The Things That Matter

by Andrea Michael

  ‘No. But he should.’

  I didn’t know where to start, but somehow, I told her.

  Honestly and simply, I told her our story. Right from the beginning, leaving nothing out, twisting nothing to make me sympathetic. Offering no excuses. Let her hear it and make her decision.

  I had loved a boy, I had wanted an escape, I had told a lie. When you took away the consequences, that was all it was.

  I hadn’t meant to lie, I don’t even remember doing it. All I remember is that fear, that he would go and I would be alone again. I’d be at home with Dad and everyone else would get their escape, but not me. Dan would date the kind of girl he was meant to be with, with the swishy hair and the nice clothes, who could afford to go to the cinema and had the right outfits to wear to parties.

  I remember the moment it happened – we were sitting on the picnic tables on the grass, and he kept telling me I should take my jumper off, but I didn’t want to.

  ‘You must be hot, Taz. You look uncomfortable.’

  ‘Look, just leave it, it’s fine.’

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘Nothing!’

  I’d been unfairly grouchy, I knew. I could sense he was about to leave, and it was easier to push him away than it was to try to convince him to stay. And yet… life had been better since Dan had chosen me. Getting up in the morning was about more than going to school and doing well so I could get out. My evenings and weekends were full with text messages and phone calls, someone who cared what I had to say. Before him I’d spent most of the time studying and staying out of Dad’s way when he came back from the pub.

  Life had become technicolour and it would go back to grey. It was heartbreaking.

  ‘Babe, come on, what’s up?’

  He’d reached for me, knocking my wrist and I’d winced.

  ‘Taz, you’re hurt. What’s wrong?’

  I didn’t say the words, exactly, I didn’t say anything. I just let him gently push my jumper sleeves up, one then the other, and inspect the bruises. The purple circles around my wrists, the thumbprints against my pale skin.

  I didn’t meet his eyes, even as he tried to tilt my head. I looked past him.

  ‘What do you want to do, Taz? Do you want to go talk to someone?’

  I shook my head.

  ‘Do you want me to do anything?’

  I shook my head again.

  ‘So I’m just supposed to forget this?’

  I sighed, closing my eyes. The truth sat on my lips, the fact that I was just clumsy, that my Dad hadn’t meant to, that he’d never done it before. But I didn’t say that.

  I’d fucked up. I’d meant to iron Dad’s clothes for his interview, his first in ages. He wanted to work, to provide for his family, and I’d been too busy mooning over my boyfriend to help him. He’d been drinking and he’d been upset. It wasn’t a pattern. It was a one-off.

  But Daniel looked at me like he wanted to save me, like he wanted to protect me. He wouldn’t leave me if he thought I needed him.

  And so I didn’t say anything. I let him think it had been going on for ages, that it was a regular thing, that I hadn’t mentioned it because I was used to it.

  I let him want to save me.

  If I hadn’t, if I’d corrected him, or if I’d never let him push up my sleeves in the first place, when I called him to help me that weekend, when I cried incoherently and asked him to pick me up, he might have waited for me in the car. Everything might have been different, if I’d been selfless.

  I tricked my husband into staying with me, and if I hadn’t, he might have had an entirely different life. One where he didn’t feel the need to reward me for my loyalty.

  But I’d tried, I’d tried so hard to make it worth it. To be the best girlfriend, the best wife he could have ever had. To support his dreams, lift him up. He wanted to be an artist and I worked two jobs so he could do that. I never said a word when his parents came back into our life. I smiled and nodded and gushed my appreciation when they wanted to give us money for a deposit, when they wanted to redo our wedding so we could get married ‘properly’.

  Before we lost Callum, I never said a word back to Miranda. I withstood the barbs and the comments and the parade of better suited women. The suggestions that I was a gold digger who’d done well out of everything in the end.

  I had tried so hard to make it worth it. To be worth those months he’d spent behind bars, the uni experience he never had, the family who didn’t want to know him.

  I hadn’t lied, technically. But I’d let him think something untrue. I’d spent over a decade trying to be perfect, but I lost my son and it was like I couldn’t do it anymore. I was grateful and guilty and in love with my husband.

  But that wasn’t enough, was it? We’d reached one of those crossroads, and I had to let Daniel choose.

  ‘But he did hurt you, he hurt your hand,’ Sarah said, in confusion. ‘You didn’t lie.’

  ‘It was an accident. He wasn’t like that normally,’ I clasped my hands, ‘I let everyone think he was a monster. He died a monster. They wrote about him in the papers, and people were so nice to me.’

  ‘So it was all an accident. Him hurting you was an accident, him dying was an accident. Love, you were sixteen. He was an adult.’ Sarah swallowed as she said the words, and I wondered how many times she’d heard the same things she was saying to me. As people told her it wasn’t her fault when Murray drank and fought and yelled.

  And yet she had stayed.

  And I was the bad guy.

  ‘You know, my mother had a little bird in a cage,’ Sarah said, and I frowned at her in confusion. She continued without pausing, holding up her hands as if to reassure me that this was relevant. ‘A beautiful little budgerigar with a yellow and white body. She sang and trilled and seemed happy enough. My ma left the door open for her, tried to get her to fly. But no matter how we coaxed her, she would not leave that cage. Curiosity and treats couldn’t tempt her. It wasn’t that she loved her mirror, or her toys. She just didn’t know how to be outside.’

  ‘She loved her cage,’ I said, suddenly realising what she meant.

  Sarah nodded, pleased. ‘Aye, and so when some bastards broke into the house and trashed the place, she didn’t fly out, she didn’t try to save herself. She just waited. They reached in and snapped her neck. Just because they could.’

  There was a sick feeling in my stomach.

  ‘We all get used to our cages, Taz.’

  ‘But I lied.’

  ‘You were still a child, for chrissakes!’ She huffed, ‘This was the man who went on to be your husband, your soul mate. Do you not think that perhaps that has something to do with it? That perhaps this all played out exactly as it needed to?’

  ‘That my Dad died because of fate? That I lied because it was fate?’ I scoffed.

  ‘Your da was drunk and aggressive and took a tumble. And I’m sure that’s something your husband has had to deal with for the rest of his waking hours. No matter that it was an accident. No matter that he was protecting you.’

  I nodded, ‘But it was my fault.’

  Sarah narrowed her eyes at me, ‘I’ve never met someone more willing to be blamed for something and honestly, it’s pissing me off.’

  I recoiled, a little surprised.

  ‘I see why, honestly, I understand that you’ll carry that doubt and your guilt with you. But why do you want to be judged so much? Why do you seem to want to be told how awful you are?’

  ‘Because then maybe it’s karma,’ I said quietly, not sure she heard me at all. ‘Maybe I’ve deserved everything.’

  ‘What was your punishment, Taz?’ she asked me, and I took a breath.

  ‘I lost my baby.’

  How strange that I hadn’t said it before. I’d practised it, preparing myself for the questions, but there had been none. Daniel had dealt with it. I hadn’t gone back to work, hadn’t faced those eyes, that pity. I had always hated the phrase. Lost. I didn’t lose him. I didn’t lose an
ything. It was taken, he was taken and I did everything I could to keep him. I remembered pleading with Daniel that if there was a choice, he should let me die, let me go.

  But there wasn’t a choice. And Daniel had spent his life saving me, I didn’t trust him to make the one I wanted anyway.

  ‘And you think it’s punishment? You lost your baby because you told a lie when you were sixteen?’ Sarah’s voice held no judgement, just clarity.

  Of course I couldn’t think that, of course that didn’t make sense. The world didn’t follow clear rules, right and wrong. Bad things happened to good people and wonderful people suffered and everything was a mess.

  But I had escaped the darkness once, and I was sure it meant to claim me.

  In a way, it had.

  ‘Sweetheart, you understand that isn’t true, don’t you?’

  I knew, I knew logically that it wasn’t true. That something I did fourteen years ago hadn’t created a debt. That I didn’t have to pay for the trauma I’d caused.

  But something deep in my gut told me what I knew to be true: I didn’t deserve to be happy, and there was a price to pay. There would always be a price to pay.

  I nodded, lips pressed together.

  ‘Do I deserve the things Murray does? The drinking, the gambling? The way he talks to me like I’m a silly wee woman who knows nothing? How rough he gets when he’s had a drink and I’ve annoyed him?’

  ‘No, of course not!’ Oh God, Kit was right about him.

  ‘But I’m no saint, Taz. I stole when I was a wee’un. I wasn’t hungry or poor, necessarily. No more than anyone else. I just wanted things. Lipsticks, CDs. I wanted what everyone else had.’

  I shook my head.

  ‘I did a hundred other awful things. I was cruel, I was unfair, I started fights. I never visited my old granny even though she was lonely and wanted company. Do I deserve it, Taz? Did the actions of a child decide what my life was going to be?’

  I resisted, but shook my head again, feeling the tears building.

  ‘Why do you stay?’

  ‘You get used to living for scraps when they’re all you’re given,’ she said as she looked down at the bed, ashamed. I forgot how young she was, how incredibly young, how much life she had left to live. ‘I’m going to leave, though. I’ve decided. No more. Not for Lachlan, not for me.’

  I nodded, and she reached across to take my hand. ‘I’m so sorry about your baby.’

  ‘Me too,’ I said, my lip trembling.

  ‘So what are you going to do now?’ she asked, and that, at least, I had already decided.

  ‘I’m going to tell him the truth, let him make his choice with all the information.’

  ‘And if he leaves?’

  ‘Then it’ll be his choice, and I will have been honest. That’s what matters.’

  Sarah helped me downstairs for a cup of tea, and we didn’t talk again about what we’d mentioned. It was like those secrets sat in that room, in that moment, and each of us was working out what we needed to do. I could see her working things out in her head. Where would she live, who would look after Lachlan, how would Murray react? These things had to be carefully planned when you didn’t know what people were like, how they reacted to things. When to be invisible and when to be adoring. Those were the only two options. I remembered those feelings.

  And for me? I had to tell Dan. That was the only thing that mattered. Let him know the truth. Let him pick me for real, or leave to start life on his own terms.

  When I walked back upstairs, Sarah gave me a nod, as if to say I wouldn’t be disturbed. How funny to share such secrets with strangers.

  When Dan answered the phone he was so happy to hear from me, chattering away in that childlike way he had.

  ‘Did you like the drawing? I haven’t done that style in so long! It was fun, just playing around, did you like it?’

  ‘Yeah,’ I said softly, ‘I liked it. It was beautiful, it’s just…’

  ‘Oh.’ I heard the click of a door as he closed it. ‘I thought we were going to talk properly when you got back? In person?’

  ‘It’s not that. I just… I’ve been thinking a lot about everything, about the past and us, and I need to tell you now, because if I don’t do it now, I won’t ever.’ I heard myself saying the words, somehow pulled along on a current. ‘And you might hate me, and that’s okay because I hate myself and…’

  Dan’s voice was small, ‘Did… did you cheat on me?’

  ‘No! God, never! This is something from… from when we were younger.’

  He hated talking about the past, reliving everything he’d been through. He never talked about juvy or what went on inside. It was a part of his life even I knew nothing about. During those visits he’d only wanted news from me, from the outside world. He hadn’t wanted to share his experiences. He wanted to protect me, yet again.

  ‘The reason you came to my home that night… the reason I gave to make you come…’ I took a breath. ‘It wasn’t true.’

  I waited, but there was no sound, so I continued.

  ‘I lied. About my dad. He didn’t hurt me, I was just a clumsy kid, and I saw you were losing interest in me. And remember that girl Lauren had joined our year and she really liked you…’ I could hear myself speeding up, filling the air with unneeded words, stupid details. ‘I lied. I tricked you into loving me. And then everything happened and you were stuck with me.’

  There was a sharp, loud noise and I realised Dan was sobbing.

  I could picture him in his office, facing the window so no one could see him, caved in on himself. Why did I do this now? Why didn’t I wait? Why was my need to be free from this more important than treating him kindly?

  ‘I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I know it’s unforgivable, I just didn’t want to lose you. I couldn’t. I was a dumb teenager and I’ve felt guilty for so long… After everything we’ve been through and I tricked you into it. I’ve tried to make up for it, to be good, to be what you deserve but…’

  I wanted to throw myself at his feet and cry. I didn’t deserve forgiveness, I knew that. I must seem like a stranger to my husband, someone who’d snuck her way into his life for all these years. An interloper.

  When Dan finally calmed his breathing, I heard him sniff and take a deep breath. If I had waited I could have comforted him, wiped away the tears the same way I had always done. The way I did after the judge’s ruling, on our wedding day, after the death of our son.

  ‘Taz,’ his voice was croaky and he rubbed his forehead, ‘sweetheart, you didn’t lie.’

  Oh god, he didn’t believe me. Of course he didn’t. He didn’t believe I was capable.

  ‘I’m sorry, but I did.’

  ‘I saw the bruises, Taz. There’s no way you were that clumsy. And you stood up in court, do you remember?’ He was grasping at straws now, desperate to convince me. ‘You told everyone why everything had happened. You gave a statement.’

  ‘It wasn’t true.’

  ‘You didn’t lie in court, Taz, you couldn’t have.’ He sounded exhausted. ‘You think that big scary lawyer wouldn’t have picked up on it? I was there, baby, I was there for our history. You think it’s just you all alone but I was there too. I saw everything too.’

  We sat in silence, at an impasse. I couldn’t convince him, and he couldn’t convince me. Two versions of the truth. It would be easy enough, I suppose, to live as this woman he thought I was. The honest, moral wife he was sure he had, back up on the pedestal.

  ‘Taz,’ Dan paused, and I wondered what on earth he could say after that. I’d told him the truth and he’d rejected it. ‘There’s been a lot going on, okay, a lot of trauma. With your mum and everything on top of that… I really think you need to speak to someone. I’ll come too, if you want. Whatever you need.’

  ‘So now you think I’m crazy?’ I felt my hands start to shake, the fear intermingling with a rage in the base of my stomach. ‘I’m broken?’

  ‘I think my wife is hurting, and I should have don
e something a long time ago,’ Dan said, ‘please? We’ll get this sorted.’

  I really wanted to believe him. But he needed to believe me first.

  Chapter Ten

  ‘Hello there, you,’ I made kissy noises at Terry The Angry Pony in the hopes he’d show a little softness. Kit called him an arsehole, but I thought he just liked to make people work for it. Or maybe to make sure you were going to stick around before getting attached. He trotted over carefully, then turned his back to me, giving me a front row seat as he released his bowels.

  Maybe he was just a bastarding little pony. Tiny horse syndrome.

  ‘Well, bollocks to you then,’ I said, laughing.

  After my phone call with Dan, I had wandered most of the afternoon. Kit took one look at me and said I should take myself off into the wilderness, that I needed some rambling.

  ‘Really exhaust yourself, a good Jane Eyre sort of wander, if you get my drift?’

  I looked at her, ‘Am I gonna need rescuing?’

  She stared straight back at me, ‘You tell me.’

  I’d rolled my eyes, stuffed a few essentials in my backpack and off I’d gone, crossing kissing fences, nodding hello to the cows. I felt like I was off on an adventure to anywhere, and for a few glorious hours, I hadn’t thought about anything.

  That weight of guilt that sat in my chest had lightened though, and I knew there was only one thing left to release it completely.

  I had to tell Mum. I’d spent so many years blaming her for everything. If she hadn’t left, none of it would have happened. He wouldn’t have been sad, I wouldn’t have messed up his outfit for the interview… I’d spent years rationalising, sourcing everything in my life back to that moment.

  But she was a kind woman now, and I had a second chance.

  When I got back that night, Kit said very little, but we ate in companionable silence, the TV in the background.

  ‘You’ll go to see your mother tomorrow?’

  I nodded.

  ‘And how are the two of you getting on?’

  I thought about it, ‘Well, I think I’m… I’m a bit more understanding than I was. About her leaving.’