Maggie's Five ...the first in a LOVE story (18 page)

He clicks three
times. “Usually by the thirtieth of every month, Margaret. If you
prefer a different time period we can alter it at any time. Merely
contact reception for an appointment.” Three more clicks; three
taps.

“
The
dates are fine Joe, and it’s not too far off, so let’s keep it as
it is. I think I will make a time to see you, so we can run through
a few things.” Make a few changes. Give me back some control. “And
Joe?”

Three clicks.
“Yes Margaret.” Three clicks; three taps.

“
Thank you for looking out for me, I’m lucky to have
you.”

Three clicks.
“You’re welcome Margaret.” Three clicks, then there is a prolonged
pause as I wait for the three taps. “Brendan was a very good man
Margaret, very good, very good, very good. His absence is deeply
felt. Deeply, deeply, deeply.” Joe clicks his tongue three times
and then taps three times.

“
Thank you Joe.”

The line
disconnects without any more clicking and tapping.

I replace the
receiver in its cradle and cup my face, breathing a few calming
breaths. I’ve let this happen. I created this situation and then
had the audacity to be cross with one of a few people who are
looking out for me. Well that’s it. No more. It’s time to gain back
some power and a little self-respect.

“
Did
he give you a hard time, Maggie Mae?” Luke asks
cautiously.

I let my hands
drop my hands to the counter. “No Luke. He was looking out for me.
I’m the bad guy in this scenario. Joe wanted to know if I need more
money. He was asking
me
if I needed more of
my
money.
I can’t have that happen again.”

“
Good
thing you know an awesome financial adviser then, isn’t it?” Luke
replies. There’s a sparkle in his eyes when he raises my chin to
look at him. His face breaks out into a full blown grin, which
leaves me confused. The guy seriously looks like he just won the
lottery.

A week later,
Luke and I are sitting in Joe’s office discussing my finances. How
much there is – which has me nearly falling out of my seat – where
it all is and what’s the best way to proceed. Luke discusses some
technicalities that fly straight over my head, but he promises to
explain to me late.

But the absolute
best thing that happens at the end of our meeting? Joe stands,
after rocking three times in his seat, walks around his sizable
desk and offers a hand for Luke to shake. He approves. I don’t know
why I find the knowledge comforting; however, knowing Joe approves
of Luke sits well with me. Really well, because I like him
too.

“
HEY, WHAT’RE YOU doing?”

Staring aimlessly into the room I shared with my husband for
over eight years. God we were so young when we got
married.

I shake my head
in replace of words for my reply.

“
Need
any help with that?” I can hear Luke smiling through his question,
trying to be cute. He casually rests a long arm across my shoulders
and takes in the view with me. “You really went to town in there.
Did it help?”

My mind’s stoic,
blank. I repeat his question over and over in my head until I can
almost taste it. Did it help? Honestly, I don’t know. I shrug so he
knows I heard him. I know I have to go in there and not just in
passing to get to my things. I have to go in there and clean up.
Clean out.

Objectively I
know that it has to be done, but emotionally is another story all
together.

“
How
long is long enough?” I mean to bounce the words around inside my
head, not pass them through my lips.

This time it’s
Luke’s turn to shrug and I’m grateful that he has no inspirational
words of comfort.

“
Can
there be too long a time?” I offer absently. Can you leave the past
so present for such a long period that it sticks? Stays motionless,
gluing you to the same place for eternity? It is tempting, far
easier than having to face the truth.

“
Everything that has a beginning has an end.”
I used to
roll my eyes at my mother whenever she said it. It was one of her
favourite sayings.

The gold-fish is
found floating upside down in his bowl… ‘Sorry Chicken, but you
know everything that has a beginning has an end, too.’

The budgie in
the cage out back is nothing but feathers floating to the
poo-crusted metal bottom… ‘Sorry Chicken, but you know, everything
that has a beginning has an end.’

The white rabbit
from Santa balled up like a fluffy slipper, instead of racing up to
me for its carrot… ‘Sorry Chicken but you know…’

The neighbour’s
cat with its tongue sticking out, motionless on the front lawn…
‘Sorry Chicken but…’

Brendan and
Jon’s dog, forever branded with a tyre print wrapped around his
abdomen, left discarded on the side of the road… ‘Sorry
Chicken.’

My husband and
children left broken and in bloody pieces over the bitumen right
out the front of our home on Christmas day… ‘Sorry. Sorry.
Sorry.’

Grief overwhelms
me, raping me of my strength, leaving me crumpled on the stained
floor as sharp sobs break free. This time, I let them. I don’t hold
back, I don’t resist. It’s time, in my heart I know it’s time for
it to all come out. For me to let it all go.

Like, love,
hate, all of it.

Sharpness cramps
my chest as it clenches around every single straining cry. Luke
falls with me, controlling my collapse. I know he’s wrapped around
me, but I can’t feel. As much as I want to wrap myself in the life
force he emits, the death encasing me is too strong. I squeeze my
eyes as tight as my jaw, the tension jarring my temples while
uncontrolled tears flow down my face, dripping from my chin to my
top, to Luke’s top and darkens the fabric, dampening our skin
beneath, my entire body heaving its release.

This is it. The
time to start saying my goodbyes. Not just to the man I’ve loved
for as long as I can remember, but to my children. My two baby
girls whose lives were cut eighty years too short. My Ella and
Mattie who will never get to experience their first kiss, their
first love, never get dressed for a high school dance, or get
married, or love big and strong and forever. Their forever is so
different now.

“
I
haven’t got a single memory without him Luke, as far back as I can
remember Brendan is there. My entire life, Brendan has been there.”
My voice is phlegmy and I’m spitting as I speak, but I can’t
swallow all the moisture that wants to escape.

Lifting the hem
of my shirt, I wipe at my wet face. “And my girls, what am I going
to do with all of this,” pressing my palms to my chest for
emphasis, “… when everything I did was for them? My poor babies
didn’t get a chance at anything. It’s so unfair. I wish it were me,
Luke. I want it to be me. What I wouldn’t give...” My tirade is
lost to my broken anguish. I don’t want life if I can’t have it
with them.

When I’m able to
gain a semblance of decorum, I slowly stand and take clumsy steps
into the room, pausing a moment to see the damage I created. I can
feel Luke standing behind me, silent and supporting.

I direct my
words to him without turning. “There are large green garbage bags
under the sink in the kitchen. Can you get them for me please?” I
hear his retreating bare feet smack quietly against the floor with
his departure.

The room’s a
mess and at first it’s difficult to take it all in. Bedding,
furniture and clothing is strewn everywhere. I try to categorise
the disarray hoping it will make this process easier. Unfortunately
I’m sad, not delusional, so I know it’s not going to
work.

The simplest
place to start is the bed. The linen is ruined anyway so it all has
to be thrown away. I pick up the sheets, screwing them into balls
and pile them by the door for Luke and the plastic bags. The doona
cover’s next; after unclipping the clasps, I shake the quilt free,
pick up the cover and take it to join the sheets. Luke’s climbing
the last step when I drop the material.

Separating the
first green bag on the roll, he holds it out in question. “Did you
want me to...” signalling to the pile, “… or did you want to do it
yourself?”

I don’t know.
“These things will be fine, I’m not sure about the rest. Maybe the
heavy stuff too.” I bark out a bewildered laugh. “I can’t even
believe I managed to move half of these things.”

“
I
can,” Luke offers, as he bends to pick up the growing pile. I watch
him work for a bit before going back to the doona.

“
When
Sophie died, I went a little crazy too.”

Keeping my back
to him, I nod in understanding and press the soft feather down to
my face, breathing Brendan in. Silent tears start to trickle their
escape. Can I sleep under Brendan’s scent, torture myself night
after sleepless night? Can I find the strength to let him
go?

Folding the
heavy comforter, I set it in the centre of the bare mattress. I
think I’ll put it in the wardrobe and decide another time. I start
making two piles with Brendan’s clothes - the ones I’ve ripped, and
the ones that are still intact. The ripped pile grows
fastest.

Luke moves
around the room lifting the side tables and shifting the heavy
framed mirror I’m amazed didn’t break when I threw it over. He
picks up lamps, inspecting them for damage and replaces draws like
puzzle pieces, finding where each section fits best.

I point to the
larger pile and let him know that they can go out with the rest. We
work in a comfortable silence for as long as it takes to organise
the room, emptying Brendan’s half of the wardrobe. There are a few
things I can’t bear to let go of, so I find a nook and secure them
there. The doona ends up in the back corner on the top shelf, where
I can’t see it but can find it if I need to. Brendan’s pillow ends
up next to it.

Closing the door
behind me, I stand on the landing staring at my girls’ bedrooms.
The best I can do in their rooms is tidy up all their Christmas
gifts and stack them onto the floor at the foot of their beds. I
take their Dora and Diego dolls, holding them securely under my
chin and step heavily down the stairs. Then envelope the blanket
left hanging on the back of the couch around my tired body, curl up
on the lounge and weep until I fall asleep.

THE SOUND OF
arguing from the front of the house wakes me from a restless sleep.
The room’s glowing, but there are no lights on in here.

Sitting up, I
carefully set Dora and Diego to the side of the couch so they’re
touching, cuddling each other - silly I know - untangle the blanket
from my lap and drape it over the arm of the couch.

Rubbing the
creaks out of my neck, I wander to the front windows, shift the
curtain aside and peer out, feeling like the town gossip from a bad
TV soap. There’s a car with its high beams on parked up the drive,
lighting up the yard and the front of the house. But it’s what I
see on the lawn that captures me by complete and utter
surprise.

Luke is arguing
– no, yelling at Red. They’re in each other’s faces, all but
thumping puffed out chests as the words fly and tempers
skyrocket.

My stiff neck
forgotten, I run through the front door and down the coarse path,
cringing at the volume of their tirade. As I head out, I spare a
glance at Mr Stoner’s yard when his verandah lights flick on,
illuminating his roses. Stopping short, Luke pushes Red, causing
him to stumble backwards.

He doesn’t fall,
but notices me. “There you fucking are. I’ve been calling you for
fucking hours,” Red snarls, wiping at his nose with the back of his
hand instead of his bloody lip. “We’re going out. Get dressed. And
hurry the fuck up.”

“
The
hell she is,” Luke counters just as strongly as he moves in front
of me.

His tone and the
fact he’s speaking for me has my back up in seconds, even though I
know he is trying to protect me.

“
Luke,” I bark, taking his arm to hold him in place so I can
stand between the two irate men, yelling loudly. “What’s going
on?”

“
You
fucking him now, sweetheart?” Red spits, stepping forwards. “Got
your boyfriend back so you think you can dump me like I’m nothin’?”
Luke reaches past me fisting Red’s chest to stop him from getting
closer.

“
I’m
not anybody’s.” I’m telling a half-truth. I may not be with
anybody, but I’m definitely drawn to both of them, only for very
different reasons.

Looking from one
man to the other, I’ll admit, seeing Red in my yard has me wanting
to go with him, ride the chemical high for a few hours. Guess I’ve
become a little addicted to more than just the man.

My eyes drop to
his thighs and gradually work their way up. There’s no doubt he is
a good looking package wrapped up in a whole lot of trouble, and
I’d be darned if I don’t yearn for a taste now that he’s so
close.

Red must notice
the change in me, realise I’m tempted, because his next words are
soft and carry comfort. “Come on sweetheart, they’re waiting on us
at the Rabbit Hole. Go get dressed and I’ll take real good care of
you.”