Selling the Drama (25 page)

Charlotte laughed at that, a humourless
sound that echoed throughout the stillness of the house. "You still
think you can just tell me what to do? I'm not going home with
you."

"Why not?"

"Have you been present this entire time?
This is what I'm talking about, Toby! You just don't get it! I am
not a thing! I am not your possession to order about! I am so sick
of feeling insignificant. Every person, Mum first, then Dad, and
now you. I want to be the reason you exist. I want that for our
baby as well. But I don't think you have that in you. Your
dedication to your career is admirable. I just wish you could shift
some of that focus over to your personal life."

Toby appeared to be contemplating her words.
Frowning, he looked at her intently, an inscrutable expression
coming over his face. "Right from the very first moment I touched
you, you have been the reason I exist."

Charlotte swallowed deeply, overcome once
again. "Toby, do you want this baby?"

"I don't see the point to that question. I
have no choice."

"There's always a choice," Charlotte replied
quietly.

"I will not answer that question. There's no
way I can answer that question and make you happy. No, you win.
Yes, I'm a liar and you win. What do you want to do here,
Charlotte? What is it you want right now?"

Staring at him, Charlotte was gripped with
the realisation that if she went home with him today, her life
would most likely be one continuous compromise in his favour. He
was flipping this situation back onto her, very deliberately
presenting her with a way of giving him an out. Tell me what you
want so I can deliver and we can go back home and I can get what I
want and you can just keep on giving it to me. Charlotte put her
head against the back of the couch, closing her eyes against him.
"I want you to want our baby." She opened her eyes to his
silence.

"That's going to take some time."

"So is my coming back to you."

"How am I supposed to get used to the idea
of us having a baby if we aren't together?"

Charlotte shrugged. "That's for you to
figure out."

"Where are you going to live?"

"In Cairns. With Mum."

Toby's eyes widened, and he could not have
looked more surprised if she had slapped him. "What about your
job?"

"I put in for a transfer to the Far North
region and they phoned me this morning to let me know that they
have a space if I want it. I start there in three weeks. I'll stay
in a hotel between now and then while I finish up down here."

"So it didn't matter what I said or did here
today, you already had this all worked out." He was angry now,
feeling duped, no doubt.

Which just served to clarify once again to
Charlotte, that he had no idea. No idea at all. She watched as he
stood, pacing before her. "There is always a choice, Toby. I could
have changed my mind if I really thought you were ready."

He stopped pacing and dropped down in front
of her, his hands coming to rest just above her knees. "Don't do
this. It's too far away. I can't possibly prove to you that I can
make time for you and a baby if you live at the other end of the
state." His voice was pleading, his eyes desperate.

Charlotte reached out and cupped his face.
"This is not about you." She saw for the first time since he had
shown up on the doorstep, a look of real fear within his eyes. It
spurred her on to do this thing that she did not really want, yet
knew was necessary if they had any chance at all of making it
through this to the other side.

He wrapped his hands around her wrists. "I
don't want you to leave me."

"I'm not leaving you. I'm giving you the
opportunity to find out what it is that you really want."

"I want you." His voice had a desperate edge
to it now, as though he finally understood.

"But I'm not just me anymore."

Toby closed his eyes and leaned into her
neck. Charlotte released his face, pushing him back, standing so
she could move away from him. The last thing she needed right now
was his hands on her. She heard him stand behind her but did not
turn around.

His voice was thick with tears as he spoke
to her back. "I should have known right from the moment you told me
today that you love me that this was not going to go my way. You
never tell me you love me."

This was all too true. Even after all these
years she still balked at saying those words to him. Spinning
around with tears in her eyes, she smiled at him with sadness. "I
never tell you because those words are ridiculous. They're
completely meaningless unless they're backed up with tangible
proof. People can say 'I love you' all they like, but unless they
show you, take meaningful steps to prove it, then they might as
well have said, 'I think you're a piece of wood'. I've said it
today because I mean it and I'm going to prove it to you by having
your baby, even if I have to do it without you. There is always a
choice, and I've made mine. It's time now for you to think about
making yours."

Iris greeted Charlotte at the door with a
look of utter perplexity on her face. "Charlotte! What on earth are
you doing here?"

"Mum!" She shoved her way in through the
doorway, bags loaded in both hands. "I told you over the phone that
I would be coming today!"

"You did?" Iris surveyed Charlotte and the
bags she had just dumped into the hall with confusion. Looking out
through the door to the street, she said, "Where's Toby?"

"Mum!" Charlotte put her hands onto her
hips, exasperation flooding her. "Did you even listen to a single
word I was saying to you when we talked?"

"Refresh me, darling." Iris reached down and
picked up the smallest bag, carrying it up into Charlotte's old
room.

Charlotte followed behind, lugging one of
the heavier bags with her. "We are on a break," she said, grinding
her teeth over the words.

"Why?" Iris was leaning over the bed, the
cover pulled back as she inspected the sheets. "They'll do. I
changed them after your last visit." She straightened then, turning
to face Charlotte. "Well? What's this about a break?"

Charlotte merely shook her head and threw
her bag down, stomping out into the hall for the other one. She
dragged it up into her room and then turned to face her mother,
placing a hand on each shoulder, looking right at Iris to ensure
there was no possibility of her not taking any notice of what she
had to say.

"I am pregnant. Toby does not have time to
be a father right now so I'm moving back here because to be around
him is akin to sticking needles into my own eyeballs while walking
on glass. Don't worry, I have a job, so I won't be here all the
time. You can still roam around from room to room like the ghost of
good times past that you seem to have turned yourself into. But
once the baby is born, I'd really like it if you could snap the
hell out of it, because I might need a little bit of a hand for a
while." Charlotte released her mother then and turned to leave the
room, calling over her shoulder, "Cup of tea?"

"Sounds lovely darling. Let's have
shortbread as well."

"Let's." Charlotte rolled her eyes on her
way up to the kitchen. She was probably going to be parenting a
baby and a fully grown woman at the same time at this rate.

"Are you insane yet?" Jenna's laugh chased
her words down the line and Charlotte could not help but smile at
them.

"Just about. But work is good. Regional
stations are very different to city ones. I'm doing a broader range
of journalism up here. It's great."

"Awesome. You'll have your own show one day,
breakfast with Charlotte, or something like that. Have you heard
from Toby?"

"He sends me an email every day."

"How romantic," Jenna cooed into the phone.
"Love letters, electronic, but still, thoughtful."

"They aren't love letters. They're way too
short for that."

"Oh. What does he say then?"

"He says, 'how are you?' to which I reply,
'good', and then that's about it until the next day." Charlotte was
not exaggerating the brevity of their correspondence; it varied
slightly a couple of days ago when Toby mentioned his upcoming
final exams, with her then mentioning in reply that she had a
twenty week scan, coincidently, to occur at around the same
time.

"Well, at least he's trying. And by trying,
I mean…what do I mean Charlotte? Come on, you know what I mean,"
Jenna teased.

"Yes," Charlotte replied dryly. "By trying,
you mean trying. I know. How is Chad?"

"He's alright. He had a bit of a bad seizure
the other day. He hit his head as he went down. Not too good given
that a knock to the head is what caused the initial damage to his
brain in the first place." Jenna sighed before continuing. "The
doctor at the hospital thinks he needs to increase his medication
to try and minimise the occurrence of the seizures. Chad has only
been taking the barest of doses."

"Why?"

"Because he can't get it up if he takes
more."

"Oh. I see."

"Yes. It's a dilemma."

"Did he talk to the doctor about that? There
might be ways to work around it."

"Of course he didn't talk about it to the
doctor! That would be the logical thing to do. No, he just agreed
to take the higher dose and has then ignored the recommendation
every day since." Jenna sighed again. "I worry about him all the
time. What if he dies when I'm not there?"

A shaft of sympathy cut through Charlotte at
the sound of Jenna's angst and the accompanying mental image of
what she feared. "You need to get him to talk to the doctor about
his concerns. Have you told him how worried you are?"

"No."

"Well, you should. He might think
differently if he knows how worried you are. He just wants to make
you happy," Charlotte offered. In the week Charlotte had spent
staying with them, Chad's desire to make Jenna happy was most
evident. It dictated everything he did and was his sole focus from
the moment he woke up until the time he went to sleep at night.
Charlotte would not be surprised if she were to find out that Chad
slept with one eye open all night just to ensure he did not miss
anything Jenna might possibly need throughout the night. His
devotion to Jenna had made Charlotte so happy for her aunt, yet so
sad for herself. She highly doubted Chad would greet the news of a
pregnancy with a demand for an abortion. "Look, just talk it out
with him. Trust me, it's the best thing for you to do right
now."

"I know, I know. I will. How is the
bump?"

"Getting bigger and moving around a little
bit." Charlotte placed her hand over the swell of her stomach, now
expanding each day it would seem by the way her clothes were no
longer fitting.

"How does that feel? The movement?" Jenna's
voice was predictably wistful.

"It feels amazing. Because I know what it
is. It's incredible."

"I bet. Chad and I are all set to come up in
the week before the baby is due. I don't want to risk missing a
thing."

"Oh, goody. Then we can all be one big happy
family under the same roof. You know I can't put Mum into a
cupboard for a whole week, don't you?"

Jenna laughed. "Don't worry about Iris and
me. Last time I visited, we only had ten fights. She likes Chad and
was putting on her best side for him."

"Mum has a best side?" Charlotte asked,
sarcasm dripping from her tone. "Maybe you could express post Chad
up here for a bit then, because he must have taken that side away
with him when you left last time."

"Oh, boo, hoo." Jenna was entirely without
sympathy. "Out of the two of us, you've always had the better deal.
Suck it up. I've got to go."

"Alright. Talk to Chad."

"Be nice to your mother."

"Mind your own business."

"Snap."

"Crackle, pop. Love you."

"And I you, dearest niece."

On the morning of the first anniversary of
Royce's disappearance, Charlotte woke to the sound of a saw.

A chainsaw.

In their backyard.

Launching herself out of bed and racing to
the back veranda, Charlotte could see her mother down by the fruit
trees, her large straw hat on her head, and safety glasses in place
on her face, wielding the chainsaw with an alarming degree of
efficiency as she sliced off branches one by one, stripping back
the trees to their trunks. Only. By the time Charlotte made it down
to the little grove that had been her father's pride and joy, the
grapefruit and mandarin trees were both a thing of the past, with
the tangelo half way to hell.

Waving her arms madly to get her mother's
attention, yet still maintaining a good distance for safety
purposes, Charlotte started yelling the minute Iris killed the
chainsaw motor. "What are you doing?!"

Iris strode up to Charlotte, chainsaw still
in hand. "Decimating the grove. Did it look like I could possibly
be doing something else?" She wiped at her forehead with the sleeve
of her denim shirt, sweat dripping off her in the morning heat.

"Why? Why would you destroy all of these
beautiful fruit trees?" Charlotte reached down and picked up a
grapefruit, ripe and ready, from amongst the tangle of branches and
leaves now strewn about the lawn. She cradled it against her
protectively, earning a caustic look from Iris.

"You don't even like grapefruit!"

"That's not the point! I like mandarins! Why
are you doing this?"

"Because they were his." Iris started up the
chainsaw again, revving the motor as she strode back to the
mandarin tree to recommence her massacre.

Charlotte leant down and picked up a few
more grapefruit, although why was a good question, because Iris was
quite right in pointing out that Charlotte did not even like the
fruit. It just seemed like a stab at her dad to not even try and
salvage a few. Charlotte went back into the house and emerged
moments later with some garbage bags in hand, following her
mother's trail of destruction through the little grove, bagging up
fruit as she went, tears streaming down her face all the while.