Nobody Knows

by Rebecca Barber

  Sitting there, peacefully eating my breakfast, I just watched the people come and go and imagined their lives. There were men in business suits strutting along hurriedly talking incessantly into their wireless ear pieces. Women in short skirts sucking in every last breath of their cigarette before stomping it out with a stiletto heel and darting back into the building. A young mother already looking exhausted pushed along a pram, and an old man on the motorized scooter was almost running people down when they didn’t look where they were going. I could have sat there all day just quietly watching and daydreaming.

  It was easy and fun to imagine their lives. I wondered if they, like me, got up every day, put on a costume, and pretended to be something more. To hide their secret pain that they were forced to bury beneath the suit and tie so no one would ever know. I liked to believe that my life wasn’t the only one that wasn’t all it appeared to be.

  After a while my time enjoying the quiet sunshine ran out. I had to get to work. It’s amazing how real life drags you back into reality and the dreaming and fantasies just seem to evaporate away. Nothing more than a taunting distant memory. As I jumped into the car and pulled out into the Canberra traffic the inner peace and clarity disappeared just as quickly.

  Twenty minutes later I was at my desk sorting through piles of mail to be distributed. Six months ago I had taken a part-time job to help support us. I usually worked from nine to two, four days a week. My job was pretty simple and didn’t require overtime. It felt good to feel needed, to have responsibilities, but most of all it felt good every fortnight when my bank account bounced back into the black. I sorted and distributed the mail, did any photocopying people wanted done but were too busy or important to do themselves, answered phones, and was the general gopher lady. If there was a really significant meeting on it was usually my job to organize the coffee and cakes or whatever the participants liked. And the hours were flexible, something I needed more desperately than the money. I needed to be able to drop the kids off in the morning and pick them up at the end of school. Through the years, that was the one stable point in their lives. They knew that Mum would be there to meet them every day.

  “Hi Jane,” I said as she hastily handed me another pile of files to sort through. Sometimes Jane was a bitch. Really, that was the only way to describe her personality for six months of the year. The other six months, however, someone else entirely worked in her place. She was happy, pleasant to talk to, a bit special at times, and usually quite good company. You just had to pick which Jane had come to work each day and act accordingly. If it was the bitch, duck for cover and wait till it passed; if it was the fun Jane, have a laugh and a smile while the going was good.

  The look on her face and the fact that I received only a barely audible grunt as acknowledgement told me exactly which day it was, and I was going to ensure I stayed out of her way for the rest of the afternoon.

  Work was easy and rewarding. In the office I got not only adult conversation, which I desperately craved, but also some appreciation for my efforts. When I first started it surprised me how unbelievable it felt to get a simple thank you or a smile or a “job well done.” For me it was the little things that made a difference.

  Each day seemed to fly by as uneventfully as the next, which was exactly what I needed at work. It seemed like my personal life was such a mess that I knew I wouldn’t have been able to handle a complicated and drama-filled work day. I guess that was the best thing about working with a team of guys. Most of the time I was the only female, a situation that would intimidate many other women, but I honestly felt like I could be myself with them. There was no bitchiness and no one judging me.

  “How did Lucas do on his first day at school?” Scott asked, leaning on the petition between our cubicles.

  “He wouldn’t even let me walk him into his classroom. I got a ‘see ya Mum’ at the car and he was gone.” I laughed easily.

  “I would have gladly swapped. Rachel cried for over an hour. Every time I took a step towards the door it just got louder. You would be amazed by the high pitch at which a girl can squeal.” Scott was a good guy, a single dad doing his best to raise his young daughter. Although he didn’t know my situation—it was something only a handful of people actually knew the extent of—he some days seemed to understand me better than I understood myself.

  “Tomorrow can only be better,” I encouraged.

  “Let’s hope so.” He laughed, giving me two thumbs up before vanishing down the corridor.

  After he left I found myself thinking about Joel. These days it was something I did less and less, yet today I couldn’t help it. I wondered if he even remembered that it was Lucas’s first day at school. He certainly hadn’t said anything to me, nor left any extra money for his things.

  My marriage to Joel had disintegrated rapidly after he moved me out of our bedroom. Stupidly, in the beginning I thought he was just hurt and angry. I thought he blamed me for everything, but that once he had calmed down things would go back to normal. Like our normal fights. We would both be angry, say things we regretted, both get hurt, then upset, then angry again, before coming back and making up. Or at least call a truce. But this time it was different. A week after the lock was on his bedroom door, Joel still hadn’t been to work. He was home all day every day. And he wasn’t doing anything. I tried to ask him if he was on leave or if he had plans, but all I got were grunts. Then one day he flew into a violent fit. He hadn’t spoken to me in three days when all of a sudden the bedroom door was kicked open; a chair was thrown at the dining room table, shattering the glass table top into a waterfall of broken glass. I barely had enough time to shoo the girls into their bedroom and close the door before he came looking for me.

  I remembered trying to get as far away from the girls’ bedroom as I could. I didn’t know what was going on or what was about to happen, but they weren’t going to get caught in the crossfire. The less they heard of what was about to happen the better. I had seen Joel furious before, but nothing could have prepared me for this. His eyes were glazed over and bulging out of their sockets. The veins in his forehead were poking out at odd angles, sweat gathering on his brow and top lip. The air surrounding him was thick with venom. At first he didn’t say a word, he just stared at me. Then, out of nowhere, he backhanded me across the face. I wasn’t ready for it and crashed into the hallway wall before sliding down it in a daze. Instantly I was woozy and off balance. But it was okay, he helped me up. Gathering a handful of my hair in his fist he pulled me up off the tiles and forced me to stand face to face.

  “This is all your fault, you pathetic, good for nothing slut!” he growled into my face, covering me with spit.

  I still remember the stench of the bourbon on his breath. Standing there, trying not to collapse or shake too much, I looked him in the eye. In hindsight, it probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do, but I wasn’t really thinking properly after the knock to my head. When he punched me in the stomach, I felt like the life had been sucked out of me. Instantly I went numb with fear as I spluttered and my legs went to jelly. I didn’t know how the hell my son was ever going to survive this. Still holding me up by my hair, Joel shook me roughly, then threw me to the ground and discarded me like I was rubbish. I tried not to make a sound, but I couldn’t help it. The whimper escaped my lips.

  “From this moment on,” he snarled, “you’re on your own. I’m not giving you a single fucking thing. You have taken everything from me. And now, I’m done.” He started to walk away and I remembered feeling relieved that it was over. But another whimper leaked out.

  I was cowering on the floor, Joel standing over me. He looked more like a monster than I had ever seen him. Nostrils flaring, face covered in sweat and rage, he tossed his head back and then spat on me. He deliberately spat on me. Then, as if for good measure, he swung one leg behind him before kicking me as hard as he could in the back. I remember seeing it coming but it was like it was happening in slow motion. Even now I can clearly recall the pai
nful howl I let out as his boot connected with my back and I recoiled in agony. And I remember looking up, seeing Adele standing there in the doorway. Actually, she was the last thing I saw—two of her, her face appalled—before I blacked out.

  When I woke up in the hospital they asked a million questions. And I couldn’t answer any. I didn’t know how I had gotten to the hospital or who had brought me or why I was there. But when I tried to sit up, I knew there was a reason why I was there. My whole body was screaming in pain. There were two nurses monitoring me and my baby. I understood very little of what they said in their hushed calming voices, but the look on their worried faces wasn’t hard to read. I was in real trouble.

  Ten days later they let me go home. Ten days later I saw my girls. Ten days later Adele filled me in on what she knew. Joel had been fired. He had attacked the receptionist and the investigation concluded that he had done all the things he had been accused of—threats, sexual assault, as well as a host of other company policy breaches. He’d been dismissed instantly. Then Adele told me what she knew about my injuries. Charli had called her on my mobile and told her to come quick. When she arrived she saw me cowering in the hall, terrified of my husband towering over me. As she stood there, she watched him kick me and just walk away. Joel didn’t even spot her until she was on the floor beside me calling the ambulance and trying to wake me up. Adele explained that she had no idea what had been going on. And she knew nothing about Joel’s violent behavior. Although she was disgusted and embarrassed beyond words, she couldn’t bring herself to tell the police what she’d seen happen when questioned.

  A big part of me believed she was a coward for that. Then I remembered the police asking me what happened and I too had told them I didn’t know. I hated Joel more than I ever thought possible, but for some unknown reason I couldn’t do that. I was just a pathetic coward. But no matter what he was to me, he would always be my children’s father.

  “You okay?” Scott asked politely, his head popping up again. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  An icy shiver ran down my spine. I despised the fact that the mere thought of Joel still affected me so strongly. I knew I would never forget that day, but I didn’t think I would have to relive it so vividly every time his name popped into my head.

  Shaking my head and running my fingers through my hair, I put on my best smile and faked it. “Absolutely. Just away with the pixies. Well, that’s me for the day. I better go pick up the girls. I’m sure Lucas will just tell me he’s going to walk home, but I better check anyway. Don’t stay too late.” With that I threw everything I had in my handbag as quickly as I could and got out of there. A cold sweat had taken control of my body and I didn’t know how long I would be able to keep it together before I fell apart in front of everyone. The last thing I wanted was to be known as was the crying girl.

  I made it to my car. Just. Punching the steering wheel, I swore and cursed and cried and howled. All of this happened years ago, yet here I was sitting alone in my car in a shopping centre car park, the sun beating down, turning my beat-up little orange Holden Commodore into a sauna rather than a car, crying like it had happened ten minutes ago. Shaking my head at my own stupidity, I threw the car into reverse, squealed the tires, and took off as fast as I could.

  Half an hour later I was home. Still in reminiscing mode, I barely recognized the house in front of me. That first night when Joel had taken me home I had been mesmerized by the beauty and splendor of the immaculately maintained gardens, but they were long gone now. The water feature had been turned off and the fish had died. The fairy lights littered about the yard had all blown their globes and been blown from the branches through the years. Gone was the magical paradise and in its place stood a yard littered with bindies and tumble weeds.

  Joel’s beat up Audi was sitting lifeless in the driveway. He had crashed into a tree years ago in a drunken rage. He hadn’t been hurt, but the car had required over ten thousand dollars’ worth of work just to keep it road worthy, and without an income and his savings gone, Joel had just parked it on the driveway and watched it fall apart. Like everything else in this house, it was now nothing more than a worthless piece of junk that had once been beautiful.

  I hoped he wasn’t home. I wasn’t in the mood today to deal with Joel. I just needed some peace and quiet. Lucas jumped out of the car and tore through the house like he was on fire. Even though Joel had been more like a boarder than a father to him over the years, Lucas still idolized him. He wanted to spend time with him. Nevertheless, I could count on one hand the number of times Joel had actively sought Lucas out to throw a Frisbee or kick a football with him.

  “Daddy!” he screeched delightedly. “Guess what, guess what! Where are you?”

  I watched in horror as Lucas raced about the house banging on doors and waiting for something that I guessed would prove to be nothing more than yet another bitter disappointment. I had learnt years ago not to expect anything from Joel, and tragically both Bianca and Charli had learnt the same lessons the hard way, no matter how much I tried to protect them from it. Lucas reached up and tried to turn the door handle on Joel’s bedroom door. It wouldn’t budge. It was locked again.

  “Daddy!” he squealed, becoming agitated.

  I couldn’t simply stand by and watch as his innocent heart broke. “Lucas, come here and show me what you did at school today. Daddy has gone out. You can tell him about it when he gets home.” I felt as though I had just murdered his dreams. In my heart I knew that Lucas wouldn’t get the chance to tell Joel what he had done on his first day at big school. It was more likely that Joel would stumble through the door reeking of cheap perfume and alcohol long after Lucas was in bed.

  Lucas wore a mask of disappointment as he perched himself on the sofa next to me and pulled papers out of his backpack. “You didn’t eat your lunch!” I scolded, noticing the mangled sandwich in the bottom of his bag.

  “Oh, Mum. I was busy.”

  “Yeah? Doing what?”

  “Playing,” he said. His wide toothless smile was convincing; seeing that, I couldn’t be mad at him.

  For twenty minutes Lucas told me about his new friends and the playground and his teacher and everything else about the school. In his eyes it was the best day ever. All he wanted to do was share it with his dad. And Dad was missing in action. Again. My heart broke at his repeated requests for his father. I wished Joel would wake up to himself and appreciate what he had right in front of him, but he didn’t. And he wouldn’t. And I couldn’t make him.

  “Can I go play Lego, Mum?” Lucas asked. Not trusting myself to speak, I faked my best smile and nodded. Before I even opened my eyes, Lucas was bounding down the hallways happily. It was when I turned over a crumpled piece of paper that Lucas had squished into my hand that I realized what it was: a crayon drawing of Joel and Lucas swimming in the pool playing with a ball. I didn’t know where Lucas had dreamt the scene from, because it definitely wasn’t a memory. Joel had never once got in the pool with Lucas. Not since the day he was born. No one had been in the pool that I knew of for at least the past two swimming seasons. It too, like everything else, had begun to fall apart. Tiny blue tiles had fallen off and dotted the bottom of the pool like confetti. The filter was so compacted with leaves, twigs, and anything else that had happened to wiggle its way under the cover it had long ago been abandoned.

  Frustrated at everything, I stomped into the kitchen and stuck a post-it note to the picture. ‘Your son’s dream’ was all I wrote, and left it on the bench in the usual spot. It was sad to think that the only way Joel and I communicated these days was with post-it notes stuck to everything. The bills, kids’ permission slips, notes asking for money, information to be shared. It was a truce we had established after he closed the joint bank account and emptied it without telling me. He left me with nothing and took off. For almost two months he was just gone. Lucas was less than three weeks old and Joel just up and left. I found out later that he had flown to the Gold Coa
st, first class, and spent his time drinking in bars, wining and dining beautiful women, and staying at the Crowne Plaza in a spa suite. In less than two months he blew most of our savings and the rest he kept for himself. Without the four ladies in my life who were always there, there was no way I would ever have survived.

  Chapter

  Twenty-Two

  Joel

  The phone call came and he knew it was bad news before he even picked it up. His face twisted into a tortured scowl as he recognized Samantha’s direct office line appear on his screen. “Hello,” he said as politely as he could manage through gritted teeth.

  “Good morning, Joel, it’s Samantha,” she said, exceedingly bubbly.

  In his mind Joel knew she was enjoying his torment. “How can I help you this morning, Samantha?” he forced, almost spitting her name.

  “If you could please come in for a meeting tomorrow at eleven, it would be appreciated. It will be in the corporate headquarters in Braddon.”

  “I guess I could be there,” he snapped, not giving an inch.

  “Right, I’ll see you then.” She clicked off.

  Joel’s heart sank as he read into every word she said and even more heavily into each word she didn’t. Things were not looking good. Staring around the four walls of his bedroom, Joel was fuming. This was his prison. Beyond those walls was noise and dirt and squealing kids and a clingy wife and a life he had never asked for, a life someone else wanted and yet somehow, in some cruel joke, he had ended up with.

  Unlocking the door, Joel stuck his head out the door and screamed, “Would you all just shut the fuck up? I’m trying to think.” Then, with the slam of the door and the click of the lock, visiting hours on the prison was closed. Instead, Joel fired up his computer and began looking for a new job. He knew it was coming and he couldn’t stop it. Office politics would end his career. That and the tramp perched at the reception desk.