Fractured (26 page)

Tuesday, 27 October 2009

Tony wrapped a beach towel around his damp board shorts just as the doorbell rang. He picked up his t-shirt from the bedroom
floor, put it on, then went to answer the door.

Wendy stood on the front step, pale and wrung out. She looked up at Tony, shook her head, then walked into the house. He closed
the door behind her, then hugged her.

‘They’ve moved her back to the psychiatry ward now,’ Wendy said. ‘The medical doctors are happy with her.’

Tony sighed. ‘Thank God. Come through.’ They walked down the hallway into the kitchen. Used plates and cups covered the kitchen
bench. ‘Sorry about the mess.’

Wendy waved her hand at him. She sat on a stool with her back hunched. ‘I can’t believe it. Just when I thought she was getting
there, you know, starting to get better, this happens …’

‘I know.’ Tony heard his voice thicken. He cleared his throat and turned towards the coffee machine. ‘Do you want a coffee?’

She nodded.

He scooped ground beans into the metal filter then twisted it into the machine. ‘I thought a surf might help. I tried to sleep
when I got home from the hospital, but I couldn’t stop thinking …’

He opened the cupboard and took out two mugs. One was Anna’s favourite. He was about to put it back, but there were no others
that were clean. He swallowed. It was only a cup; it didn’t mean anything. He sighed, then filled a metal jug with milk and
began to steam it. When the coffees were poured, he handed one to Wendy, kept Anna’s mug for himself, and pulled up a stool
to the kitchen bench.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, sipping his drink.

‘What for?’

‘I feel like it’s my fault. She said … she said she did it because she thought I hated her, because I hadn’t been to see her.’

‘God, Tony, she doesn’t mean it, she’s just —’

He shook his head. ‘No, it’s true, I haven’t been to see her. I just couldn’t.’

Wendy stared at her coffee. ‘I understand.’

‘I just keep thinking …’

She turned to him and leaned her head to the side. ‘Thinking what?’

‘That I should have been there.’

‘Tony, you were —’

‘No, I should have been at home with them, not rushing off to work and leaving it to Mum. I should have seen this coming,
you know.’ He reached for the sugar jar and stirred a teaspoonful into his drink. ‘I knew she wasn’t well. I should never
have just accepted —’

Wendy put her hand on his arm. ‘Don’t, Tony. You could never have known this would happen.’

‘You don’t understand. I
did
know there was something wrong, I was just too busy … She wasn’t sleeping, she was crying all the time, then one day she
was really happy – too happy – over the top, you know. And then that morning, she was mumbling, behaving really strangely.
What kind of husband am I? What kind of dad?’ He looked away from Wendy and blinked back tears. It was true. He had known
that something was seriously wrong with her, but he had convinced himself she was fine, just so he could have a break from
the baby, and from her. He had used work as an excuse, an escape.

‘Tony, this isn’t your fault.’ Wendy looked down, staring at her coffee. ‘We’ve all had a part to play. I’m her mother, I
know her better than anyone, maybe even better than you, and I never imagined … I should have got on that plane as soon as
the baby was born, I should never have listened to her when she said she was OK.’ She
sighed, then looked to her right, out the window. Tony could tell she was imagining what might have happened if she’d done
something differently, the same way that he had gone over and over different scenarios in his mind, each one leading to a
better outcome.

She started to speak again, quietly. ‘I should have known she was at risk. I should have warned her this could happen.’ She
reached for the box of tissues on the bench and handed some to Tony, then blew her nose.

Tony didn’t ask her to explain; he was Anna’s husband, Jack’s father. ‘I was meant to be looking after them …’ His voice was
thick.

Wendy slammed her coffee down, and he jumped. ‘Stop, Tony! This isn’t helping, this competition over who’s to blame. No one
is! It just happened.’ She combed her fingers through her hair. ‘I’ve spent years looking for someone to blame for everything
that’s gone wrong in my life, but I haven’t found anyone yet. Life is just not fair and there’s nothing we can do about it.
And now, we have to be there for Anna. What else can we do?’

She stood up and walked towards the window. Tony looked at her back, and her ghostly reflection in the glass. She’d lost weight;
she looked frail. From behind, you could almost mistake her for Anna. He bowed his head. Wendy was right: it didn’t really
matter what each of them could have done, because they didn’t do enough and it was too late now. He walked over to her and
put his hand on her shoulder. She clasped it, and they stood in silence.

‘Can I ask you something?’ he said.

‘Of course.’

He took a big breath; he didn’t want to say it, but it was time. He didn’t know who else to ask. ‘His room. I haven’t been
in it, since …’ His voice broke. ‘I just can’t, I don’t want to see it the way it was. It’s still the same as it was when
she left.’

Wendy nodded. ‘Let me do it, Tony. You don’t need to go in there.’

‘Thanks.’ He rubbed his face, then turned and hugged her. In a way, he thought, they had both lost their children. ‘Come on,
let’s get out of here. We can go down to the beach for lunch.’

‘OK.’ Wendy sniffed and tried to smile.

‘I’ll just jump in the shower.’

Tony padded through to the bathroom and turned on the shower. The hot water stung his salty skin, and sand fell off him in
clumps. He washed his hair in Anna’s shampoo and inhaled, then rinsed and lathered it on again. That was the scent that was
missing, from the pillows, the sofa, his clothes. For the first time in a long while, he thought about the possibility of
her coming home, how nice it would be to just go back to their life, the way it used to be. But as he switched off the shower,
the scent faded and that possibility disappeared.

* * *

There was someone sitting by Anna’s bed. She didn’t think she could move her head to see who it was without throwing up. She
managed to look down at her chest. Who had taken her pyjamas off? The hospital gown that she now wore was stained with something
black and sticky. She could smell vomit. She gagged.

‘Anna, just breathe slowly. It’s me, Dr Morgan. You’re back on the ward now. Would you like some water?’

Anna attempted to nod, and someone put a straw in her mouth. She sipped, swilled the water round her mouth and swallowed.
She could feel the liquid trickle down her throat into her stomach. She opened her mouth, like a child, and sipped from the
straw again.

She managed to turn her head to the left. Dr Morgan sat on the chair, holding the glass of water. Her head was cocked to the
side and she was frowning.

Anna quickly turned again. She wanted to jump out of bed and run away, or at least pull the covers over her head and pretend
the doctor wasn’t here. They’d moved her back to the ward, which meant they must think she was stable again. She thought of
the looks on Tony’s and her mother’s faces this morning, and shame scorched her cheeks.

‘Anna, it’s OK.’

Anna shook her head. She couldn’t look at Dr Morgan. She couldn’t bear to see the disappointment in her eyes.

‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered.

Dr Morgan sighed. ‘It’s all right.’

‘It’s not. I’m sorry …’

‘You don’t need to say sorry to me, Anna. Can you look at me?’

‘No.’
Go away
, she wanted to say.
Please go away
. She heard the creak of Dr Morgan’s chair as she sat back.

‘I need to tell you what’s happening now. I’m worried about you. There will be someone watching you for now, and I’ll review
that every day, OK?’

‘I won’t do it again.’ Anna turned her head towards the doctor just for a second. Dr Morgan wasn’t frowning any more. She
didn’t look angry. ‘I’m sorry I lied to you.’

‘Lied?’

‘You asked me if I had thoughts of hurting myself, and I said no.’

‘Oh, I don’t care about that. I’m just glad you’re OK. Anna, this doesn’t surprise me, you know. I can understand why you
wanted to end your life. I don’t think it means that you’re necessarily ill again, or back to square one. I think it’s a sign
that you’re starting to process everything, starting to understand what’s happened and what it means for you. I think in your
situation, it’s entirely normal to feel like this.’

Anna raised her eyebrows. It had been easier when Tony shouted at her this morning, it fitted the way she felt about herself.
Now, she didn’t know what to do or say in response to the doctor’s words, so she said nothing.

‘That’s not to say I’m not really worried. But I do understand. I hope you can talk to me about this, when you feel up to
it.’

Anna nodded. She breathed out, and managed a slight smile. She closed her eyes again, and heard Dr Morgan walk out quietly.
It was hard to think clearly. She hadn’t expected understanding; she wasn’t sure that she wanted it.

Wednesday, 28 October 2009

Anna jumped as someone touched her hand. She had been sleeping, dreamlessly, the type of sleep you don’t want to be woken
from.

‘Mum,’ she said, sitting up. ‘You scared me.’ The corner of her mouth was wet with saliva; she wiped at it, then rearranged
her nightgown, which had twisted as she slept. It was clean; she didn’t remember changing it. ‘How long have you been there?
What time is it?’

‘Not long, sweetheart. It’s just after nine. How did you sleep?’

Anna blinked hard. ‘In the morning?’

‘Yes. I came in yesterday afternoon with Emily but you were asleep and we didn’t want to wake you. Emily left you those.’
Wendy pointed to a bunch of lilies in a plastic vase on the windowsill, obscuring the view of that horrible brown courtyard.
Anna almost cried at the sight of them. Emily knew they were her favourites. ‘She said she’ll call you today, and she brought
you chocolates and magazines too. I put them in your bedside cabinet.’

Anna smiled. Her dry lips cracked and stung. ‘Can I have some water?’

Wendy passed her the tumbler. She noticed that her mother’s eyes were swollen, bruised-looking. She glanced away, knowing
that she was the cause, and sipped the water.

‘Mum, are you OK? I —’

‘I’m fine. I’m just a bit tired.’

She clutched at the glass of water with both hands. She needed to explain this to her mother. ‘I’m sorry, it’s my —’

Wendy shook her head. ‘Shh. It doesn’t matter. The important thing is that you’re safe, you’re OK, thank God.’

‘I didn’t want —’

Wendy sat up straighter. ‘Anna. We went through this yesterday. No more apologies. You don’t need to say anything, please.’

She had rarely heard her mother raise her voice. She nodded, then lay back down on the bed and pulled the blanket up, but
it didn’t reach her shoulders. She tugged at it, trying to pull the edges out from where they had been tucked tight under
the mattress. Beginning to cry, she grabbed her pillow and pulled it further down the bed, shuffled her body down and gathered
the sheets around her chin, then curled up on her side.

Wendy waited until she was still again. ‘I wanted to say something.’

Anna closed her eyes.

‘It’s important. I’ve been thinking about it for weeks, months, years really. And now … I’ve already told Dr Morgan, because
I thought it might help with your treatment. She asked, you know, if there was anyone in the family who had been ill. And
I —’

‘Don’t, Mum.’

‘But —’

‘I know, OK?’

‘I don’t know what you think you know, but I need to explain.’

Anna threw back the covers and sat up again. Why was her mother bringing this up now? Didn’t she have enough to deal with
without listening to some confession? ‘God, Mum, it’s always about you! Do you think I didn’t know? That you’d barely spoken
to me for months, and nothing I did or said made you smile? That I didn’t hear you crying all the time, see you getting thinner
and thinner and growing more distant every day? That – that you dumped me on Pam, just disappeared for weeks. Did you think
I didn’t notice?’

‘Anna —’ Wendy’s eyes were wide, her face scarlet.

‘No! I’ve always had to look after you, to pretend that everything’s OK. It’s my turn now, my turn to be looked after! Even
after what I’ve done, it’s still a competition – you still have to be the martyr!’
Anna got out of bed and stormed to the door. She thumped her fists on it and looked down at the floor, breathing heavily.

‘Anna,’ Wendy said, whimpering. ‘I just wanted —’

She spun around. ‘What? To help me? Or to stop yourself feeling guilty? Maybe to get some sympathy? I told you, I don’t want
to know. It doesn’t matter any more!’

Wendy crumpled in the chair, then reached for her bag and zipped it closed. ‘I’m sorry.’ She could barely speak for gasping.

Anna’s fury dissipated. She understood now, of course. Why her mum had left her with Pam, where she had gone. It all made
sense – the tears, the secrets, the silence. She knew that her mum had been ill, had needed treatment, just as she herself
had. It wasn’t fair to stay angry with her. Her bottom lip began to quiver and she took a step towards Wendy. ‘Mum … I’m sorry.
Don’t go.’

Wendy stood up and hugged her tight, then put her bag down again. ‘Oh darling,
I’m
sorry. I am here to look after you, I promise. I’ll always look after you.’

She clutched onto her mother. ‘I know.’

And as she said it, she knew it was true. She crawled back into bed and cried. Wendy was quiet, and stroked her forehead until
she fell asleep.

* * *

Anna had been fourteen, that summer. It was almost the end of term. She sat cross-legged on her bed, leaning over a textbook,
trying to finish her final assignments before school broke up. Nirvana blared from her ghetto blaster; she had bought the
tape with the money she’d saved up by skipping lunches. In between the songs, the cicadas outside chirped an interlude.

There was a quiet knock at the door. Anna looked up, and frowned. Mum never bothered her after dinner; she rarely bothered
her at all. She tried, Anna knew. She asked how school was, she pretended to listen to her response, but for months now, it
had felt like they were each standing on opposite sides of a glass window. ‘What?’

The door opened a little, and Wendy took a step into the room, her head bowed. She looked up and smiled, but only her mouth
moved; the rest of her face was still. Her eyes looked bloodshot. ‘You all right, Anna?’

‘Yeah …’ She cocked her head to the side, and waited.

Wendy walked into the room and turned down the music, then took a deep breath. ‘Anna, next week, when school’s finished, we’re
going to go and stay at Aunty Pam’s.’

‘In Perth?’

‘Yes.’

Anna closed her book and sat up straight. ‘Why?’

Wendy cleared her throat and looked past her. ‘I need to have a procedure. It’s nothing serious, but they can’t do it here.
I won’t be away long, just a week or two in hospital.’

‘Why can’t I stay at Grandpa’s?’

‘He’s too old to look after you. It’ll be fun, OK?’

‘Fun? No it won’t.’ Anna saw that her mum wasn’t listening. She still had that stupid smile on her face but she was backing
into the doorway. The skin on Anna’s face started to tingle around her jaw. She was going to cry. She pressed her lips together
to stop herself, then nodded. ‘OK.’

Wendy nodded too, then closed the door. Anna heard her mother’s footsteps recede along the hall, and the click of her door
closing. She turned her music up to full volume, then turned out the lights.

A week later, Anna loaded her bag in the boot of the car next to Wendy’s. They drove north with the windows open, singing
along to the radio most of the way. When they weren’t singing, Anna told stories about the kids at school. She laughed loudly,
hoping her mum would join in.

Pam and her husband, Charlie, lived in a posh house by the river, all white with big balconies. It was huge compared to their
own fibro cottage. Anna and Wendy had stayed there last Christmas for a few days. This time, Anna had the spare room all to
herself, while Wendy slept on the couch so she didn’t disturb her when she left
early the next morning. That night, she lay diagonally across the double bed with her fingers in her ears so she couldn’t
hear her mum crying or Pam trying to calm her down. Eventually, it went quiet.

The next noise Anna heard was a car idling outside. She looked at the clock by the bed: 7 a.m. She hurried over to the window
and held back one of the thick cream curtains, then squinted against the sun outside. There was a taxi waiting.

Someone was walking towards her door. Anna let the curtain fall and leapt back into bed. She turned away from the door and
curled up under the sheet with her eyes closed, trying to breathe slowly, evenly. The door opened. Anna heard quiet footsteps.
She smelled her mum’s hairspray as she approached the bed. Anna didn’t move, even as her mum kissed her on the forehead and
whispered, ‘I love you.’ Wendy tiptoed away and the door closed. Anna didn’t open her eyes until she heard the slam of the
car door, and the taxi driving away. She allowed herself ten minutes to cry, then dried her eyes and went down to breakfast
with Pam and Charlie as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

No one mentioned Wendy.

After breakfast, she sat out on the balcony on a wicker chair. She picked at the sharp ends of the frayed wood and looked
out at the river. Last year, she had sat in this same chair and watched three brown baby swans desperately paddling as they
tried to keep up with their graceful black mother. They weren’t here today. She opened her book, and concentrated on the words
on the page.

* * *

Three weeks later, Anna was reading in the shade of a sprawling fig tree on the banks of the Swan River opposite Pam’s house.
She heard a car stop across the road, then her mum’s voice.

She shaded her eyes with her hand and peered back towards Pam’s house. Her mum was heaving a bag out of the boot of the taxi.
She looked different, even from a distance: puffy, bigger. She hadn’t done her hair; it hung limp and flat, and her roots
needed to be bleached. Anna looked away, then shifted so that she was
hidden from the road by the vast, thick trunk of the tree. She dug her nails into the dry crumbly sand until there was a little
trench on either side of her.

There was no point going back yet. There would be too many tears and questions. She looked out across the water, towards the
spit.

Then she heard frantic calls behind her and a golden shaggy dog bounded towards her. She smiled and half stood, ready to brace
herself, but the dog ran past her towards a beautiful black swan and her two gangly young strutting around on the shore. The
mother swan raced into the water with her wings fanned out, but the cygnets hung back. They stood their ground until the very
last minute, then darted into the water behind their mother, hissing over their shoulders. The dog stopped at the edge of
the water, panting, its tail wagging.

Anna went back to the house eventually. Her mother was smiling, and pulled her into a hug. It felt warm, real, but Anna no
longer wanted to hold onto her. Something had changed in Anna that summer. She knew her mother had something wrong with her,
something shameful and secret, something she couldn’t trust her own daughter with. When Wendy had driven off in that taxi
a few weeks ago, she’d broken off a piece of the bond that had held them together. Anna gently pulled away from the embrace
and went inside.

The next day, they loaded up the car again and drove back down south with the windows wide open. As soon as she opened her
mouth, the wind stole the words that started to form on Anna’s tongue. This time, neither of them sang.