Men don’t wait like women do.
Stepping back, I snap my mouth shut and turn away, not stopping until I’m back in my car, returning to work. I spend the rest of the day putting one foot in front of the other, going through the motions while my mind reels. If Leo is selling his apartment and he doesn’t want to talk to me, does that mean I’m too late?
Fuck.
CAN WE TALK? I send the message later that night after the kids are asleep, and I can’t stop fretting over the way Leo snapped at me. Nana offered me a puff of her joint, but I don’t need to get high. I need to find out where I stand with Leo.
It takes almost thirty minutes for a response to come through. Has anything changed? he sends, followed quickly by: Are we pressing play again?
Not yet. But I’m worried about you. There’s a For Sale sign outside your place.
I bite my lip as I watch the dots dance then stop. Dance then stop. They stay motionless for a good five minutes, and just as I’m about to give up watching, they start again.
I’m sorry. I’m dealing with my own shit right now. I can’t do this.
He can’t do this? My thumbs fly over the screen before I hit send: Do what? Talk to me? After the message goes through and changes to ‘delivered’, I stare at the screen, waiting for the dots. Time ticks once and my heart beats twice, a pressure building in my chest and buzzing in my head as I wait, and I wait. But the dots don’t come. The message doesn’t even change to ‘read’.
He’s ignoring me.
Covering my face with my hands, I drop my phone off the side of my bed, pull the blankets over my head, and cry myself to sleep.
“I’m dealing with my own shit right now. I can’t do this.”
He can’t do this.
Fuck. When the hell will this get any better? I’m not sure how much more I can take.
OVER THE NEXT WEEK, I see Leo twice. And each time he’s wearing a suit. The first time he doesn’t see me. He’s getting into his car in the parking garage, that tension I saw outside his apartment still there as he speaks to Niall as the two of them leave together.
The second time I see him, it’s late evening and I’m standing on the deck drinking tea while Nana is visiting Arthur. It’s a bit of a shock when I spot him, dragging his feet as though his whole body weighs a ton. There’s stubble covering his jaw, dark shadows under his eyes, his jacket is slung over his arm, and his tie is hanging loose around his neck. He looks such a wreck that I open my mouth on instinct to ask if he’s all right. But then we lock eyes, and all I can hear are the words, not now, so I lower my gaze and step back inside, locking the sliding door behind me.
I know what’s going on with him. The problem with having any sort of celebrity in this country is that your personal drama is quickly splashed all over the papers: Neighbours Star and Rugby Legend Locked in Bitter Custody Battle. The media loves calling them that—as if their real names are of no real consequence—and each day of the emergency proceedings gets its own column in the paper, complete with photos of a distressed-looking Tash and a furious-looking Leo. Things in the courtroom are getting really ugly with mud-slinging back and forth. I can’t understand why the court is not convinced that Niall should stay in Australia. He only has seven months of school left. Not to mention that Leo has provided evidence showing that he’s been manipulated, disparaged, and blackmailed—essentially—for many years. It’s as though because Tash seems to be able to conjure up fabricated bullshit and accusations of abuse and neglect, there must be truth to it. I’m upset for Leo as much as I’m upset for Niall. This can’t be easy on either of them. Especially with the media frenzy it’s created. Everyone is waiting for the day when Niall gets to tell his version of events, and since I don’t know Niall very well, I’m incredibly nervous for Leo. Despite the radio silence, I wish him luck the night before:
I’m rooting for you.
The message sends through, but the status doesn’t change. And I’m left lying in bed only metres away from him, feeling further away than I ever have before. I love this man with my flawed and desolate heart. If only that could be enough to hold him up. However, right now, Leo’s fighting a battle he’s fought on his own for a decade. What I want to write is I’m rooting for you. I love you. But there’s little point. Leo Murphy is in fight mode, and he’s relying on what he knows best—himself.
FORTY-EIGHT
DARCY
“Sit down, please.” I gesture to the seats on the opposite side of the dining table from where I’m standing. Nana sits at the head of the table with a steaming cup of tea in front of her, and there’s a plate of her oatmeal raisin cookies ready for the kids. At the sight of this, both Abigail and Archer hesitate before slowly taking their seats.
“What’s going on?” Abigail asks, looking between Nana and me. “Is someone dying?”
“Oh no.” Archer slaps his palm against his face. “Is it Nana? She’s so old.”
Nana quirks a smile. “No one’s dying, sweet boy. Your mum needs to talk to you about something, and I thought it would be easier if I eavesdrop right here. Have a cookie.” She pushes the plate towards him and he grabs two. Abigail refuses when offered, preferring to fold her arms on the table.
“I want to talk about your father,” I say, still standing because I feel better this way. As much as I don’t want to have this conversation with them, I know it’s well overdue. I’ve been putting it off and putting it off, but now that things are escalating legally, I don’t want to put it off anymore. I promised them I’d be honest moving forward, so here it is.
“Has he called?” Abby asks straight away, and it jolts in my chest that she’s still hanging on to that hope.
“No,” I respond, keeping my voice gentle. “This is about some legal proceedings I’ve been looking into.”
“Like what?”
“Well, as you know, we lost the house and when we came to Nana, we didn’t have much money.”
“But then you got a job,” Archer supplies.
“Yes, well, it’s why I had to get a job quickly. I couldn’t support you both on my own. But what I want to talk to you about is the way your father lost the house and what it means for us if we do nothing. And what it will mean if we do something.”
Abby frowns. “OK.”
I pull out a chair and sit, clasping my hands in front of me. I still think the kids are too young to understand our position, but I can’t keep fighting with Abigail every time she discovers something about my life I haven’t told her about. So, I’m going to live my life like Nana does: as an open book.
“I’m on the verge of personal bankruptcy. That means I owe more money to the bank than I can possibly pay back. If I do this, it blocks me from doing anything that involves credit. Like if our car dies and we need a new one, I can’t get a loan, and it’ll make it harder for us to get our own place. It’s not the end of the world, but it’s difficult, and really, it’s not fair. You see, I never took out a loan, and I never owned credit cards. As far as I was aware, the mortgage was almost paid off and our finances were looking up. And I thought that because it’s what your father told me. He looked after our finances, and while, yes, he was the main provider in the house, he was also the one who insisted that I didn’t go to work after having you kids. So, it was his job and his choice to provide for us. He’s not allowed to take all of that away. But, when he decided to leave, he took all the money out of the mortgage on the house, and he also took every dollar from our family accounts and hid it somewhere. I’m guessing in an account in his name.” Abby’s eyes go wide and Archer actually gasps.
“He did what?” he yells.
“He took all of our money. Slowly, over many months, so he could use it to start his new life.” That’s as matter-of-fact as I think I should get with them. The truth without the nitty-gritty details. Because it goes so much deeper than just taking all of our money. He did work outside his company on the sly and declared that income as though it was mine. Then he used those false
tax returns to secure credit cards and personal loans that he cleaned out and didn’t pay back. This was a calculated attack, designed to leave me completely destitute. And I don’t understand why. More so, I cannot believe this reprehensible monster was my husband…and I had no clue who he really was.
“He stole from us?” Abigail asks, her eyes misty as her brow pinches.
I nod. I feel bloody awful telling them this. I never wanted to reveal Kevin for the cheating thief he is, but he’s left me little choice. I refuse to work to pay off money he’s benefiting from when he can’t even be bothered to support his kids.
“What an arsehole,” Archer yells.
Nana giggles. “You’re right about that one.”
“Language, young man,” I say before continuing with my speech. “The reason I’m telling you all this is that I’d like your input on what to do about it.”
“If he stole, will he go to jail?” Abby asks, and I shake my head.
“The lawyer says the most he’ll get is house arrest, but that’s only if we get the police involved.”
“You’ve been talking to a lawyer?” Abigail’s expression shifts to indignant teen, like she’s about to yell at me for not telling her sooner, and I’m so tired of it that I just snap.
“Of course I’ve been talking to a lawyer, Abigail. What the hell do you think people do in this situation? We are adults with responsibilities and commitments, and when those responsibilities and commitments aren’t met, lawyers get involved. Now, if you’ll shut up and stop behaving like the fourteen-year-old child you very obviously are, I’ll give you what you want, which is a vote in what we do next. Do you want that? Or do you want to get your knickers in a twist over a detail I really didn’t have to share with you? Because I don't have to tell you a damn thing, Abigail. About my finances or my impending divorce besides the custody arrangement, which I’m pretty sure is fairly obvious to you. I’m doing this as a courtesy to treat you with respect, and if you can’t give me the same in return, then I will make every single decision about my life, and your life without consulting you at all? Do I make myself clear?”
Her mouth opens then closes and she gulps before she nods. “I’ll listen,” she whispers. “I want to know.”
As I let out my breath and push my hair away from my face. I risk a glance at Nana, who’s lifting her teacup to her mouth as her eyes spark with pride. Besides her comment during her recent intervention, she’s been unusually quiet over how I’ve been handling my conflict with Abigail. Now I see she’s been waiting for me to stand up and assert myself as the parent, and I have to admit that it feels pretty damn good. I gave up a beautiful burgeoning relationship for Abigail, and I don’t regret putting my child’s needs over my own. But I do think I’ve given her the misguided impression that her voice has power over my actions; that she has the right to berate me when she doesn’t like my choices. That was my mistake. One thing my mother said growing up that has stuck with me: ‘I’m not here to be your friend, I’m here to be your mother.’ And while that pissed me off at the time, I understand and appreciate it now as a mother myself. My role as my children navigate the difficult space between child and adult is to teach them how to be a decent human being, to guide them in their choices, to show them that actions have consequences and that we all have our place in this world. You can’t behave like a toddler then expect to be treated like an adult. You can’t snap at your mother and expect her to smile and take it on the chin. But what you can do is show respect to earn respect, and I think that’s a really important lesson to learn.
“OK,” I start. “There are a few things I can do to fix our situation. First, I let it go. I declare bankruptcy and we all let Dad live his new life and have all the money. Or, I go to the police, which is justified because what he did was illegal. It’ll fix everything, but it’ll get drawn out and Dad will have a police record, which could affect his ability to work. Or, I get my lawyer to try and recover the money and clear my credit so we settle this without getting the police involved at all.”
“I don’t want Daddy to get in trouble with the police,” Archer says, as I expected he would.
“What would the settlement do to him?”
“Nothing really. Your dad would have to agree to pay child support for you guys and pay back the money he took. Then I’d sign papers to say I won’t press charges, and that would be it. We’d go our separate ways.”
“Will that make you divorced?” Archer asks.
“No. We can’t divorce for about a year. But it will mean he’s agreed to help take care of you, because that’s what dads are supposed to do.”
“Will it mean he visits us? Can we put that in there?” Abby asks.
“I…” I start then press my lips together. I’m so far removed from Kevin that I would be happiest if I never saw him again. But it’s different for the kids. They need two parents and if I can do this for them, I have to try. “I can ask.”
“What if he says no?” Archer asks.
“Why would he say no?” Abigail directs at him.
“He stole our money and he didn’t call at Christmas or on the first day of school.”
“Maybe he’s scared we hate him now,” Abby says.
“I do hate him. Dads aren’t meant to steal, Abby. It’s come-on sense.”
“Don’t you mean ‘common sense’, dear?” Nana asks.
“No. It’s like when someone does something really dumb and everyone shouts, ‘come on’ at them because they should have known better. Come-on sense.”
Nana lifts her eyebrows and tilts her head, understanding his logic. Weirdly, it made total sense to me too.
“Hate is a very strong word, Archer,” I add. “And if your dad decides he wants to spend time with you, he has every right to ask for it.”
“That’s dumb. What about what I want?”
“Well, that will be considered too. We’ll have to get something called Parenting Orders to decide how that would work, but first, I think we need to see what your father is willing to agree to. I can’t force him to visit, but I can force him to pay.”
“Then that’s what you should do,” Abby says, nodding her head. “It’s not right that he stole from us, and it’s not fair that he keeps all the money. .”
“OK.” I nod, feeling a sense of relief that this has turned out OK, after all.
“Why’d he decide to steal the money anyway?” Archer asks.
“Mum already said, dummy. So he could start a new life.”
“Yeah, but Mummy said it took months for him to steal it all. He didn’t just wake up and decide ‘oh, I want a new life today.’ He planned it.” I suck my breath in awe. This kid is so damn smart.
Abby frowns and swings her gaze my way. “That is really messed up.”
Closing my eyes for a second, I breathe deep through my nose, preparing myself to unload. The truth. The whole truth, so help me, God.
“Then I suppose I should go back to when everything changed,” I say. “You see, your father found a lump…”
“THAT WAS BRAVE IN THERE EARLIER,” Nana says later when the kids have finished asking a thousand questions before finally going to bed. “It could have gone very differently, but you handled it superbly. I’m proud of you.”
“Thanks, Nana,” I say, taking a sip of my wine, sorely needed after that marathon explanation session. I’m absolutely exhausted, but I’m glad to be free of the secrets I was keeping on Kevin’s behalf, while also deciding on a road we can move forward on. I think we became a tighter family unit tonight.
“I was surprised you didn’t talk to them about your relationship with Leo.”
“What relationship? We’ve barely spoken in nine weeks now. I’ve tried reaching out during his custody hearing but…” I shrug.
“So that’s it? You hit a roadblock and you’re through? I thought you loved him.”
“I do. But you should have seen him, Nana. That day I came to talk to him, he was so angry that I could feel it com
ing off him in waves. I wanted to be there for him, but he shut me out.”
“Maybe he couldn’t handle missing you while he fought for his son?”
“I don’t know, Nana. I could have at least provided comfort or an understanding ear, like he did for me when my life was falling apart. But he told me to go away. That doesn’t sound like he wants a relationship to me. It sounds like he wants to be alone.”
“That Tash is a devil of a woman,” she says, obviously wanting to change tack. “Did I ever tell you about the time I overheard her telling Leo that she would fabricate a story about him beating on Niall if he didn’t give her money? She turned on the tears as an example of how believable she’d be to the press, and poor Leo felt so backed into a corner that he gave her what she wanted.” She shakes her head, her mouth in a tight line. “Terrible, vindictive woman.”
“She hasn’t been too pleasant lately either. The papers are having a field day.”
“Luckily, I had my phone on me at the time, and I recorded the entire conversation. Can’t be submitted as evidence to support Leo, of course, but I think the anonymous email I sent multiple media outlets might go a long way to discredit her in the court of public opinion.”
A grin spreads from ear to ear. “You didn’t.”
“I certainly did. Horrid woman. I always said I’d find a way to help Leo and Niall, and I’m glad the opportunity finally arose for me to do just that.” She pulls a joint out of her pocket and lights up. “Celebratory puff?” She offers it to me.
“Don’t mind if I do.” Inhaling deep, I hold the smoke in my lungs as I hand the joint back. “You know,” I say as the smoke billows past my lips. “No matter what ends up happening between Leo and me, I’m really glad he has you.”
She takes a long contemplative drag before she speaks. “Don’t give up on him, sweetheart. He needs you to wait for him just as much as you need him to wait for you.”
Love is a Beach: a romantic comedy Page 31
