Nobody Knows

by Rebecca Barber

  “Morning, Mummy.” Bianca smiled, bounding over and wrapping her skinny freckled arms around my waist. I couldn’t help but to smile back. She made me keep going.

  “Hi darling,” I replied, kissing her lightly on her forehead. “What are we doing out here?”

  “Nana made us pancakes for breakfast!” Bianca explained, sliding back in her chair at the bench and stuffing a huge forkful of pancake into her mouth, leaving a trail of sticky maple syrup across everything.

  “Isn’t Nana wonderful?” I asked, silently mouthing ‘thank you’ to Adele. Only she noticed and still she remained silent.

  “Lucas, have you had enough breakfast?” Adele asked, taking charge.

  Being at Adele’s wasn’t only a safe haven from Joel’s abusive and hurtful attacks, but I was also allowed to take a break from being a single parent. Where Joel could have been helping, should have been helping, on those days we were at Adele’s she stepped up and gave me a breather.

  “Come on, guys, eat up,” I encouraged, glancing at my watch. They had to be at school in less than an hour.

  “Gillian, go jump in the shower. I’ll finish getting these guys organized for a school,” she offered helpfully. I just nodded. Somehow, Adele always knew what I needed.

  An hour later, the kids were at school and I was in the office, but I couldn’t concentrate. Something Charli had mumbled in the car on the way to school really upset me. She had complained about her father, yet again, but it was the way she said it that hurt. She was only twelve years old, but in that moment she seemed older than I was. “Mum, why won’t Dad just leave? He doesn’t love us. So why do we have to be the ones that keep going to Nana’s?”

  Although I had the same thought every day for the past six years, I never had an answer. Not once. But that too was my fault. I had never asked. But now was as good a time as any to make that change. And when my boss floated past my cubicle two hours later and I was still away with the pixies, I casually asked if he would mind if I took the afternoon off. When he had no objections, I was out of there as quickly as I could go.

  The drive home was painful. Ten minutes of extreme torture—practicing what I wanted to say and imagining what Joel’s responses would be. I didn’t want to get hit again, but that feeling wasn’t a new one for me. Sadly. I thought about telling someone what I was about to do, but I was afraid they would try and stop me. This was something I had to do, not just for me, but for my three terrified, fatherless children.

  I pulled into the driveway and there was a car I didn’t recognize, maybe that of the woman from last night. I didn’t remember it being there when we left, but then again it wasn’t important at the time. Summoning all the strength I possessed, I quickly sent a text to Heidi.

  Gillian: At home. If u don’t hear from me in an hour. Call the police.

  I knew she would panic, that was what Heidi did, but I had to tell someone where I was. If the past had proven anything it was that Joel was capable and willing to do whatever it took to get his way. No matter who or what he hurt along the way.

  When I reached the front door I had to stop myself. I had gone to knock on my own front door. How pathetic was that? Opening the door, I felt a surge of rage and I was no longer scared. “I’m home!” I called out as bravely as I could.

  I knew I had stunned Joel by announcing my arrival, because behind the dead bolted door I heard crashing and swearing before a tirade of giggling from someone I didn’t recognize. Each day when the kids and I returned home we usually snuck in the house, careful not to aggravate him, but today I had loudly declared I was home.

  “Who gives a fuck, Gillian?” Joel greeted me, emerging from his room with only a towel tied loosely around his waist.

  “Shut up, Joel. And sit down. We need to talk. Now!” I directed, pointing to the sofa.

  “Fuck off,” he replied politely, turning his back on me and heading back to his bedroom and his skank.

  “Joel!” I snapped, raising my voice. “Sit the fuck down and listen.”

  Taken aback, he did exactly as I said. Trying to compose myself, I sucked in a deep breath and glanced at him. He had scratches on his shoulders, more than likely from the woman in his bed. A few days’ stubble on his chin. Gone was the toned body and the flat stomach, and instead his beer belly hung over the towel gathered at his waist. For the first time I noticed his man boobs and saw what he had really become. He wasn’t even recognizable as the confident, courageous young man I had met and married all those years ago. Now he was nothing more than a bitter bum with no direction and no dreams. In that moment, as I saw the hopelessness in his eyes, I couldn’t help but wonder if I had been the one to suck the life out of him, or if he had imploded all on his own.

  “Hurry up, Gillian. What do you want to say that you think is so goddamn important?”

  “You need to get out.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You need to leave. Move out.”

  Bewilderment was written all over his face. I had never spoken to him like this before. I wasn’t sure if it was what I was saying or if it was the fact that I was saying it that stunned him into silence, but for a long moment nothing was said. My words hung heavily in the air between us. Then before I knew what was happening, he was on me.

  Joel’s hand was at my throat and I was gasping for breath. He pushed me backwards until I was squished between his body and the brick wall. His breath was in my face and I could smell last night’s booze session. But this time I wasn’t afraid. I had to stand up to him. “What gives you the right to tell me to move out of my house?” he snarled, squeezing tighter on my throat.

  I couldn’t focus properly. My eyes had tiny black dots fading in and out as I struggled to breathe. A piercing scream loosened Joel’s grip. The woman emerged from his bedroom wearing only a g-string and when her eyes locked on mine, she let out a deafening squeal, causing Joel’s concentration to falter.

  If I thought she was going to help me anymore than that, I was sadly mistaken. Instead, she grabbed her denim purse from the kitchen bench and ran out of the house as fast as she could, tears streaming down her face. As she pulled open the front door, she took one last look at me, her wide frightened eyes filled with apologies.

  Taking the opportunity to respond, I reached up and wrapped my hands around Joel’s, clawing at his fingers, trying to pry his hands loose. “Joel, your children don’t want to come home while you are here. You scare them,” I pleaded. But if Joel was enraged before, watching his young date run away only infuriated him further.

  “Well, then they can fuck off. I paid for the damn thing. What have they ever done to contribute?” he spat.

  “They’re your kids, Joel. They don’t need to do anything for you.”

  “We aren’t even sure they’re mine, are we?”

  “What are you insinuating?”

  “You’re a whore, Gillian. So who knows who the father is?”

  “You’re fucking kidding me, right?” I was fuming now. After everything else, all the fights, the bitter words, the punches, and the complete neglect, now he was denying they were even his children.

  “You tell me?” He squeezed my throat again savagely before pushing my head so it banged the wall hard, leaving me seeing stars.

  “Joel, please,” I whimpered, knowing that this was going to get worse before it got better. He looked me straight in the eye, the first time he had done that in years, and dropped me in disgust. Instantly my hands rubbed at my neck. That was going to leave a mark, but now wasn’t the time to wonder where my turtlenecks were stored. “Our kids can’t go on like this. They’re too scared to live in their own house in case they upset you. Please, just get out. Give them a chance to have a normal life. Get your shit together, then come back and be a father.” I found myself begging, something I had promised myself years ago that I would never do.

  “Fuck off, Gillian. This isn’t about your kids at all. You want my house. That’s what it all comes down to.”


  “Get over yourself, Joel. It’s not about you and it’s not about me.”

  “It’s always about you. You’re a selfish, manipulative whore, Gillian. And I’m not giving you a thing,” he stated matter-of-factly.

  My heart was breaking. My neck was stinging and sore, but with each hateful word my heart broke a little more. The startling revelation was that I didn’t know there was anything left for Joel to break. I thought he had destroyed it years ago.

  As the pain subsided and pure white-hot rage took over, I gave up trying to be nice and trying to stay alive. Reasoning with Joel wasn’t working, so it was time to speak the only language he knew. As he began to walk away from me, I followed him. When I reached out my hand and grabbed his shoulder roughly, spinning him around so once again he was facing me, I didn’t even recognize the fingers.

  “We are not fucking finished, Joel. You need to get the fuck out of this house NOW,” I boomed. “Your kids won’t come home while you’re here and I won’t have them not here at home. They are not going to some foster home ’cause their dad is too much of a low life asshole to care about them. So get your shit and get out!”

  I was stupid. I should have seen it coming, but I wasn’t myself. His hand collided with my cheek with such a force that I was knocked off my feet and my eye felt like it was going to explode out of its socket.

  “You think you’re brave talking to me like that?” he slurred, standing over me as I tried to scramble up off the floor. “Stay there.” He pushed me back down. “I’m not leaving. If this life is so terrible for your precious kids, then you go. Take what you came with and get out.”

  “You can’t think this is okay?” I queried.

  “You are trash, Gillian. And if those kids can’t see it, then they are bigger morons than I ever was.” My tears were back. That was the beginning of the end.

  Joel was violent and mean and cruel, and if he saw even one trace of weakness he exploited it to the fullest, and tears were the worst. Nothing could cause more trouble than a rogue tear on a soft cheek.

  I didn’t see the kick coming. This time it was my knee that bore the brunt of it. An immediate pain consumed my body. I wriggled in agony; a distressed wail escaped my lips. Joel spat on me, leaving a large white spot on my shirt.

  “Please, just get out,” I pleaded.

  Joel began to walk away and I pulled myself unsteadily to my feet. Using the bench to steady my balance, I grabbed the nearest thing, a ceramic fruit bowl with one lonely green apple rolling about in the bottom, and hurled it with all my strength towards Joel’s head. It missed, just, and instead crashed into the wall only centimeters from him. That certainly got his attention.

  “What the fuck?” He spun on his heel and came back at me.

  For someone who was still drunk from the night before he was astonishingly quick on his feet. Grabbing my wrists, he twisted one backwards. I glanced down at my arms. I didn’t know how much longer I could hang on. The pain was running rampant through my body; he was going to break my wrist. At best it was already badly sprained, and if it was held at that unnatural angle for much longer I was going to be in more strife than I knew.

  Pushing through the pain and the tears, I knew I would never have the courage and the tenacity—not to mention the stupidity—to put myself in this position again, so it was now or never. “For fuck’s sake, Joel. For once in your life be a man. I know your dad died and you never had the male role model you obviously needed, but what you’re doing to us, your family, is wrong. You know that. You can’t push me around and slap me and throw me on the floor and take all the money and leave us with nothing. Or cut your own children out of your life but still stay in the same house. How can you possibly think that this is all okay? I know you, or at least I used to, and that man I knew, he would never have let things turn out like this. What happened to him?”

  Furious, Joel threw me across the room, watching as I fell backwards off the coffee table. My wrist was broken at best, shattered at worst. I tried to put some weight on it to help me up and yelped in agony.

  “Gillian, stop threatening me. You know you don’t have the balls to do anything about it. This is my life. If you won’t leave, then deal with it. I’m not going to change for you. I’m not going to change for anyone.” He laughed a deep, tyrannical laugh.

  He towered over me, leering as I clutched at my wrist. I wanted to kick him as hard as I could and put him in real physical pain. He disgusted me, standing over me, naked. I wanted nothing more than to vomit on the carpet.

  “Now, Gillian, run over to my mother’s place and hide,” he sneered. I couldn’t conceal my terror. I had no idea that Joel knew where we went. “Oh, you didn’t think I knew about that, did you? Well, you might want to tell your big-mouthed children to keep your secrets a bit better. I know everything.”

  He turned and walked away. The last thing I heard before his bedroom door slammed was, “We’re done. Get the hell out of my house and don’t come back. Go on, run to my Mummy and tell her that big bad mean Joel hurt you.” And he was gone.

  The conversation was over. And I was a mess. My wrist hung limply in my lap. I was sure my neck was covered in deep, unexplainable red marks. Not to mention the cuts and scrapes on my back, legs, and hips. My face felt like it was on fire from the slap and my knee was barely able to hold my weight. Pitifully, I dragged my battered body up off the carpet and limped out the front door. I hadn’t even made it to my car when Heidi’s red Mazda came to a screeching halt beside me. At the sight of her I collapsed on the gravel and burst into a torrent of tears.

  Chapter

  Twenty-Four

  Joel

  In his room, Joel collapsed on the bed, exhausted. Another outburst with his wife had drained him of what little energy he had left. His head had still been pounding from the night before and then Gillian had come home carrying on like she was some kind of battered wife who knew what was best. Telling him that he had to get out of his own house. With his hands on his hips, Joel just shook his head. “Who does she think she is?” he asked himself repetitively.

  For a long time Joel sat there, completely naked, and not even noticing. He looked around his room and saw what had become of his life. His room was his prison. The only difference was he could sneak out at night and find himself the next conjugal visitor. Everything he owned had been squirreled away. What was once the walk-in wardrobe filled with Armani and Versace suits, all immaculately pressed and lined up, was now filled with clothes tossed in piles and shoved wherever they fitted. In the en suite all traces of Gillian’s makeup and sweet smelling perfume were gone. Instead, on the vanity next to Joel’s cheap disposable razor, was a generic brand kettle and a tin of instant coffee. Even the sight of it made Joel want to scream. It was all just a painful reminder of how far he had fallen.

  Last night’s conquest’s clothes littered his floor, along with a month’s worth of empty bourbon and vodka bottles. A few empty pizza boxes gave the room a peculiar odor which Joel hadn’t noticed before but now it was more overpowering and repugnant than hospital disinfectant. And then it hit him. This time he had gone too far.

  Instantly regret flooded him and he wanted to know that Gillian was all right. Sobriety was immediate. In the past Joel had picked his battles well and he had possessed enough control not to go too far, not to hurt her too much. This had been the case since after the night when he had punched her in the stomach, causing all sorts of complications, not only with his mother, who had watched the whole thing, but also with Gillian’s pregnancy. He’d been fanatical about being able to hide the bruises. But not this time.

  This time Gillian had come home looking for a fight. She was angry, agitated, and aggressive. For the first time in a decade, Joel saw that she was filled with the passion he once loved about her. This only helped things get even further out of hand. He now prayed feverishly that she had enough sense to hide what he could almost guarantee were going to be marks on her neck and her wrist. Surely she would
need medical help with that one. Would she tell someone what had happened? She never had in the past, so maybe she would keep her mouth shut again. But maybe wasn’t enough to rely on. He had never gone that far either. Panicked, Joel didn’t know whether he had pushed her over the edge and the police would be knocking any moment.

  Determined not to let this ruin his life, Joel jumped up with a renewed sense of responsibility. He couldn’t deny the bruising, and he knew he couldn’t lie his way out of a broken wrist and the scratches on her neck if the police came looking, but he could lie his way out of pretty much everything else. She had no proof. Gillian was too dumb, too worried about other people’s perceptions to cover her arse, and Joel resolved in that moment to cover his. He darted into the shower and washed away the filth, the whore from last night, the smell of Gillian’s vanilla perfume on his skin. For ten minutes he stood under the scalding water and scrubbed ferociously. He emerged a new man. Freshly shaven, he slipped on the only clean white shirt he owned and a pair of ill-fitting Calvin Klein jeans. His once lean frame hung over the waistband, reminding him that he hadn’t been for a run in years. Yet another thing that Gillian had caused to fall apart.

  Once he was up and moving he worked like a crazed man. Haunted by an invisible force, Joel scooped up the piles of clothes from his bedroom floor, pausing only to pick out those clothes that weren’t his, and took them straight to the laundry. Even through all the trouble, Gillian had still washed his clothes. He would dump them in a pile on the floor, unsorted and without checking the pockets, and a day or two later a basket would be dumped outside his locked bedroom door full of fresh laundry. They weren’t ironed or folded like they had once been, but Joel never complained. He wasn’t the husband he once had been, so he considered any victory worth having. But today Gillian wouldn’t be doing it. It took him twenty minutes to locate the washing powder and the fabric softener, work out where it went, and how to start the machine, but as the gentle hum began, Joel felt like he had accomplished something.