by Carys Jones
He leant into Meegan’s crib and kissed his daughter goodnight before he left the room, gently closing the door behind him.
Isla was in the bedroom, he knew that from the steady slamming of drawers echoing out into the hall. As tired as he was, he felt it was best to wait her out and slip into bed long after she’d fallen asleep herself.
He went downstairs and out through the kitchen to the driveway to retrieve his suitcase from the car.
The night air was cool yet refreshing. A symphony of crickets greeted his ears and he inhaled deeply, almost able to taste the freshness of the air. In Chicago at night, all he’d be able to taste was the chemical-filled fumes emitted by passing cars. The only sounds were those which polluted the air of the day; car engines revving, horns being pressed in protest, broken intermittently by the high-pitched squeal of a siren.
Yet when Brandy was with him those sounds all faded away and the city had felt as peaceful and serene as Avalon now did.
Aiden leant against the car with his suitcase in his arms and wondered what the hell he was doing. After a few moments he felt the prickly sensation of eyes upon him and, glancing up, saw Isla standing at the bedroom window, looking down on him. She looked sad yet angry. Aiden knew she deserved better, knew she deserved a husband who was participating in the marriage one hundred per cent. He remained by the car a while longer, not having the impetus to move.
Eventually he came in and found the house eerily quiet. Making his way up to the bedroom, he kept his steps soft for fear of waking Meegan. He eased his way in past the bedroom door and noticed Isla’s form laid out beneath the sheet and was grateful that she’d gone to sleep.
He placed his suitcase at the foot of the bed, planning to unpack the following morning. As he undressed and slid in next to his wife, he realized just how tired he was. His muscles throbbed in gratitude at being able to lie down and the moment his head connected with the softness of his pillow he felt his eyes grow heavy.
Sleep would soon take him. He tried to hold it off for a few moments longer. He wondered if Brandy was also in bed, and thought of the proposition she had given him, that he could have joined her there. He indulged his mind to imagine what might have happened if he’d followed his instincts and left the airport and ran out after her. He’d have caught up to her beside the cab she was about to get in and ask her to wait. She’d turn, look up at him with her big Bambi eyes, which would be wide and questioning. But he’d say nothing, not needing words. Instead he’d cup her face in her hands and kiss her passionately.
With Brandy’s kiss lingering on his lips within his mind, Aiden’s breathing slowed and he fell asleep. He did not notice how beside him Isla’s body stiffened as she pulled the sheet tighter around herself, her eyes wide open.
Isla was stony-faced over breakfast the following morning. She raised each spoonful of cereal to her mouth with military precision, each movement so stiffly fluid that she resembled a robot.
Aiden tried to ignore her body language and attempted to instead focus on the newspaper he was reading. There were local stories of interest, some more national, and the latest results from sporting events. His eyes scanned over the black text, trying to be absorbed by the words but his eyes kept darting above the top of the paper, glancing at his wife who was clearly not herself.
‘Hon, are you all right?’ he asked, folding the paper down so he could see her more clearly.
‘Huh?’ Isla answered absently as though she had just been awoken from a trance.
‘I said, are you all right?’
‘I’m fine.’
Isla sighed, which Aiden knew meant that she was the complete opposite of fine.
‘What is it?’
‘I said, I’m fine,’ his wife answered tersely.
‘You’re clearly not fine, so why don’t we skip the part where you give me the cold shoulder and just get to what’s wrong?’ Aiden suggested, his eyes sneaking a quick glance at the clock. In just over half an hour he would have to leave for work. Isla had informed him of Edmond’s call regarding Deena Fern. He wasn’t looking forward to seeing the woman again but knew he would have to face her at some point. Best get it out of the way; tackle the issue quickly like you would when ripping off a Band-aid.
‘Meegan, are you done with your breakfast?’ Isla’s tone became light and airy as she addressed their daughter. The little girl nodded even though she had more cereal in her hair than in her stomach.
‘Good girl,’ Isla lifted Meegan from her high chair and began to carry her through to her playpen in the other room.
‘Are you ignoring me?’ Aiden called after her.
‘No.’ Isla paused in the door, Meegan wriggling in her arms, desperate to get down and play. ‘I just don’t want our daughter present for what I’m about to say.’
Aiden felt his heart sink and lifted his paper, wanting to seek solace in the monotony of local news. He feared what Isla might have to say to him, simply because he wasn’t ready to face anything, not yet. His mind was still a cobweb of indecision. He didn’t need her to force his hand and risk imploding their entire family around them.
Isla returned sans Meegan and sat opposite Aiden, still wearing the same stony look she’d been modelling all morning.
‘So what is it?’ Aiden asked, once more lowering his paper. The kitchen door was now shut but he could still hear Meegan talking to her toys within her playpen. Whatever was said, he’d need to ensure that he didn’t raise his voice or risk upsetting her.
He watched as Isla inhaled, using the breath to extend her physical form, perhaps to make herself seem more imposing. She looked at him with angry, urgent eyes.
‘I want to know the real reason you were in Chicago,’ she demanded, but her voice was cool and calm.
‘I told you—’ Aiden started to explain but she cut him off.
‘Don’t you dare say work,’ her voice rose slightly now, the coolness wearing off.
‘But it was!’ Aiden protested, doing his best to look pained by her accusations.
‘Bullshit!’ Isla spat the word at him hard as a bullet. ‘I spoke to Edmond. He thought you were on vacation.’
This made Aiden pale and his hands became sweaty. He lowered his head and averted his eyes, like a naughty child finally caught within a lie and not knowing quite what to do.
‘Tell me the truth,’ Isla ordered.
Aiden was silent. He knew that he owed her the truth, but his loyalty to Brandy refused to let him speak which was absurd. As a husband, his loyalties should always first lie with his wife, but they didn’t.
‘Tell me the truth or I’m taking Meegan and I will go stay at my mother’s and never come back.’ Isla threatened.
Aiden knew she was serious, that it was no idle threat. When Isla was lying, she’d blink inadvertently, as though her body was fighting the lie. But when she told the truth she barely moved at all, it was as if she turned to stone. And now she was completely stoic, just sat waiting patiently for his response. She had laid her cards on the table and it was time for him to show his hand.
‘Isla,’ Aiden began, considering how he could deflect the situation, what lie he could weave to protect Brandy but he knew there was none. He looked at Isla, saw the pain behind her frozen eyes. He had done that, he had hurt her. He, as her husband, the one person she should be able to rely on. Isla had moved her whole world for him and in return he gave her lies and deceit.
‘You’re a good man,’ Brandy’s sweet voice echoed in his mind. Aiden was finally ready to step up to that ideal.
‘Okay, I’ll tell you the truth about why I was in Chicago,’ he began and Isla’s body thawed slightly and her gaze became more curious in nature.
‘But you have to promise me you won’t get mad?’ He lay down his requirements.
‘Aid, what have you done?’ Isla asked, sounding hurt.
‘I’ve not done anything.’ He shook his head. ‘But I still think you will get mad.’
‘I’m not promising
anything,’ Isla answered, the hardness returning to her features.
‘Okay, fine,’ Aiden squirmed under the scrutiny, unsure how to begin. ‘You know the paternity case I’m working on, the Samuel Fern one?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, I found out who the real father of Deena Fern’s second child was.’
‘And who was it?’ Isla leant forward, eager to hear the response, taking distasteful pleasure in the soap opera drama of another couple’s lives.
‘You won’t believe it.’ Aiden raised his eyebrows. He was stalling, but he had misgivings about confiding in Isla.
‘Try me.’
Aiden paused, he felt on the precipice of a great chasm and if he uttered the identity of the real father he knew he would fall. He’d fall until he finally landed at the bottom and then everything would be a mess and ruined. But Isla was his wife. He had to trust her with this, for the sake of their marriage.
‘It’s Brandon White.’
‘Brandon White?’ Isla recognized the name and let her memory find him from amongst the relics of the past. Suddenly her eyes widened as she fit the name to the man.
‘But he’s dead!’
‘Well, yeah. But the kid is like two, so it happened a while ago, before he died. I need to sort out using Brandon’s father for the paternity test if it all goes ahead.’ Aiden was surprised at his factual attitude towards it all; he was putting on a better display of indifference than he knew he was capable of.
‘My God, that is shocking,’ Isla took a moment to process the news, her body now more relaxed. But she stiffened again as she reached her next conclusion.
‘So why were you in Chicago?’ she asked accusingly. This time Aiden knew he wouldn’t be able to feign detachment from the case.
‘I was there for work,’ he began, ‘but I also went to see Brandy. I felt that she deserved to know about the child before the news got leaked by the press.’ In a strange way he felt relieved to have confessed the true intent of his visit.
‘You went to see her,’ Isla almost shook with rage. ‘Her!’
‘She deserved to know.’
‘Let her read about it in a fucking paper like everyone else!’ Isla screamed, slamming her hands down on the table in anger. ‘You owe her nothing!’
Aiden had anticipated that Isla would be angry about the final part of his story and so he lowered his head, prepared to take the barrage of verbal abuse which she would direct towards him.
‘How could you go to her?’ Isla demanded. ‘How could you leave me, and your daughter here? With that creep stalking us!’
‘It’s not like that,’ Aiden said sternly. ‘I went to tell her about the baby her dead husband fathered. I went to tell her that as a friend. Nothing more!’
‘You’re a bastard!’ Isla shouted hatefully.
‘Am I?’ Aiden challenged. ‘Do you not think she did deserve to know? Or should I have let the husband who abused her continue to hurt her from beyond the grave? For once, Isla, put yourself in someone else’s shoes. If you were Brandy, wouldn’t you want to know?’ he pleaded with his wife to be reasonable, to not let her emotions cloud her judgement on the issue.
Isla was still, her brow furrowed as she was locked in thought, no longer caring about the potential wrinkles it could forge.
‘If I were Brandy…’ her voice was mockingly wistful. ‘Let’s see, if I were Brandy White. Well, my husband wouldn’t cheat on me with some skank Playboy model as I’m good in bed. And for that same reason he also wouldn’t abuse me. I imagine Brandon was just frustrated with being married to such a whiney little princess and I can’t say I blame him.’
‘How can you be so short-sighted?’ Aiden asked, dismayed by her spiteful reaction.
‘How can you be? You saved Brandy’s life! You don’t owe her anything else.’
‘I was doing the right thing, whether you see it that way or not,’ Aiden said coolly. Isla looked at him, her lips held in a tight line.
‘I’m sorry you’re angry at me, I’m sorry you don’t understand why I did what I did,’ he told her calmly.
‘That’s just the problem,’ Isla sighed. ‘I do understand, implicitly, I just don’t think that you do. You’re in denial.’
‘Fine, I’m in denial, whatever,’ Aiden just wanted the argument to be over, already feeling drained by it all which was never a good way to commence a working day.
‘I’ll enjoy reading about it all in the paper,’ Isla remarked, raising a perfectly shaped eyebrow.
Aiden shook his head. ‘I want to keep this quiet, no press. I’m hoping that once I meet with Deena Fern we can agree to resolve this quietly, avoid anyone getting hurt.’
‘It’s your job to reveal the truth, Aid. You didn’t seem to have a problem hurting this family when it came to Brandy’s truths.’
‘Does the little boy deserve to be hurt?’ Aiden challenged. ‘When he grows up, is it fair for him to have to read scandalous stories about his true father? Brandon White is dead; it won’t help Davis Fern to have him revealed as his biological father.’
‘Nice, Aid, try and guilt me about the kid,’ Isla scoffed.
‘I’m not trying to guilt you, I’m trying to appeal to your humane, kinder side. The side which you try so very hard to bury.’
Isla flinched at the accusation and also the coolness behind Aiden’s eyes.
‘If you still feel the need to go to your mother’s now that you know the truth then fine, I understand, I won’t try and stop you,’ he continued amicably.
Isla struggled to stop her mouth from falling open. She had been bluffing about taking Meegan, hoping to scare Aiden in to submission, which it had. She never thought for one moment he would possibly entertain the idea. She felt panicked at the thought that she had gone too far and had driven too much of a wedge between them.
‘No, I’m…okay. Just angry, I guess. But I understand your reasons,’ she offered, trying to make amends.
‘You’ve every right to be angry,’ Aiden told her softly. ‘I should never have lied, and I’m sorry for that.’
‘So can we just move past this?’
‘Yes, of course.’
Isla smiled weakly at him, still reeling from all that she had just heard.
‘I wish I could stay but I’m going to be late for work,’ Aiden told her lamely, not liking leaving the scene so soon after such a hostile argument.
‘I’ll see you tonight.’ He kissed Isla on the forehead before grabbing his briefcase, which was waiting by the door, then dashing into the lounge and kissing his daughter.
Isla watched him pull away down the driveway, her heart still racing from the surge of adrenalin the argument had given her.
As the dust of his lies about Chicago started to settle, Isla knew what she needed to do. Clearly Aiden wasn’t going to rally to her defence when it came to the vicious notes. If Isla wanted them to stop, she’d have to do something about them herself.
*
Aiden switched on his car stereo, wanting the music to distract him from the torrent of thoughts which were storming through his mind. His palms were slick on the wheel, covered in anxious sweat.
The confrontation with Isla had left him feeling flustered. Her venom towards Brandy scared him; she bore a level of hate towards the younger woman which seemed unnatural. As much as he understood, to a degree, why Isla would hate her? He struggled to understand how she could be so very spiteful about issues such as domestic abuse. Surely, as another woman, Isla would pity Brandy and her past struggles? But instead she loathed her with a passion. Aiden shook his head to himself as he drove; he would never understand the intricacies of the female mind even if he lived to be two hundred.
It was still early but the sun had not yet been able to break through the clouds so the air carried a slight chill. Aiden shivered slightly as he got out of his car, a slight breeze tickling at his cheeks and causing his jacket to flutter. As Aiden stood outside the office, the prospect of a day’s work made him real
ize just how tired he was. He wished he’d been able to stay home and rest. It was perfect kite-flying weather and Meegan had never flown a kite. It was something he’d love to do with her.
But then, if he’d remained at home, he’d have been subjected to his wife’s foul mood all day. It was better for them to have space whilst the fire of her anger thawed and his fatigue was nothing a decent cup of coffee couldn’t solve. He considered popping cross the street to the bakery and purchasing one of their fresh cups of coffee, picking one up for Edmond also. He was toying with the idea when he spotted a black SUV pull in to the street just up ahead. He instantly recognized the car as belonging to Deena Fern. He was certainly not nearly awake enough to deal with yet another fervent female and so he hurriedly ran across the road, welcoming both the forthcoming caffeine and the ability to stall before having to deal with Mrs Fern.
Deena Fern was already sat on one of the shabby sofas in the waiting area when Aiden walked in with three cups of coffee nestled neatly within a cardboard carrier. Her long legs were folded neatly at her ankles as she busied herself with her cell phone. She wore skin-tight jeans with green flip-flops, a white vest top and a black leather jacket. Her hair was pulled up into a bun which was positioned on the crown of her head. She looked up briefly at him when he entered.
‘Good morning, Mrs Fern,’ Aiden smiled politely at her.
‘Mr Connelly, I must talk with you,’ she responded, her voice cold, making no time for pleasantries.
‘Give me ten minutes.’ Aiden tried to hold his smile but it was an effort. The working day was still in its infancy and yet already he had an issue residing on the sofa. He needed a simple, relaxing work day, yet fate was determined to give him the complete opposite.
