Wife for Hire

by Dianne Blacklock

  ‘I’m not having a midlife crisis.’

  ‘But you are having an affair. And you’re married. However you want to put it, you’re breaking your vows.’

  ‘Fine Sam, I’ll be the villain, since you seem to need one so desperately.’ He paused. ‘My concern now is the children.’

  ‘That’s a first,’ she muttered.

  ‘Samantha!’ Jeff stood up, clearly exasperated. ‘Can you cut the attitude for just one minute? Christ! I can see where Jess gets it from!’

  Sam shifted uncomfortably in her chair. ‘You expect me just to take this all on the chin?’

  ‘No,’ he said, becoming calmer. ‘I expect there’ll be a lot of anger and resentment and pain before all this is settled. But tonight I want to talk about the kids. Can we just get over one hurdle at a time?’

  Sam felt like crying but she bit her lip, forcing back the tears. Usually they were a useful ploy during an argument. But now the rules had changed. There was no ‘making up’ from this.

  She cleared her throat. ‘Go ahead.’

  Jeff sighed, sitting back down in his chair. ‘I think it’s going to be a shock for them. I’ve been doing some reading up on this and apparently in cases like ours, the kids have no idea anything was even wrong.’

  ‘Cases like ours?’

  ‘We don’t fight all the time, there’s certainly no violence, I’m not a drunk. Their lives have been normal and unaffected despite . . .’ he hesitated.

  What? Sam wondered.

  Jeff looked as though he was searching for words. ‘Well, let’s just say they wouldn’t be aware that you and I haven’t been happy for a long time.’

  She couldn’t look at him. This was typical Jeff. Calmly, dispassionately doling out his opinions, handing down his assessment of the situation. She knew they weren’t deliriously happy, but that didn’t mean they were unhappy, did it? And okay, so she’d daydreamed at times about him leaving, but surely they were like most couples? She rarely heard other husbands or wives speak with any great fondness for one another after a few years, especially once children came along.

  ‘We don’t communicate,’ Jeff went on. ‘We haven’t really got anything in common. Except the children.’

  Nothing in common? What about the house . . . and, well, their whole lives?

  ‘Jodi and I have talked a lot about this. You’ll be relieved to know that she’s just as concerned about protecting the children.’

  Sam wasn’t going to take that. ‘Well maybe she should have thought about that before she started fucking their father.’

  ‘Sam,’ he warned. ‘I thought we weren’t going to be like that.’

  ‘Stop it, Jeff!’ she cried, standing up and pacing across the floor. ‘Just stop it!’

  ‘What? Stop what?’

  ‘Can’t you show a little remorse? Some emotion? Something? I’m your wife, not a redundant employee you have to terminate.’ She turned to face him directly. ‘Actually, if I was working for you, you’d have to treat me better than this.’

  His eyes flew up to meet hers.

  ‘Don’t you have to give warnings to staff, offer counselling? But when have you ever come to me before now? Ever tried to make things better? Even just come home early occasionally so we could spend some time together?’ She paused. ‘No, you have an affair instead and sit there and tell me you had no choice, like I drove you to it? That’s just gutless, Jeff. You got somebody to escort you out of a marriage you didn’t want to be in any more.’

  Sam stopped, catching her breath. She could hear her own voice echoing against the walls. Jeff looked a little stunned. Eventually he cleared his throat.

  ‘Nothing but the house and the kids has mattered to you for years,’ he said in a low voice. ‘If I had ever come home early from work you would have ignored me anyway.’

  Sam bristled. ‘So your solution was to have an affair? Come off it, Jeff. You were only thinking about yourself. Bugger the rest of us.’

  Jeff looked shaken, she realised. Sam hadn’t seen him appear anything but cool and composed in a long time.

  ‘Like I said before, I didn’t plan to have an affair, it just happened,’ he said quietly. ‘And I’ve struggled over what’s the right thing to do, I really have. But I honestly thought it was as plain to you as it was to me that this marriage was, well, dead.’

  That stung Sam. All the more because of the truth in it.

  ‘I didn’t mean to sound like this is easy or simple. It’s not, I know that.’ He breathed out heavily. ‘But there are two ways we can do this. We can be angry and spiteful and see how much we can hurt one another. Or we can be reasonable for the sake of the kids.’

  Sam swallowed down the tears that were rising in her throat. So this was what it had all come down to. Being reasonable for the sake of the kids.

  They were silent for a while. Sam walked back over to her chair and sat down.

  ‘So what do you suggest?’

  Thursday morning

  They decided to sit all three children down together to break the news. But as soon as they did, Sam wished they’d picked another strategy. Though she supposed it didn’t matter. However they handled it, it was going to be awful.

  ‘So, what did you say to them?’ Max asked over the phone the next day.

  ‘Jeff did most of the talking. I think he’d been rehearsing it. He gave them a little speech about how although Mum and Dad feel differently towards each other, it doesn’t mean we don’t love them as much as ever. Blah, blah.’

  ‘Is that when Josh walked out?’

  ‘I think so,’ said Sam. ‘Right before Jessica burst into tears.’

  ‘What about Ellie?’

  ‘She just looked confused.’

  ‘Christ Sam, it sounds awful,’ Max muttered. ‘What happened after that?’

  ‘Oh, Jeff stayed with Jessica and they had a long talk, which was the best way to handle her. She and I would only clash. So I took Ellie up to bed and answered her questions. I don’t really think she understands what’s going on. How is a four year old supposed to comprehend this?’

  ‘What about Josh?’

  ‘He didn’t come out of his room all night.’

  ‘Don’t you think he needs to talk?’

  ‘Yes, but he won’t,’ Sam explained. ‘I can’t get two words out of him at the best of times.’

  ‘Maybe you’re going to have to try harder.’

  ‘He’s a closed book, Max, believe me,’ she insisted. ‘But of course I’ll try. I’ll see if he wants to talk this afternoon.’

  ‘Would he respond better to Jeff?’

  ‘No, they just butt heads. It’s better if Jeff leaves him alone.’

  Max let out a loud sigh. ‘This is all so depressing, Sam. I’m coming over tonight with chocolate and grog and we’re going to have a serious binge.’

  ‘We can’t. Jeff asked if he can stay one more night.’

  ‘What does he think it is, a hotel?’

  ‘He wants another chance to talk to the kids, and then he said he’d leave for the weekend, when it might be easier on them.’

  Max grunted. ‘Will they even notice?’

  ‘Funnily enough, under the circumstances they probably will,’ Sam said wearily. ‘I mean, I can hardly knock his intentions. I’m just pissed off that he’s being so noble now, once the horse has bolted, so to speak.’

  ‘Jeff being the horse, I take it?’

  ‘Mm. I suppose that’s the wrong metaphor for this situation.’

  ‘Oh, it’s not that. I just would have called him a different barnyard animal. Pig springs to mind.’

  Sam smiled faintly.

  ‘Alright,’ said Max. ‘I’ll come round tomorrow night then. You should invite the crew too.’

  The ‘crew’ was Sam’s trusty band of cohorts. They’d known each other since the children were little. She sighed, realising all the phone calls she was going to have to make, all the times she was going to have to go over this.

 
‘I don’t know. I don’t want the kids to think I’m throwing a party as soon as their father’s gone.’

  ‘Mm, I take your point. We could always come over a bit later. Say, nine?’

  ‘Let me think about it. I’ll see how things go tonight.’

  Sam knocked lightly on Josh’s bedroom door. He’d arrived home from school about twenty minutes ago. He wasn’t late today. He’d dumped his bag at the foot of the stairs and walked into the kitchen, scouring the cupboards for food. Sam asked him how his day had been and got the usual grunt in reply. She let him be. She held her tongue as he took a fistful of biscuits from the pantry and she didn’t even say anything when he drank milk from the carton. She pretended she hadn’t seen him.

  He’d been upstairs ten minutes when Sam decided to go and talk to him. He opened the door suddenly. He was changed out of his school uniform, clutching his skateboard.

  ‘I’m goin’ up the road.’

  ‘Oh, okay,’ Sam said brightly. She followed him along the hall. This was ridiculous. Something had to be said.

  ‘Josh?’

  ‘Mm?’ he grunted, not stopping.

  ‘Could you hang on a minute?’

  He stopped at the top of the stairs. He was so tall now, but lanky, his body hadn’t caught up with the growth spurt. And his face was changing too, becoming broader like a man’s. He was getting more like Jeff every day. Sam had to remember not to hold that against him.

  ‘I just want to know if you’re alright?’

  He shrugged. ‘Yeah.’

  ‘I meant after last night . . .’

  ‘I know what you meant.’

  Sam took a breath. ‘If you want to talk . . .’

  He shrugged again, but he met her eyes. ‘It’s okay, Mum. It’s no big deal.’

  She’d tried to kid herself into thinking that too. But it was a big deal. And it was only going to get bigger.

  ‘Well, if you want to talk . . . any time.’

  He nodded, and Sam watched him walk down the stairs. She heard the front door open and close again. She breathed out heavily. Well, at least she’d tried.

  Jeff arrived home even earlier, determined to spend some time with the children, so after dinner Sam left them to it. She went to the bedroom and flicked through a magazine. Pages and pages of who was breaking up with whom and who was pairing up with whom. Celebrities discarding spouses like last season’s wardrobe. If only it were that easy.

  An hour or so later there was a tentative knock at the door. Jeff poked his head in, a sheepish expression on his face.

  ‘I need to pack some things,’ he said gingerly.

  Sam nodded and he walked through the door, closing it behind him quietly. She pretended to be absorbed in her magazine as he crossed to the walk-in robe.

  ‘I think it went alright tonight,’ he said, rooting around among the shelves.

  ‘Mm?’ she murmured disinterestedly.

  ‘Jess seems okay. She’s showing a level of maturity I hadn’t expected. Joshua was closed off, but that’s Joshua.’ He stepped back into the room, holding up an overnight bag. ‘Mind if I use this? I don’t need to take much at the moment.’

  Sam felt like shouting at him to take everything, every last thing he owned or she would burn what was left. She felt like punching into his chest and kicking him. Kicking him! She’d never had an urge like that before and she had to steel herself as she got up and walked past him out of the room.

  ‘Whatever. I’ll leave you to it.’

  When she came into the kitchen, everything was as she had left it. Bugger them! Didn’t it occur to anyone to stack their own plate in the dishwasher? Couldn’t Jeff have encouraged the kids to help out, or even, heaven forbid, have lifted a finger himself? She yanked open the fridge and poured herself a glass of wine. She would invite the girls over tomorrow night. Why should she pussyfoot around everyone else when they clearly didn’t give a damn about her?

  Friday

  Sam parked her car at Pennant Hills Station and boarded the train to the city. Fridays were always a rush, getting the children organised for school and childcare and still making the quarter past eight train. Of course she had further to go now. There was no rail line through Cherrybrook so she had to drive the ten minutes down to Pennant Hills. A small inconvenience, she had insisted to Jeff.

  They had started to look in the area in earnest when Ellie was about two. In truth, it was mostly Sam looking while Jeff got used to the idea. The day she found their house she was barely able to contain her excitement. She begged Jeff to get off early from work to come and inspect it. But he had meetings all afternoon. He insisted the weekend was soon enough. After driving him nearly mad talking at him all night, he relented and arranged to meet her there the next day.

  It had five bedrooms and three bathrooms. There was a huge gourmet kitchen, a family room and casual dining area, as well as formal entertaining rooms. The master bedroom was vast, with walk-in robe, a full-size ensuite, and a parents’ retreat. ‘It’s big,’ was all Jeff could say, over and over. But it was Sam’s dream house. There wasn’t a pool, but there was plenty of room for one. It was even in a cul-de-sac, a ‘desirable but not essential’ on Sam’s checklist. Max said that cul-de-sacs had bad feng shui. Negative energy got caught in the loop and couldn’t escape. But that was just nonsense. They put a deposit on the house the next day.

  Sam breathed out heavily, leaning her forehead against the window of the train. She felt tired. She hadn’t slept well for the past two nights and the strain was getting to her. She couldn’t face ringing the girls, she didn’t feel up to going over the sorry tale over and over. So she called Max instead.

  ‘Maxi,’ she started plaintively.

  ‘Don’t call me that, it makes me sound like a feminine hygiene product.’

  ‘Sorry, but I was wondering if you could phone the crew? I don’t want to have to tell the story three times over.’

  ‘Don’t you want them to know?’

  ‘Of course,’ she insisted. ‘Tell them everything, save me having to do it tonight.’

  ‘Okay, what time do you want us?’

  Sam dragged herself through the glass doors into the call centre of Metropolitan Roadside Assistance. As she signed her name on the time sheets, she realised that the last time she was here, only one week ago, she had still been somebody’s wife. Now she was . . . what was she? A deserted wife? Despite her mother’s opinion to the contrary, that just sounded pathetic.

  She made her way to her workstation, trying to avoid eye contact with anyone. Today, even responding to the proverbial ‘How are you?’ was going to be too much effort. She sat down at the terminal and typed in her password.

  ‘Hi Sammy, how’s it going?’

  Sam looked up to see Brenda’s round face popping over the divider. She couldn’t cope with Ms Chirpy today.

  ‘Fine,’ she said with a fixed smile. She wouldn’t want the real answer to that question anyway. People didn’t really want to know when they asked how you were.

  ‘And so to work!’ Sam added, putting on her headphones. She noticed out of the corner of her eye that Brenda sunk down again, out of sight. Sam looked at the screen and sighed. There was already a queue of calls.

  ‘Location of vehicle, please.’

  Sometimes Sam felt she would scream if she had to say those four words one more time. All the people she’d started with had moved on to other departments. She had been far too long in the same job, especially in a call centre. But the union delegate had argued her case when she came back from maternity leave with Ellie, and she only had to work one day a week to keep her permanent status. There weren’t many jobs around for only one day a week, most people wanted more hours, not fewer. So she stayed.

  But it was getting pretty bad when crank calls were the high point of her day. The poor desperates who were too cheap or too broke to call a 0055 number were Sam’s favourite.

  ‘What are you wearing?’ was the inevitable opening line. Sam fo
und it amusing, and used to go into great detail describing her navy gaberdine slacks and standard white polyester shirt with the company logo stamped all over, masquerading as a pattern.

  But now they monitored calls randomly and staff had attended a one-day seminar on how to handle the ‘difficult’ caller. There was a company policy and procedure in place that had to be followed to the letter. So even that bit of fun had been taken away.

  Eleven o’clock. Sam could hardly believe it when she checked her watch and that was the time. She knew logically it had to be right, she hadn’t gone to lunch yet. But it felt like it was about four in the afternoon.

  ‘Location of vehicle, please.’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  Sam sighed. ‘Could you tell me the name of the street where you are now, madam?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Could you give me the name of the nearest cross-street?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I mean,’ Sam’s patience was wearing thin, ‘the nearest street intersecting with the one you’re in now.’

  ‘There are no intersections.’

  ‘Are you in a built-up area?’

  ‘What does that mean?’

  Her patience was past thin, it had become anorexic. ‘Are there any street signs, distinguishing features, landmarks of any description?’

  There was a pause. ‘No.’

  ‘You’re standing in a nuclear wasteland, madam?’ Her patience was now being booked into a clinic for eating disorders.

  ‘Don’t use that tone with me.’

  Sam took a deep breath. ‘Perhaps you could describe to me what you see around you?’

  ‘There are only some nondescript houses. Not very attractive at all.’

  ‘You realise, madam, that we can’t come and help you if we don’t know where you are?’

  ‘But I don’t know where I am! I’m lost, you stupid girl!’

  ‘Lost where?’

  ‘If I knew that, I wouldn’t be lost!’

  Sam sighed audibly. ‘So, there are no street signs anywhere in the vicinity?’