’

  But all my friends have families, Ali thought. How am I supposed to face that?

  She stuck her chin out. ‘So stay here and help me, then.’

  Hazel smiled at her. ‘It’s time, sweet. I’ve overstayed my welcome.’

  ‘Oh, for Christ’s sake, Mum, don’t be such a bloody drama queen!’

  The smile froze on Hazel’s face. They stared at one another in shock. Ali knew they were both remembering the day of the funeral, when Ali had unleashed the full torrent of her grief and driven the wedge between them so wide it’d taken twenty-four years to bridge.

  I wish it’d been you!

  Ali moved towards her mother and found herself awkwardly putting her arms around her. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to remind you of th
at.’

  Hazel shook her head, drawing away from Ali’s shoulder to give her a watery smile. ‘It’s not that, you silly galah. You called me Mum.’

  Ali stared back at her. She hadn’t even noticed. Several beats passed before she could speak. ‘Well, you are my mum, aren’t you?’

  Ali helped Hazel strip the sheets from the bed and collect the last of her possessions, and when she waved to her mother from the front door, she felt the stirring of an emotion she hadn’t experienced in a long time.

  Hope.

  Before

  ‘Are you ready?’ Tom put the key in the lock and looked back at Ali’s excited face.

  ‘Open it!’ She gave him a little push and he turned the key and opened the door. They stood together on the doorstep of their new home, grinning at each other like idiots.

  Tom pretended to sweep her up into his arms. ‘Should I carry you over the threshold?’

  She raised her eyebrows at him. ‘Not if you want us to actually live together.’

  He laughed and took her hand. They stepped inside and walked up the hallway to the open-plan living area.

  ‘Ours,’ Tom said.

  ‘Ours,’ Ali said.

  ‘Though this kitchen isn’t much to get excited about.’

  ‘Yet.’ Ali went into the kitchen. ‘But wait until we’ve finished with it. The first thing we’ll need to do is replace this old thing.’ She nudged the loose oven door with one foot.

  Tom came up behind her and put his arms around her. ‘I beg to differ,’ he murmured in her ear. ‘There’s a rather pressing need to do something else first.’

  She turned to him and hooked her arms around his neck. ‘Mmmm, I think you might be right.’

  Tom bent his head to kiss her. He wanted to savour this moment, their first time in the first house they’d bought together, but Ali’s hands were up inside his shirt, her breath hot against his face. He grabbed her by the waist and lifted her up onto the green laminate benchtop, her fingers fumbling with the buttons of his shirt.

  ‘I love you,’ he said as her mouth moved to his throat. ‘I love you.’