Tom
Tom was nervous as he knocked at the front door of his house. Except that it wasn’t really his house anymore. For the first time he considered the mess of dividing their assets. He hadn’t thought of any of those practicalities, yet here he was, collecting the last of his stuff before he moved interstate, away from the life he had built here.
The door swung open and there she was. His wife. Seeing her unleashed a tumult of emotions in him. She wore no makeup. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail. She was still thin: her hip bones jutted out in her too-loose jeans; her plain white T-shirt hung loosely from her angular shoulders. But her face had colour. She no longer looked haggard and spent. She almost looked like Ali again.
But her eyes made Tom recoil, reminded him of the demons she’d faced. They looked so haunted. So tortured.
‘Hi,’ he said.
She peered past him. ‘Where’s your car?’
He followed her gaze, as if his car might appear from nowhere. ‘I sold it. I got a cab here.’
‘Oh.’
‘Can I…?’ He gestured at the door.
She looked flustered. ‘Of course. Sorry. Come in.’
He tried not to stare around him as they reached the living room. It looked just as it used to. Neat. Tidy. Dishes done. No empty bottles lying around.
‘How are you doing?’ He turned to look at her.
Her back was stiff. ‘I’m not drinking, if that’s what you’re asking.’
‘It’s not.’
‘Sorry.’ Her shoulders sagged a little. ‘I’m OK. Not on top of the world, but it’s getting easier.’
He smiled. ‘I’m glad.’
‘Coffee? Tea?’ Ali’s voice was thin.
The hiss of the coffee machine covered their awkwardness. It was so strange to be here with her again. So familiar that he almost felt like plonking on the couch and turning on the television, and yet she was entertaining him as a guest.
They sat down at the dining table. At first they clasped their mugs in their hands and avoided each other’s eyes, but then Ali began to talk. Tom listened in appalled dismay as she explained how the grief of losing Elizabeth had been punctuated with flashbacks that had eventually culminated in uncovering buried memories from her childhood. He gripped his cup tighter as she detailed the devastating revelation about her beloved father’s abuse. A smile crept over his face when she told him how Hazel had nursed her through the harsh alcohol withdrawals, withstood the verbal abuse Ali had hurled at her, kept her occupied to stop her thinking about drinking.
‘You were right,’ Ali said. ‘She did surprise me after all. I don’t know how I’m going to cope without her. She… she saved my life.’
‘Ali, I’m sorry,’ Tom burst out. ‘Sorry I left. Maybe if I’d stuck by you, we could’ve made it work.’
She shook her head emphatically. ‘You’re the last person who should be apologising. It’s my fault. I wouldn’t let you in. So you moved on, and I went backwards. And now it’s too late.’
It’s not too late! Tom wanted to say. But he didn’t know whether that was true.
They drank their coffee in silence.
‘Do you want to take any of the furniture?’ Ali asked suddenly.
Tom cleared his throat. ‘The firm has found me a fully furnished apartment. I won’t need anything extra.’
‘What about quilt covers?’ she said. ‘Cutlery? Towels?’
‘I don’t want to take anything from you,’ Tom said.
‘But half of it’s yours.’ She looked upset. ‘You should take what’s yours.’
Tom stood up. This was even harder than he’d expected. He took their empty cups over to the sink and rinsed them. Ali was watching him.
‘I should go and get my stuff,’ he said.
She nodded. She too looked like she was trying not to cry.
Tom picked up his bag and escaped to the bedroom. Their bedroom. He opened the chest of drawers and pulled out the last of his T-shirts, shorts, jeans and jumpers. This was it. The rest of his life, contained in this one bag.
Suddenly drained, Tom lay down on the bed. Her scent clung to the sheets, and he inhaled deeply. That smell had become so entwined with him that he still associated it with home. How was he going to survive without it? He remembered her lying in this bed when she was pregnant, so gloriously soft and rounded, and a rush of desire shivered through him. It had been so long since he’d touched her. Even now, she was still the only one he wanted.
He had revelled in Ali’s blooming body; the robust curve of the baby pushing out her stomach, the extra flesh that clothed her previously svelte frame, her glossy hair and rosy skin. He’d always thought the whole pregnancy glow thing was a crock, but Ali had embodied it.
He got up from the bed and splashed his face with cold water in the ensuite. They’d both changed. This was an end, not a beginning.
Ali wasn’t in the living room when he returned, but the screen door was open and he left his bag on the floor and went out into the little backyard. She stood in the centre of the lawn, which had become sparse and stringy with neglect, gazing up into the branches of the silver birch, arms crossed over her chest. The warm breeze lifted her hair from her face and carried the sweet notes of the magpies carolling from high in the tree. He and Ali had loved that tree from the first open inspection they’d been to; its silver-mottled branches, its soft fluttering green leaves that cast a gentle shade over the garden. From the second he’d seen it Tom had pictured the life they’d build together here. Tears pricked his eyes.
Ali glanced over her shoulder at him and gave a wobbly smile. ‘All done?’ Her eyes were bright.
Tom wanted to hold her, but instead he crossed his own arms. ‘Are you OK?’
She turned to face him. Tears slid down her face. She swallowed. ‘When I was pregnant, I used to imagine hanging a tyre swing from one of these branches for her.’
‘Elizabeth?’
‘I can’t remember what she looked like.’ Her chin quivered. ‘I spent so much time trying to forget. It wasn’t until I wanted to remember that I realised how well I’d succeeded. And now this tree will only ever be just a tree.’
Tom stepped forward and folded her into his arms. She cried into his chest and he held her tight, stroking her hair with one hand. After a while, she relaxed against him and her sobs subsided, but Tom didn’t let her go. She felt so right in his arms, as if they’d been cut from the same jigsaw.
Eventually, Ali lifted her head to look at him. ‘Sorry.’
He pushed her hair back from her face. ‘You don’t have to be sorry.’
She gave him a tentative smile. ‘I was going to… I can make us something for dinner if you want? Unless you… you probably need to get ready for tomorrow.’
‘That’d be nice.’
He helped Ali chop vegetables and chicken for a stir-fry, then they ate together at the dining table. Conversation flowed more freely. It was just like old times. The only thing missing was the bottle of wine that had always stood in the centre of the table.
‘What’s it like?’ Tom asked. ‘Not drinking.’
Ali considered the question. ‘It’s there all the time. Whenever I think about Elizabeth, or losing my job, or Hazel. Or you.’ She paused, her eyes glistening. ‘The booze made it all go away. This… this is like being slowly strangled.’
Tom felt his own throat constrict at her words.
‘Sometimes, late at night when Hazel’s asleep, I go looking in all my old hiding places, hoping she missed a bottle. But she got them all.’ She smiled wistfully.
Tom’s heart tugged at the pain on her face. ‘Are you OK otherwise?’
‘I’m coping. It’s hard, but this way is better. I would’ve killed myself if I’d gone on. Sometimes I wish I had. But mostly, I’m just grateful to have another chance.’
Afterwards, Tom helped her with the dishes, then they took a cup of tea each to the couch. Ali looked relaxed, almost happy. Tom wanted to take her into his
arms again, but he held himself back. There was no point confusing things at this juncture.
She told him about her unexpected happiness at reconciling with Hazel, at having a family again. How her mother had looked after her, cooked her meals, cleaned up after her.
‘It was like being a kid again,’ she said. ‘Can you believe it, I actually called her Mum today!’
She laughed and clutched Tom’s knee. The laughter died in her throat as they stared at one another. The invisible thread, tattered and hanging after so long apart, tightened once again. Tom’s breath caught in his throat as a bubble of unbearable anticipation began to expand inside him. He wanted to freeze the moment, preserve the bubble in its crystalline perfection; yet at the same time, the space between their bodies felt too large.
Then Ali took his cup from him, set it down on the coffee table beside hers, and leant in.
Tom closed his eyes as their lips met. Her mouth was soft and pliant against his. He wanted to clasp her to him, to drink her in, but he didn’t dare push her. She opened her mouth to his and Tom shivered. Her hand moved up his chest and around his neck, and then she was in his lap, her body pressed against his, both hands holding his head as she kissed him. Tom lowered her down onto the couch and hovered over her, afraid to hurt her, afraid to scare her away. But she pushed her hips into him and pulled his head down to hers, her mouth finding his again with a hunger she hadn’t shown for such a long time.
They quickly shed their clothes until there was no longer anything separating them. Skin on skin, they surrendered to one another, and Tom finally felt he had come home. Afterwards, they lay on the couch in each other’s arms, their bodies slippery with sweat.
‘I needed that,’ Tom said.
Ali smiled. ‘So did I.’
He traced the line of her face with one finger. It was so good to hold her like this again, to feel so close to her.
‘What time’s your flight in the morning?’ she asked.
The fragile tranquillity was shattered. The reality of tomorrow pressed in again.
‘Six o’clock,’ he said.
She didn’t speak, but he felt her mood begin to sink as well.
‘Come to Sydney with me,’ he said.
She propped herself up on one elbow to look at him.
‘You don’t have to come straight away if you’re not ready. But I’m sure you’d be able to find a job there… if you want.’
A succession of emotions crossed her face. Tom knew what her answer was going to be before she spoke.
‘I don’t think that’s a good idea.’ She looked as if the words hurt her to speak, but she pressed on regardless. ‘I need to stay here, face up to everything that’s happened. Running away now isn’t going to help me get better.’
‘I’m not running—’
‘I know you’re not. But I would be. You’ll be working long hours, and I’d be on my own, with no friends and no support. It’d be a disaster. I think you know that.’
What she said made sense, but Tom didn’t want to let it go. ‘I’d support you. We could make it work.’
She kissed him. ‘I think we both need to go it on our own for a while. You need the space to concentrate on your career, and I need to get better and start thinking about my own again. There’s also Hazel… we’ve only just reconnected, but we’ve still got a long way to go. I can’t let that go now.’
‘I love you,’ Tom said miserably.
‘I love you too.’ Her voice was barely a whisper. ‘Will you stay here with me tonight?’
Tom hesitated. His suitcases were still in his hotel room. He hadn’t checked out yet. He’d been planning to visit his parents tonight.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I’ll stay.’
* * *
The birds hadn’t even started singing when Tom crept out of bed, leaving Ali sleeping peacefully. He had a shower and dressed quickly, then ordered a cab. As he sat on the edge of the bed to put on his shoes, he thought he could feel Ali’s gaze on him, but when he turned around, her eyes were closed. Her hair swept across the pillow. Her face looked clear and at peace. He leant over and kissed her forehead.
The morning was cool as he waited in the driveway. Soon, his cab came slowly up the street, high beams blinding him. Waving once, he stepped out onto the kerb. He opened the passenger door and slid in, dumping his bag on the floor between his feet.
As the cab drove away, Tom looked back once at the house he’d lived in for the last ten years. It was just a hulking shadow in the pre-dawn light.
Before
Ali and Kayla sat on the floor in the lounge room, giggling as they played with their My Little Ponies. Ever since they’d started school last year, Kayla had been coming over on Tuesday afternoons while her mum was at work, and Ali loved having someone to play with. Scooby-Doo was on the TV, but the two girls were so engrossed in their game that they’d forgotten to watch.
Ali’s mum stood at the creaking ironing board next to the couch, methodically working her way through the giant pile of Dad’s work shirts that never seemed to end.
Kayla galloped the pink pony across the brown carpet, and bounced it up and down in front of the one Ali was holding. ‘Now Lickety Split and Applejack are going to have a baby,’ she announced.
‘Yeah!’ Ali enthused. ‘First they’re gonna have a girl, then a boy, and then another girl.’
There was a raspy laugh from Mum. ‘Give poor Lickety Split a break, love! She’ll have her hands full with one.’
Kayla nodded wisely. ‘Your mum’s right. You’re so lucky you don’t have an annoying brother like Brenton.’
‘I wish I had a sister,’ Ali said wistfully. ‘Mum, can I have a sister?’
Mum laughed again, but there was a higher pitch to her tone this time. ‘You can’t just order them out of a catalogue, love.’
Ali turned back to her friend. ‘I wish you were my sister, Kayla.’
‘Me too,’ Kayla said. ‘You’d be heaps better than stinky Brenton.’
‘We could be pretend sisters?’
‘Yeah!’
The two girls hugged. ‘Sisters forever,’ Ali proclaimed solemnly.
‘Sisters forever.’
Ali
Slowly, Ali began to go out again, at first only to run errands and buy groceries, but then to visit Hazel, get her hair cut, pick up the clothes that had been waiting in the dry cleaner’s for months.
She longed to call Tom, but he was starting a new, demanding job, and he needed to concentrate on that rather than worrying about her.
But her conversation with him had reminded her of something.
When she’d rung the Women’s and Children’s Hospital, she was relieved to discover they still had the photos in their files— the ones she’d said she didn’t want—but when she received the email with the photos attached, she was too nervous to look at them. She paced the house restlessly for an hour before calling Hazel. ‘Can you come over?’
‘Of course.’
Hazel sat beside Ali in the study as she opened the email, held her breath and double-clicked on the first file. Tears sprang instantly to her eyes as the photo of Elizabeth filled the screen.
She looked like she was sleeping, just as she had when Ali had held her so briefly. Her face was pale against the pink of the little dress and the bright patchwork quilt. Her rosebud lips were pursed, as if preparing herself for the first feed she’d never had. Tears poured down Ali’s face.
‘Oh, Ali.’ Hazel’s voice cracked with emotion. ‘She’s beautiful.’
Together, they looked at each of the photos, studying them, pointing out which of her features looked like Tom’s, which like Ali’s, and which were all her own. They speculated on what she might have looked like if she’d had the chance to grow up. And for the first time, Ali felt no guilt, no shame. Now, she never wanted to forget.
* * *
Ali was loading her groceries onto the check-out at the supermarket one Saturday when her phone pinged with a text me
ssage. She reached for it at once, hoping it was Tom, then froze when she saw Kayla’s name on the screen.
How are you going, hon? Thinking of you xx
Kayla had sent her regular texts for a while after the day she and Claudia had visited, but they’d eventually tailed off after Ali had ignored each one. She remembered what Hazel had said about not closing herself off, and her heart ached with a sudden, deep yearning to see her old school friends again. It would hurt. She knew that. Claudia would have had her baby by now, and there would be no way to avoid the topic. But she had to stop resenting others for her own misfortune. People were going to keep on having kids, and she couldn’t spend the rest of her life inside the house, sheltering herself from the world.
Back in the car, her fingers hovered over her phone. She typed a message to Kayla, then deleted it. After three more attempts, she pressed the call button before she had the chance to change her mind.
‘Hello?’ Kayla sounded cautious.
‘Hi. It’s me.’
‘Ali!’ Her voice came out in a gush. ‘It’s good to hear your voice again.’
‘Could you… do you want to come over?’
‘Of course. When?’
‘Now? I’m just on my way home from doing the shopping.’
When she opened the door to Kayla, her friend instantly folded her into a hug, liberating her from the need to make awkward small talk. Ali was surprised at how easy the gesture felt. The physical contact reawakened her body, began to heal over her cuts.
‘Come in,’ she said.
Ali made tea and they sat at the dining table. Finally, Ali broached the topic she’d been dreading.
‘Claudia… has she…?’
‘She had another girl.’ Kayla’s voice was gentle. ‘Two weeks ago.’
Jealousy arrowed through her, taking her breath away. It should’ve been me. She managed to nod.
‘Her name is Alice,’ Kayla went on, as if she wanted to get the difficult part out of the way as quickly as possible. ‘She and Claudia are both doing well. She asked about you the other day.’
‘Who, the baby?’ Ali tried to joke, but tears came to her eyes instead.
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