Fractured (16 page)

She rubbed tears away from her eyes. Tony was trying his best, she knew that. He had to go to work during the day, and she
had nothing else to do or worry about other than Jack. It wasn’t fair of her to expect any more from him. Was it? She just
had to cope. What other choice did she have?

The talk show was finishing. The host made some jokes, a live band in the studio sang some stupid song, and the audience roared
with laughter. Tony liked these shows, but she remembered now why she didn’t.

She turned the TV off with the remote and paused, waiting for Jack’s reaction, but he didn’t stir. She stood up, trying to
keep her arms in exactly the same position, and tiptoed across the room. The bassinette was on the floor at the end of the
couch. Anna crouched down. She curled her back and lowered Jack into the bassinette then waited with her arms underneath him:
he was still asleep. She slowly withdrew one arm, then the other, her heart pounding.
Don’t wake up, don’t wake up
, she prayed to herself. And, for once, he didn’t.

She tucked Jack’s white blanket around him, then picked up the bassinette by its handle and walked towards their bedroom.
Tony was still snoring. She put her hand on the door handle, then let go again and walked towards Jack’s room. Maybe Tony
was right: Jack might sleep better in his own room. He would tonight anyway: Tony always snored louder after he’d had a few
drinks. Maybe Anna would sleep better this way too. Every time Jack whimpered or grunted, she opened her eyes and held her
breath, instantly on alert. She had wanted to keep him in their room for six months, like the books she’d read recommended,
but maybe this was worth a try, just for one night. She lifted the bassinette inside the cot, and checked that the baby monitor
was on. She picked up the receiver and crept out, leaving the door ajar.

Two hours later, Anna lay in bed with her eyes wide open. Slices of light from the streetlights outside cut through the blinds,
which weren’t closed properly. She had never noticed before how noisy this bedroom was. Her ears rang with the hissing of
traffic from streets away, and the grating of Tony’s snores. If only it were quiet, she could sleep. She lay on her left side
and held her hand over her right ear to muffle the sounds.

She started to relax.

Suddenly, Jack cried out, the noise amplified by the monitor next to the bed. She didn’t move, trying not to let herself wake
up fully in the hope that he would go back to sleep, but the noises continued. She rolled over towards Tony. His breathing
was still
heavy; he hadn’t even flinched. How could he not hear the baby screaming? Was he ignoring it, assuming that she would deal
with it as usual?

She threw back the blankets; Tony wriggled slightly, then fell asleep again. She picked up the monitor, wanting to hold it
to Tony’s ear until he took some notice, or hurl it at his back, but she didn’t. Instead, she stumbled almost drunkenly through
the dark to Jack’s room.

She picked Jack up and sat in the rocking chair. She couldn’t get comfortable, but eventually she found the right position
and fed him. She was wide awake now, and wished she had taken a book from her bedroom to read. No one had told her how boring
the hours and hours of feeding could be. She waited until Jack’s sucking slowed and he had fallen asleep again, then put him
gently back to bed.

Desperate to get some sleep, she crawled back into her own bed. She looked at the bright red numbers on the digital clock
next to Tony and counted how many hours she had before Jack would wake again: two. She counted how many hours there were left
until Tony’s alarm would go off: three. Then it would all begin again, the tiredness, the tedium.

She pushed Tony’s shoulder. ‘Roll over. You’re snoring,’ she said, not bothering to whisper. He mumbled something then rolled
over. The snoring stopped.

She wanted to shout at him. How could he lie there when he must know how exhausted she was? Why didn’t he offer to help? But
she didn’t shout; she lay still. Tony wasn’t sound asleep yet; he was waiting to see what she would do. He turned back over
to face her; Anna immediately turned too so that all he could see was her back. His hand touched her waist; the warmth comforted
her, the same way that Jack must feel comforted when she held him. A pang of guilt swept through her: this wasn’t Tony’s fault.

‘Just relax,’ he said.

She clenched her jaw, and her muscles tensed.

‘Relax,’ he said again. ‘This way, neither of us is getting any sleep.’

Anna didn’t move, didn’t say anything, even though she wanted to scream. She felt her tears start. There was no way she could
sleep now. Couldn’t Tony understand how she felt? She knew he was waiting for her to respond, but she didn’t. She froze in
her position and fought against the discomfort in her neck, the itch on her leg, the cold air on her shoulders. Soon enough
he started snoring again.

She didn’t sleep. She fed Jack two hours later, settled him, then came back to bed. In no time, it was 6.30 a.m. and the radio
alarm blasted into the room.

Tony rolled over and looked at her, worry creasing his brow. ‘Bad night, huh?’

‘No different to any other.’ Anna’s voice was rough and croaky. Why was he talking now? Now, when she had finally started
dozing, when Jack was asleep; now that it was time for him to get up he decided he would show some concern?

‘Why don’t you have a lie-in today?’

She said nothing, afraid that if she started, she wouldn’t stop. He just didn’t get it. She sniffed quickly and blinked hard.

‘Babe, just take it easy.’

She sat up and glared at him. ‘I can’t take it easy! Who’s going to look after Jack?’

‘He’s still sleeping. When he wakes up, take him into bed with you for cuddles. He’d like that.’

How would he know what Jack liked? ‘It doesn’t matter what I do, he won’t sleep. He’ll wake up soon for a feed, and then that’s
it until tonight, when it starts again.’ Her voice was getting higher. She took a deep breath before Tony could tell her to
calm down. She didn’t have the energy for a fight right now; she could tell she would lose. ‘It’s OK. Sorry. I’m just tired.
I’ll have a quick shower now if you can listen out for him. I’ll be all right.’

She watched Tony open his mouth to say that he needed to get ready for work, but he closed it again. She rubbed her face with
her hands while Tony took an unironed shirt out of the wardrobe and left the bedroom, taking the baby monitor with him.

Wednesday, 23 September 2009

Tony held Jessie’s lead loosely in his hand and walked along the path past the beach. The sun was coming up, and the only
people around were early morning surfers, and a few backpackers staggering back to their hostel after a night out. He headed
north, past the golf course. Looking out to his right he saw swirls of pink appearing between the grey sky and the black ocean.
It was going to be a beautiful day. How ironic. What weather would be appropriate for Jack’s funeral? Pouring rain, a relentless
drizzle, howling wind? As if the weather cared about him.

By the time he reached the cliff-side path, dabs of orange had spread along the horizon, and the sea was turning blue. Anna
used to love this walk. She had always wanted to live in a house with a garden that pushed out into the cliff reserve, to
be able to look out and see nothing but the ocean. Was that why she’d gone to those cliffs? Was she looking for that peace,
that space? But why not here – why drive so far away?

He now knew she hadn’t wanted to be found. Or had she? Once again he remembered the letter fluttering to the ground from his
bag, and imagined himself grabbing it before it fell, before it hit the ground. Could he have caught Anna? When was the moment
she’d drifted out of his reach?

Magpies chattered as they woke and gulls shrieked as they swooped down to the ocean for their breakfast. He stopped, dropped
the dog’s lead and stood on it. Jessie sat down and waited while Tony took off his hoodie and tied it around his waist. He
could hear
the sharp yells of a fitness instructor coming from one of the parks. A thin woman with a thick dark ponytail and an iPod
strapped to her arm ran past him and smiled. He smiled back. He wished that, like her, he was simply out for some exercise
before work.

He picked up Jessie’s lead and kept walking. How long had it been since he’d slept properly? It was nine days since Jack had
died. It was physically impossible to have gone that long without any sleep at all: his body would have shut down, he’d be
hallucinating. He now understood why sleep deprivation was used as torture. He’d feel better if only his mind would rest,
but every time he closed his eyes he castigated himself over and over with questions and accusations for which he had no answer.
Was this how Anna had felt?

He reached the end of the path and sat down on the grass, looking out to sea. Jessie lay down beside him, panting. Those first
nights at home with Jack, he’d heard him crying, but he’d rolled over and gone back to sleep. He’d been tired. What had he
been thinking? Anna was exhausted, like he was now. He had been sleepy and too bloody comfortable to get up and help. It hadn’t
even crossed his mind that Anna couldn’t handle it. He had been so stupid, so bloody selfish.

He swatted at a fly buzzing around his face, and missed. His hand was heavy and clumsy and it moved too slowly. Was this what
Anna felt like before her mind collapsed in on itself? Last night, he’d been so close to falling asleep, finally, but then
he heard a baby cry out from Jack’s room, ‘Dada’. He’d jumped out of bed, but it wasn’t real.

Jack would never call for his dad.

The night before last, he’d felt Anna cuddle into his back and tickle the skin between his shoulder blades with her soft breath,
then wiggle her cold toes into the warm crease behind his knees. He had reached a hand behind him to rest on her hip, but
it fell into cold, empty space. Of course she wasn’t there. That was when he’d cried: he cried and cried until there was nothing
left.

The sun was bright in the sky now. He shielded his eyes with his hand as he looked out at the ocean. It was really beautiful
out here. He took a deep breath, then stood up. It was time to go back home.

It was time to say goodbye to Jack.

* * *

Ursula woke just as the sun was rising. She wondered what Tony was doing. She had tried to get him to stay with them, even
just for a night or two until the funeral was over, but he had refused, just as he’d refused to have anyone stay at his house
with him. She could hear the grunt of trucks on the highway and the hum of commuters’ cars trying to beat the rush hour traffic
into the city. When they had bought this house, when the kids were little, it was a quiet area, full of families. But the
children had all grown up now and moved nearer the city; the city too had grown and stolen the space where kids used to play.

Jim was asleep, so she gently lifted the blankets and eased herself out of bed. She reached for her glasses from the bedside
table, put them on, then shuffled her feet on the floor until she found her slippers. Ridiculous things, really, with pompoms
on the toes, but Lisa had given them to her for her birthday. She took her robe from the back of the chair and put it on over
her nightgown, then tiptoed out of the bedroom. The door creaked as she closed it.

The carpet in the hallway was still damp from being cleaned; she hoped it would dry by the time everyone arrived. She walked
into the kitchen, poured out the water in the kettle and refilled it, then switched it on. She hated it when her tea tasted
all tinny. Leaning on the sink, she ran through her mental list of things to do. She decided to allow herself twenty minutes
to have her breakfast while it was quiet.

She was still sitting on the high stool at the kitchen bench when Jim walked in, yawning, his hair askew. Her cup of tea was
untouched and lukewarm; cold toast peeked out of the toaster.

‘You’re up early,’ he said.

‘I couldn’t sleep. Thought I may as well get up and start getting things ready.’

Jim pulled another stool close to her and sat down. ‘Are you sure you’re up to it, love? Having the wake here, it’s a lot
to ask. We can easily move it to the club – Chris said they’d give us the function room, rustle up some sandwiches. People
won’t care, they just want to be together for a few hours and have a drink.’

‘We can’t say goodbye to Jack in a pub!’

Jim raised his hands. ‘OK, OK, I was just trying to help.’

She sighed, then put her hand on Jim’s. ‘I know, I’m sorry. It’s going to be a horrible day no matter what. You go and have
a shower, I’ll get started here.’

Taking a deep breath, she jumped down off the chair and went back into the bedroom. She made the bed, then took out Jim’s
black suit and her own charcoal dress. Laid out on the bed, the clothes looked like shadows of her and Jim lying next to each
other. Then she saw, on the left lapel of Jim’s jacket, two little holes where he had pinned his carnation at the wedding.
It had been such a fun day; he had led Anna out onto the dance floor in her long white gown, and they had danced to Elvis.
‘Blue Suede Shoes’, it had been. Anna had thrown her head back and laughed as Jim had twisted, gyrating his hips. She’d welcomed
Anna into her family that day.

Ursula put her hand over her mouth and closed her eyes as tears prickled her eyelids. This wasn’t the time to cry; she could
do that later. She had to keep busy, get through it all. Tony needed her.

She returned to the kitchen, threw the cold toast away and poured her tepid tea down the sink. After wiping the kitchen benches
down, she took out all the mugs, glasses, and wine glasses and arranged them in neat rows. She took the strawberry cheesecake
and chocolate gateau out of the freezer to defrost.

She had made a start on polishing the glasses with an old soft tea towel when Jim walked back in. His skin was pink and smooth
from the shower. She had an urge to nuzzle her face into his freshly shaved cheek.

‘Don’t bother polishing the glasses, no one will notice,’ he said.

‘It won’t take a second.’

‘It’s not important.’

She gritted her teeth, squeezed her fist around the stem of the glass she was holding. Jim took a step back. She forced herself
to relax her grip, and held the glass up to the light filtering in through the kitchen window. She slotted it back into its
space next to the other identical glasses.

‘I just want everything to go smoothly today. We don’t need anything to go wrong on top of …’ She blinked hard. ‘Well, on
top of the obvious wrongs of a day like today.’

Jim put his arms around her. He smelled clean, fresh. Ursula looked down at her old robe, then smoothed down her unruly hair.
‘The kids will be here soon, and Wendy. I’d better go and get dressed.’

‘What can I do to help?’

‘Can you go and get a couple – no, get four loaves of bread for the sandwiches, and milk. Tony’s bringing some beer and wine.
Oh, ice – get some ice from the servo too. I think I got everything else yesterday.’

‘OK love.’ Jim kissed the top of her head and let go of her. ‘You have a nice long shower, I won’t be long.’

She started to walk out of the room. In the doorway she turned back to look at Jim. His elbows were on the kitchen bench and
he was staring out the window. She felt a pang of guilt; she knew he was hurting too, he was keeping his grief private.

‘Jim,’ she said. He looked over. ‘I love you.’ He tilted his head to the side and smiled at her.

She turned around, glad to have her family close.

* * *

Ursula looked at her watch again: 9.30 a.m. They had to leave in half an hour. She wished time would slow down.

‘That’ll do, Lisa,’ she shouted over the noise of the vacuum. ‘Just put it away and make sure you’re ready to go. I’m going
to get changed.’

Lisa waved in acknowledgement but kept vacuuming around Tony’s and Jim’s feet. They both sat on the couch staring at the television.
Ursula went back through to the kitchen.

A pile of sandwiches was stacked on a plate, and Wendy was buttering more bread. Ursula approached her and put her hand on
her arm. ‘Wendy, don’t worry, we’ve got enough sandwiches now. Go and sit down.’

Wendy looked up. She wore Ursula’s apron over her black dress. ‘I’ve made all this egg, I’ll just finish up this batch.’

‘Honestly, just leave it – put some cling wrap on the egg and we can make more later. We’re running out of time.’

‘It won’t take me long.’ Wendy kept buttering.

Ursula knew what would happen: no one would be ready when the cars came, then the house would be a tip when everyone came
back after the service. ‘Did you find the curry powder?’

‘Oh. I just made plain egg, with some mayonnaise …’

‘People like curried egg.’

‘I thought this was safer. I can —’

‘No.’ Ursula could feel her face reddening. ‘It’s fine.’

She walked away, slamming her bedroom door closed. Not that anyone would hear it over the din of the vacuum and the TV.

When she had changed, put on her make-up and sprayed her hair, there was still ten minutes to go. She emptied out her handbag
on the bed, put everything back in again and then walked out to the lounge room.

Lisa was sitting on the couch with Tony and Jim, and they all seemed to be hypnotised by some loud music video. Tony drummed
his fingers on the arm of the leather couch. Like his dad, he wore the same suit he had worn to his wedding, but today his
tie was black. Ursula switched off the television as she heard the thrum of car engines outside.

‘Ready?’

Lisa jumped up and held out her hand to Tony, who stood up with some effort. He was pale, unsteady for a moment, as if he’d
forgotten how to walk.

‘Come on, Tony,’ Lisa said quietly, as she linked her arm in her brother’s, then steered him towards the door. Tony was silent.
Jim opened the front door and held it there for them.

Outside, she watched Wendy throw her cigarette butt to the ground and grind it into the garden bed with her black heel. She
took a deep breath in and forced a smile. ‘Come on, Wendy, it’s time to go.’

They walked, single file, to the waiting black cars, Jim taking up the rear and locking the door behind him.

No one spoke as they began the grim drive to the church.

* * *

Tony couldn’t understand how they had arrived so quickly. As they drove in, he saw some stragglers finish their cigarettes
and hurry into the church. The droning of the organ inside grew louder as the driver opened the car door.

Somehow he managed to stand and get out of the car. He concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. He just had
to get through the day, had to hold it together a little while longer. Someone had their hand on his back and he began to
move towards the church doors where two official-looking men waited with sad smiles on their faces. They didn’t look him in
the eye.

And now, as one set of wooden doors closed behind him and another set swung open, the organ music was deafening. He heard
the pews creak as mourners turned round to watch them come in, the echoing of Lisa’s heels walking behind him, and a cough
reverberate around the church. Or was it a cry? Then it was as if someone pressed a button and he was watching everything
in fast forward. He couldn’t understand how he managed to walk down the aisle to this processional of sobs. He couldn’t understand
a word of what the minister was saying. Wendy clutched his hand, but she might as well have been holding the sleeve of his
jacket: he couldn’t feel it. Somehow he managed to walk to the front of the church and speak. What had he said? Everyone kept
looking at him. What did they expect? Did they want him to break down,
to scream, to weep? He wanted to do all of those things, but his body and mind were no longer connected.

He couldn’t understand how he could be at his son’s, at Jack’s funeral. And, most of all, he couldn’t understand what the
hell Anna had done.

* * *

Outside, everything went back to normal speed. He stood to the left of the church doors, flanked by his mum and dad. So many
people were spilling out, heads bowed, heaving and gasping for the fresh air, as if they were escaping a burning building.
They hovered around him, hugged him and said they were sorry before darting off again, blowing their noses with soggy tissues,
relieved to have done what was expected of them. Now they could chat about how beautiful the flowers were, what a tragedy
it was, then go home and watch the news. A woman of about his mum’s age clasped both his hands in hers and pumped them up
and down. She leaned close to him and he breathed shallowly to avoid inhaling her cloying perfume. He wanted to take a step
back but he was against the wall. She moaned and sniffed, and the sound of her phlegmy nose made him want to gag.