Broken (27 page)

‘You bitch. You fucking bitch. I'm going to fucking
kill
you.'

The stranger's voice was back. Mattie whimpered, taking her hands from the knob and wiping them down her tracksuit pants quickly.
Should wash them. Need to wash them
. Then wrapping them back around the knob and twisting, frantically, until it turned and the door came open, the night air rushing towards her and giving her strength. She felt, or thought she felt, Jake's hand brush against her back as she flung herself through the doorway and jumped over the edge of the porch, falling onto her knees on the grass. But she didn't stay there, instead leaping up quickly and running, in her socks, to the side fence that divided the block of units from the house next door. Once there, Mattie bobbed down in the shadows against the fence and looked back, breathing rapidly. But there was no-one behind her and the door of her unit stood open, and empty. An illuminated rectangle of light, the doorway to another world.

She stayed where she was, watching warily, until, after about six or seven minutes, Jake appeared in the doorway, still slightly bent. He looked outside and then took a step onto the porch, peering to the right and left. At one stage he looked straight at her and Mattie held her breath, sure that he would be able to see her chest rise and fall. But then his gaze moved on and she let her breath out, quietly. After a while, Jake stepped back into the unit and closed the door behind him. Mattie listened carefully and heard him engage the inside lock. Even though
she had no intention of returning inside, the finality of the sound filled her with fresh despair.

She crawled along the fence-line towards the side of her unit until she reached the huge rhododendron bush that edged her short backyard fence, next to the wheelie bins. The bush reached along almost the entire six feet of this fence, forming a lustrous semi-circle that, at its deepest point, sprung about seven foot away from the fence as well. Mattie crawled underneath it, all the way to the back, with the branches jabbing and scraping along her skin. When she got to the fence, she leant against it and drew her knees up, wrapping her arms around them.

It was cold out here, and a brisk night breeze rustled through the bush, raising goose-bumps on her bare arms. Her tracksuit pants, damp where she'd wet herself, stuck to her legs with a cold heaviness. Her head throbbed, her arms and legs hurt, her sides ached, and her throat burnt with a slow fire that scorched with each gulp of air. Mattie took a deep even breath to regain control, and started to weep. Soundless tears, fat and heavy and gravid with frustrated misery, stung her eyes and then limped down her cheeks to pool against her lips. And, in between the misery, a furious resentment started to build. This was
her
unit that she had worked so hard for.
Her
refuge. He had no
right
to take it from her. Enough was enough. No more.

 

T
he truth was, Mattie had very few accidents. She was not particularly clumsy, or accident-prone. Just one of those things, to Mattie, really meant just one of
those
things. Those troughs in the cycle by which she lived, when Jake would lash out, not at the nearest object, but at her. Always her. So that she worked out long ago that it was not about lack of control, but about perfect control. Because he didn't hit anybody else. Not his work colleagues, or his family, or his children. Just her
.

At the same time, these little truths that occasionally revealed themselves could not be reconciled with the image she clung to. Of the good Jake, bad Jake. The man she loved and the violent stranger. And it was easier to tell herself that the cycles, with the troughs of despair and the wonderful heights of happiness that came after, were actually better than most people's lives, with their even keel of mundane existence. But the reality was that she would have traded her peaks and valleys in an instant just to know where she stood. Day by day and hour by hour. To feel safe and secure and content, all the time. To know that her children did not hear the yelling, and screaming, and violence. And their mother crying and pleading and hurting
.

Sometimes she wondered if it was something weak in her that he reacted to, and that if she changed somehow, tried harder, explained herself better – then everything would be okay. Or maybe she just didn't love him enough. After all, to change the aggressive beast into the handsome prince, all that was necessary was love. True love
.

And then there was her addiction. To Jake and their life together, their past and their future. And there was so much baggage there, not just the shared finances and furniture and children, but the memories and the years and a deep, deep sense of commitment. But as the children got older, it was harder to face them the morning after and know that the damage was not limited to her. And the truths she tried to ignore became so obvious it was hard to build defences against them. All the while, more and more, her sense of commitment was coming head to head against her sense of survival. And something had to give
.

M
attie woke early, and stared at the crumbly brown earth next to her face with sick confusion. But remembrance, along with awakened pain, came flooding back in an instant. And as she recalled the events of last night, and the fact that everything had fallen apart – again – her spirits sank so that it felt like her insides solidified into one heavy, deadened mass. In fact, last night had been the worst violence that she had ever experienced. The most unreachable Jake had ever seemed. The closest he had come to doing real, permanent damage. Never before had she thought that he actually wanted to kill her, but then again, never before had she defended herself to such a degree. Actually hurt him. Was there any going back after something like that? She felt a depression that was so overwhelming, and so debilitating, that she could not muster the strength to move. Instead, she just lay there, curled on her side and staring blankly at the ground.

An ant came stumbling across her line of sight, going straight up and over a few broken twigs rather than around them. It lurched away, dislodging minute pieces of crumbly earth as it went but never pausing. At first Mattie's body felt like one giant ache but the longer she lay awake, the more diverse the pain became, until she could isolate the more severe pain and match it with what she'd endured. And lying down was not helping, so at last she forced herself to sit up, stiffly and slowly, being careful to avoid the network of lower branches that caged her.

The morning was still tinged with the greyish light that indicated the sun had not long risen, and the trees sent elongated shadows across the lawn. Mattie automatically went to stretch and then stopped, wincing as streaks of pain shot across her upper body. Her throat also hurt, a harsh but dull ache that sharpened itself whenever she tried to take a deep breath. Mattie closed her eyes, and with all of her might wished that last night hadn't happened, and that she was just now waking in her bed, in her unit. In her home.

The sudden shrieking laughter of a kookaburra made her open her eyes again. It was sitting on one of the power-lines that flanked the road, looking in her direction and probably even laughing
at
her. Another kookaburra flew down to join it and they both stared over at her.
Can you see her, mate? She's a fool. A naive, stupid fool
. Both kookaburras burst out laughing hysterically, vying with each other to achieve the most raucous noise, and then flew off down the road.

Over the next hour or so, the neighbourhood slowly came to life. A teenage girl came down the road on a bike, thrusting newspapers into a few letterboxes as she rode past. The woman across the road let out her cat, with instructions to behave, and then a silver Holden Vectra reversed out from the units, swinging backwards into the road before accelerating off with a muffled roar. The couple from the house next door emerged together, chatting about a dinner party tonight, before getting into separate cars and leaving. Then finally came the sound Mattie was waiting for, the sound of the shower in her unit. A spluttering that quickly settled into a steady flow. As soon as it did, she crawled out from under the rhododendron bush, every part of her body screaming in protest. Once free, she straightened stiffly and then hurried around the front of the unit and onto the porch. She tried the door and, not terribly surprised to find it unlocked, let herself in and closed it gently behind her.

Even though she remembered exactly what had happened the night before, the evidence still came as a jolt. She could see the photo frame with its broken glass segregating Max's smiling face, the shards of glass across the carpet, even the wiry tufts of her hair by the kitchen doorway. She stared for a few moments and then shook herself into action.

The rushing of the shower was still coming from the bathroom so Mattie took the time to go to the toilet, as fast as she could. But her bladder was aching so much that she had little choice. When she finished, she didn't pull her pants back up again. She couldn't bear to. Instead she shrugged them off and, with a sense of urgency dulling her pain, ran into the kitchen to wash her hands. She stood at the sink, rubbing in the soap viciously until the sound of the shower ceasing stilled her, and instead she stared at the window, trying to fight the rising panic.

Within a few moments, a new noise started up, the whirring sound of an electric razor, and Mattie let her breath out in a rush. She threw the soap into the sink and ran lightly up to her bedroom where she stripped off quickly, throwing the dirty clothing into a corner. Then she pulled on the oversized t-shirt she usually slept in and a clean pair of knickers before racing to the children's bedroom door and slipping inside, her heart beating loudly and painfully.

Mattie took a few measured breaths to calm herself and peered around the semi-darkness of the room. Soon she could clearly see Courtney was sitting up in bed, the covers still over her legs and Max sitting on the edge of the upper bunk with his legs dangling over the side. Both children were looking at her with surprise.

‘Good morning, guys,' Mattie whispered, trying to smile but failing.

‘Are you . . . okay?' asked Courtney hesitantly.

‘I'm fine.' Mattie left the door ajar and went over to the bunks where she hugged Max fiercely and then clambered awkwardly into bed with Courtney who, although obviously astounded, willingly made room.

‘Are you sure?' Max slipped down off the top bunk, landing neatly on his feet.

‘Absolutely. But keep your voice down.' Mattie put her finger to her lips for emphasis. ‘We'll talk later.'

‘Mummy!' Courtney was peering behind her mother's head. ‘You've got blood in your hair!'

‘Oh.' Mattie put her hand up to touch the back of her head gingerly and felt the stiffness of dried blood matted amongst her hair. Not much, but enough.

Max looked at her, aghast. ‘Mummy?'

‘It's okay, I'm fine.' Mattie waved a hand dismissively ‘Nothing to worry about.'

Both children would probably have argued this point, but at that moment the sound of the electric razor abruptly halted. Courtney immediately wiggled closer to her mother and Mattie put an arm around her reassuringly, trying not to wince. Max, his eyes wide, sat down on the end of Courtney's bed and stared at the door. And Mattie waited, tensely, trying to take regular breaths to calm her stomach. After a few minutes, she heard the bathroom door open and felt Courtney stiffen against her. Jake's footsteps came past and went into the bedroom next door. Then he could be heard getting dressed and, last of all, the squeak of the bed as he sat down to pull on his runners. Soon the footsteps started again, this time pausing at the children's bedroom door. Then, as Mattie squeezed Courtney's shoulder for comfort, the door was pushed all the way open and Jake was silhouetted in the doorway.

Nothing was said and if Jake was surprised to see Mattie in bed with Courtney, he didn't show it. In fact, he didn't show anything. Just stared expressionlessly at them for a few long moments and then left. Mattie let out a breath that she hadn't been aware she was holding as she heard him walk towards the front door, open it, and leave. And she looked at the children wordlessly and saw the relief she felt reflected back at her.

Mattie jumped up and hurried into the lounge-room where she saw the front door had been left half open. Automatically dodging the area with the broken glass, she went to the side of the window and peered out through the drapes, just in time to see Jake's burgundy Commodore take off down the road with a squeal of tyres. Mattie watched until it disappeared and only then did she let the relief truly wash through her, cleansing her fear. She closed the front door quietly, making sure the lock engaged, and then leant against it, taking another deep breath and letting it out. It hurt her throat, but was worth it.

Max came into the lounge-room hesitantly, with Courtney just behind him. Mattie smiled at them and then suddenly realised they were both barefoot.

‘Don't move!' She held up a hand commandingly. ‘Glass!'

As the two children peered at the floor around them, Mattie took a
huge step over the kitchen doorway and then hurried into the laundry where she grabbed the vacuum cleaner. Dragging it back out into the lounge-room she plugged it in, turned it on and ran it over the carpet. The tiny shards of glass made a crackling, tinkly noise as they were sucked up, while the strands of her hair disappeared smoothly and silently.

When she was sure no glass remained, Mattie switched it off and backed it against the wall. Then she turned to the children. ‘I'm going to have a shower and then I'm making you both a huge hot chocolate. Okay?'

Both nodded so Mattie left them there and went into the bathroom. It still smelt of Jake, his shower and his aftershave. Mattie closed her eyes and put her head back, but this caused sharp points of pain to stab into the base of her skull. She straightened quickly and then shed her clothing, standing in front of the mirror to stare at herself. There were red marks and bruises on her thighs and arms, and a dark pear-shaped bruise on one hip. But the worst damage was around her neck, where deep blue blotches stretched around her throat like macabre jewellery. Mattie closed her eyes and then opened them again, but the bruises were still there. And so was the strain on her face, and the dark grey semicircles beneath her eyes.