by Paul Taylor
Ben worked on his web-site while he waited.
He sat in the passenger side of his car with the seat back and his Laptop computer propped on his lap. Occasionally, he glanced at the mobile phone on the seat beside him, and from there to the house across the street.
Some of the lights were on, the place glowed in the gloom, and he hadn't heard any screams or cries of pain yet, so that was good. But it was also a long way from easing his worries.
The web-page was almost finished, thank god. He could e-mail all the coding to his boss tomorrow to check for errors and forward on to the business for their final approval. Ben glanced at the clock on the corner of his computer screen, almost half past nine. Damn, he was going to miss The Panel. He picked up his mobile and fiddled with it, making sure the ringer was turned down low, checking for any missed calls. There were none.
The long afternoon since leaving Dwayne's funeral had almost killed him. He'd lost count of the number of times he'd gone back to the web-page and tried working on it. He'd gotten maybe five minutes' worth of work done each time before losing his patience with it again and stalking off through the house. If there'd been carpet in the place he would have worn it through to the floor boards beneath, he was sure. Probably ninety percent of his afternoon had been spent restlessly pacing the floor. His fists clenched and unclenched like nervous sphincters and he glared at the walls and floor of the house as if they were somehow to blame for how he felt. Finally he flung himself into the armchair and wondered with dark fascination if he were losing his mind.
The room closed in on him, becoming the sweaty, heaving innards of some horrific beast. A noxious stench lingered in the air, hovering beyond the reach of his nostrils. He thought it might be the stink of his own frustration. Outside, the day was light, yet darkness still claimed the house as its own, corners filled with shadows piled atop each other like heaps of clothes. They lurked beneath the bed, the television, the coffee table, waiting for him to pass close enough to reach out and snatch him. He gave them a wide berth.
At some stage, he dozed off and he'd woken from a thin, restless sleep still sprawled in the chair, the phone sitting on the floor beside him and an empty beer bottle laying amid a graveyard of them on the other side, it's life blood pooled beside it. He must have dropped it when he dozed off. No matter, there were more where that came from.
Between four p.m. and nightfall Ben, in a drunken fugue, decided it was a good idea to stake out Kath's place to make sure she was okay. Despite the fact that the idea seemed increasingly bad as he stopped drinking and started to sober up, he still resolved to go through with it. The idea had taken root in his mind, flourishing in the inebriated dirt there like some noxious and particularly potent weed. By seven he was determined to go and so, after making himself two thermos-fulls of coffee, Ben found himself coasting the car to a stop on the opposite side of the street and a few houses back. Which was where he'd spent the last two hours.
If nothing happened soon he was going to head home. He sure wasn't going to spend the whole damn night in his car.
There was a noise from across the road and he looked up from his laptop, squinting his eyes.
Sounds of yelling, fighting. Neil's voice, raised in rapturous anger, drifted across the road to him. He couldn't quite make out what was being said, although he did hear something that sounded suspiciously like his name. Silence descended for a moment, then Neil's voice again. He roared for a few seconds and fell silent, obviously listening to something Kath was saying. Then he was at it again. Ben debated whether or not to go over. He closed his computer and sat it down on the driver's side seat and sat with one hand on the door-handle and his ear cocked, listening for signs of greater trouble. He didn't know exactly what it was he was listening for, but he'd know when he heard it. Then it came.
The sound of breaking glass filled the air like a hit cymbal, shattering the silence. Ben flung open the door and leapt from the car, wondering as he did why none of the neighbours had turned on their lights to see what was wrong. Probably used to it, he thought uneasily.
As he strode around the car to the street the front door of Kath's house burst open and out lunged Neil, storming out to the footpath. Ben baulked for a moment and felt a white-hot needle of sickening dread surge straight up from his stomach to his head, sure that Neil had seen him and was coming to beat the shit out of him.
But Neil reached the footpath, turned and stalked off down the street towards the pub, never even glancing towards Ben or his car.
Instinct told him to wait until Neil had been gone a while before crossing the street and going inside, but love told him to go now in case Kath was badly hurt. If she died because he'd been chicken... He pushed it out of his mind and hurried across the road.
Ben knocked on the door and called Kath's name, his eyes darting up and down the street. There was no answer and he knocked again, a little more forcefully, called her name a little louder.
"Ben?" her voice drifted through the door. "Is that you?"
Ben's heart leapt. She was all right!
"Yeah," he said. "Can I come in?
"I can't... I can't come to the door ruh-right nuh..." the rest diminished into tears and to Ben that was as good as an invitation.
Ben threw the door wide and raced inside. "Where are you?"
Her voice called back to him from the lounge-room at the end of the hall and he hurried down its length. She was sprawled out on the lounge with a cloth held to her face. The curtains on the window near the lounge drifted outwards and Ben saw glass on the floor beneath it. Only a little, the rest of the shards had, no doubt, gone outside.
"Kath," he said helplessly, sitting down beside her.
"It's... it's my fault," she told him as he pried her hand away from her face to inspect the damage. "He's always warning me, I shouldn't have argued with him like that at the cemetery. He always tells me not to argue with him."
Ben gasped as she lowered her hand. Her right eye was swollen shut, closed in by a mass of black and blue tissue that looked about to burst. A small cut marred her cheek, surrounded by more bruising, and her lips were swollen so that her words came out in mumbles and a small amount of blood pooled at one corner of her delicate, full mouth. The cut on her cheek, Ben realised with a jolt, was probably caused by Neil's wedding ring. How could a symbol of love become the source of such visible anger, he wondered.
"Oh Kath," he hugged her and she pulled away from him, wincing in pain.
Ben sat back and looked at her, at the way she lay stiffly on the lounge, every move made in anticipation of more pain.
"You're hurt all over," he gazed at her, horrified, and she nodded, too pained to speak. "That's it," said Ben. "Do you think you can walk? I'm getting you out of here."
He went to grab her hands and she pulled them away, hissing in pain at the sudden movement.
"No," she said.
Ben knelt beside her where she lay on the lounge. "Please," he said, tears forming in his eyes. He took her hand, clasped it to his cheek. "For God's sake," he whispered, staring at her. "Look at you. You can barely even speak, you're in so much pain. What possible excuse could you give for staying with him. Please, come with me."
"No," said Kath. "Not now, not tonight." Her voice was husky with pain. "He's spent his anger now, he's all out. But if he comes back and finds me gone..." she trailed off.
"We'll leave town straight away," said Ben. "And besides, he doesn't even know where I live. He won't find us."
"He will," she said. "He has ways. Anyway, you said it yourself, look at me. The only place I'm going is up to Casualty. I can't go anywhere."
"But I can't leave you here," Ben protested, standing up, wiping at his leaking eyes. "At least let me take you up to the hospital."
"You can't, Ben," Kath said. "If Neil comes home and I've been to hospital he'll know someone's been here. Besides, once he gets back, he'll take me."
Tears dripped steadily from Kath's eyes like she was leakin
g and Ben wondered if she knew she was crying. She noticed him staring and smiled wanly.
"It's the only way," she said. "Now go, quickly, before he comes back and finds you here."
Ben, feeling helplessness, anger and frustration all boiled into one giant ball, started to leave. Never in his life had he felt like he was making such a big mistake as what he was now.
"Ben," Kath stopped him at the hall. "Come back here for a second."
He edged back across the room to her side.
"Closer," she whispered, and he leaned closer.
"Closer," she waggled her hand and even managed to stretch her face into something resembling a smile.
Ben inched in so close that his cheek was resting on her lips. She puckered them up in as much of a kiss as she could manage and grabbed his hand.
"I love you so much, Ben," she whispered against his cheek. "I love you."
Ben heard her voice quiver and looked at her. She was crying, tears streaming down her face.
"I love you, too," he said and on some level was amused to find that he was crying too.
She nodded and gasped for breath. "I know," she said in a croaking voice. "It feels so good to be able to say that again and mean it. Oh, Ben. I miss you so much."
They stayed that way for a moment, Ben kneeling on the floor next to the lounge, holding Kath's head against his shoulder. For a second it seemed like old times and Ben wanted it never to end. Kath shifted uncomfortably, stifling a whimper against his shoulder, and he was jolted back to the present. She'd never suffered any hurt like this while they were together. Except when you ran out on her, whispered a phantom voice in the back of his head. He quickly silenced it.
"Please," she said. "You have to... leave now, Ben. If Neil comes back and finds you here..." she trailed off, not needing to complete the thought.
"I hate this," said Ben, slowly standing. "I fucking hate it, you know? The last thing I want to do in the world right now is leave you here. I'm going to call first thing in the morning and if you don't answer I'm gonna come over here and smash that fucker's lights out."
"Ben," said Kath, every word an effort. "Stop it..."
He stood for a moment, staring at her bloodied face, the bruises seemed to have grown larger, and he was reluctant to leave. More than anything else he wanted to act now. To do something. To destroy the man who'd done this to the most precious thing in Ben's life, even if she wasn't entirely in it.
Kath begged him again. And in the end he did leave, forcing himself down the hall and out onto the sidewalk. Despite the gravity of the situation he had an almost buoyant feeling that everything was going to turn out okay.
The next time he saw Kath would be in hospital.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE