Art Ache

by Lucy Arthurs

  SISTER

  You and your bloody feelings. Well, I’m never going to make fun of them again. You were right. There was more to his story.

  ME

  Heaps more.

  SISTER

  Sorry if I led you astray by being too flippant.

  ME

  Nothing to apologise for. At least I know what I’m dealing with.

  SISTER

  He’s your bit of rough!

  ME

  Ha ha.

  SISTER

  I think it’s great that you’re giving it a go, Pers.

  ME

  Me too.

  I then break my hospital-imposed home detention to visit Marjory. She’s pleased to see me and I’m pleased that Patrick has volunteered to have his first experience of looking after Jack all by himself. Just in case, I’ve set Jack up with more stimulating activities than a Montessori school.

  MARJORY

  Good to see you, Persephone.

  ME

  Yes. And you.

  MARJORY

  Fill me in.

  And I do. Every gory detail.

  MARJORY

  Why is his honesty so important to you?

  Pertinent question.

  ME

  I needed to feel safe. I needed to know that he wasn’t just going to . . .

  MARJORY

  . . . turn up one day and tell you he was over you.

  ME

  Yes.

  MARJORY

  That you didn’t do it for him anymore.

  ME

  Yes.

  MARJORY

  That was your ex-husband, Persephone. Not Patrick.

  ME

  I know, but Patrick showed his own signs of dishonesty and then I went and fell in love with him. I didn’t plan on doing that. I didn’t want to fall in love.

  MARJORY

  Because you still loved Tom.

  Awkward pause.

  Did I? She’s said it as a statement, not a question.

  ME

  Maybe.

  MARJORY

  Or maybe you still loved the idea of Tom. Who Tom was. Who you were. But not the reality.

  ME

  Yes. Tom had changed. I had changed.

  MARJORY

  So Tom deciding to leave wasn’t such a bad thing?

  ME

  No. Although it was a shock.

  MARJORY

  And when you met Patrick, you wanted to know EXACTLY what you were dealing with. No nasty surprises, like the one Tom had given you.

  ME

  Yes. I wanted him to fully disclose so I could make an informed decision.

  MARJORY

  I think what you really wanted was a written guarantee.

  I laugh.

  ME

  Probably.

  MARJORY

  Would you still have chosen to be with Patrick if he had disclosed all this?

  Another pertinent question.

  ME

  I honestly don’t know.

  And that’s the truth. If I’d had all the information at the beginning, would it have changed anything? Would I still have chosen to be with him? There are so many things I like about Patrick. Love, in fact. His humour, his easy personality, his zest for life, his creativity, his looks, his smile, his curiosity and willingness to learn, the list goes on. But if I’m honest, probably not. I would have walked away. It would have been too much for me.

  I’m sure Marjory’s awkward silences are deliberate. They encourage me to swim around in deep waters within myself that I’m usually too scared to dive into.

  ME

  Probably not, Marjory. I would have just judged him, found him wanting and moved on.

  MARJORY

  Yes. You don’t like having your buttons pressed, Persephone, and that’s exactly what Patrick did.

  ME

  I know.

  MARJORY

  But it’s forced you to grow. By not knowing all of Patrick’s history, you went in a direction you would never have gone. A direction you would never have taken if you’d stayed not-so-happily-married to Tom.

  ME

  Yes.

  MARJORY

  You’re doing very well.

  ME

  I think I am.

  MARJORY

  Yes. Keep honouring your SELF. If you need to come back and see me, just call. But I’m confident you are going to be just fine.

  I realise that if I let go a bit, I could actually enjoy this road less travelled. I could be thankful for the trip to the dark underworld of my eponymous ancient Greek myth. It was a trip to the dark regions of myself. I can now choose to go back there on occasion, but only when I want to, when I have deep, dark things I need to sort out. Most of the time, however, I want to stay above ground, in the light. When I do visit the nether regions, Marjory suggests I go there by myself. I’m allowed to gaze at my navel and wait until I feel better and then I can return to the upper world, heralding, as Persephone’s return does, the beginning of spring.

  Yeah, maybe I’m not really that out of step with my name. As I touch my expanding belly, I indeed feel like I am the goddess of spring growth incarnate. Then a wave of anxiety hits. Maybe the amniocentesis wasn’t right. Maybe the baby has been affected. Then I realise I’m starting to spiral into dark Persephone. Winter Persephone, returning to the underworld, heralded by the dying of plants and the halting of growth. So I remind myself that it’s my choice. There will be many challenging moments to come, no doubt so just breathe, breathe, breathe, Persephone.

  There’s a challenging moment later that very night. My heart aches when Jack turns on Patrick and accusingly points the finger.

  JACK

  You made my daddy go away.

  The truth is he didn’t, but this doesn’t seem to wash. Daddy went away because Daddy wanted to, but I guess time in a four-year-old’s world is not a logical or even comprehensible concept. I want to make it okay for him, but I don’t know what to say.

  ME

  Dad left because he wanted to live by himself.

  JACK

  Didn’t he like living with me anymore?

  ME

  Of course he did.

  JACK

  Then why did he go away?

  ME

  Because he didn’t like living with me anymore.

  JACK

  Oh.

  I can feel him studying me for flaws and reasons why someone wouldn’t want to live with me as he tries to comprehend the concept. I can see the cogs turning in his brain. “Well, she does look pretty scary in the morning. Maybe that’s why he left.” I want to tell him that his dad doesn’t love me anymore, but I don’t want to create the belief that love dies. That it is a disposable commodity with a shelf life. So I resort to a hoary old chestnut.

  ME

  He doesn’t love Mummy in that way anymore.

  JACK

  What way?

  ME

  Well, like a mummy and daddy love each other. He still likes me as a friend.

  JACK

  He can still live with you.

  ME

  Jack, you don’t need to feel . . . un–normal . . .

  My vocabulary has certainly gone downhill since I became a parent.

  ME

  Just because your parents don’t live together, it doesn’t mean that our family is not as good as other families.

  JACK

  Okay.

  ME

  I want you to know, sweetheart, that there is plenty of l
ove to go around. There’s enough for you and the baby and Patrick and your dad. I don’t want you to feel like you’re different or strange or weird just because our family structure is different.

  I also explain to him that it’s okay to be angry about all of this. That he might even like to consider sharing some of his anger with his dad.

  JACK

  But why?

  ME

  Because maybe you’re angry with him for going away.

  I know I’ll have to return to this concept down the track. It’s not a possibility in his world at the moment. His dad is a god, a deity. Ten foot tall and totally bullet proof. He can do no wrong. One day, perhaps, he’ll see him as a human being. A fallible, balding, nearly middle-aged man. And his mother as an equally fallible, not balding, nearly middled-aged woman. But that’s to come. At the moment, I’m happy to just revel in his innocence and make sure he eats his broccoli.

  After dinner, I compile the file of information my new agent has requested—headshots, biographies, CVs, showreels—and with a sense of adventure I haven’t felt for a long time, I press the send button and shoot it through to her.

  Then I open the mail that had piled up while I was in hospital. The card from Patrick’s mother is beautiful. A charcoal sketch of a mother and child. She apologised if she was rude when we met and said she wished us the best of luck and hoped she could be part of the baby’s life. Seems she has some insight into her troubling behaviour. There was also a comic pregnancy card from my sister, a homemade one from Mum and Dad, and an unexpected one from Mr. Gorgeous. Minimal, artistic, very New York Times. My heart skipped ten thousand beats when I saw his name, but when I read the card I realised just how far my life had moved on from him and his alluring coconut oil scent.

  Chapter 33

  Two months later. The bathroom.

  “Better three hours too soon than a minute too late.” William Shakespeare.

  I’m sitting in a warm, bubbly bath, staring at the water as it rushes out of the tap, pummelling the poor plastic lobster bath toy that’s caught up in the waterfall. There’s always bath toys in our bath. I’m rather fond of them. Even when bathing alone I find them comforting. I enjoy their company. The lobster goes under, comes up again and goes under again. I’m mesmerised by this lobster, caught in a trance as I watch the water pour out of the tap. The lobster comes up for air, gets pummelled, comes up for air again and then gets pummelled again. I know how it feels. Since Tom’s announcement all those months ago, I’ve been that lobster.

  Patrick comes into the bathroom with a cold glass of orange juice and a warm smile. I turn the water off. The lobster needs a break.

  PATRICK

  Here you go.

  He hands me the orange juice and pulls up a low stool. He sits and studies me while I sip the sweet, fresh juice.

  PATRICK

  I love you.

  ME

  Thanks.

  PATRICK

  I really wish you wouldn’t say that.

  ME

  Sorry.

  He looks at me very seriously. I notice his eyes. Hazel and clear. I notice his face. Handsome, open and kind. I notice he’s starting to get those wrinkles that men get as they age. The ones in front of their ears. Women don’t seem to get them. I love them. They let you know that the person who owns the face has lived. There are tell-tale signs of age and damage, but also wisdom.

  His voice is warm and resonant.

  PATRICK

  I know it hasn’t been easy, but I’m trying.

  I know he is and I love that he is.

  PATRICK

  I haven’t done any of these growth things before, but I feel better without the grog and I’ve been thinking about all sorts of things.

  He searches for his words and seems to be choosing them very carefully.

  PATRICK

  I love being a father. I love it. To Jack and the little one when he comes along. And I think I’m doing okay at it.

  ME

  You’re great at it.

  PATRICK

  I love you, Pers, and I want to stay on the path. I know I’m not perfect/

  ME

  /neither am I.

  PATRICK

  /but . . . will you marry me?

  ME

  Marry?

  PATRICK

  Yes.

  I want to say yes. I do. In theory. It would be nice. It would be romantic and easy and perfect. But I still haven’t fully healed. I know that. My heart is still a bit raw and sore.

  Now I choose my words very carefully.

  ME

  I think we’re on the right path, Patrick, and I’m glad we’re on that path together. I really am. But I know a marriage takes so much . . .

  PATRICK

  Love, Pers. It takes love. And I love you like nothing else.

  ME

  It takes more than love, Patrick.

  And in my mind I high-five myself and shout, “Ain’t that the truth sista!”

  ME

  I don’t want to rush into it.

  To my surprise, Patrick doesn’t look disappointed. He looks focused and intent on taking it all in.

  ME

  In theory, I’d love to marry you, but I know it takes a lot more than theory to make it work.

  PATRICK

  Fair enough. But will you think about it?

  ME

  Absolutely.

  PATRICK

  Good. Because I’m not going anywhere.

  ME

  Neither am I.

  PATRICK

  Good.

  He reaches into his pocket.

  PATRICK

  Will you wear this while you think about it?

  He opens a small, green box and sitting in the middle of the emerald green velvet is a jaw dropping solitaire diamond engagement ring. It takes my breath away. No one has ever given me anything so beautiful. He holds it with such care as he hands it to me. I put down my drink, reach around my ever-expanding belly for a bath towel to dry my hands and then I take the box. The ring is precious and rare and so perfect.

  ME

  Patrick. It’s . . . so . . . beautiful.

  My voice breaks as I say it.

  PATRICK

  So are you.

  I have never felt such tenderness for a man.

  PATRICK

  I’m sorry it hasn’t been perfect.

  I can’t stop looking at the ring.

  PATRICK

  Put it on.

  The diamond is so clear. So pure.

  I’m a mother of one beautiful child with another about to enter the world, I have a man who loves me and whom I love. I have a new agent. I have my health back on track and I’m wearing a beautiful solitaire diamond ring. But something’s missing. I need to think and breathe and feel and let go and move on.

  ME

  Would you move away with me?

  The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. But I realise I’ve nailed it. I need to breathe fresh air. I need trees and space and quiet and time.

  PATRICK

  Sure. Where to?

  ME

  The country.

  PATRICK

  What? Like a tree change or something?

  ME

  Yeah. We need to be somewhere we can create our own memories.

  PATRICK

  Sure.

  JACK

  Can I come too?

  Jack enters the room, carrying a little parcel.

  ME

  Of course, darling. We’re a family.

  When I say it, it seems the most natur
al thing in the world.

  JACK

  And Wriggle.

  ME

  Who’s Wriggle?

  PATRICK

  The baby in your belly.

  JACK

  I named him.

  ME

  Much better than Mr. Poo Poo Head.

  He is so puffed up with big boy pride and excitement my heart nearly breaks. He presents the little parcel he’s been carrying as though he’s one of the wise men delivering a gift to the baby Jesus.

  JACK

  I’ve got a present for Wriggle.

  He passes it to me.

  JACK

  It’s a Pooh Bear. I wrapped it up.

  ME

  That’s gorgeous, sweetie.

  JACK

  I got it with Patrick.

  They high-five each other.

  PATRICK

  I think Wriggle’s going to love it.

  ME

  I’m sure he will. Even if he’s a girl!

  PATRICK/JACK

  He’s a boy!

  JACK

  Where are we going to?

  ME

  Patrick and I are talking about all of us moving to the country.

  JACK

  Which country?

  PATRICK

  Still Australia, mate, but a different part of Australia.

  JACK

  Can my daddy come too?

  ME

  No. It’s not that far away, so he can still visit, but he won’t be coming to live with us.

  JACK

  Can I still stay over at his house?

  ME

  Of course. Just like you do now.

  JACK

  Cool.

  Jack’s eyes light up like a Christmas tree.

  JACK

  I forgot the card! I’ll make one.

  He races out the door and back to his craft table.

  ME

  Let’s do it. Let’s move.

  PATRICK

  Sure. I can commute and maybe work from home a few days a week. Heaps of people are doing it.

  ME

  Sounds good.

  PATRICK

  I want to give us a real chance.