All That Was Left Unsaid

by Jacquie Underdown

  No one had mentioned to her that the by-product of nine months of pregnancy was going to be a big jelly belly that would linger for a long time afterwards. She had naively packed in her hospital bag the clothes she had worn before she was pregnant, but when she had tried to dress into them, she was unable to do the zippers up. Tired, disheartened, and tearful, she had rummaged through her bag for the cheap dress she had worn into hospital and had to go home in that.

  Now that she was nearly forty, she doubted her body would return to its usual shape as quickly as it had all those years ago. Maybe it never would. She placed a hand over her stomach and found she didn’t care either way because there was joy and laughter ahead of her. It would all be worth it.

  She wasn’t forgetful enough to have done away with the memories of the difficult, tiring, and stressful times that babies inevitably lumped upon parents. But now she would have a husband to help. Help that would fit in with a fly-in, fly-out schedule, nonetheless, but it was more help than she’d had with Juliette.

  As punishment or a lesson, she wasn’t sure which, her mother had not lifted a finger when Juliette was a new baby. Isabelle had been afforded a roof over her head but nothing else. Maybe that was more than some women across the planet had, but it had stung. All at once, she had created her own little family and yet was abandoned by the only other family she had ever known and loved.

  When she had enough funds to move out, she did, making sure there were three big state borders between her parents in Tasmania and her home in Queensland. She never returned. And as Juliette grew and Isabelle established their new life, her parents visited now and then. They loved Juliette, that was obvious, but the damage they had wielded upon their own daughter was never forgotten.

  She wondered what they would think about this new pregnancy. Her parents had visited over Christmas and met Chris while they were there. One night, they had quietly taken her to the side and admitted they liked him very much. She had anticipated they would. Chris was effortlessly likeable, and they were probably grateful to see their daughter finally in a relationship. But a tight band of resistance sat in her belly every time she imagined picking up the phone and telling them about her pregnancy. Scars were not only physical. That’s why she was so nervous about telling Juliette, too. She had been conditioned to view pregnancy as a horrible crime. A condemnable act only bad girls made happen.

  Tears filled her eyes.

  “Everything okay?” Chris was standing in the doorway, a towel around his waist, bare-chested. His face was contorted with concern.

  She quickly wiped her eyes, tried to find a smile. “I’m okay. I just realised why I’ve been so nervous about this pregnancy. I’ve been in two minds.”

  Chris sat beside her on the end of the bed. He smelled of steam and soap. “Yeah?”

  “I was made to feel like I’d committed murder when I fell pregnant with Juliette. And then punished every day after by my parents in their own way. I was thinking I was still that young girl. I kept imagining Juliette hearing the news and being upset with me. Like I’d let her down.”

  His brow furrowed as he shook his head. “You’ve no reason to feel like that at all. This baby is the best thing that’s happened in my life. Juliette’s going to think so, too. I’ve no doubt.”

  She wiped her fresh tears away. “I know. I just needed to be reminded of that.”

  A tightening again in her belly. Despite rationality telling her that Chris was most probably right, there was still a chance that Juliette might not see the news as favourable.

  * * *

  The Thai restaurant was a rabble of chatter and movement, full of patrons. It smelled like spices and seared meats. A waitress piloted the three of them to a table at the back of the room, close to the kitchen. Juliette sat opposite her mother. Isabelle next to Chris.

  Chris’s shoulders were relaxed as his elbows rested on the tabletop, fingers laced together. He was a little distracted, though. He was wondering how he was going to meet with Tina tomorrow morning to install the cameras without telling Isabelle about it.

  Not one bad intention sat beneath that thought. He was genuinely worried for his ex and if this was a way to put her mind at ease, to make her safe somehow, then he had to help. Omitting to tell Isabelle was similarly innocent. He didn’t want to unnecessarily worry her as Tina was a sensitive topic.

  Isabelle squirmed in her seat. Her hands were twitchy. Words fast as she said, “Really busy in here tonight, isn’t it? Hope we don’t have to wait too long for our food because I’m hungry.”

  Juliette smiled at her mother. “Everything okay, Mum? You seem a little wired.”

  Isabelle looked at Chris for reassurance, but he was peering out the window at a group of people about to make their way into the restaurant.

  “I’m fine. I…” She ruffled a hand through her hair. “I’ve some news I wanted to share with you.”

  Juliette’s brows arched high; she leaned forward. “Really? I was wondering where this impromptu dinner invitation had come from.”

  Again, Isabelle looked to Chris for backup; he was smiling warmly at her now. “Um… I’m… well, I’m pregnant.” She swallowed hard, waiting for a response.

  Chris, still smiling, placed his hand over Isabelle’s.

  “What? Like, for real?” Julliette screeched. “You’re going to have a baby?”

  Isabelle nodded. Chris did too.

  A slight quirk at the corners of Juliette’s lips, then she burst into a full-blown grin. “Oh, my God. How exciting!”

  Isabelle sat back against her chair. “You think so?”

  Tears wet Juliette’s eyes. “Yes. I’m ecstatic. I’m going to be a big sister. The best big sister, I can tell you that right now.”

  Isabelle laughed, blinking fast, trying to stem her happy tears to see the joy in her daughter’s face. Genuine joy.

  Juliette pushed her chair back, the legs scraping noisily against the tiles and sprang to her mother’s side, wrapping her arms tightly around her. “I have wanted a sister or brother forever.” She released her grip, went to Chris and cuddled him tight. “Congrats. You’ve made me the happiest person in here tonight.”

  Chris laughed. “Glad to hear it.”

  When seated again, Juliette couldn’t subdue her smile. “I think we need celebration drinks. But alcohol-free for you, Mum. Can’t be guzzling the champagne in your condition.”

  As the night progressed and they ate, drank and celebrated the news, beneath Isabelle’s relief and genuine joy, a niggle of guilt festered. Guilt for not having done this earlier. Guilt for putting her life on hold for too many years.

  She had all that she could have ever wanted or needed at that moment, but some time-hardened part of her heart regretted not being fully present and completely open to her vivacious, youthful years where life was felt and experienced at such pace and vibrancy. Ways life didn’t play out now that she was older. What a waste. Baby or not, new husband or not, she would never get those passionate years back.

  * * *

  By the time Isabelle arrived home and climbed into bed beside Chris, she had tied a rope around the part of her mind that grieved for her past and deeply missed her youth. She wouldn’t make the same mistake now. She wouldn’t reach age sixty and look back to her late thirties and realise just how young she still was and how her focus upon her past and who she no longer was had stopped her from experiencing who she was now. No, she was going to embrace everything.

  She wrapped an arm around her husband and kissed his cheek. “I love you so much.”

  He grinned sleepily. “I love you too.”

  “You’ve made me the happiest woman I’ve ever been.”

  He kissed her forehead. “Back at ya.”

  Chapter 14

  Maddison woke to the sound of her children’s footsteps as they scampered from their bedrooms down the hallway. As soon as her eyes opened, memories from the night before rushed in, followed by a squeezing, churning rise of her stomac
h contents.

  She threw her legs over the side of the bed and staggered for the ensuite. A metre from the toilet bowl, she vomited all over the floor and wall. Sidestepping the unpleasant mess, she made it to the toilet and aimed her head over the bowl before another wave hit her. She hung there, staring until her stomach was empty and all she had left to do was dry heave.

  When she was able to stand tall again, she flushed. She was shaking, her eyes and nose watering. At the sink, she rinsed her mouth and splashed her face with cold water before looking into the mirror. What stared back was not her. She shook her head, unable to reconcile this pale, gaunt, ageing woman in her reflection with the version of herself she saw in her mind.

  A mournful groan. She looked away. No wonder Lucy was upset with her. She was an embarrassment. After she cleaned the bathroom floor, finishing with strong-scented disinfectant, she scrounged in the bathroom cabinet for painkillers to dull the thumping aching in her temples. She swallowed two down, then tiptoed back to her bedroom to find her phone.

  She called Lucy, desperate to apologise for how she had behaved last night, but the phone went straight to message bank. So, she typed a text message instead.

  MADDISON: I’m really sorry about last night. I screwed up again. Please, give me a call so we can talk.

  She placed the phone on her bedside table and lowered her face into her hands until the painkillers kicked in. When able to walk without feeling like her skull was splitting in two, she went to meet the kids and make them breakfast. At least it was the weekend, and she didn’t have to drive them to school.

  Ben always went to work early on Saturday, and he wouldn’t be home until that afternoon. The vague taste of a memory flittered across her tongue. She flinched when it became fully formed. Last night, she had confessed to kissing another man. She groaned and doubled over, hands on her knees.

  “What’s the matter, Mum?” asked Ruby from the end of the hall.

  Maddison stood up straighter, blinked the tears from her eyes. She forced a strained smile. “Oh, nothing. I felt a little sick for a second there, that’s all. But I’m okay now.”

  “You want me to make you some toast and a cup of tea?”

  Maddison’s heart warmed for her little girl, but she was the one who was meant to be the grown-up. Shame, guilt, all those emotions, flamed in her cheeks. “That’s such a lovely gesture, but I tell you what. How about I make you and Riley some pancakes and bacon instead?”

  Ruby grinned wide. “Yes, please. I haven’t had those for ages.”

  “Well, then it will be a treat for us.”

  Maddison hadn’t been in any shape most mornings to do much for her children, let alone cook pancakes. For so long, she had been striving to maintain some sense of stability for her kids and yet what it took to maintain the façade that everything was okay, only ever achieved the opposite.

  Ruby scurried to the living room to join her brother in front of the television. Maddison set about making pancake batter and layering bacon onto a tray to cook in the oven. By the time she had finished, she was sweating, exhausted and ready to vomit again, though there was nothing left in her stomach.

  She placed the plate of pancakes along with maple syrup and bacon on the dining table and called Ruby and Riley in. They dived onto their seats, grins wide.

  All the maternal parts of her were aching, begging her to take a seat beside her children and have a wonderful morning with them. A memory-making morning. But Maddison couldn’t bear standing another moment. The scent of fatty bacon was turning her stomach.

  “I’m going to have a lie-down,” she said.

  Her children looked at her as they loaded their plates with pancakes.

  Riley frowned. “Aren’t you going to eat any?”

  Maddison shook her head. “Sorry. I’ll have to join you next time.” Then she hurried away, down the marathon-long hall to her bedroom, closed the door behind her and bee-lined to the bathroom. She stood over the toilet as wave after wave of nausea hit her, but nothing came up.

  She crawled into bed, a dying woman, and slept between dashes to the bathroom. As she drifted off to sleep or fielded questions from her children, she repeated to herself, “I’m a terrible mother. The worst mother that ever was.”

  * * *

  Later that afternoon, Maddison hauled herself out of bed. The pounding in her head and nausea had subsided, but she was still weak. She managed to sip water and hold it down.

  “Come on, Ruby and Riley. Do you want to go for a swim?”

  Her poor children had been locked in the house all day in front of the TV. She could have called Ben, but that would have meant admitting she wasn’t capable of looking after their kids because she was too hungover.

  When Ben arrived home, Maddison was resting on the banana lounge while the kids screeched, laughed, swam and splashed in the pool. He was pleased to see her awake, functioning. After the state she was in last night, he had been worried she wouldn’t be in any condition to take care of the kids. But she hadn’t rung him, so he took that as a good sign.

  Many times, during his day, he had reached for his phone and nearly called, wanting to check in on them all, but never did. Maddison would have taken offence. They would have fought, and he didn’t want that for his children. It was bad enough they had to endure two parents who never showed affection or had a nice word to say about the other.

  Maddison could barely meet her husband’s eye despite all her bravado last night. Today she was a shell, scarcely capable of life let alone courage.

  Ben noticed but kept his comments to himself. He cheerfully greeted the children, yanked his shirt off over his head, and jumped into the pool to join them. As he romped around with Ruby and Riley, he didn’t speak to Maddison. Not directly.

  Afterwards, Ben and the kids dried off, then he sent them to shower and dress into clean pyjamas. He still hadn’t said a single word to Maddison. Not even as she made dinner and they sat at the dining table as a family to eat it.

  He didn’t say anything as they negotiated the before-bed routine, then tucked the children in their beds for the night.

  Deep into the evening, Maddison was making dandelion tea in the kitchen. Ben strode in and sat on a stool at the bench, watching her silently.

  She slammed the jug down with a clank. “Please, enough with the bloody silent treatment. If it’s some kind of immature punishment—”

  “Punishment for what, Maddison?”

  She swallowed, looked away. “Punishment for kissing another man.”

  When she turned to face him again, he was silent but grimacing, staring at his clasped hands.

  “Well, what do you have to say?” she asked.

  He shook his head, sighed. “I don’t care about that.”

  A sharp, splintering sting in her heart like a snap of elastic flicking hard against her skin.

  He cleared his throat, leaned in, green eyes shaped with concern. “I’m worried about you. Really, really worried.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Save me from your—”

  “You’re on this downward spiral and I think it’s gotten way out of hand.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “Not you too. Bloody hell, Ben, I’m fine.”

  “You’re not fine. Not at all. Have you seen your face this morning? What kind of message is this sending to the childr—”

  “Don’t you dare bring Ruby and Riley into this. They’re fine. I’m fine. If this is some nasty way to make me out to be a bad mother—"

  “For Christ sake, Maddison. It’s not. I’m scared you’re slowly killing yourself.” There, he finally said it. He almost couldn’t breathe.

  She jolted, eyes widening. “I’m not killing myself.”

  “Aren’t you?”

  Maddison stared at her husband, read all the pain, shame, grief and fear in his eyes. It nearly broke the final threads holding her heart together because those exact emotions were what she saw reflected every single morning when she looked in th
e mirror. She understood the burden, the weight of all those feelings.

  Tears tightened the back of her throat, pricked her eyes. Composing her voice as much as she could, she choked out, “I’m fine.”

  “I think you need help. I’ve told my therapist about you—”

  “You had no right to do that.”

  “I have every right. This is my life. You’re my life. She wants to help you.”

  Through gritted teeth, “I don’t need your help. And I don’t need your stupid, do-gooder therapist’s help.”

  Maddison felt so trapped, she was almost suffocating. To simply exist, every single moment, was too much. She scooped her tea off the bench and started for her refuge downstairs in the basement. The cold, hard metal of dumbbells and weight bars.

  “That’s it, walk away.”

  She stopped, turned to face Ben wearily.

  “Ignore it all, like always. Keep everything bottled up in that messed-up mind of yours. All this” – he said with a sweep of his hand around the room – “is the consequence of that.”

  Her nose wrinkled, mouth twisted. “Yeah, well, what’s your excuse, Ben? I’m a hundred times the person you ever were. You don’t get to take the moral high ground now. You never get to take the moral high ground. Ever—”

  “Then leave. If you don’t like me, leave!”

  A violent burst of anger roared through her limbs. “You leave!”

  Both of them knew they wouldn’t. Couldn’t.

  Turning, Maddison marched downstairs to the gym where she exercised until the dumbbells fell from her hands to the hard floor with a clunk.

  Chapter 15

  Gravel and sticks crunched. The low rumble of an engine. Tina glanced out the living room window to find Chris’s ute winding up the long gravel driveway. Still the same car he’d driven when they were married. Painful nostalgia struck her to see Chris behind the wheel, out there on the property again.