Second to Cry (22 page)

‘Did you get all your work done?’ Isla asked, sounding interested.

‘Yeah.’ Aiden wasn’t in the mood to chat.

‘What did you need to do?’ she pressed him for more information.

‘Work,’ he answered bluntly.

‘Fine, I won’t ask anything else,’ Isla sighed, noting his foul temperament. ‘Why are you in such a bad mood?’

‘I’m just tired.’ Aiden didn’t want his wife to take the brunt of his discontent and so he did his best to push his feelings down in to his feet and become more present. He moved away from the window.

‘We’ll be home soon and you can sleep.’

‘Yeah.’

Night had descended upon Avalon by the time they navigated through the now-familiar streets to their home. As they pulled in to their driveway, Aiden felt that he saw for the first time just how desperately his home was in need of basic repairs. He vowed to get a quote from a local contractor the following day.

It was strange that it was only now that he was noticing such things; like how the paint was peeling off the window frames, or that some of the guttering had fallen down. Previously he’d looked upon the residence with something of a skewered view, desperate to see the best in the home he’d bought, but now he was seeing it for what it was and he didn’t like it. It was as though Avalon had lost its sheen for him.

‘Come on, sleepy head,’ he gathered Meegan up in his arms and walked her towards the house. She murmured in her sleep but did not awaken.

Isla entered first, flicking on all the lights and illuminating the kitchen in an artificial glow. She moved to go back towards the car but Aiden stopped her.

‘I’ll go get my bag, don’t worry.’

‘You sure? Want me to put her to bed then?’ She reached out for Meegan but Aiden kept his daughter in his arms.

‘I’d like to put her to bed, I’ve missed doing it these past few nights,’ he admitted, glancing down fondly at her.

‘Okay,’ Isla shrugged and helped herself to a beer in the fridge. Aiden noticed in the bright light how she had put her make-up on which instantly made him feel guilty.

‘You look nice,’ he complimented her.

‘Thanks,’ Isla smiled warmly at him. ‘You want a beer?’

‘In a bit.’

He carried Meegan up the stairs, each one creaking in protest as he stepped upon it. He took her into her little room, which was a shrine to the colour pink. She had pink curtains, pink furniture and pink bedding. The only flash of another colour came from her foam fingers which were proudly propped up around the room. Aiden was certain that once Meegan was old enough to choose her own colour scheme for her bedroom, pink would not be her first choice.

He gently laid her down within her crib and Meegan instinctively rolled onto her side and made soft gurgling noises. She looked so peaceful, as though she didn’t have a care in the world and Aiden envied that. He wanted to preserve it for her. He didn’t want Meegan to ever feel how he did; disillusioned with the world. He wanted everything to retain its magic for her but he knew it was inevitable that she would grow up and that the rose-coloured glasses of childhood would fall away and she’d see everything for what it was.

Aiden watched her for a while as she slept and thought of Brandy. Her childhood had been far from idyllic. She’d grown up in a trailer park and her own mother had prostituted her for cash. Any yet Brandy was the most optimistic person he knew. Despite all she had been through, she still saw the beauty within the world. And when he was around her, he was able to see it too. But now he was away from her it was as if the façade had been pulled down and all that was exposed to him was the bleak mechanics of how things worked.

‘Are you coming down for that beer?’ Isla appeared at the doorway and peered into the small room.

‘Yeah, in a minute.’

‘You really missed her, huh?’ She walked in and stood beside Aiden, looping an arm around his waist and they both gazed down at Meegan who continued to sleep, unaware that she had an audience.

‘Sure did.’

‘And what about me?’ Isla asked, feeling insecure.

‘What about you?’

‘Did you miss me?’

‘Of course.’ Aiden turned and kissed Isla’s forehead, immediately feeling dirty for lying to her, for lying to himself.

‘Want to show me how much you’ve missed me?’ She reached up and purred the words into his ear as her hand began to move lower from his waist. Her breath carried the sweet smell of hops.

‘I’m tired,’ Aiden grabbed the straying hand and returned it to his waist. He tried to sound kind but delivered the words more harshly than he had intended.

‘Oh.’ Isla pulled away from him and backed out of the room, noticeably hurt. He thought about chasing after her but didn’t have the energy. She’d only feel better if they slept together and sex was the farthest thing from his mind. That had always been the dynamic in their relationship. They never truly talked about things; each argument, each cross word, was always rectified by some coital entanglement. It began to dawn on Aiden just how redundant a model for a marriage that was.

He leant into Meegan’s crib and kissed his daughter goodnight before he left the room, gently closing the door behind him.

Isla was in the bedroom, he knew that from the steady slamming of drawers echoing out into the hall. As tired as he was, he felt it was best to wait her out and slip into bed long after she’d fallen asleep herself.

He went downstairs and out through the kitchen to the driveway to retrieve his suitcase from the car.

The night air was cool yet refreshing. A symphony of crickets greeted his ears and he inhaled deeply, almost able to taste the freshness of the air. In Chicago at night, all he’d be able to taste was the chemical-filled fumes emitted by passing cars. The only sounds were those which polluted the air of the day; car engines revving, horns being pressed in protest, broken intermittently by the high-pitched squeal of a siren.

Yet when Brandy was with him those sounds all faded away and the city had felt as peaceful and serene as Avalon now did.

Aiden leant against the car with his suitcase in his arms and wondered what the hell he was doing. After a few moments he felt the prickly sensation of eyes upon him and, glancing up, saw Isla standing at the bedroom window, looking down on him. She looked sad yet angry. Aiden knew she deserved better, knew she deserved a husband who was participating in the marriage one hundred per cent. He remained by the car a while longer, not having the impetus to move.

Eventually he came in and found the house eerily quiet. Making his way up to the bedroom, he kept his steps soft for fear of waking Meegan. He eased his way in past the bedroom door and noticed Isla’s form laid out beneath the sheet and was grateful that she’d gone to sleep.

He placed his suitcase at the foot of the bed, planning to unpack the following morning. As he undressed and slid in next to his wife, he realized just how tired he was. His muscles throbbed in gratitude at being able to lie down and the moment his head connected with the softness of his pillow he felt his eyes grow heavy.

Sleep would soon take him. He tried to hold it off for a few moments longer. He wondered if Brandy was also in bed, and thought of the proposition she had given him, that he could have joined her there. He indulged his mind to imagine what might have happened if he’d followed his instincts and left the airport and ran out after her. He’d have caught up to her beside the cab she was about to get in and ask her to wait. She’d turn, look up at him with her big Bambi eyes, which would be wide and questioning. But he’d say nothing, not needing words. Instead he’d cup her face in her hands and kiss her passionately.

With Brandy’s kiss lingering on his lips within his mind, Aiden’s breathing slowed and he fell asleep. He did not notice how beside him Isla’s body stiffened as she pulled the sheet tighter around herself, her eyes wide open.

Isla was stony-faced over breakfast the following morning. She raised each spoonful of cereal to her mouth with military precision, each movement so stiffly fluid that she resembled a robot.

Aiden tried to ignore her body language and attempted to instead focus on the newspaper he was reading. There were local stories of interest, some more national, and the latest results from sporting events. His eyes scanned over the black text, trying to be absorbed by the words but his eyes kept darting above the top of the paper, glancing at his wife who was clearly not herself.

‘Hon, are you all right?’ he asked, folding the paper down so he could see her more clearly.

‘Huh?’ Isla answered absently as though she had just been awoken from a trance.

‘I said, are you all right?’

‘I’m fine.’

Isla sighed, which Aiden knew meant that she was the complete opposite of fine.

‘What is it?’

‘I said, I’m fine,’ his wife answered tersely.

‘You’re clearly not fine, so why don’t we skip the part where you give me the cold shoulder and just get to what’s wrong?’ Aiden suggested, his eyes sneaking a quick glance at the clock. In just over half an hour he would have to leave for work. Isla had informed him of Edmond’s call regarding Deena Fern. He wasn’t looking forward to seeing the woman again but knew he would have to face her at some point. Best get it out of the way; tackle the issue quickly like you would when ripping off a Band-aid.

‘Meegan, are you done with your breakfast?’ Isla’s tone became light and airy as she addressed their daughter. The little girl nodded even though she had more cereal in her hair than in her stomach.

‘Good girl,’ Isla lifted Meegan from her high chair and began to carry her through to her playpen in the other room.

‘Are you ignoring me?’ Aiden called after her.

‘No.’ Isla paused in the door, Meegan wriggling in her arms, desperate to get down and play. ‘I just don’t want our daughter present for what I’m about to say.’

Aiden felt his heart sink and lifted his paper, wanting to seek solace in the monotony of local news. He feared what Isla might have to say to him, simply because he wasn’t ready to face anything, not yet. His mind was still a cobweb of indecision. He didn’t need her to force his hand and risk imploding their entire family around them.

Isla returned sans Meegan and sat opposite Aiden, still wearing the same stony look she’d been modelling all morning.

‘So what is it?’ Aiden asked, once more lowering his paper. The kitchen door was now shut but he could still hear Meegan talking to her toys within her playpen. Whatever was said, he’d need to ensure that he didn’t raise his voice or risk upsetting her.

He watched as Isla inhaled, using the breath to extend her physical form, perhaps to make herself seem more imposing. She looked at him with angry, urgent eyes.

‘I want to know the real reason you were in Chicago,’ she demanded, but her voice was cool and calm.

‘I told you—’ Aiden started to explain but she cut him off.

‘Don’t you dare say work,’ her voice rose slightly now, the coolness wearing off.

‘But it was!’ Aiden protested, doing his best to look pained by her accusations.

‘Bullshit!’ Isla spat the word at him hard as a bullet. ‘I spoke to Edmond. He thought you were on vacation.’

This made Aiden pale and his hands became sweaty. He lowered his head and averted his eyes, like a naughty child finally caught within a lie and not knowing quite what to do.

‘Tell me the truth,’ Isla ordered.

Aiden was silent. He knew that he owed her the truth, but his loyalty to Brandy refused to let him speak which was absurd. As a husband, his loyalties should always first lie with his wife, but they didn’t.

‘Tell me the truth or I’m taking Meegan and I will go stay at my mother’s and never come back.’ Isla threatened.

Aiden knew she was serious, that it was no idle threat. When Isla was lying, she’d blink inadvertently, as though her body was fighting the lie. But when she told the truth she barely moved at all, it was as if she turned to stone. And now she was completely stoic, just sat waiting patiently for his response. She had laid her cards on the table and it was time for him to show his hand.

‘Isla,’ Aiden began, considering how he could deflect the situation, what lie he could weave to protect Brandy but he knew there was none. He looked at Isla, saw the pain behind her frozen eyes. He had done that, he had hurt her. He, as her husband, the one person she should be able to rely on. Isla had moved her whole world for him and in return he gave her lies and deceit.

‘You’re a good man,’ Brandy’s sweet voice echoed in his mind. Aiden was finally ready to step up to that ideal.

‘Okay, I’ll tell you the truth about why I was in Chicago,’ he began and Isla’s body thawed slightly and her gaze became more curious in nature.

‘But you have to promise me you won’t get mad?’ He lay down his requirements.

‘Aid, what have you done?’ Isla asked, sounding hurt.

‘I’ve not done anything.’ He shook his head. ‘But I still think you will get mad.’

‘I’m not promising anything,’ Isla answered, the hardness returning to her features.

‘Okay, fine,’ Aiden squirmed under the scrutiny, unsure how to begin. ‘You know the paternity case I’m working on, the Samuel Fern one?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, I found out who the real father of Deena Fern’s second child was.’

‘And who was it?’ Isla leant forward, eager to hear the response, taking distasteful pleasure in the soap opera drama of another couple’s lives.

‘You won’t believe it.’ Aiden raised his eyebrows. He was stalling, but he had misgivings about confiding in Isla.

‘Try me.’

Aiden paused, he felt on the precipice of a great chasm and if he uttered the identity of the real father he knew he would fall. He’d fall until he finally landed at the bottom and then everything would be a mess and ruined. But Isla was his wife. He had to trust her with this, for the sake of their marriage.

‘It’s Brandon White.’

‘Brandon White?’ Isla recognized the name and let her memory find him from amongst the relics of the past. Suddenly her eyes widened as she fit the name to the man.

‘But he’s dead!’

‘Well, yeah. But the kid is like two, so it happened a while ago, before he died. I need to sort out using Brandon’s father for the paternity test if it all goes ahead.’ Aiden was surprised at his factual attitude towards it all; he was putting on a better display of indifference than he knew he was capable of.