Mattress Actress (15 page)

Between my eighteenth birthday and Christmas, Ben became increasingly distant. I was concerned he was on drugs—he was in his own world sometimes. Once I even overheard him talking to himself. He was constantly forgetting appointments, then insisting I had never told him of the date and time. One day in late November I came home from grocery shopping to find him still in bed at eleven am.

‘Hey sleeping beauty, time to get up, it’s the middle of a cloud-free warm day.’

He frightened me with how quickly he jumped up, then he stared at me for the longest time, like he was awake but the brain was taking its time to catch-up.

‘Did you drug me or something? You’re trying to poison me aren’t you? I’m not good enough any more now that you’re a radio personality? Well, this is my house, you can leave any time. You don’t have to kill me.’

‘I don’t want to leave, and I definitely don’t want you dead. You’re my rock. What’s the matter with you?’

‘Nothing, I’m perfectly healthy.’ Then he ran out the door without a shirt. He returned much later but refused to talk about his outburst and accusation that I was plotting to kill him.

Come December, Ben was almost a stranger to me. All he did all day was read, swim and run. I asked him why he hadn’t been going to work lately and he told me he had resigned.

‘Ben, are you not happy with me anymore?’

‘No, I guess I’m not, you should move out.’

I was stunned. He had delivered those words like he was ordering a Coke. I had a feeling that to ask why would be a waste of time. I just wanted to get out of there, so I did.

I had not seen or spoken to Ben for two weeks, when I literally ran into him in the mall. He was not looking where he was going and I was in a conversation with Mum, so I didn’t see him. I wasn’t quite sure what to say, but he was smiling at me and it was contagious.

‘Where have you been, Annika? I’ve really missed you.’

‘Where have I been? You told me to leave, and that you didn’t want me anymore!’

‘No, I didn’t, and even if I did I would never mean that, I love you and always have. When are you going to come home? Please come home tonight, I’ll cook then we’ll snuggle.’ He had genuinely forgotten our argument.

I loved and missed him too, so I went home that evening.

I got to Ben’s apartment at four pm and by seven we were eating. At seven twenty there was a knock on the door, and I answered only to be greeted by the wine-toting nymph neighbour from upstairs, Michelle. Neither Michelle nor I said a thing, but Ben finally said, ‘Come in, this is a nice surprise, have a seat. Do you want to join us for dinner?’

Ben thought he was playing it straight, but I wasn’t going to let him insult my intelligence and took my anger out on Michelle.

‘Michelle, take your wine and dirty mind and fuck off! Did you think I wasn’t going to be here tonight? I wonder when I’m working if you don’t pop down to borrow some milk. If I ever catch you sniffing around again I will do some serious damage to you.’

She couldn’t understand why Ben would invite her to join him then not warn her the plans had changed. The answer is that Ben sincerely had forgotten that he’d invited her, but didn’t see anything wrong in letting her dine with us.

For some reason, Ben decided not to go home for Christmas and New Year’s Eve so we spent the time together on the Gold Coast. We stayed in a luxury hotel because the radio station was broadcasting from our hotel, and all employees had been given a room. We did virtually nothing but relax all Christmas. I was surprised at how happy Ben was, usually he would have been out playing golf or wind surfing. Sitting in the sun would usually have bored him within an hour.

Norm and some of my work friends were coming down for New Year’s Eve. It was going to be a huge night. When my friends and work associates arrived on the morning of the thirty-first, I left Ben by the pool to go and collect my Christmas kisses and see if I could be of any help with the set up. When I returned to the pool to collect Ben for a seafood smorgasbord lunch the hotel had organised for Gala employees, he was no longer there. I told my friends to save me two seats and assured them that I would be right back.

I finally found Ben in the room, packing to leave.

‘Where are you going and why are you going?’ I said. I was truly sick of his mood swings, paranoia and forgetfulness.

‘I’m leaving. If you want to fuck that French guy that’s fine but I’m not going to stick around and watch it. I hear things, Annika, people tell me what’s going on, so don’t deny it.’

‘You’re insane, you need psychological help. I am not sleeping with anyone else, when would I get the time? When I’m not beside you I’m working. I should be the one accusing you, not the other way around. Let’s talk about Michelle, does she prefer it missionary style or on top?’

‘Doggy style.’ He slammed the door and was gone.

I was determined not to let Ben’s mood swings upset me. I knew by tomorrow he wouldn’t even remember the argument but I had to decide how much more of this behavior I was prepared to take. I wasn’t as much hurt as angry. Yet at the same time I was worried. I’d meant what I said about him being insane. Ben had stuck beside me when even my family hadn’t, so now perhaps it was my turn to stand by him. But he kept pushing me away. I had known him since I was eleven years old. Could this really be the end? I didn’t want to believe that but at the same time I felt strong enough to move on if I was forced to.

That night I arrived at Ben’s apartment to find my clothes packed in boxes by the front door. I couldn’t be bothered arguing the point with him so I collected my belongings and left.

Over the next month I was an emotional mess—Ben hadn’t called and I refused to call him. I also had a lot of other things on my mind that were distressing me, including that my period was late. Mum was being so supportive, and by now she had learnt to love Ben, but when he treated me this way she reverted to her old feelings. This time was different. She didn’t say a bad thing about him, but did suggest I prepare to move on.

‘Mum, it may not be that easy. I think I’m pregnant. I want to find out once and for all, so I’m going to the doctor this afternoon, will you come?’

She didn’t say anything but sort of shrugged.

The doctor confirmed my suspicions. I was pregnant again, the only difference was this time no one was going to take the baby away from me. I just knew it was a girl and I was already proud and excited.

When I got home, I rang Ben. When I heard him answer the phone, I hung up and took Mum’s car to drive straight over there. He was shocked to see me, but he wasn’t smiling. After a lot of small talk I finally blurted: ‘Ben I’m pregnant.’

He turned ashen. ‘Is it mine?’

I wanted to slap him. I had to pause and count to ten in order to calm myself. ‘Of course it’s yours, and don’t ever think otherwise. Ben, I’m going to keep it.’

‘Annika, I don’t want any children, especially now. I know that I have been treating you badly lately but I haven’t been myself. You were right, I am insane. I’ve been diagnosed with schizophrenia. It may even be genetic. You and our child deserve better than me.

‘My mother refuses to accept the doctor’s diagnosis, so she is sending me up to Hong Kong to visit my Paw Paw [Ben’s maternal grandmother]—I leave in a month. She believes that I must be over stressed and a holiday will fix everything.’ I didn’t know which issue to tackle first. His illness or his leaving?

‘When were you going to tell me all this? Or were you just going to leave?’

He didn’t answer, he just stared into his lap.

‘Now that I am pregnant what are you going to do?’

‘I am no good for you anymore and I can’t go against my mother’s wishes.’

‘Oh, now you decide to be the good son. Ben, you will always be her son but soon you’ll be a father. It’s time you take some responsibility.’

‘I’m sorry, Annika, if you want this baby that’s your decision, but I will be no help. I’ve got my own big issues that I need to deal with.’

I ran out of the room crying.

For the next month I wrote him a letter a day but received no response. I even saw him but he refused to speak to me. Mum tried to get through to him to no avail.

I never did see him again, but love like ours doesn’t die quickly. Particularly when you are carrying his child.

Mum was not happy that I was pregnant and, for the duration of the pregnancy, pointed out that she would refuse to look after the baby when it finally came. Every day became another lecture on responsibility, which I found slightly ironic considering that I was paying the rent and utilities for our house.

One day when I got home there was a letter waiting for me from my father. I was sorry I even opened it, the harsh words inside were not at all what I needed to hear that day.

Annika,

Please consider all your alternatives before deciding to keep this child. To date, you have proved to be irresponsible and immature in your decision making. You are rarely truthful and to top it all off, are now obviously unable to sustain a loving relationship.

Your uncle has been trying to have a child for five years, I
’
m sure that your uncle would consider adopting the baby as a personal favour to me.

Your concerned Father.

My stress levels were through the roof, and I could barely look after myself, so my dad was partially correct. Self-doubt was a constant mantra. I had only put on four kilograms for the whole pregnancy. I hadn’t even told work that I was pregnant and no one had guessed. These were the days when you were still criticised for being a teen mum and being a single mum was a fate reserved for the unwashed. My looks and physique had always been my crowning glory, and now I was scared—I had lost my firm dancer’s body, though my boobs were still defying gravity. My back had been giving me all matter of grief, so my doctor was concerned about giving me a shot in the back. He felt it was safer to book me in for a caesarean.

At two pm on a cool Thursday in late August, I caught a bus to a private hospital in Brisbane. I had just woken up because I had worked until six that morning. I was shown to my room, and after I unpacked the nurse came in and shaved me, gave me an enema then left. About twenty minutes later the anaesthetist came in and told me nothing more than ‘It’s time.’ I burst into tears, I was so frightened and overwhelmed.

I could see the last nineteen years of my life flash before my eyes. All of a sudden I felt like a prophet. I could see all my choices becoming very narrow. I could see all freedom being limited. I could see my finances depleting before my eyes. I could see men distancing themselves from me whereas before I had appeared to be quite the catch. My future seemed quite glum, but at least I was prepared.

At 3.07 am on 1 September, my daughter Poppy was born, weighing 6 pounds, 1 ounce. I didn’t get to see her straight away, the nurse came in and told me that she was very tiny and had been taken to intensive care. Apparently she had swallowed fluid on the way out and was struggling to breathe.

The pain in my bikini line was nothing compared to the pain in my heart at that moment.

Poppy was brought to my room so that I could see her in case she didn’t make it through the night. She was so tiny but, in my eyes, perfect. They wheeled her incubator out of the room, then I lost the plot. Mum and Norm held me while I sobbed for hours, and finally the nurse gave me a shot of pethidine, which sent me to sleep.

I woke up the next morning in a bright room all on my own. Why had no one woken me? I buzzed the nurse, who came in immediately.

‘Is my daughter still alive?’

The nurse came over and held my hand. ‘Yes, sweetie, but she is still in the incubator. The good news of the morning is she will survive but she has to stay where she is for a few days. She appears very premature.’ I was so excited I didn’t even argue that Poppy was only two weeks early.

Poppy was two days old when I finally got to hold her. I looked into her piercing eyes. They were the most iridescent blue I had ever seen. My only doubt was my new self. Just when I thought my boobs couldn’t get any bigger, my milk came in with a vengeance. With Poppy feeding from me, my nipples resembled bright red road cones—they were bloody enormous. I thought to myself, Who will ever find these monstrosities attractive again? My tears fell on my stretch mark-ridden breasts.

I took the baby home the following day, and Mum was there when I arrived. Mum nearly bowled me over at the front door trying to get a cuddle of little Poppy. She seemed different towards me now, and she was proud of Poppy and looked forward to loving her and watching her grow.

Poppy was six days old when I returned to work. The first comment I got was, ‘Annika, you have lost so much weight, we heard that you were in hospital but we didn’t know what was wrong.’

I raised Poppy’s capsule above the desk, and there was genuine disbelief on everyone’s faces. Once they were convinced she was mine they were thrilled for me. For nine months I had kept my condition a secret because I was single and young and I really didn’t need any additional negativity. But when you are confronted with a brand-new baby how can you criticise?

Poppy was a dream baby and only woke in commercial breaks. Finally, life was giving me some blessings.

Eighteen months flew by. I tried to maintain my role with Gala, but my heart just wasn’t in that scene anymore. I spent every spare minute with Poppy, and when I wasn’t with her Mum chipped in. But domestic life is rarely easy, and Mum and I had gotten to a point where talking was no longer possible. I hated even the smell of her, but how could I live without her? Who could I ask to come in to watch Poppy sleep every night? But as always happens, empty threats said in the heat of the moment quickly became reality. It was time for Mum and I to part ways again.

Mum began asking for money so that she could go on her own. ‘I’ve worked for you for over a year,’ she said.

‘You are kidding, aren’t you?’

‘Annika, if you employ a nanny you have to pay them.’

‘Listen here, Mum, I didn’t employ you, you offered because you have no job and no family other than me here. Poppy is your grandchild, not some annoying chore. How often have I helped you financially with the boys? Yet I have never once kept a tally or cared if I ever saw that money ever again.’

I was so mad. Mum’s brain functioned in a strange way and her memory had holes so large you could drive a bus through them. I wanted to slap her, swear at her, I wanted to bring up the past. But I couldn’t bring myself to be disrespectful and rude, so I suggested we part ways.

Mum left that afternoon, and I felt a wave of relief wash over me. I later found out that she had moved to Sydney to be near her parents.

Mum was not the only person in my family that was causing me heartache. I had heard on the grapevine that Ben’s condition had worsened. He had returned from Hong Kong and his family-funded world tour to rid himself of his inner turmoil. The trip had not brought about the inner peace that his family were hoping for. In fact, his illness had escalated. Without medical intervention and an open ended MasterCard used for cash advances, Ben was now a stranger to himself. He committed crimes under strict instruction from his inner voices. It was heartbreaking; he was unrecognisable.

The crimes he committed were personal and horrendous, but mostly homicidal.

Over the next few years he alternated between hospitals, prisons and private clinics. Some treatments worked but schizophrenics that self-medicate with cannabis deteriorate quickly.

I visited him regularly while he was in government facilities, but he was a shadow of the Ben I had known. Very occasionally there were sparks of the old Ben, but they were few and far between. He now spoke to kookaburras and Jesus, and worse still they spoke back.

I was now torn between two loves, Ben and Poppy. I felt an obligation to stand by him, albeit on the basis of friendship, at least while he sought rehabilitation. But my maternal nature warned me to safeguard Poppy from Ben’s volatile moods.

I decided to do both, keep Poppy far, far away from him, but support him from a distance. Poppy would just have to accept that her father as I knew him was gone.