“IT WAS ONLY A MATTER of time.” Julie Miller was sitting at her desk, head bowed. She shuffled the reams of paperwork in front of her, which spilled from various coloured folders. “I know that’s not what you want to hear,” she added.
“Well, no, not at all,” Elena replied, getting up to walk to the window.
“I don’t know what else to say,” Julie said.
Even with her back to her, Elena could detect the sorrow in the other woman’s voice, genuine and profound, as if she too had been defeated by the system, and its anachronistic laws which said that blood – and not love – were the only things that mattered.
“I understand,” she replied tiredly. “I knew this day would eventually come.”
The office overlooked a car park with a row of skips along the far wall. Discarded needles were lying alongside it, their bright orange caps immediately recognisable. Further along was a discarded shopping trolley. There was nothing of beauty in this place, Elena thought, not outside or in. She went back to her seat and sat down again.
Julie sighed. “Well, I mean, it’s not going to happen straight away,” she offered. “He’s scheduled to be released in the coming weeks but that doesn’t mean he’ll get the boy back immediately. There’s a lot of work he has to do before that happens. Get a job – a legitimate one, a place to stay that’s suitable for a child, court-sponsored parenting classes. And …” Her hands shuffled the papers again in a futile attempt at order. “.. the wheels of bureaucracy do grind exceedingly slow.”
Elena gave her a small nod. “Don’t feel bad. I know you’ve done your best. And I know there’s only so much you can do with things the way they are.”
“Like I said, it isn’t an immediate removal. The timeframe is undecided.”
“How long are we talking?”
“At a guess, a few weeks at least. Best case scenario, a couple of months.”
“Well, that’s something, I suppose,” Elena said. “At least I’ll give me some time to get him used to the idea of going back to his dad. But that’s a conversation I really don’t want to have.”
It was a conversation she’d never have. She had no intention of telling Daniel about his father; about his plan to reclaim the boy. He was her son. He was her life.
Julie shook her head. “I know. The poor boy. And especially now when you’ve got him to the point where he feels safe and happy.”
Elena remembered how Daniel had T-boned her a few weeks before in his dodgem car, throwing his arms up in victory before spinning the wheel and screeching off along the track. The way he’d squeezed two sauce sachets, one in each hand, in wide circles onto his fries, wearing an even wider grin. Recalled too the frightened child she had collected from this very office more than a year before. It was like watching an old film, where you could only just remember the storyline, the characters barely recognisable. She dropped her head, a rueful smile playing at her lips.
Julie added: “We’re going to keep you posted every step of the way, Elena.” Her voice was firm, encouraging. “No more surprises, OK?”
“OK.”
They shared weak smiles.
“I’d better be off, then. Thanks, Julie.” Elena got up, feeling the weight of this news in her chest, walking to the door as though in a trance.
It was twelve o’clock. Elena was waiting in the car outside the sport stadium, an enormous corrugated green building in front of an expansive pitch. She stared across the open space in the dull light, felt the prickle of rain on the back of her neck, an easterly breeze on her cheek.
“Good morning.” A pleasant voice at her side. “Elena?”
“Sorry?” She tilted her head in the direction of the sound, squinting into the glare. For a second she was tempted to ask: Who wants to know? But she shook off the impulse, grimacing slightly at this uncharacteristic rancour. Where had that come from? And how quickly? Of course, she was thinking of the bikies. Anderson. They were colouring her whole world black. Finally, a measured response. “Yes. Yes, I am.”
Moments earlier, Elena had noticed the woman approaching along the fence-line, fingertips gently tapping at the waist-high railing. She was thirty something with black-rimmed glasses and dirty blonde hair. She wore a long navy dress and pale slender arms hung from a tall frame. And she looked familiar, although not enough to be easily placed. Elena didn’t try to guess. Instead, she sat back in her seat, closed her eyes for a few seconds.
Now, in the confines of the driver’s seat, she turned as best she could to get a better look.
“Hi. I didn’t meant to startle you,” the other woman said, removing her glasses and proffering a hand through the open window. “I recognised your car from soccer, thought I’d come over and say hello. I’m Andrea Williamson.”
Elena looked at her a long moment, trying to place the face – all angles and straight teeth, deep blue eyes – before recognition came with a jolt. “Yes, of course,” she stammered. “Todd and James’ mum.”
“Tommy’s sister,” Andrea added helpfully.
“I see it now.” She sat forward. The seatbelt yanked her back and she grabbed it with a hand at her chest. “Sorry, give me one second here.”
Andrea stepped aside as she opened the door. Elena had been staring at the clinic over on the other side of the football pitch, watching for Daniel, and making a point of not looking around. She couldn’t bring herself to search for Tommy among the parents milling around their cars, others walking towards the entrance. In any case, he was nowhere to be seen. She figured she should have been relieved. But she wasn’t. Her chest ached, like she’d been punched. He had not come to pick up the boys, and suddenly, with his sister standing in front of her, she took it for what it was – a rejection of her, last-minute and summary. A knot lodged in her throat, catching her off guard. She swallowed hard, and forced a smile as she got out.
“You’ve got the same eyes,” she smiled.
“And everything else.” Andrea laughed heartily, then crossed her arms. “He couldn’t make it this morning so here I am instead. He’s told us such nice things about you. And the boys have too. How nice to finally meet you in person.”
“Well, that’s, um … ” Elena dropped her gaze, suddenly blushing. Allowing me to think that I could become part of your life. She wondered how much Andrea knew about what happened with Tommy last night. Yours and Daniel’s. The thought filled her with dread – the idea that a mirror might be held up to her own inadequacies, then turned out to the world to be dissected. But when she looked back, the other woman was still talking, eyes bright, her face devoid of any artifice, and Elena decided she must have been none the wiser. It was a testament to his consideration, she mused, that he would keep his own sister out of their intimate hurt. And then she felt bad for judging him so harshly only moments ago. Perhaps he had not come to spare her the awkwardness of an encounter. Perhaps that was the reason why. She felt it all the same, his absence. The way his beautiful eyes stared back at her from another face.
Andrea noticed her discomfort. “Well, I should probably get going,” she said, putting her glasses back on again, shifting onto her back foot. “I just wanted to introduce myself.”
“I am ––” Elena began. She reached out and touched her on the arm, squeezed gently, stepped back. “I am sorry – not much sleep last night, I’m just …”
Andrea relaxed, held up a hand to dismiss her apology. “No, not at all. Parenthood is nothing if not exhausting.”
She was kind, this woman, just like her brother.
“Don’t I know it,” Elena smiled, wishing she could tell her the half of it. And it roused in her a strange longing: for female friendship. For the particular comfort of women – and the liberation which came from sharing everything. How right Peter had been when he’d said she had dropped out of the world. Even the simple act of having coffee with a friend was something she didn’t do. Which was entirely her fault because, of course, she’d neglected the ones she had in town to the point that they’d stopped calling, and had made minimal effort with anybody down here. Friends? She was so out of touch. Let someone in, he’d said too. Anyone. Or had he? She really couldn’t remember. Perhaps it was symptom of how distracted she’d become. Perhaps it was just a manner of self-protection. Winnowing life down to only what she could handle: caring for the boy, a Berlin Wall for everyone else.
“Anyway, it was lovely to meet you.”
“Likewise,” Elena replied.
“You should come to dinner one weekend, you and Tommy. I’ll find out next time he’s coming down.”
“That’d be nice.” She smiled as she felt her chest tightening. Knowing full well that it would never happen. And then, thinking she’d sounded monotone, disinterested – again – quickly added. “I’d like that a lot.”
Andrea smiled back. “Anyway, better be off. Go find these boys of mine.”
She gave a little wave, and turned on her heel. Elena was relieved. She felt worn out by the effort to put on a happy face. When all she wanted to do was go home and curl up in a ball. And really, she didn’t want to think about Tommy – about what might have been – when all she could think about was Anderson. There was only so much her mind could process, especially since she was still deciding what she would say to Daniel about his dad. He would find out eventually, asking why she hadn’t told him sooner. It was all a mess.
Elena got back into the driver’s seat and hung one leg out the door.
Over by the entrance the doors had opened, disgorging a sea of children in blue and white soccer uniforms. She waited for Daniel to appear. There were three taller boys at the front, like a forward charge, one clutching a bright orange ball under his arm. When he dropped it, shunting it sideways with a deft kick, they all charged after it. Across to the middle of the field to where other boys had gathered for the play. The boy appeared then, scanning the distance for the car. She got out and stood there waving until he saw her and came running over. She puffed up her cheeks, let out a long whistle of air, the dread of the conversation they were yet to have.
Daniel ran all the way along the path, his backpack bouncing against one shoulder, a neon ball like the other boys’ wedged under his arm. When he got to the car he was breathless, an electric expression. Excitement coming off him in waves.
“How was it?” she asked, walking around to open the back passenger door.
“Awesome. We learned lots of stuff. And they gave me this ball!”
“I saw that,” she said, taking the bag from him, turning her gaze away from his happy face. “It’s very nice.”
Daniel threw the ball in the air with both hands. “It’s not nice, mama. It’s awesome.”
“Righto, then. Let’s go. Got things to do at home.”
The boy looked uncertain. “Can I go to the movies?” he asked.
“Now?”
“Not now. Tonight ... with the club.”
A chill washed through Elena. “What’s the movie?” she muttered.
Daniel began to speak, words pouring out in a jumble, while she forced a smile. It took such an effort to say yes when she hated losing even a few hours of precious time with him. But she couldn’t do that to him, even if her heart splintered at the thought.
“Of course you can, darling. I’ll drop you off later.”
Daniel grinned, got in, as the dog jumped over from the back and into his lap.
The intercom rang and Elena flinched – she wasn’t expecting anyone and the sound itself shifted something inside her, a Pavlovian response to the reverberating chimes. Dusk making the possibilities more threatening. Her hands were shaking, pushing her up from the kitchen table. A dry throat. She walked towards the front door and stopped before it. There was nothing to see in the stained-glass panels, only shimmers of dark and light. The bell rang again, pealed through the house. It was a while before she could bring herself to answer.
“Who is it?” Her voice was tentative, fractured. Then, firmer: “What do you want? I’ll call the police, you hear me?”
A pause.
“Elena – it’s Tommy.”
“Tommy?” said Elena, recoiling as though she’d been shoved. It took a moment for her to process this information, having assumed that the other night was the last she had seen of him. But she’d secretly hoped he would return; he couldn’t, she told herself in the days that followed, simply walk out of her life for good. After all, wasn’t that her greatest fear? Or anybody’s really? To be forgotten, discarded. She’d watched that procession for years – first her mother, then Peter, the threat of Daniel – and could barely comprehend another loss, no matter how tentative the connection. She swallowed, steadied herself. “What are you doing here?”
“I just want to talk,” he said, his voice cracking down the line. “Please let me in.”
Elena felt something uncoil inside her, this knot which she had carried since that evening. Maybe she was wanted after all. And a tiny flicker of self-reproach, just enough to make her flinch, at her own neediness. She buzzed him in. Then she stepped forward and unlocked the deadbolt. Her heart was racing. She went onto the verandah, watched the gate open slowly, like a maw.
Eventually, Tommy strode across the clearing, took the steps two at a time.
“Tommy, I didn’t ––. I thought it was somebody else.”
His expression was alarmed. “Clearly. Are you OK?” Then, “Can I come in?”
She nodded, stepped aside. But she was looking past him, out to the other side of the clearing where he’d parked his car and, then with a hand on the doorframe, peering down the driveway to the bottom of the hill.
“Elena?”
“Sorry, I’m just – I’m a little distracted.” She sighed and shrugged her shoulders.
“What’s going on?”
“Come into the kitchen,” she said with a feeble smile. “I’ll put the kettle on.”
Tom went to stand by the verandah door. He was watching her every movement, as though answers might be found in them. Then, finally, one hand reaching, he fiddled with the doorknob until it squealed open. “Do you mind? Just for some air.”
She lurched over from where she stood by the sink. “No, Tom, please don’t,” she blurted. “Leave it shut.”
He recoiled, as though stung. “Sorry, I just —”
“No, it’s fine. I didn’t mean to snap.”
Tom pulled the door to, fixed his gaze once more. “This is getting weird, Elena. What’s going on?”
She left the kettle boiling and went to sit down. “It’s just … It’s a long story.”
He eased himself into the chair across from her. “I’ve got nowhere to be,” he replied gently. “Nowhere else I want to be.”
It was an apology of sorts, an encouragement, and comfort all rolled into one. She dropped her hands into her lap. Her right leg was shaking slightly. She moved both hands across to hold it down.
Elena pushed back in her chair, swallowed hard. She told him about getting back into the car after they’d been to Matilda’s and seeing the bikies, the incident in the driveway, her battered ear. She told him about the phone calls, and her conversation with Julie about Anderson’s imminent release. Telling the story out loud, she felt a further weight lift, like a dispersing cloud.
“Anyway.” She moved her hands from her legs to the table. “That’s about the sum of it.”
“My God, Elena,” he said finally. “So that’s why you wanted the gun? To protect yourself – to protect Daniel?”
She nodded, raking her hair from her face, shifted in the chair. “I didn’t know what else to do.”
“And you didn’t think of leaving? Going somewhere he couldn’t find you?”
“This place is Daniel’s home, his first real home. We’re not going to get run off by a bunch of thugs. We’re going to stay right here.”
“I see,” he replied, and she thought she heard the faintest doubt in his voice. “How much does Daniel know? About his dad?”
“Enough – although he doesn’t let on.”
“He’s a smart kid. So …” He pursed his lips, struggling for the right word. “I don’t know. Soulful, perhaps. It’s just like he’s always watching, taking everything in.”
“Yeah. That’s what worries me. That he’s just waiting for the day when his dad turns up at the door.”
“So this is all about the father getting him back?”
“Sort of.” She was gritting her teeth, the disgust rising before the words were even spoken. “But it’s got more to do with ownership: if he can’t have him, then nobody else will.”
“I can’t even comprehend that. Wouldn’t it be easier to just walk away?”
“It would. But there’s money involved – family payments, subsidised living. Every cent counts, you know.” She shrugged. “That’s what Daniel means to him,” she added bitterly.
“Unbelievable,” said Tom.
“Yeah.” Elena hunched forward, let out a long sigh. She felt the beginnings of a headache at the back of her right eye; her body’s reaction to this particular topic. After a long minute she sat back in her chair.
“Where is he now?”
“Anderson?”
“Daniel,” he added quickly, realising what he’d said.
“Yes, of course, Daniel. He went for pasta night with his friends. I thought it would be good for him to get out of the house. They’re going to the movies afterwards – some mutants-save-the-world thing.”
He nodded. A long silence followed. She gazed over his shoulder, out the window. The dog yipped from under the table, chasing something in his dreams. The sky was the colour of ash, a long scar of deep grey stretching far above the horizon.
“You belong here,” he said finally. It sounded more like a statement than a question.
She dipped her head in agreement. “It’s our home.”
He looked across the room, rubbing a hand to his cheek, then back at her. “You’ve done well by him.”
His words were more measured than that day at Matilda’s, as though all she’d told him had reshaped his image of her – sainted and uncomplaining, selfless to a fault to someone with the same human frailties as everyone else. That he might see her as her. It felt like the first true conversation they’d ever had. And that realisation was dizzying, like falling in love.
“Listen, Elena. About the other night …”
She held up a hand. There was part of her that really didn’t want to hear it. Whatever he had to say would only serve as another complication in the chaos of her life. In any case, she’d already forgiven him. So what was the point? Why bring this up again?
“You don’t need to say it. Really.”
“I don’t know what came over me.”
“It’s fine, Tommy.”
He leaned forward slightly, hands splayed in front of him, an unconscious mirroring of her earlier behaviour. “Just the thought of you with somebody else – I couldn’t bear it. I had no right to say what I did. None.”
Elena shrugged. “It really doesn’t matter anymore.” She thought she saw his expression loosen a little.
“Well,” he said. “For what it’s worth.”
She reached for his hand. It was true, every word: None of it mattered anymore. He was there, and it was a perfect moment.
When it was almost dark she stood, still holding his hand. She could just make out the outline of his face, the whites of his eyes haloed against the night. Before she knew it, she was leading him towards the stairs.
“Elena,” he said gently pulling her back. “I didn’t come here for this.”
“Yes – I know.”
Up in the bedroom they stood at the window, kissing in the light of a brilliant moon. They were fumbling at first, rushed. She stopped.
“I haven’t been with anyone since Peter,” she said, a thin trace of anxiety in her voice.
“We don’t have to do this.”
She gripped the window ledge.
“I just need a minute.”
He cupped her face gently. “Take all the time you need.”
She wrapped her arms around his waist, held him tight. She didn’t know how long they stayed that way, only that at some point they were kissing again, removing each other’s clothes as they moved over to the bed. Elena lay on her back, wrapped one hand around his neck, placed the other hand on his chest. She could feel his heartbeat.
“Close your eyes,” he said.
She felt him kissing her breasts, one hand cradling the curve of her bottom, as he guided himself inside her. Elena felt a wave of long-forgotten pleasure spreading from her belly to her fingertips, down to her toes, and let out an involuntary gasp.
Tommy stopped.
“Are you OK?”
Elena sighed.
“I just … I just forgot how good this feels.”
He smiled and kissed her again. She inhaled his smell, earthy, intoxicating, as they began to move to a new rhythm, surrendered to the moment.
After some time he rested his head on her shoulder, his breath hot and uneven on her neck. There was a long silence, just the familiar creaking of the windowpanes.
“Don’t ever leave,” he whispered.
“I won’t,” she replied, her heart split open by this plea. And she guessed, in spite of her assurances, that part of him thought she might just take the boy and disappear. But in that moment, with the beautiful bay below them, its horizon visible only at the passing of a tanker with its blinking blue and green lights, there was nothing further from her mind. If she could have stayed that way forever she would have. It was simply perfect.