Ever since the idea formed in my mind, it had seemed like such a simple strategy. Befriend Bettina, an outrageous, wild mother who had been scheduled to help Maia’s reading class at the same time as me. Next, make her pity me. We met a few times after reading group, when Evan thought I was still at the school, and over coffee I exaggerated to Bettina how awful it is to live with Evan.
The next phase occurred strangely, and it had started in Bettina’s tastelessly decorated bedroom, while Evan lay comatose on a lounge chair next to the pool.
After many more of those steamy, but out of character (for me) encounters, I promised Bettina that after I’d caught her and Evan in the middle of whatever it was he wanted to do to her, I would have grounds to leave him. And, as a dutiful and faithful wife, if all goes well, I will be entitled to a fraction of his fortune. Of course, I would have to pay Bettina a slice of the profits as a token for helping me out – because everyone should be compensated after being with Evan.
It was all set to go ahead, until the moment I saw Jean walking into my talk this morning, looking and sounding like she was ready to create her own fortune by playing with my life. If only this crazy woman hadn’t chosen today to blackmail me with my past. I need those photos, because if they are exhibited as she has threatened, I won’t have a career to sustain myself and Maia on. Which will be dire, if Evan decides that he won’t be giving me a cent of what I am owed. Once I tell him that I am leaving him, I suspect his lawyers will not make it easy for me to take his fortune, even though we signed a prenup before we got married.
I stand here, so close to the rough edge of the pool, and watch her pestering mouth move. She’s been giving me the same speech about herself and her troubled daughter, the same one she gave me in the hall this morning. I would yawn, if my heart wasn’t thumping with panic. I just want those photos, I don’t want to hear about how poor and miserable she is. I’ve been penniless too, but through my initiative I made poverty work for me.
She’s standing in front of me, so close I can just about grab her damn bag. I have been patient enough, hearing about how her daughter was so hard done by.
“Your daughter wasn’t as innocent as you imagine her to be. One night, when you still lived next door to me, I saw her sneaking out to see a boy,” I say with intense pleasure.
Her expression is one of bewilderment. Hurt. Then I do it, I reach out, and my fingers fold over on the leather strap. I want to remove it from her shoulder and yank it down her bent arm, but she is quick, she’s holding the bottom of the bag, and instead of pulling it downwards, I pull her closer to me. In between us, her hand moves inside the bag, and I hope that she’s taking out the envelope, but it’s not the envelope that emerges from the bag.
Pushed against my stomach is the barrel of a gun.
But no, it’s not metal I am sensing, it’s plastic. It’s a plastic gun that she is pressing into my stomach. As I look downwards in the tight space between us to confirm this, I experience the oppressive force of another object, hard against my the side of my head. It pushes me sideways and I topple, my body uncontrolled, plunging into the water, while a pulsating agony sweeps through my skull. The final thing I see through my woozy vision is her running, clutching that bag, as she heads in the direction of the exit.
Bettina, 3:35PM
Argh, where is Carlana? I am so fed up with all this fanciful live-life-my-way crap. This attitude, I will do what I want to do and not take anyone else into consideration because my ideas and views are so coveted, while the people who have to do all the work are just left behind to pick up the pieces.
Carlana and I planned that she would tell Evan I was going to pick up Maia after school this afternoon. We arranged it so she would then go out, leaving me to play my part. I was to call Evan to tell him that I’d a change of plans, and I would not be able to pick up Maia from school after all. Which I did. Evan was then not able to contact Carlana for a few hours, and by the time school came around, he had to pick Maia up from school himself. As it happened, at the school gate Evan and I were destined to run into each other. Then it was my job to make sure that I came home with Evan to their house. Which I did. I was surprised when I asked Carlana why the plan had to be so complicated. Why couldn’t she just ask Evan to pick up Maia or why couldn’t I pop over one day unexpectedly and seduce Evan? She replied that he was strict on having routines, rinse and repeat, everything had to be done the same way every day.
The first part of the plan had gone smoothly. The most challenging task had been to get the kids out of the house. By the look on Evan’s face, I sensed that he wasn’t keen on letting his daughter go outside on her own, too much plastic out there. Carlana and I hadn’t discussed the fact that they don’t let the kid go outside on her own. In fact, she told me it was OK for Maia to go the shops with Haydee but, knowing what I know about this family, I should have foreseen the problem.
Now the seduction that went too far is all over, and Carlana still isn’t back. I began to get nervous when the time was edging towards 3:15pm, as I thought what if she doesn’t turn up? We only had such a small window of time before the kids came back. If Carlana was to catch me sitting on his lap, it was supposed to happen nearly as soon as I sat myself down. But the minutes passed, and Carlana didn’t show up.
It wasn’t long before I was kissing Evan, or he was kissing me. I wanted to tell him to stop, but then I didn’t. With one ear I was listening for the door to open. Then I was wondering who would be coming through the door first. Would it be the kids with their ice creams or Carlana running late? I had to prolong the writhing until Evan couldn’t resist me any longer.
He is the bathroom now, and I am sitting in Carlana’s lounge under a painting of a lamb alone in a dry field. My feet are bare, I curl my toes, and I think I should put my shoes on, I feel vulnerable without my shoes on in this house. Vulnerability. It’s not a feeling I usually experience when I sleep with someone, I always feel in control afterwards. Being with Evan was different. He wanted to be in control, but then he suddenly switched off like he wasn’t interested, he became robotic, and he didn’t make another move until I performed a trick to impress him. This game went on for the few minutes that our whole encounter lasted. Now I know what Carlana has been complaining about with Evan. I run my hand over the tan leather couch and decide if I should wait or just leave. But of course I have to wait, as Haydee hasn’t come back yet. What is taking those girls so long? I’m not sure if the worst part of this is knowing that now I won’t get my payout from Carlana. I need it desperately, the overdue notices that greeted me when I arrived home this morning have no way of getting paid. Where do I go from here with Evan? What is the chance of roping him into a relationship now, if I have already slept with him?
The back door is wide open, definitely no need to feel suffocated in this house with its high ceilings and outside deck. I can hear the bathroom door being opened, I stand up. I need to be outside. We shouldn’t get caught up together in this room. I walk out onto the deck, there is an outdoor lounge chair, I could just sit on that until Haydee comes home and then quickly leave.
“Are the girls back?” I can hear his voice behind me, and I am relieved he has started a conversation unrelated to us.
I turn around and shake my head.
“Maybe I should go out and look for them?” I suggest.
“No, you stay, it will give as a moment on our own, to talk about what just happened between us.”
Darn, he is bringing up what we did after all.
“Carlana cannot find out about what we did, here at her table.”
He runs his hand through his hair that is still all messed up.
I nod in agreement. I don’t want to be here in their house any more.
“You are not Carlana.”
I don’t try to hide the amusement in my expression over what he has just said. It is evident that I am not Carlana.
“You are tacky, you are cheap, you are a mess.”
I shak
e my head in disagreement.
“Do you know what we do with filthy rubbish at the recycling plant?”
I don’t answer.
“We melt it away. Make it not exist. This is what my life is – cleanliness, emptiness,” he says, sweeping his hand across his house.
Emptiness is something that people usually avoid in their lives, I want to say out loud, but I bite my lip and say instead, “Listen, the girls will be back in a moment. Let’s not let them find us out here arguing, it will confuse them.”
“They aren’t going to find us arguing because I’m going to ask them to wait outside at the front of the house until I have finished.”
“Finished what?” I ask.
“What?” Evan repeats, a glassy look in his eyes. “Now don’t be rude,” he says, and shakes his finger at me. I find it disturbing.
My anxious heart races, and I feel a tightening in my back, shoulders. I either need to move from standing here in front of Evan and run, or I could try to seduce him again. I could pretend that he hasn’t said I am dirty and messy. I look back over my shoulder. The backyard extends to a fence. Over the fence, I can see a glimmer of water in a lagoon. I just need to run and climb over that wooden fence. Get away from what he is saying about me.
“Evan, I won’t tell Carlana, she need not know,” I reassure him.
I consider telling him the truth, what Carlana had thought up to do to him, to leave him and take his fortune. I want him to be angry at Carlana, and not me. She isn’t perfect. Why doesn’t he realise that?
“I don’t trust you, I already trusted someone today and they fooled me, they made Carlana go away, and that has made me extra angry.”
I spin around and run down the straight path, thankful that the garden is as empty as the house. I don’t have anything to trip over.
As I run, I worry that I shouldn’t be leaving Haydee here with him, what if he hurts her? Maybe I can climb over the fence and run to the front of the house, stop her from coming inside. My steps become more confident with that thought, I have a plan, I need to get to Haydee.
I look over my shoulder, he is just standing on the decking, why isn’t he running after me? Is this a crazy game he enjoys? I have so many questions. Why isn’t Carlana coming home, where is she? Did her not being here have anything to do with the strange lady at the talk this morning? What if this was all a set-up, and Carlana had me fooled all along? Does she just like to lure women to her husband for his morbid entertainment, and then let them fend for themselves? Is that why she didn’t show up like she said she would?
I am so close to the fence, I notice that it is covered by some densely overgrown brambles, which surprises me because everything so far in this garden has been perfectly manicured.
I am about to reach for the thick branches to push them away when a hand grabs my shoulder and swings me around. I look up at the outstretched arm, right above me. In his hand, he is gripping a beer bottle. I watch him swing it down toward me, hitting the back of my skull. There’s an eruption of sharp pain and I topple to my knees.
20 Years Later
Maia
Putting one bare foot in front of the other on the cold white tiles, I walk into the spacious kitchen. Wren is sitting in her high chair eating her rice cereal. The milk spills onto her dress, but I don’t tell her to wipe it or wipe it myself. I will let the nanny clean up the mess.
I put on a pair of brogues; this morning I experienced yet another convulsion, and my back is hurting me, so, unfortunately, the killer high heels I would like to wear today are out of the question. I look at myself in the reflection of the refrigerator and smooth down my shiny brown hair, mentally running through my to-do list for today.
“Dahlia, please remember the water tank is being filled up today,” I call out to the nanny. Dahlia is assigned to look after Wren but she does many other duties in this house, we had her programmed especially for multitasking.
I kiss Wren goodbye on the top of her blonde hair and I pick up my phone from the kitchen table. There is a text message from Mum.
She hopes that I can make it to the launch of her new memoir, A Simple Push Into The Pool.
I do love how Mum is still milking the events of her life twenty years later. She is keen for me to read the book because, for so many years, she hadn’t wanted to tell anyone who it was that had attacked her or why they did it.
I text back that I can’t make it to her launch because I have to present at a conference. I’m certain I mentioned that to her. She survived being hit on the head with a trowel but I’m convinced that either the effect of the blow or what happened when she returned home has ruined her ability to remember finer details.
I throw my phone into my bag and step out of the house, the torrid air punches my skin instantly, my lips are the first to endure the sting, then my eyes, as though they are going to dry up and wither, but I know they won’t. They haven’t yet. Every day is the same unendurable temperature, but I survive. Out of the coolness of my home’s high powered air-conditioning, the heat is intolerable. I run to my car to escape the wrath of the weather. Sadly I know that many people who do not have suitable living conditions will not survive these scorching temperatures today.
I negotiate my car through the narrow streets designed explicitly for small vehicles. That is probably why I notice the large car driving some distance behind mine. I haven’t seen a car like it for at least ten years, bulky and out of place. I wonder if it has air conditioning.
I speed up. The car behind me keeps driving at the same slow pace. Am I just paranoid? It is possible that some old-fashioned people still drive these cars as collector’s items.
I lose track of the car when I drive onto the freeway, and I press my accelerator a little too fast to make sure it stays that way. I also drive fast to avoid the sights on the sides of this busy road. There are derelict houses near the edge of the highway that people actually live in. This is where the cheapest, lousiest homes are built, under the pretence of being economical. They have no gardens, no trees, no plants, the houses are set up on rough dirt patches, and they don’t have water tanks like in my neighbourhood, the households have a monthly water ration from the government. I am grateful when I have driven into the safety of the car park for the headquarters. Dewy coolness and ample security in one area.
I park the car and look through my bag to make sure I have all the notes I need for my speech. I read the first line of my typed notes:
‘Where did we go wrong with managing climate change in the past?’
Even after all these years of collecting the research and presenting it, I still become nervous before a presentation. I smooth down my skirt and get out of the car. I notice the battery is low, so I connect the car to the charger. I press the elevator button and look at my reflection in the silver doors. I catch a movement, a figure darting behind me. I turn around, but there is no-one there, just a few parked cars. I glimpse over my shoulder as the doors open and then take a step inside the elevator. The elevator doors slide shut just as I see the fragment of a person walking towards the closing doors. I step out of the elevator into a foyer full of people. I walk into the crowds and don’t turn my head when I hear the elevator doors opening behind me.
I go to the registration table and pick up my digital name badge, ‘Maia Land.’ Even when I got married, I was adamant about keeping Mum’s maiden name. Mum didn’t change her surname when she married Evan. She told me she was grateful after divorcing him, and not just because it saved a lot of paperwork. So after I was married, I kept my name. It also suits me in my career as an environmental engineer. I clip the badge on my shirt. Just as I do, a hand grabs hold of my arm. I spin around to face a lady dressed in a suit. She is slightly shorter than me and has a pageboy haircut. The buttons of her jacket strain against her chest.
“Mrs Land, hello, can we run through the order of the speeches this morning before we begin? We have four speakers today, and we want to make sure we fit everyone in.”
I wait for the lady to introduce herself, but she persists with offering directions.
“I will be looking after you this morning. If there is anything you need…” she indicates for me to follow her.
“Sorry, I didn’t get your name?” I ask her, but at that moment I am called myself.
“Maia, Maia,” I turn around to find my colleague, Susan, waving her hand excitedly above her head.
“Excuse me for a moment,” I tell the strange lady standing in front of me. “I can meet you in the conference hall in twenty minutes,” I say, and walk towards Susan.
“Maia, can we please grab a coffee before the conference begins? You will not believe the morning I have had, firstly my car charger wasn’t working, then I realised I left my speech notes at home,” she says.
“Sure, I have to meet my assistant for today in the conference hall in a bit,” I explain.
“You were assigned an assistant?” She asks, surprised.
“Yes,” I say looking around to point out the lady, but she isn’t standing anywhere in the vicinity of the group of people any longer.
“What was her name?” Susan asks.
“She didn’t tell me. How about that quick coffee?” I respond.
“Sure, do you know if they will have sandwiches here for us today? I am so hungry, thanks to my eventful morning,” Susan says.
“I don’t think it’s sandwiches that we’re getting, I think they do wraps.”
“How have you been, good?” Susan asks.
“Yeah, good. I went to see that psychiatrist yesterday afternoon, you know, that one I was speaking to you about, the one that came highly recommended? Well, the lights were so bright in his waiting room, I just turned around and left. All that someone who has regular seizures needs is bright lights.”
“Aw, Maia, I really feel for you, I hope you find a solution for those seizures soon. I don’t know why, in 2038, doctors can’t find a cure for you,” Susan says, pulling out a chair at the table.
The Plastic Seed Page 13