Nobody Knows

by Rebecca Barber

  The days since his suspension had become a blur. A whirlwind of drunken nights and hazy days. He was glad for the hours when the girls were at school and Gillian stayed away. She seemed to spend less and less time at home these days, especially when the kids weren’t with her. Secretly he hoped she was out looking for somewhere to live. The sooner she was out of his life the better. For the first time Joel regretted making her sell the ratty little apartment she had been living in when he had met her.

  After two hours, finding nothing appealing, Joel gave up the job hunt and ducked out into the house. It wasn’t the house he wanted anymore. Toys littered the lounge floor and there was a stain on the white carpet from some spill. It wasn’t the home he had spent years and thousands of dollars building for himself. Seeing the state of the house just infuriated Joel. Then, without hesitation, Joel made a decision. It had been a long time coming, but the spill on the white carpet forced his hand. He was no longer going to allow anything else to fall victim to Gillian’s carelessness and lack of appreciation. He had worked too long and too hard for it to fall apart around him.

  Joel worked methodically. Starting in the kitchen, he went through every cupboard, taking everything he wanted and squirreling it away in what was once Gillian’s side of the walk-in wardrobe. All the crystal glasses, the entire contents of the bar, anything with any value vanished into the wardrobe. An entire six person dinner set and the silver cutlery. Napkins, a tablecloth, a vase. Everything he wanted was packed away. He then moved onto the lounge, first disconnecting the wide screen television and the DVD player and setting it up in his room. Pictures came down from the walls and rugs were rolled up and stashed away.

  Three hours later, with a thin film of sweat covering his entire body, he was satisfied. For now. The house looked half empty, as if someone had broken in and taken anything that was still in pristine condition or working order. All that was left was the chipped coffee table, a stained cushion and the pile of Wiggles DVDs. But now he felt revitalized. It would take time to complete the move, biding his time when Gillian was out so not to cause a scene, but eventually he would have his house, the part he was imprisoned in, exactly the way he wanted. He showered, threw on a pair of Calvin Klein jeans, and took off for his new favorite place to be—the nearest bar.

  In a little over a week Joel had become a regular at the local haunt. He knew the other drunks sitting at the bar chain smoking. He knew each bartender by name and cup size. He made lewd comments about them and made everyone feel dirty and degraded, yet they still loved him. Every day Joel picked up the tab. Even if they got there and started drinking hours before he arrived, never giving their bodies time to sober up from the session of the day before, he would simply walk in, place his credit card on the bar, and sign on the dotted line when he left. He never even once looked at the amount. By the time he signed, he could barely see anyway, so it wouldn’t have made any difference.

  “Joel, buddy.” A toothless bald man smiled gaily at him.

  “Afternoon, Cameron.” Joel forced a smile back. The truth was Joel despised Cameron. He was everything Joel hated in life—a leech. He’d received an insurance payout years earlier and lived on that until the funds ran out. Now he spent his days drinking and sleeping and drooling on himself, living off government handouts and strangers’ generosity.

  “Jack and Coke,” Joel ordered with a wink. He had turned his back before he saw the revolted look the surly bartender flashed in his direction. Hours passed and he finished drink after drink. The sun was already rising when he was helped into a taxi and sent home, barely hours before the meeting which would determine his fate.

  Unable to get the key in his bedroom door lock, Joel slumped against it and passed out. Barely twenty minutes later his bright eyed daughters began bouncing on him and wishing him a good morning. He managed to sit up and look at them. They stood there, hopefulness written all over their young, innocent faces, before turning away, repulsed, as he vomited next to Charli, covering her favorite pink ballet shoes. He heard her scream for Gillian before he reached out and slapped Charli’s face, stunning her into silence. Bianca raced off crying, but Charli stood frozen to the spot clutching her face. It took barely seconds for a furious Gillian to appear and scoop Charli up into her protective arms. “You ever touch them again and you’ll regret it,” she threatened.

  Astonished by his own actions, Joel watched Gillian as she hastily grabbed the girls and fled. He heard the car crunch the gravel and take off down the street before he passed out in the puddle of his own vomit.

  The vibration from his mobile phone ringing in his top pocket crushed beneath him woke him hours later. “Fuck! Shit! Fuck!” Joel woke with a start. His phone ringing could only be yet another bad sign. And when he checked the caller ID he knew he was right. It was the wicked bitch of the west, Samantha.

  “Hi,” he puffed down the phone, as he pulled himself up as quickly as he could and forced open his bedroom door.

  “Nice to hear you’re still alive, Joel,” she said frostily.

  Joel wanted to tell her what he really thought, but knew it was a bad idea. If he wanted his career back, his life back, or even just a second chance, playing nice with Samantha was a necessity. “Yeah, still alive. A few dramas this morning getting Lucas off to school for his first day. Wouldn’t let Gillian take him, it had to be Dad. Then he cried and cried and just wouldn’t let to go.” Joel lied like it was nothing. He could smell something disgusting and when he saw his face in the mirror and spotted the chunks of sick in his own hair, he wanted to vomit again. But instead it just inspired another lie. “Then he made himself sick all over me so I just dashed home to change. Sorry I’m running late,” he lied easily.

  “Fine,” Samantha stated dismissively, her tone indicating she didn’t believe a word but nevertheless letting him get away with it. “How long do you think you will be? Michael and I have other appointments so we can’t wait around for you all day.”

  The mention of Michael’s name turned Joel sober instantly. He was the CEO, and while lovely ninety-five percent of the time, if you failed him or lied to him or embarrassed him in any way, the consequences were dire.

  “Ten minutes tops,” Joel said, slamming the front door behind him and sprinting to the car. His Audi was still at the pub from last night, but luckily Gillian’s old Barina was still parked in the driveway. Why she’d insisted on keeping it all these years was beyond Joel, but in that crazy moment he was thankful it was there. “Running out the door now,” he said, and for the first time he was telling the truth.

  The Barina had never moved so fast or as aggressively as it did that day, darting between cars and racing red lights. By the time he got to the office, only eight minutes had passed. He’d had time to splash water on his face, swallow half a bottle of mouthwash, and pull on some clean clothes, doing up his fly and tie in the car as he flew in. “Not a bad effort,” he congratulated himself, jumping out of the car and taking the stairs three at a time.

  Out of breath, Joel was completely bewildered when the nasty receptionist in the corporate office asked him to take a seat and she would check if Mr. Thomas was available to see him. Two weeks ago he used to breeze through the door like he owned the place, barely bothering to acknowledge the receptionist even existed. It was not a good sign.

  After fifteen painfully drawn-out minutes, he was summoned to Michael’s office. It was large and intimidating and everything the CEO’s office should be: immaculate but not over the top, classy but not obscene, inspiring but not homey. Someone had good taste.

  Gulping down the lump that had formed in his throat as he had nervously walked down the corridor, his palms were sweaty and his stomach was still gurgling from last night’s effort. He hadn’t planned to drink that much, but the first tasted so good that by the tenth it was like drinking water. And he was just so damn thirsty he couldn’t stop.

  Joel appeared in the doorway. Michael spotted him and rose from his high-backed leather chair to
greet him. As inconspicuously as he could, Joel dried his palm on his pants as he reached out to shake Michael’s hand.

  “Thanks for coming in today, Joel,” Michael offered professionally.

  “No problem.” Joel flashed the cheesy grin that in the past had got him out of so much trouble.

  He’d been in Michael’s office so many times over the years and never before had he been afraid, but today was different. Samantha just nodded in his direction, refusing to stand and greet him. Joel had always considered Michael more than just a boss, but like a friend who understood him. Very few people actually did, but Michael was one of the few who did, who knew what it was like to be in his situation, but today Joel barely recognized the man staring back at him. The disappointed dad look was the perfect costume.

  “Have a seat, Joel,” Michael indicated, pointing to the chair next to Samantha. Sliding into the seat, Joel said nothing. Maintaining the stoic silence required all his effort and concentration. “It frustrates me to have to have this discussion with you, Joel. Nevertheless, it is my responsibility to do so. You may or may not be aware I’ve received a serious complaint about your conduct. You were temporarily suspended until I had the chance to investigate further.” Michael paused briefly to sip his water. Samantha continued to look out the window and at the floor and the ceiling, anywhere other than at Joel.

  Joel gulped. He was gone. The look on Michael’s face made it obvious, but he had to sit through this, whatever it was. “It was a very serious allegation made against you personally and it was my duty to fully investigate the incident. I have now completed my inquiries and I have no choice but to inform you that from this moment forth you are no longer employed at Max Meredith & Sons.”

  Michael paused and waited for Joel’s reaction. Unfortunately, Joel wasn’t the first agent Michael had been forced to fire over the years, and he probably wouldn’t be the last, but what he was seeing now truly surprised him. After knowing Joel for all those years, he expected to see some semblance of that wild temper he knew he possessed, but nothing came. Joel was stony faced and somber, merely nodding his agreement.

  “Okay,” he said, no louder than a whisper, after a long while.

  Michael waited to see if there was any more. When nothing else came he continued, “The nature of the complaint was disturbing and I’ll admit I was extremely troubled and upset to hear that such a thing had happened. I have convinced the young lady involved to not press charges against you, and I gave her my word that I would deal with the situation sufficiently. You are not to go back to your office. Samantha will clean out your office for you and arrange for the boxes to be delivered to your home. You will, however, need to turn your swipe card and keys in immediately.”

  Stunned, Joel reached into his pocket and pulled out the keys, dropping them silently into Samantha’s outstretched hand, following immediately with the swipe card. “I am sorry it ended like this, Joel. Whatever is going on with you, and I’ve known you long enough to know that there is something going on, you need to deal with it. Get some help. Sort yourself out,” he offered. He stood up, indicating that this meeting was over.

  Silently, Joel got up and walked out. That chapter of his life was over. He thought about fighting it, making a scene, letting everyone know that he would not tolerate this, but in his heart he knew that there was no point. It was over. Best to just walk away with what little dignity he had left. He went home and went to his room. Shut the curtains, shut out the daylight, shut out the world and went to sleep.

  A week later he emerged from his own private hell and unleashed his rage against the world. First his family and the woman who had ruined everything for him. That was the day he made the decision to cut them from his life completely. Cut out all the bad and then he could get the good back. He had a lot of work to do, but he would get there. He was still young and resourceful and, more importantly, he had money saved for a rainy day. And today it was pouring.

  That night he told Gillian exactly what he thought of her. With a well-timed slap, a punch and a kick, Joel let her know exactly where she stood. When she returned ten days later she was visibly terrified of him. Yet another accomplishment for him, and after only six weeks of living under the same roof, after that night Joel flew to the Gold Coast for some time off and to escape the nightmare.

  That was six years ago now. When all that happened Joel had naïvely believed it would only take six months to fix his broken, unrecognizable life. It was now six years later and things were just as bad, if not worse than they had ever been. And he was more miserable than he had ever imagined possible. Even the booze couldn’t dull the pain and fill the emptiness that controlled him.

  Chapter

  Twenty-Three

  Gillian

  Adele was my angel. From the moment she had seen her son, her only child, kick me, their relationship dissolved. From what I have managed to extract from Adele over the years, she and Joel had had a huge argument when she returned from the hospital to collect the girls some clothes. She had disowned him until he sorted this mess out. He never had. Selfishly, I thought that was the end of not only my relationship with Adele but also my children’s. But Adele was better than that. She stood by us in ways Joel never knew. I would often find random deposits into my bank account. We were invited for dinner at least once a week and the presents just became out of control. Any excuse to buy one of the kids a new pair of shoes or outfit, Adele took it. Without a mother of my own, Adele became the only person I trusted enough with the truth. Even with my best-friends, I just couldn’t bring myself to admit how bad my life had become.

  These days I had a key to her house and we were welcome any time, day or night. The one night I had taken the kids and checked into a motel in the middle of the night, Adele had been so furious at me she had gone out that afternoon, purchased a set of bunk beds with pink quilt covers and had unicorns painted on the walls so that the girls always had a home. Even if it couldn’t be at our own place, we always had a place at Adele’s.

  Quietly I let myself in, trying not to disturb anyone. It was the middle of the night. Joel had come home a little before midnight and now had music blaring from his bedroom. Lucas had woken first, but it didn’t take long before we were all awake wondering what on earth was going on in there. But when the CD changed and I heard a female giggling, I knew things had gone too far. I didn’t care if he was cheating on me. It didn’t bother me in the slightest, but I was not going to let the kids see some cheap bimbo emerge from their father’s bedroom while they were munching on their toast in the morning. I wasn’t doing it for Joel. I was protecting our kids from our reality, and so I had done what I needed to do—packed the kids in the car, complete with tomorrow’s school clothes, and driven them to a safe place.

  “Bianca! Charli,” I whispered, trying not to wake Adele. “Go jump into bed, girls. It’s late.” They were so tired and still half asleep that together, hand in hand, they walked down the hallway and when I checked on them five minutes later they were sleeping soundly curled in the bottom bunk together.

  Lucas was another problem altogether. Something had shaken him. He was wide awake and frightened. I had tried putting him into his bed and reading to him but nothing helped. Exhausted, I crawled into the single bed beside him and snuggled down. I stroked his hair softly and after a while he drifted off to sleep on my chest, his steady breathing calming me.

  “Everything okay?” Adele asked, poking her head in the door.

  “Yeah,” I whispered back, pointing to Lucas, making sure she knew he was asleep.

  “Good night.”

  “’Night, Adele.”

  I knew every time we snuck into her house, or arrived while she was still awake, she was agitated and worried, afraid that Joel was in trouble or causing more chaos. Each time we slept in her spare rooms I could feel her eyes scouring me, looking for any signs of abuse, but I had gotten better at hiding it. And so had Joel. He knew how to hurt me and hide the bruises. And we both
knew that I was too pathetic and weak to tell anyone about them. That meant I would have to admit that I kept going back. Like an idiot, I kept going home to my abusive alcoholic husband. It was definitely not something to be proud of, and not something I wanted to advertise.

  But Adele wouldn’t ask me for any details the following day. I think she preferred to not know. In her heart, Adele knew what he had done and she never pretended that it didn’t happen, but she didn’t discuss it either. I think it was easier to be nice to me and our kids to make up for Joel’s shortcomings then to confront them and admit that it was a real problem.

  I slept fitfully. Lucas wasn’t a calm sleeper and the nights he was disrupted were his worst. He would toss and turn and scream out in his sleep. When I woke the next morning, I was curled up at the end of the bed, where his tiny feet couldn’t reach, but he was gone. Initially I panicked. But then I remembered that we were at Adele’s and she wouldn’t mind if the kids got up in the morning and made a noise. It was only Joel who was set off by that.

  As I stretched out the loud cracking noise in my neck, back, and shoulders got my attention. I was aching from head to toe. I wanted to run the hottest bubble bath I could tolerate and lie there for a month. Even an hour would do. Just let some of the frustration seep out of me. Instead, I pulled myself together, ducked into the bathroom, and splashed some cold water on my face before facing Adele and the kids. Explaining what was happening to Charli was the worst. I could no longer hide the truth from her with lies and deception. She knew everything and saw everything, but my biggest concern was what she was repeating. No one needed to know what happened behind the closed doors of our home, but I understood that maybe Charli needed someone to talk to. Someone who’d understand. Someone who wasn’t me.