Broken (43 page)

In the afternoon she went for a walk in an effort to get herself going again. She missed the Mattie of two weeks ago, with her plans and her optimism, and knew she desperately needed to access her again, to feel confident and assured of her actions, otherwise she was going to be
even more badly matched in the struggle to come. So she pulled on her black bike shorts and a sloppy red t-shirt and took off determinedly. She intended to cover about five kilometres but only made it to two before her thighs started to tighten tiredly and she began to worry that, on top of everything else, she was going to overstrain a muscle. So she turned back.

Nevertheless, it was a good move. For the first time in days she felt energised mentally and her thoughts came through clearly instead of being blurred and uncertain. And the simple action of walking along the bike path and nodding politely to other walkers made her feel far less isolated. On the way back, an elderly man stopped her to let her know that there was an aggressively swooping magpie up ahead and it might be a good idea to cross the road. And as Mattie thanked him and followed his advice, she felt a deep appreciation out of all keeping with his actual deed. He had connected with her, reached out. Cared.

The postman was just pulling away from the units as Mattie turned into her road so she stopped at her letterbox on her way inside. Then, kicking off her runners, she sat down with a glass of water and the mail. The Centrelink review was there, with an ultimatum that she had only a fortnight to return the review forms, otherwise her parenting payment would be stopped. There was also the school account for the following year, including stationery items, and a gas bill, already. One letter that had Mattie momentarily puzzled was a letter from the Environment Protection Authority that stated her car had been sighted emitting overly high exhaust fumes and she was requested to look into it immediately. Then she smiled grimly and threw it into the bin.
Good one, Jake
. The last letter was from the Dandenong Family Court, with the date for her interim orders hearing. It was set for 13 December, in exactly ten days' time.

This last was a ray of hope in an otherwise depressing collection of mail that severely depleted the optimism she'd built up during her walk. But Mattie clung to it for the rest of the day. Whenever she thought about the situation, or the children, or how she was going to cope with Jake's ongoing harassment, she would remember that at least in ten days' time one thing would be solved. She'd been proactive and found a
solution for the custody issue, so why couldn't she do the same for all the rest? It would just take time.

She decided to celebrate the impending hearing with a glass of wine. Which turned into another, and another. But when Jake turned up a little before ten o'clock, she still wasn't drunk, just filled with a sort of lassitude that was almost debilitating in itself. She'd been lying on the couch disinterestedly watching a rather inane reality television show. And when the knock came, her first thought was that it was part of the show, so she took no notice. But when it came again, and more insistently, she leapt off the couch, her lethargy forgotten as she stared wide-eyed at the door.

‘Hello, Mattie? You home?'

It was him. Mattie blinked, trying to dispel her confusion, and glanced at the clock. Where were Max and Courtney then, if he was here? In the car? She walked slowly, softly, across the lounge-room until she stood in front of the door, listening carefully for the sound of a key.

‘I know you're home. Your car's here. So you may as well open up.'

‘Where are the children?' asked Mattie, in a reasonably controlled voice.

‘At home. All the more reason for you to open the door quickly.'

‘Who's with them?'

‘No-one. So the sooner you open up and let me in, the sooner I can go home again.'

Mattie shook her head, disbelieving. ‘You left them alone?'

‘Sure.' Jake's voice had a smile in it. ‘I have to use every weapon in my arsenal, don't I? So let's get this over and done with.'

Mattie fervently wished she hadn't drunk all that wine, because her thought processes seemed inhibited, slow. ‘I don't believe it.'

‘Trust me.'

‘What if I ring the police? Tell them you've left an eight-year-old and a six-year-old at home alone?'

Jake laughed cheerfully. ‘Then I'll just tell them that you rang me in a panic about an intruder, so I checked the kids were asleep and came racing over here, but you'd set me up. And you've been drinking, I can hear it in your voice, so that'll just support my story even more.'

Mattie stared at the door, still confused. ‘Why?'

‘Because I wanted to talk to you. Face it, sweetheart, you're in a nowin situation. And I'll stay out here till you realise that. So it'll be your fault if one of the kids wakes up and finds out they're alone. Because you're just putting off the inevitable, and placing them at risk. Come on, I'll only take up five minutes of your time. Maybe ten.'

Mattie took a deep breath. The one good thing about the amount she'd drunk was that she felt no fear at all. In fact, if anything, she felt a sense of anticipation. Butterflies crowding her stomach. After all, he
loved
her, didn't he? She reached out to unlock the door and was surprised to see that her hands were trembling so much that she fumbled the first try and had to start again. Finally she clicked the deadbolt back and the standard lock simultaneously and the door swung open. She stepped away as Jake entered and shut the door behind him. He was still dressed in his navy suit pants, with a crisp white shirt that had the top few buttons undone and the sleeves pulled up enough to show that his scratches were healing nicely.

‘I can't believe you left them alone.'

‘I told you I'd do what it takes.' Jake smiled at her affectionately. ‘But you just don't seem to be able to accept that. Nice outfit, by the way. Hope you didn't go out in those bike shorts.'

‘This is between you and me, not them.'

‘Don't be naive. They
are
involved, because everything you do affects them. You leaving home – don't you think it affects them?'

‘That's different –'

‘Doesn't matter.' Jake waved a hand dismissively. ‘I don't want to get into another argument. That's not what I'm here for.'

Mattie felt a surge of relief that almost made her light-headed. ‘Then what?'

‘You, of course.'

‘Me?' Mattie took another step backwards, instinctively.

‘Yes, you. It
has
been about two weeks, you know.'

‘What are you talking about?' Mattie frowned, pretending ignorance, but deep down she suddenly knew exactly what he was talking about.

‘You should be flattered.' Jake grinned down at her. ‘Because the
thought of someone else leaves me cold. And besides, you don't want me having to find someone else now, do you?'

‘Yes, I do,' said Mattie tightly, but she was appalled to find she did feel a shaft of pain at the thought.

‘You don't mean that,' said Jake confidently. ‘Now, do you want another drink first? Or shall we just get straight into it?'

‘I am not having sex with you.'

‘Yes you are. It's just a matter of when.'

‘No.' Mattie shook her head firmly. And suddenly she knew that, despite her unease at the thought of him with someone else, she
didn't
want to have sex with Jake. The very idea made her feel cold with humiliation. Disgusted.

‘Look, the longer you play games, the longer those kids are alone. So just let me know when you're ready, okay? I'll be waiting.' Jake walked over to the couch and sat down, crossing his long legs casually and raising his eyebrows at her glass of wine before turning his attention to the television.

Mattie stared at him. The wine turned in her gut and she felt ill. She didn't know what to do. Should she simply walk out and go around to Hilda's? Or Hannah's? But the wine she'd consumed shamed her, and limited her options. And she felt deeply embarrassed by the very fact that her husband was here, on the couch. Maybe she should call his bluff and ring the police? But the time for that had been when he was still outside, because now, even if she tried to go for the phone, he could simply prevent her. And the truth was, she wasn't sure which she found most distressing – the possibility of annoying him, or the sex.

Her groin tightened uncomfortably at the thought of sex, but she didn't want to know what that meant. Instead she focused on the children. They weren't prone to waking once asleep, but it did happen now and then. Could she take that risk? If she just sat down on the end of the couch, away from Jake, and tried waiting him out, how long would he last? But she already knew the answer to that. He would wait as long as it took. And if she got up to go to bed, he would simply come along too. Jake didn't lose, ever.

But nor was he a rapist. In all their years of marriage, he'd never forced
her, not once. That is, if you didn't count cajoling, bribing, sulking and generally making it clear that if she wanted a pleasant day, then she had better put out. Sometimes it simply felt like an extra chore and she would get it over and done with early so she could go on to other things without it hanging over her head. But he'd never forced her, not physically.

Jake was still watching the reality show, every now and again chuckling at something one of the characters said, as Mattie stood by the kitchen doorway, staring down at her feet trying to decide what to do. Or trying to face the fact that she had no real choice. And even though deep down she recognised, but refused to acknowledge, a frisson of excitement at what she was being forced to do, she hated him. Hated him with an intensity that made her want to kill him – not slowly, but quickly, furiously, painfully. And never see him again.

‘Ready' said Mattie bitterly, walking towards the bedroom without glancing back.

She felt betrayed by her body. Trying to see it as a separate entity that had stabbed her in the back and twisted the blade within her flesh despite her pleas. And she hated it for what it had done. She hated herself. Even though she had lain passively with her head turned to one side, it – she – had let herself down when it really mattered. And although she knew Jake had been determined to bring her to orgasm, and in fact ensured that it happened before intercourse even commenced, she still loathed herself for it. Telling herself it was a physical response in no way reflective of her feelings made little difference. And it hurt more than the beatings, more than the insults, more than anything. Like he had reached into her core and snatched at her essence, leaving it torn.

Jake left quickly afterwards, which suggested he was perhaps not as nonchalant about leaving the kids as he made out. But first, after he dressed, he came over and sat on the side of the bed, running his fingers gently through her hair for a few minutes. Then he sighed, almost sadly, and bent to kiss her tenderly on the lips before leaving. And it occurred to Mattie that if anybody had been watching, they would have supposed him a devoted husband profoundly concerned about his wife.

And for good reason. Because as soon as the front door closed behind him, Mattie, seriously nauseous now, ran to the toilet to vomit. She knelt in front of the bowl, crying piteously and gagging, but nothing came up. Just the rancid taste of sour wine deep within. So she stuck two fingers down her throat until she felt bile rise, and then let it flow. Her stomach cramped as she retched, and retched, until finally nothing was left except clear mucus-like fluid that she spat into the bowl. With her head throbbing painfully, she went into the bathroom to wash her hands and stared at herself in the mirror. Her cheeks were flushed, yet around them the flesh was pale, and her eyes were bottomless wells of darkness that swallowed her pupils. And the memory of that brief frisson of excitement, and the thrusting of her orgasm, branded itself shamefully across her face.
Pathetic. You really
are
pathetic
.

She was flushed, and had broken several blood vessels in her cheeks. And she looked sick, but not as sick as she felt. Because she'd expected that the vomiting would make her feel somehow purged, but instead it just added to the abhorrence. She still felt nauseous, but it was such an innate nausea that she was not really surprised it remained. It felt like a fundamental part of her which had permeated every inch, from her stomach acids to her bone marrow. Irremovable. She washed her hands again, and again, before going into the children's room to touch each of the walls and kiss their pillows, crying miserably as she did. Then she finally went back to bed and curled up, hugging her knees to her chest in an effort to make herself as small as possible. And the fact that the sheets, the bed, the whole
room
smelt deeply of Jake seemed fitting. No more than she deserved.

Mattie stayed that way throughout the night, and through all of the next day. She only rose a few times, twice to go to the toilet, once to make a piece of toast that she ate quickly, over the sink, before crawling back into bed, and once, at the end of the day, to conduct her ritual in the children's room. Most of the time she was curled up in a foetal position, but sometimes she lay flat on her stomach with her face to the side, pressed against the sheet. And although she did little sleeping, neither did she spend her time thinking. Instead, she blocked any invasive
thoughts as soon as they floated near and concentrated on just existing, willing the hours away.

She recognised she'd entered a depression that blunted all else, but she quite simply didn't care. And didn't have enough energy or willpower to fight it. So instead she gave in to it, almost gratefully, because it excused her lethargy and inactiveness. Even the thought that no doubt
something
would happen on Saturday, just as it had every other day, failed to rouse her from her lassitude. And she also failed to appreciate the irony that on this day, when she simply didn't care, nothing eventuated and she was left alone.