Broken (28 page)

Mattie shook her head in denial but knew, at the same time, that what was done was done. Trying to pretend it hadn't happened just wasn't an option. Not anymore. She turned the shower on and stepped underneath the spray before it had even heated up. Because it was cleansing, washing away the fear and disgust, and the dirt and the urine. Mattie washed her hair gently, wincing at the tenderness of her scalp, and then scrubbed her body hard, even over the bruises, despite the pain. She got out, drying herself with a towel that smelt strongly of Jake, and then threw the towel into the laundry hamper and dressed again. But when she started to brush her hair the pain was so intense that she had to stop, running her fingers through it lightly instead, and bringing them away with fine strands of damp hair stuck to them in clumps.

The children were already in the kitchen when she got there, sitting at the table and waiting. Courtney's plaits had feathered out during the
night and tendrils of hair frizzed around her head like a darkened halo. Both children were silent when she entered, and they remained silent while she fixed their drinks. Mattie found their quietness disturbing, but understandable. She herself was just so relieved that Jake had now left that even her injuries felt more bearable. When she'd finished making the two hot chocolates, Mattie put them on the table in front of the children, and suddenly realised that the box with the embroidered tablecloth was gone. She shrugged to herself and then took a tub of vanilla ice-cream from the freezer and spooned a scoop into each of the mugs. The ice-cream plopped deliciously and sank, only to resurface and float along the top, its edges frothing as they melted.

‘Yum!' said Courtney, pushing at the ice-cream with a finger. ‘Can I have a spoon?'

‘Sure.' Mattie fetched two teaspoons and passed them over. Then she took some painkillers and fixed herself a coffee with the remaining hot water. She sat down next to Courtney, opposite Max.

‘I hate him,' said Max suddenly, stabbing viciously at his ice-cream with his spoon.

Mattie opened her mouth to give her standard spiel, about how he didn't
really
hate him, and about how much
pressure
their father was under, and how he didn't really
mean
it – but she closed her mouth again without saying anything. Because, right now, she hated him too. Max stabbed at the ice-cream again, holding it under with his spoon.

‘Did you make Daddy angry?' asked Courtney in a small voice, her eyes flicking down to her mother's neck briefly.

Mattie looked at her. ‘You heard us last night?'

‘Yes.' Courtney chewed her lip. ‘You screamed. And cried.'

‘I
hate
him,' said Max again.

‘Court, you know how you think it's my fault? That I make Daddy angry?'

‘I don't think it's
all
your fault, just that . . .' Courtney frowned, unable to express what she meant. ‘I don't know'

‘Remember when you told me about that little girl at kinder last year? The one who never stood up for herself?'

‘Oh, yeah. Jasmine. She had curly hair.'

‘Well, would you like me to be like Jasmine, and never stand up for myself?' Mattie held Courtney's gaze. ‘Sometimes you
have
to stand up for yourself. And if someone else behaves badly because of it, then
they're
the one at fault, not you. Understand?'

‘Then you're saying Dad behaves badly?' asked Max, obviously expecting her to come back with the speech about pressures, and intent, and the usual excuses.

Mattie looked at him evenly ‘How much did you hear last night?'

‘Um . . .' Max glanced across at Courtney and then looked back at his mother. ‘I don't want to get in trouble.'

‘Why would you get in trouble?'

‘Because we sneaked out,' answered Courtney, looking at her brother. ‘And saw it.'

‘Saw what?' asked Mattie, her stomach knotting again.

‘Saw Dad choking you,' whispered Max, staring down at his hot chocolate. ‘Against the wall. And you were kicking and all.'

‘I thought you were killed!' Courtney threw herself against her mother and wrapped her arms around her waist.

‘Oh god.' Mattie held her daughter, stroking her long dark hair back while she stared across at her son. ‘Hell.'

‘I wanted to save you.' Max still couldn't meet her eyes. ‘But I . . . I –'

‘He was scared,' finished Courtney, still holding her mother tight. ‘And so was I.'

‘Oh, Max.' Mattie felt her throat tighten even more. ‘It's all
right
to be scared.'

‘No it's not,' muttered Max. ‘You could've died. And I did nothing.'

‘Listen to me –' Mattie kept one arm around Courtney and reached the other across to put a finger under Max's chin and forced it up, so that he was looking at her – ‘it
is
all right to be scared.
Anyone
would have been scared.'

Max stared at her, even though she had now let go of his chin. His eyes shone with unshed tears. ‘Were
you
scared?'

‘You have to realise –' Mattie paused. ‘Yes. I was terrified.'

‘I'm a
coward,'
blurted Max, the tears spilling over. ‘A dirty stinking
coward.'

‘Oh, Max.' Mattie grabbed one of his hands and held it tight. ‘You're
not
a coward. You're the bravest boy I know. Just sneaking out to see what was happening is brave. It really is.'

‘Really?' Max looked up at her, his brown hair spiking across his head and his eyes huge. He looked so young, and so defenceless.

‘Absolutely' Mattie nodded emphatically and then, taking Courtney by the shoulders, pulled her upright. ‘Now listen, you two. I'm going to tell you some things I maybe should have told you a long time ago. Okay?'

‘Okay'

‘I'm not going to lie to you either, and you can ask me any questions you want.' Mattie let go of Courtney and took a sip of coffee before continuing. ‘First of all, your dad loves you both. Max, don't look like that. You know it's true. But the thing is, parenting isn't just about love. It's about showing by example. And your dad sometimes makes big mistakes there. Like last night. You know how I was saying before about sticking up for yourself? Well, if someone says something you don't like, or don't agree with, you have two choices. You can choose to talk about it reasonably, or you can walk away Unfortunately, your Dad doesn't choose either of those.' Mattie took a deep breath. ‘He chooses violence.'

‘Why?' asked Max, looking her full in the face.

‘I don't know the answer to that.' Mattie sighed. ‘I wish I did. But I think it's got something to do with power. Violence makes him feel powerful, and it makes him feel like he wins every argument. But that's no way to argue, is it?'

‘Then he's a bully,' said Max decisively.

‘Daddy's
not
a bully,' Courtney glared at her brother, outraged.

Mattie took another sip of coffee, thinking this over. There was no doubt that Jake
could
be a bully, but was it right for her to say this to their children? She was already going further than she ever had before, and felt flickers of guilt both about not having done it before, and about doing it now. She was stabbing him in the back, playing dirty. Then there was the chance that this conversation might get back to him, and the thought of the repercussions that would cause terrified her.

‘But, Mum?' Max looked at her, then dropped his gaze to stare at her mug of coffee. ‘You know how you said Dad has a choice? Well, so do you, don't you?'

‘Yes, of course. But what do you mean?'

‘Well, when Dad gets . . . angry. Then why don't
you
walk away?'

‘You mean, during an argument? Or altogether?'

‘Both.'

Mattie smiled at Max grimly. ‘During an argument I'd walk away if I could, honey. But your Dad likes to . . .
finish
arguments. As for altogether, well, you know how Dad's not always like that? How sometimes he's really nice?'

‘Yeah. Sometimes.' Max stared at her while Courtney nodded emphatically.

‘Well, I love that person. Very much. And I never wanted to lose him. Or our family.' Mattie suddenly realised that she had spoken in the past tense.

‘Oh.' Max looked back down at his hot chocolate.

‘Is there anything else you'd like to ask me?'

Max picked up his spoon and watched some hot chocolate dribble down the outside of his mug and pool against it on the table. ‘Don't we have to get ready for school?'

‘No.' Mattie smiled at them both. ‘Because you're not going. I declare today a holiday. We're going to lie around all day and relax. How does that sound?'

‘Great!' Courtney beamed happily while Max, still with his head down, sneaked a look at his mother and smiled.

‘Thought you'd both like that.' Mattie stood up, her body groaning. ‘So why don't you go watch the morning cartoons and I'll make some scrambled eggs for breakfast?'

‘With more hot chocolate!' Courtney leapt up and skipped into the lounge-room to turn the television on.

Max stayed at the table for a while longer, playing with his spoon and dabbing at the puddle of hot chocolate with his finger. Mattie left him alone while she went to the fridge to get some eggs. But there she paused, frowning. Something was missing, and it took her several
moments to realise what it was. The inspirational sayings were gone, every single one of them. All that was left were bits of sticky-tape with tiny scraps of paper caught under them. Mattie went to the rubbish bin and opened it. And there they were, all torn to shreds.

She stared at them for a moment and then took a deep breath. It could have been worse, much worse. Mattie let the lid close and then got six eggs out of the fridge and broke them into a bowl, adding milk and then beating them briskly with a fork. She thought about her sayings for a while.
The future depends on what you do in the present. It is hard to fail, but it is worse never to have tried to succeed
. Then she filed them away where they couldn't be destroyed and glanced across at her silent son. He had the sort of face that always made her want to ask ‘What are you thinking?', but for once she held back, reasoning that if he had questions, she would just allow him to ask in his own time and space. Instead, as she poured the egg mixture into the frypan, Mattie tried to read his expression. But it told her nothing. And she suddenly realised that he was very much like his father in that. The same ability to shut down, to become impenetrable. To build a wall that isolated him, while keeping all those who cared at a distance. With this insight, Mattie stared blankly at the now bubbling egg mixture. And felt a cold shiver tiptoe up her spine.

Mattie didn't expect any phone-calls until at least Tuesday, and flowers or something probably Wednesday or Thursday. The fight had been a particularly bad one, and if the pattern continued to follow past form, Jake would probably take a few days to wind down. She knew, from experience, that if she was to see him now, the chances were that he would remain impassive, and the violence might even flare again.

But whereas this pattern, when she had been living with Jake, had been so horribly soul-wrenching on those days when she tiptoed around, always tense and always watchful, in the unit it was almost like a form of release. A gift of at least two days that she could count on being alone and undisturbed. Two days to think, get her head together, decide what to do. And a new element began to creep into her consciousness. Until
lately, she'd been able to convince herself that because Jake had never touched the children, they weren't
really
affected. In fact, she was doing the right thing by them, keeping the family together, giving them a father. But it was becoming harder and harder to believe this. The fallout, on them, was becoming obvious. And it was clear that, whether or not they were actually ever the objects of their father's aggression, they still experienced the repercussions. And they were very damaging.

Nevertheless she felt that, if given the choice, they would stick with what they knew. But this was one thing that she didn't discuss with them. In fact, after the initial talk on Monday morning, they didn't speak of Jake again for the next few days. They enjoyed a day in front of the television, and playing board games, on Monday, and even skipped swimming for the first time that term. Mattie simply didn't feel up to it. In the afternoon, reaching for her notepad on top of the fridge to write absent notes for Max and Courtney, she found the note that had been pinned to the Onkaparinga blanket that very first night.
Mattie – I'll
always
be here. Love you, Jake
. It made her cringe, and she wondered whether, back when he wrote it, Jake had been aware that it read not just as an avowal of love, but as an implicit threat. And she decided that he probably had, as it was all part of the game. So she threw it away.

On Tuesday the children returned to school, and Mattie wrapped her neck in a scarf despite the mild weather. She was greeted cheerfully by those who'd attended the Whimsicalities party, with congratulations on hosting such a lovely afternoon, and promises that the money would soon be forthcoming. To Mattie, though, the party seemed so long ago that the joy it brought her had long faded, and so she nodded and smiled politely, and made her escape as soon as possible.

After dropping off Max and Courtney, she spent the entire day inside the unit, just sitting and thinking. And she planned to do exactly the same on Wednesday, and Thursday, and Friday. Postponing life until this
situation
was resolved, one way or the other. But matters were taken out of her hands on Wednesday afternoon when Hilda marched past the lounge-room window and knocked on the door with a vigour that demanded an answer.