Tatted Cowboy (2 page)

You always have a choice…But, I know you’ll make the right one.

Oh, God, please no.  No. No. No. Please, God, no.  Please. No. Not my baby. Please. God. No.

Over and over I chant those words in my head.  My mind is whirling, spinning so fast I can’t keep up.  My stomach is churning, the bile threatening to come up is burning my throat and my chest feels tight.

My son, Gus, is two.  Most parents say that when their child goes quiet they know they’re into mischief.  That is what I thought when I could no longer hear Gus playing in his room.  He had been up there, at the end of the hallway, building blocks, while I was in the kitchen folding washing and stacking it on the dining table.

All of a sudden, it clicked that the house had gone completely silent. 
Eerie.
  I tip toed up the hallway, thinking he must have fallen asleep.  He looked like an angel when he slept.  His light blond hair would fall over his face, his lips would be slightly parted in a pout and his long blond lashes would fan over his cheeks, hiding eyes that were so blue, they were mesmerizing.

So beautiful.

When I reached his room, the first thing I noticed was his curtain blowing in with a breeze.

Odd.

That’s when it hit me.  He was not in his room and the window was open.  My heart paused in my chest before kick starting again with a savage jolt.

They say mother’s instinct is the very first thought that pops into your head in any given situation.

The pool.

That’s what I thought, without even thinking.

I raced back down the hallway and out the back door.

Oh, God, please no.  No. No. No. Please, God, no.  Please. No. Not my baby. Please. God. No.

You hear it on the news all the time, but you never think it’s going to happen to you.

My husband had installed the latest edition of pool safety security fencing.  It would surely keep out an inquisitive two-year-old, right?

Right?

Wrong.

So, so very fucking wrong.

The first two weeks after Gus’ death are hard for me to explain.  I feel like I remember every little detail about a time that’s a complete blur.

When I look back on those days, in my mind the images are blurred, all white around the edges.  But ask me a question and I can tell you the correct answer in an instant.

We stayed at my parent’s house while we planned Gus’ funeral.  Neither my husband nor I were ready to go home just yet.  Our
home
was no longer.  We spent our days surrounded by friends and family, planning our darling child’s farewell and trying to come to terms with our new normal.

When Frank and I had fallen pregnant with Gus, our relationship was only new.  We’d been together for six months or so.  The pregnancy wasn’t planned, but that didn’t make him any less wanted.  Frank and I moved in together, and got married by the time I was seven months pregnant.

We were both so excited, and so nervous, to meet our new baby.  We’d created a dream nursery that would easily transition into a toddler’s room and then a school age child’s room.  We’d painted the walls in warm white with grey blue trims.  Then, we’d purchased framed alphabet pictures and hung them around the room.  It was warm, inviting and cosy.  Everything we wanted for our new bundle of joy.

As he’d grown, Frank and I had introduced more age appropriate decor and toys.  Pillow pets, Tonka trucks and Matchbox cars had littered his plush carpet floor.

Just like
that
all of our hopes and dreams we gone. In an instant.

Frank was a great daddy and Gus simply adored him.  While Frank worked hard at a factory to provide for our family, I’d taken leave from my job as a beautician in the weeks leading up to Gus’ birth.  I’d only just started work again on a part-time basis, working two days a week.  Gus spent those days at child care.

I remember feeling so frightened the first few times I left him at daycare.  I worried that the staff wouldn’t watch him like a hawk.  Ironically, it was me, his own mother, who failed him so comprehensively. 

To celebrate our son’s life, we held a small, intimate service at our local church.  Following that, selected family members attended the crematorium with us and then we went back to my parents’ house to share memories and drink ourselves numb.

The problem with that is, not only do you have a hangover the next morning, but the pain returns too.

With pain, comes blame.  We blame the ones we love, we blame the one we lost, but most of all, we blame ourselves.  It buries itself deep.  So deep that on some days it feels like it’s in the marrow of your bones. 

It destroys everything.  The love you thought you had? Blame will chew it up and spit it out faster than you can blink.

Blame is like cancer; it eats away at all the good.  It consumes you and if you are not careful, it will kill you. 

It killed my marriage. 

Every day it stripped away a new layer of the foundation Frank and I had built.  Our marriage was no longer a thick crust of emotions, memories and feelings.  It became a raw bundle of sensitive nerves.  Instead of dealing with our loss together and letting our love outweigh the blame, a gulf of despair divided us and it became impossible to repair the rift.

Frank blamed me.

I blamed myself.

Each day that passed after we lost Gus, he looked at me with a new depth of disgust.

I’d like to say we tried to save our marriage for a year, but we were both so consumed by grief we weren’t actively trying to save anything but ourselves.

We lived in the same house, but we avoided each other at all costs.  Frank began working overtime and I reverted into myself.  I never left the house.  I lived deeply inside my own head, trying as hard as I could to survive.

The breaking point of our marriage came just one week after the first anniversary of Gus’ death.  Sitting on our couch, Frank and I had finally admitted out loud what we had both known for a long time.

Our marriage wasn’t going to last.

“I can’t stand the sight of you,” he told me through gritted teeth, as if even saying the words hurt.

The truth hurts though, that’s not a secret.

He didn’t say it to upset me.

He said it because it was the truth.  I could barely stand the sight of myself, so I didn’t fault him for feeling that way.

The blame had outweighed our love, and all that remained was abhorrence.

I moved back in with my parents the next day.

For the next twelve months, I simply went through the motions every day.  Wake up, drag my arse out of bed, eat breakfast, shower, go to work, come home, go to bed.

Every time I left the house, I painted on a mask of normalcy.  I
hated
the looks of pity people gave me.  So, I did my best to convince everyone I was slowly healing.  That I believed I was going to be okay.

In reality, I wasn’t healing.

I didn’t believe I was going to be okay.

Not only had I lost my son, but my marriage had fallen apart as well.  The one person who knew exactly how I was feeling couldn’t even stand to look at me.

I was drowning in a sea of guilt and failure.

It wasn’t until my parents sat me down one night and told me they could see right through my mask that I realized I wasn’t as good an actress as I thought.

They didn’t tell me how I
should
be feeling, or acting.  They didn’t say they
knew
how I felt, because let’s face it, they hadn’t lost a child, so they didn’t know.  What they did say was that they
understood.
  They said it was
okay
for me to feel all the emotions I was feeling and it was
okay
for me to act how I was acting.

But, it was hurting them to see me hurting … knowing they couldn’t do anything to take away my pain.  A Band-Aid and a kiss from my daddy was not going to fix me this time.

My parents suggested I get out of Mount Isa. 

It was the best idea I had heard!  I needed to get away, start afresh.  I desperately wanted to be able to walk down the street without everyone knowing my story.

I just wanted to be
me
again – Laura Carlisle.  I didn’t want to be
that poor woman
– the one who lost her child and ended up divorced.

So, I made a phone call and six weeks later I loaded up my car with my belongings and hit the road.

Destination: Pine Creek, Northern Territory.

“Hey, Gran.”  Tears prick my eyes as her arms envelop me, holding me tight to her.  Her scent invades my nostrils and immediately takes me back to when I was a child, curled up in her lap, watching movies.  Talcum powder and floral perfume.  That is the scent of Marjorie Ella Carlisle. My paternal grandmother.

“Sweetheart,” she whispers, giving me an extra squeeze.

When she releases me, I look her over.  She has gotten shorter as she has aged.  She looks good; a fresh rinse is through her hair, eliminating any pesky greys, and she has had her perm redone recently.

Her eyes shine with unshed tears as she looks me over.

“You’ve lost weight,” she chastises.

I nod.  I have lost weight.  A lot of weight.  After having Gus I had retained the curves I acquired while pregnant with him.  Since losing him, though, I have lost all I gained and then some.  I am skin and bones, I know it.  I look sickly and need fattening up a bit so I at least look healthy again.

“We’ll fix that, love,” she assures me, and I know she will keep her word.  Gran is one of the best cooks I know. “Missed you, Laura,” she adds on a whisper.

“I missed you, too, Gran.  So much.”  My voice is thick with unshed tears.  My sight blurred.

“Come on inside.  We’ve got a lot to catch up on.  Lucy O’Sullivan was caught having relations with the milkman last week.  Her husband caught them in the act.  Poor man almost had a heart attack.”

I laugh.  I laugh for the first time in … I can’t even remember how long it’s been.

Gran’s face lights up and she cups my cheek.  She doesn’t say a word.  Her love shines right out of her body and beams into mine, filling me up.  Warming me.  Healing me.

***

“Are you nearly ready, love?”

“Yes, Gran,” I answer, calling out from my bedroom.  I slide my earrings in and give myself a quick once over.

It’s been two weeks since I moved in with Gran and today she’s taking me to play Bingo with her friends at the Bowling Club.

It’s not my idea of a good time, but she practically begged me to go and I had given in.  To be honest, I was kind of looking forward to being around people who wouldn’t look at me with pity.

Twenty minutes later we arrive at the Bowling Club.

“It looks so different,” I muse, as we make our way up the concrete steps.

“A lot has changed since you’ve been here,” Gran agrees.

She’s right.

A lot
has
changed.

I spent the first nine years of my life in Pine Creek.  My dad worked on a farm for those years but then the drought hit and we had to leave town.  We moved to Mount Isa where dad took up a position with a mining company, and even though we managed to travel back a handful of times during the rest of my childhood, it has been fifteen years since I was here last.

“Here comes Nosey Josie,” Gran mutters under her breath.  I swallow back a giggle as Josie rushes towards us as fast as she can with the aid of her walking stick.

“Marjorie, so good to see you,” she greets.  Josie’s aged a lot since I last saw her, but she’s still recognizable to me; we used to live next door to her and she
hated
kids.  She would keep our balls that found their way over the fence and she was always spying on us, clicking her tongue and shaking her head when we did something she deemed inappropriate … like spraying each other with the hose!

Time has not been kind to her.  Her already pinched features are even more pronounced, deep wrinkles spread over her face and she has a hunch in her posture.

“Josie,” Gran greets tersely.  “You remember my granddaughter, Laura, don’t you?”

“Of course,” Josie turns her gaze to me, offering me a forced smile.  “I’m so—” Gran interrupts her by clearing her throat and from the corner of my eye I see the look she shoots her.  It has Josie snapping her mouth shut.  From the look on Josie’s face, I can tell she desperately wants to finish her sentence, but she swallows the words down.  Obviously Josie was going to say something about Gus and Gran didn’t want her to upset me.  I could hug Gran right now.

“It’s great to see you back in Pine Creek, Laura,” Josie finally offers.

“Thank you.  It’s great to be back,” I reply genuinely.

“Oh, look! There’s Maude.  She’s been busting to see you,” Gran says, dragging me away.

“Hi Maude,” I smile warmly, bending down to give her a hug.  Maude is Gran’s best friend and was like a second grandmother to me when I was growing up.

“Laura, sweetheart.  Look at you.” She gives me a once over.  “Still as beautiful as ever.”

“I could say the same to you,” I grin.

“Still got an attitude, too, I see,” she mutters to Gran, causing me to giggle.

“Come on, let’s get inside and get good seats.”  Gran leads the way.  After purchasing a book of tickets each and an ink blotter, we find a seat near to the front.

“Don’t think we’ll go easy on you, Laura.  Just because you’re a guest doesn’t mean I’ll let you leave with a frozen chook so easily,” Josie bites out as she walks past our table.

I cock my eyebrow at her and smile politely.  “Oh, Josie.  You can keep your frozen chickens.  I’ve got my eyes on that quilt over there.” I point to the gorgeous handmade quilt hanging near the prize table.

She mutters something under her breath as she walks to her table.

“Stupid old woman,” Gran shakes her head.

The lady behind the microphone calls for quiet and begins reading out the numbers.  Twenty minutes later, Josie walks past with a smirk as she claims the first prize.

Damn, that woman is really getting on my nerves.  I have no idea why she is such a bitch, but I know one thing; age hasn’t mellowed her any.

By the final game, Maude’s won a chook and Gran and I are empty handed.  The quilt is the final prize, because the last game is a double.

Gran looks over and down at my game card.  She nudges me and I can’t help the grin that creeps over my face.

I’m close.

“Sixty-six, clickety click,” the announcer calls. My heart sinks as my ears prick, waiting for someone to call out bingo.

Silence.

“Eighty-eight, two fat ladies.”

Come on,
I silently plead.

“Eleven. Legs eleven.”

“Bingo!” I rise up out of my chair as I shout the word, resisting the urge to bring my knee up as I bend my elbow, curl my hand into fist and hiss
Yes!

Gran and Maude clap and I turn to look at them.  Both are sporting proud-as-punch grins and I can’t help but smile big back at them before throwing my excitement in Josie’s direction.  She gives me an evil glare back and her lip curls up in disgust as I bounce over to the prize table to collect the gorgeous quilt.

After folding it up and putting it inside a protective plastic sleeve, Gran, Maude and I drive down to the Coffee House to have some lunch.

***

“This place is gorgeous,” I remark, looking around.  I pick up a gorgeous little hen and rooster salt-and-pepper shaker set, check the price on the bottom and decide to buy them before we leave.

We order lunch and agree to sit outside.

“Oh, look, here comes the new Mrs Henley.”  Gran grins, looking over my shoulder.

I turn and my eyes narrow.  The girl looks really familiar but I can’t place her.  Well, not until she gets closer.

I rise from my seat and gasp. “Ava?!”

She blinks, taken aback.  Then she races towards me and her arms go wide as her body collides with mine.

“Oh my god, Laura!”

“I can’t believe it.  Look at you! You’ve barely changed a bit.”  I look her over.  Of course, she’s filled out, grown taller and aged in the fifteen plus years since I’ve seen her, but she’s still got that same glow about her.  She’s always been stunningly beautiful.

She sits down at our table, after saying hi to Gran and Maude.  “So, how long are you in town for?” she asks, resting her elbow on the table and bringing her hand up to support her chin, showing off the beautiful diamond rings on her left hand.

“I’ve just moved back, actually.”  I bite my lip as my heart pangs, reminding me exactly why I moved back.  Not that I need a reminder.

“That’s great.  We’ll have to have drinks and catch up properly.  I’ll bring Jules and Edie.  They’ll love to meet you.”

“Who are Jules and Edie?  And, before we go any further, I hear congratulations are in order,” I grin.  “I’m so happy for you.”

“Thank you,” she sighs dreamily.

“Gran said Mrs Henley, but I remember there being two Henley boys, so which did you snag?”

Ava laughs before answering, “Jeremy.”  I knew she would! She has been in love with Jeremy Henley since we were kids.

“I’m
so
happy for you. I can’t believe you married your childhood crush.  So, who are the girls?”

“Edie is Jackson’s wife.  She moved here a couple of years ago from Sydney.  And, Jules is her best friend.  She’s married to Clay Forde.  Do you remember him from school?”

“Umm…” I think back but I can’t place him, so I shake my head and ask when they all got married.

“Well,” she lights up.  “Edie and I had joint weddings on Christmas Eve and Jules married Clay on New Year’s Eve.”

“Wow. You guys must have been crazy busy, planning three weddings within a month.”

“Oh yeah,” she nods.  “It was hectic. Especially because Edie had a baby not long before our wedding day – which, by the way, Jackson delivered on their bathroom floor - and Jules went into labour on their wedding night.”  She starts laughing and I can’t help but join in.  Gran and Maude laugh as well but continue on with their own small talk, leaving Ava and I to catch up.

She fills me in on what has been happening over the years and we make plans to catch up the following Friday night. 

Our food arrives and Ava pushes her chair back.  “I better leave you guys to eat.  It was good to see you, girls,” she says, smiling at Gran and Maude.

“See you, Ava.  It was good to see you again, love.  And congratulations on the wedding.  You’ll have to stop by sometime.  Join us for a game of bingo,” Gran offers.

“Absolutely.  I’d love to steal a few prizes right from under Josie’s nose,” Ava replies and we all laugh.

Pulling out her mobile phone, she asks for my number.  I give it to her and she texts me quickly so I can save her number.

“Okay,” she says, standing.  “I’ll give you a call in the next few days to let you know the details of our catch up.”

“Sounds great.” I round the table and give her another hug before she leaves.

“Eat up, love. The food here is delicious.”  Gran nods towards my food before bringing her own sandwich to her mouth.

“Did you know Ava’s mother owns this place?” Maude asks.

I shake my head and take a bite of my burger.  I almost moan when the delicious flavour bursts through my mouth.

So good.