Nobody Knows (16 page)

Huffing and puffing, Joel strutted back and forth, rage gathering on his quivering top lip. “Don’t…where have you been?” Joel snapped, holding up a finger indicating that he wasn’t done with me just yet.

I stepped back, my legs crashing into the side of the bath, forcing me to reach out and grab the towel rack just to maintain my balance. Joel stepped towards me menacingly. In all honesty I had expected this kind of outburst from Joel when I finally saw him. But I thought I would have had a few more hours to prepare. He should have been at work, then I wouldn’t have been caught so off guard. I would’ve had a chance to come up with the answers to his questions. I wouldn’t have been found in a room where I was cornered between the wall and his explosive temper. I would have been fully clothed. But instead he had the upper hand. He had all the control. And I was back pedaling as fast as I could, just fighting to stay in the game.

“We stayed at Rhiannon’s last night,” I admitted. As soon as I said it I felt guilty. I should have never have mentioned Rhiannon’s name. Now she was involved in my mess.

“So you and I have a minor disagreement and you run to Rhiannon and blab about our personal problems? Fuck, Gillian. Grow up. Why do you always have to run to your friends?”

“Because I don’t have a family. Screw you, Joel. You kicked me out of my bedroom. Tell me, what sort of personal life do we have? We’re fucking flat mates. The only thing we have in common are the amazing daughters that you fathered then conveniently forgot about,” I dared.

Hanging out with Rhiannon had given me a courage I didn’t know I had. This life I had with Joel, I realized, wasn’t the life I wanted. This wasn’t enough for me. And this life, this fake marriage, wasn’t something I wanted my kids to see. I didn’t want them growing up thinking this was normal.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing. Just forget it. Like you do everything else.”

“Fuck you, Gillian. I do everything for you—”

“No you don’t,” I cut him off angrily. “You might pay the bills, but there is no way that you do everything. When was the last time you took the time out of your very important day and spent time doing your daughter’s homework with her? Or read Bianca a story? Or even asked how I was doing carrying your son? What happened to the man I married?”

Joel physically recoiled at the questions. And I have to admit it felt so good to watch him squirm. I took the opportunity to pull the towel tighter around me.

“Don’t you dare throw this back on me, Gillian. You have no idea what I am going through.”

“Well, tell me!”

“What?”

“You think you’re going through something. How about talking to me? Instead of packing all my things and throwing me out of my bedroom, why don’t you try being an adult about it and just tell me what’s going on?” I challenged, pushing past him and storming into the spare room which had now become mine.

Joel followed me in and watched silently as I pulled on a pair of old grey tracksuit pants and a striped sweater as fast as I could, not pausing to bother with underwear.

“Do you even care what I do all day, or just that your ATM card works each time you use it?” he asked angrily.

As horrible as it was to be arguing over this petty crap, it was the first real conversation we had in weeks. “What have I done to make you think that I hate you?”

“Just forget it,” Joel walked away dismissively. “But don’t you dare think you can take my girls away from me.”

Summoning all my strength, I called after him, “Fuck you, Joel. Don’t you dare walk away from me! Why did you kick me out of our bedroom?”

“Gillian!” he growled.

“Come on, tell me!”

I watched as he spun on his heel. Even his strut was angry. A moment of fear passed through me but I was in too deep to back down now. Facing me, I could feel the hate. It was tangible.

“You’re a leech. You have done nothing but ruin my life for the last seven years. You trapped me in a life that I didn’t want and now yet again you go and get pregnant. All I ever do is work to pay for everything. You mean nothing to me. Don’t you get that? If you left then maybe I could have my life back. One that resembles something like the one I wanted. Not this domestic bullshit.”

“Come on, Joel, don’t hold back,” I tempted, following him into the lounge. By now we were bellowing at each other and I was glad that we had such a big house. There were no neighbors who could hear our arguments through paper thin walls.

“I want you to get out,” Joel stated so coldly that I almost ended up with frostbite on my ears and nose.

“This is my home, Joel. Mine and my daughters,” I reminded him.

“No, Gillian! This was my home. A home you turned upside down again and again and again until I could barely recognize it or myself.”

“Is that what you really believe?” I asked, flabbergasted.

“I don’t know how else to say it, Gillian. I don’t want you in my life. That’s why you’re no longer in it. That’s why I kicked you out. I couldn’t bare the suffocation and boredom anymore.” The way Joel said it broke my heart. He was no longer yelling, he was no longer leering over me, or imposing himself. Instead, he sat down at the kitchen bench, sipped his water and spoke slowly and calmly to me. The part that hurt the most was that he was perfectly composed. He wasn’t speaking out of spite or anger or frustration. He was speaking from his heart, no matter how black that heart was.

As tears silently streamed down my face, Joel got up and walked away without looking back. He took the keys from his pocket. I watched in silence as he unlocked the newly installed dead bolt on his bedroom door. As he vanished into his room I heard his mobile ring, then heard him let out a pained roar and a long list of colorful expletives.

My marriage was over.

Chapter

Twenty-One

Six Years Later

I dropped Lucas off at his first day of kindergarten and tried not to cry. I hadn’t realized just how different boys were than girls until that moment. When Bianca and Charli had gone to school they wouldn’t let go of my hand and begged me to stay for hours. Eventually I prized myself from their grip and snuck out the door. But Lucas had pretty much waved goodbye as he got out of the car and said, “See you later.” No kiss, no hug, and no tears, at least not from Lucas.

Squinting through my tears, I was glad I had taken the morning off work. They had been pretty understanding about the whole thing even if they didn’t know the full story. I headed toward the office, but glancing at my watch realized I still had a full hour before they expected me. I had thought dropping Lucas at school would take longer, but since it was quick and painless, I had enough time to take myself out for coffee.

I convinced myself the free parking spot just out the front of my favorite coffee shop was a sign. Extra me time, a vacant spot, no queue, and the best ever apple cinnamon muffins staring back at me. Opening my wallet was the only disappointment. These days I barely had twenty dollars to my name. Not enough for anything really. Hunting around in the car I felt like I had won the lotto when I found a couple of two dollar coins wedged in between the cookie crumbs in the backseat. I had no idea how long they had been there or where they had come from, but finders keepers rules applied in my car.

Ecstatic with my find, I jumped from the car, all my enthusiasm returning, and dashed up to the counter and ordered my breakfast. After he handed me the steaming latte and muffin, I thought about sitting outside on the chairs on the walkway and then spotted a huge tree in the middle of the park just across the road. “Bugger it,” I chastised myself as I darted between cars and planting my bum down beneath its shady branches.

Sitting there, peacefully eating my breakfast, I just watched the people come and go and imagined their lives. There were men in business suits strutting along hurriedly talking incessantly into their wireless ear pieces. Women in short skirts sucking in every last breath of their cigarette before stomping it out with a stiletto heel and darting back into the building. A young mother already looking exhausted pushed along a pram, and an old man on the motorized scooter was almost running people down when they didn’t look where they were going. I could have sat there all day just quietly watching and daydreaming.

It was easy and fun to imagine their lives. I wondered if they, like me, got up every day, put on a costume, and pretended to be something more. To hide their secret pain that they were forced to bury beneath the suit and tie so no one would ever know. I liked to believe that my life wasn’t the only one that wasn’t all it appeared to be.

After a while my time enjoying the quiet sunshine ran out. I had to get to work. It’s amazing how real life drags you back into reality and the dreaming and fantasies just seem to evaporate away. Nothing more than a taunting distant memory. As I jumped into the car and pulled out into the Canberra traffic the inner peace and clarity disappeared just as quickly.

Twenty minutes later I was at my desk sorting through piles of mail to be distributed. Six months ago I had taken a part-time job to help support us. I usually worked from nine to two, four days a week. My job was pretty simple and didn’t require overtime. It felt good to feel needed, to have responsibilities, but most of all it felt good every fortnight when my bank account bounced back into the black. I sorted and distributed the mail, did any photocopying people wanted done but were too busy or important to do themselves, answered phones, and was the general gopher lady. If there was a really significant meeting on it was usually my job to organize the coffee and cakes or whatever the participants liked. And the hours were flexible, something I needed more desperately than the money. I needed to be able to drop the kids off in the morning and pick them up at the end of school. Through the years, that was the one stable point in their lives. They knew that Mum would be there to meet them every day.

“Hi Jane,” I said as she hastily handed me another pile of files to sort through. Sometimes Jane was a bitch. Really, that was the only way to describe her personality for six months of the year. The other six months, however, someone else entirely worked in her place. She was happy, pleasant to talk to, a bit special at times, and usually quite good company. You just had to pick which Jane had come to work each day and act accordingly. If it was the bitch, duck for cover and wait till it passed; if it was the fun Jane, have a laugh and a smile while the going was good.

The look on her face and the fact that I received only a barely audible grunt as acknowledgement told me exactly which day it was, and I was going to ensure I stayed out of her way for the rest of the afternoon.

Work was easy and rewarding. In the office I got not only adult conversation, which I desperately craved, but also some appreciation for my efforts. When I first started it surprised me how unbelievable it felt to get a simple thank you or a smile or a “job well done.” For me it was the little things that made a difference.

Each day seemed to fly by as uneventfully as the next, which was exactly what I needed at work. It seemed like my personal life was such a mess that I knew I wouldn’t have been able to handle a complicated and drama-filled work day. I guess that was the best thing about working with a team of guys. Most of the time I was the only female, a situation that would intimidate many other women, but I honestly felt like I could be myself with them. There was no bitchiness and no one judging me.

“How did Lucas do on his first day at school?” Scott asked, leaning on the petition between our cubicles.

“He wouldn’t even let me walk him into his classroom. I got a ‘see ya Mum’ at the car and he was gone.” I laughed easily.

“I would have gladly swapped. Rachel cried for over an hour. Every time I took a step towards the door it just got louder. You would be amazed by the high pitch at which a girl can squeal.” Scott was a good guy, a single dad doing his best to raise his young daughter. Although he didn’t know my situation—it was something only a handful of people actually knew the extent of—he some days seemed to understand me better than I understood myself.

“Tomorrow can only be better,” I encouraged.

“Let’s hope so.” He laughed, giving me two thumbs up before vanishing down the corridor.

After he left I found myself thinking about Joel. These days it was something I did less and less, yet today I couldn’t help it. I wondered if he even remembered that it was Lucas’s first day at school. He certainly hadn’t said anything to me, nor left any extra money for his things.

My marriage to Joel had disintegrated rapidly after he moved me out of our bedroom. Stupidly, in the beginning I thought he was just hurt and angry. I thought he blamed me for everything, but that once he had calmed down things would go back to normal. Like our normal fights. We would both be angry, say things we regretted, both get hurt, then upset, then angry again, before coming back and making up. Or at least call a truce. But this time it was different. A week after the lock was on his bedroom door, Joel still hadn’t been to work. He was home all day every day. And he wasn’t doing anything. I tried to ask him if he was on leave or if he had plans, but all I got were grunts. Then one day he flew into a violent fit. He hadn’t spoken to me in three days when all of a sudden the bedroom door was kicked open; a chair was thrown at the dining room table, shattering the glass table top into a waterfall of broken glass. I barely had enough time to shoo the girls into their bedroom and close the door before he came looking for me.

I remembered trying to get as far away from the girls’ bedroom as I could. I didn’t know what was going on or what was about to happen, but they weren’t going to get caught in the crossfire. The less they heard of what was about to happen the better. I had seen Joel furious before, but nothing could have prepared me for this. His eyes were glazed over and bulging out of their sockets. The veins in his forehead were poking out at odd angles, sweat gathering on his brow and top lip. The air surrounding him was thick with venom. At first he didn’t say a word, he just stared at me. Then, out of nowhere, he backhanded me across the face. I wasn’t ready for it and crashed into the hallway wall before sliding down it in a daze. Instantly I was woozy and off balance. But it was okay, he helped me up. Gathering a handful of my hair in his fist he pulled me up off the tiles and forced me to stand face to face.

“This is all your fault, you pathetic, good for nothing slut!” he growled into my face, covering me with spit.

I still remember the stench of the bourbon on his breath. Standing there, trying not to collapse or shake too much, I looked him in the eye. In hindsight, it probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do, but I wasn’t really thinking properly after the knock to my head. When he punched me in the stomach, I felt like the life had been sucked out of me. Instantly I went numb with fear as I spluttered and my legs went to jelly. I didn’t know how the hell my son was ever going to survive this. Still holding me up by my hair, Joel shook me roughly, then threw me to the ground and discarded me like I was rubbish. I tried not to make a sound, but I couldn’t help it. The whimper escaped my lips.

“From this moment on,” he snarled, “you’re on your own. I’m not giving you a single fucking thing. You have taken everything from me. And now, I’m done.” He started to walk away and I remembered feeling relieved that it was over. But another whimper leaked out.

I was cowering on the floor, Joel standing over me. He looked more like a monster than I had ever seen him. Nostrils flaring, face covered in sweat and rage, he tossed his head back and then spat on me. He deliberately spat on me. Then, as if for good measure, he swung one leg behind him before kicking me as hard as he could in the back. I remember seeing it coming but it was like it was happening in slow motion. Even now I can clearly recall the painful howl I let out as his boot connected with my back and I recoiled in agony. And I remember looking up, seeing Adele standing there in the doorway. Actually, she was the last thing I saw—two of her, her face appalled—before I blacked out.

When I woke up in the hospital they asked a million questions. And I couldn’t answer any. I didn’t know how I had gotten to the hospital or who had brought me or why I was there. But when I tried to sit up, I knew there was a reason why I was there. My whole body was screaming in pain. There were two nurses monitoring me and my baby. I understood very little of what they said in their hushed calming voices, but the look on their worried faces wasn’t hard to read. I was in real trouble.

Ten days later they let me go home. Ten days later I saw my girls. Ten days later Adele filled me in on what she knew. Joel had been fired. He had attacked the receptionist and the investigation concluded that he had done all the things he had been accused of—threats, sexual assault, as well as a host of other company policy breaches. He’d been dismissed instantly. Then Adele told me what she knew about my injuries. Charli had called her on my mobile and told her to come quick. When she arrived she saw me cowering in the hall, terrified of my husband towering over me. As she stood there, she watched him kick me and just walk away. Joel didn’t even spot her until she was on the floor beside me calling the ambulance and trying to wake me up. Adele explained that she had no idea what had been going on. And she knew nothing about Joel’s violent behavior. Although she was disgusted and embarrassed beyond words, she couldn’t bring herself to tell the police what she’d seen happen when questioned.

A big part of me believed she was a coward for that. Then I remembered the police asking me what happened and I too had told them I didn’t know. I hated Joel more than I ever thought possible, but for some unknown reason I couldn’t do that. I was just a pathetic coward. But no matter what he was to me, he would always be my children’s father.

“You okay?” Scott asked politely, his head popping up again. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

An icy shiver ran down my spine. I despised the fact that the mere thought of Joel still affected me so strongly. I knew I would never forget that day, but I didn’t think I would have to relive it so vividly every time his name popped into my head.

Shaking my head and running my fingers through my hair, I put on my best smile and faked it. “Absolutely. Just away with the pixies. Well, that’s me for the day. I better go pick up the girls. I’m sure Lucas will just tell me he’s going to walk home, but I better check anyway. Don’t stay too late.” With that I threw everything I had in my handbag as quickly as I could and got out of there. A cold sweat had taken control of my body and I didn’t know how long I would be able to keep it together before I fell apart in front of everyone. The last thing I wanted was to be known as was the crying girl.

I made it to my car. Just. Punching the steering wheel, I swore and cursed and cried and howled. All of this happened years ago, yet here I was sitting alone in my car in a shopping centre car park, the sun beating down, turning my beat-up little orange Holden Commodore into a sauna rather than a car, crying like it had happened ten minutes ago. Shaking my head at my own stupidity, I threw the car into reverse, squealed the tires, and took off as fast as I could.