Shattered Dreams Page 16

  Stopping at the lights, I turned left instead of right. Mum’s place was only four doors up but I wasn’t ready yet. I knew the moment I stepped through her front door I’d have a cup of tea thrust in my hand and one of the shortbread jam drop biscuits she kept in the orange Tupperware container on the top shelf in the other while she asked a million and five questions until I spilt my guts. Ten minutes later I pulled into a car spot at the local park. Other than the cool kids attempting to flip and twist at the skate park, it was pretty much deserted. After locking the car, I walked over and climbed on the table and watched the sun sinking on the horizon. The sky was a mix of colours. Pinks and oranges painted the sky as the sun started its descent while heavy dark clouds threatened. It was more than likely going to rain. Lately it seemed like it did a lot, but I wasn’t complaining. Right now I’d kill for a couple of days of heavy, unrelenting rain. Days where I could justify curling up under my favourite blanket with a book and a family size bag of my favourite chocolates.

  After texting Kristie with an update not to wait up and letting her know I’d be staying at Mum’s I powered off my phone. Needing distance from Drew was one thing, but I wasn’t ready to update Kristie with a blow by blow account of this afternoon. I was still spinning. The last thing I needed right now was her opinions and judgements. I loved Kristie like she was the sister I never had. We’d been best friends for years and, deep down, I knew she’d never say or do anything to deliberately hurt me. The problem was, I was hurting anyway. Anything she said would sting. Good, bad or indifferent. I just wasn’t ready. But that was the best thing about our friendship. One that had endured for years. She knew I’d tell her when I was ready. It might not be today or even tomorrow, but when I could, I would. And I knew, without a doubt, Kristie would be there, ready and waiting with her arms outstretched and a bottle of tequila on standby.

  By the time I was getting back in the car, my butt was numb and I was covered in goosepimples. The sun had long disappeared and night had fallen. It wasn’t the safest place to be hanging out in the dark, but I hadn’t realised just how long I’d been sitting there. I’d completely zoned out. Lost in a tangle of memories, both good and bad that had me craving one of Drew’s hugs. He was the best at giving them and one of the only people in my life that I could stand holding me. I wasn’t a touchy, feely person. But from the moment I’d met Drew, he’d barrelled straight through that wall and destroyed my defences brick by brick. I hated that now I was trying to rebuild those defences to keep him out. The one person who’d vowed to love me forever and keep me safe. Life wasn’t the fairy-tale we wished it was sometimes.

  Even though I had a key, I knocked. I’d made the mistake once of walking in unannounced and I was still traumatised from what I’d seen. No amount of praying, wishing and dreaming could undo the damage caused by seeing your parents going at it on the sofa. I was one of those people firmly entrenched in the camp, where my parents only had sex the once and I was the miracle of their love. To have that ideal crushed, to see it being pounded into the sofa was something I’d never recover from.

  “Sweetheart!” Mum gasped as she grabbed my wrist and yanked me through the front door. “What are you doing here? I didn’t know you were back from your little trip. How was it? Did you see an elephant? Oooh, what about a giraffe? Did you bring your photos?”

  The woman wouldn’t let you get a word in edgewise. It was no wonder she knew most things about my life, even the things I wished she didn’t. She was relentless. Really. I was surprised the government hadn’t yet picked her up as their secret weapon in interrogation. I had no doubt that with enough badgering she could get even the toughest criminals to confess to dropping their dirty socks on the bathroom floor.

  “Mum. Breathe.” Setting my bags in the corner, I didn’t miss the wave of curiosity cross her face. Thankfully, that was one topic she didn’t push on. Not yet anyway. I was under no illusions it would come, though. All in good time.

  “You’re just in time for dinner. Have you eaten? I made shepherd’s pie.”

  Even though I was still full from the late lunch Drew cooked, there was no way I could turn down Mum’s shepherd’s pie. It was like a warm hug for your insides. Comfort food at its richest, creamiest best.

  Walking through the lounge room, there were no surprises in anything that was there. From the family photos that lined the walls, to the throw rugs draped over the back of the couches. The same blankets that Mum had draped over me when I’d been curled up on the couch sick as a kid. The idea crossed my mind to curl up under them now and see if they still possessed the magic that had brought me comfort all those years ago. I could use some of that right about now.

  By the time I reached the table, Mum already had a plate waiting for me and was pouring me a glass of milk. While I was imagining being a ten-year-old again, Mum was treating me like one. I wondered if there was the chance of ice cream with sprinkles if I finished my dinner.

  Once I settled into my chair and heaped a spoonful of pie onto my plate, Mum’s questioning began. “So, Maggie. Tell me about Africa. It’s so exotic. How was it? The food? Did you get up close to the animals? Were the people nice?”

  DREW

  The moment Maggie’s car backed out of the driveway I knew I had to get out of here. It felt like the walls were closing in on me. Even though I’d been existing here—because there’s no way you could ever mistake what I was doing as living—right now it felt like I was suffocating. Leaving the kitchen how it was, I grabbed my crap and left.

  Without a plan in mind, I found myself standing outside the office. Knowing how much work was upstairs waiting for me, I headed inside. Might as well see what I can get done for a couple of hours. I knew I’d been slacking lately and even though it’d pissed me off, I just didn’t have the drive to push. I was sick of the hours, the travel and the pressure. Rising through the ranks proved good in theory and good for the bank account, but it had almost destroyed me and my marriage.

  Reaching my desk, I swore at the mountain of paperwork overflowing from my in tray. Turning on some music, something to break the painful silence, I opened up my email and started attacking the backlog.

  By the time I came up for a breather, my fingers were cramping, my eyes were blurry and my stomach was rumbling loudly. Outside, night had fallen and the street lights were burning brightly. I’d been at it for hours, even though it only felt like minutes. I’d made some progress, not as much as I would’ve liked but at least I’d made some kind of dent.

  I’d even emailed my boss and turned down a trip to Queensland and another to Adelaide this week instead opting to stay in the office. I’d also requested a meeting with him to figure out where to go from here. The constant travel wasn’t going to work for me, not in the near future anyway. I may not have everything figured out or have much of an idea about what the hell I was going to do, but I had to try. Figuring out my priorities seemed to be a good start. And my number one priority needed to be Maggie. It had to be. There was no other option. Not one I was willing to settle for anyway. Shutting down, I left my laptop and the papers where they were. They’d still be there on Monday when I came in.

  Arriving home, an uneasy feeling settled in my gut when the house was dark and cold. Stepping inside, I flicked on the lights, heater and TV. I needed the background noise. While I threw a frozen pizza in the oven, I turned my attention back to the mess I’d left in the kitchen. Knowing there was no possible way I could leave it any longer, I filled the sink and got cleaning.

  Once I started, I was on a mission. After scrubbing the kitchen until I could see my reflection in the stove top and mopping the floor, I moved on to the lounge room, dusting and vacuuming. Munching on mouthfuls of pizza between tasks, by the time I stepped in the shower, I was covered in grime and sweat but felt more than a little satisfied with myself. It’d been a long time since I’d been the one responsible for keeping the place nice. It was one of those things we’d never talked about, we’d never decided
that Maggie would take care of it; it just ended up that way. Seems like yet another way I’d taken Maggie for granted.

  Striding naked out of the bathroom, I rubbed at my shoulder and the aching muscles there. Even though I was a self-proclaimed gym junkie, it did nothing to prepare you for actual manual labour. Muscles I didn’t know I even had protested with every movement. Reaching my bed, I tugged back the covers and looked down at the once navy sheets, groaning.

  “Nope.” I wasn’t climbing in there.

  Stripping off the sheets, I tossed them in the corner of the room. I’d deal with them tomorrow. Opening the linen press, I was impressed with how organised everything was. Even the fitted sheets were folded neatly. Maggie was one impressive woman. How I’d ever lost sight of that proved just how far up my arse my head was.

  Three arguments with the sheets later, I gave up trying to stuff my pillow in a fresh case, turned the light off and climbed under the covers, but sleep didn’t come easily.

  Waking up the next morning I felt like a new man. I had a plan. Sure, I may look like shit and had barely slept but I had an idea. I was going to woo my wife. I was going to wine and dine her and make her fall in love with me again. I was more than aware that I was the one who’d conceded defeat. I was the one who said enough. And I was man enough to admit, I was wrong. I still did love her. I’d just forgotten. I’d assumed she’d always be there. Always standing behind me, cheering me on. Willing me to make my dreams come true. I’d just become so obsessed with me, I’d forgotten about Maggie and her dreams. In short, I’d turned into a narcissistic arsehole and Maggie deserved better. Something I was determined to be. Now all I could do was pray she hadn’t completely given up on me just yet.

  With a determination and invigoration I hadn’t felt in a long time, I bounced out of bed and got started on my day. First step was trying to convince Maggie to join me for lunch. But before I could ask, I had to get a reservation, and there was only one place I wanted to take her. And that place was notorious for being booked out weeks in advance. I didn’t care what it cost me, but I needed a seaside table at her favourite seafood restaurant.

  Karma must have been on my side because it only took one call. Twenty minutes on hold and I had a table out on the deck overlooking Bondi Beach. It was later than I would’ve liked but I was taking whatever was available. Now all I had to do was convince Maggie.

  Being the chicken shit I was, I didn’t call. If Maggie turned me down, I knew it would be easier to take via message than hearing her tell me no.

  Drew: Any plans for this afternoon?

  Waiting for her reply was pure torture. Five minutes and nothing came. Ten minutes and it was showing delivered but still, silence. Pacing back and forth, willing the phone to buzz wasn’t helping anything, especially my blood pressure.

  Unable to watch a minute longer, I left my phone in the centre of the dining table and stomped outside dragging the lawn mower out of the shed. I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d started this old thing. Giving it some thought, I don’t even know who mowed our lawn these days. I wondered if Maggie did it herself, something that wouldn’t really surprise me or if she’d organised someone to take care of it for her. That thought made me growl. There was no way I wanted some muscled up, young guy in a tank top pushing a mower up and down my yard while my wife watched out the kitchen window. If she was watching anyone cut our grass, from here on out it was going to be me.

  By the time I was done, I had a list longer than my arm of shit that needed to be done around here. There wasn’t anything major or complicated on it, just little jobs that I should’ve taken care of a long time ago. It was beyond frustrating. Being here, being home and seeing everything I’d neglected was gutting me. No wonder my marriage was a mess.

  Needing a drink, I kicked off my muddy runners and padded through the house leaving a trail of chopped grass behind me. After chugging a bottle of water, I tossed it in the bin, grabbed my phone and stepped back outside.

  Steeling myself for rejection, I opened the message and saw Maggie had replied. Even if she said no, I guess that was a good start.

  Maggie: No plans

  Maggie: What are you thinking?

  “Fuck yeah!” I fist pumped.

  She hadn’t shot me down. I mean, she still could but so far so good. Not wanting to keep her waiting, I replied inviting her to lunch. Even though she quickly agreed, she turned down my offer of a lift. Not wanting to push my luck too much, I conceded and got to work. I still had a couple of hours before I needed to meet her, plenty of time to get some shit done.

  I was late.

  I was fucking late.

  And not just a little bit late either.

  I was a lot fucking late.

  After getting caught in traffic, circling the closest five blocks looking for a carpark, I finally stalked someone until they pulled out and I reversed into their spot in what could only be described as the worst attempt ever at parallel parking. Running through the streets, I stepped in a puddle as I jumped down the gutter between two cars, leaving my pants with a dirty brown stain.

  Stepping into the restaurant, I ignored the hostess approaching me and scoured the tables for Maggie. All I could hope was she was enjoying a cocktail or two. Hell, I wouldn’t even care if she was halfway through her entrée. As long as she hadn’t left, I’d be a happy man.

  “Can I help you?” the hostess asked as she sauntered over to where I was standing.

  “I’m supposed to be meeting someone here.”

  “Do you have a reservation?”

  “Sanford.”

  As she attempted to click the screen on the computer in front of her, she screwed her nose up like she’d smelt something funky.

  “Andrew Sanford?”

  “That’s me.” I didn’t remember giving them my first name, let alone my full first name but I let it go. She could’ve called me any name under the sun and I wouldn’t have given a shit at this point. I just needed to get in and find Maggie. I was already behind the eight ball when it came to her, I couldn’t afford to keep disappointing her. Not again.

  “Ah.”

  Shit! She looked entirely too smug as she pulled out an envelope from under the folder and handed it over. I didn’t baulk. I’d recognise that hand writing anywhere. Knowing Maggie had left a note with the hostess felt like a kick in the nuts. It was official. I’d fucked up yet again. There was no doubt about it.

  “Thanks.”

  With my tail tucked between my legs, I stuffed the envelope in my pocket and headed for the beach. There was no way I was waiting around. Knowing I had parking for at least the next two hours, I walked along the footpath, pausing to grab a hotdog from the cart on the corner and headed down on to the sand.

  Kicking my shoes off, I bit into the hotdog disappointed. I’d been looking forward to the oysters and prawns. I didn’t deserve them though. Finishing my lunch, I screwed up the rubbish and stuffed it in my pocket my fingers touching the envelope that was burning a hole there. Determined to rip the Band-Aid off as quick as I could, I tore it open and pulled out the contents.

  I don’t know what I was expecting.

  But I definitely wasn’t prepared for the receipt that fell out on my hand.

  A receipt for eight dollars.

  I didn’t think it was possible to feel any worse about the whole thing, but seeing the receipt, having it in my hand in printed black and white ripped me apart.

  If it was possible to dig a hole and bury myself, I’d happily grab a shovel and start digging.

  Maggie had gone to meet me and instead, she’d sat alone in a restaurant drinking an eight-dollar glass of water. I was a fucking idiot.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  MAGGIE

  “How was lunch?” Mum asked as I stomped angrily through the door, letting it slam closed behind me.

  I didn’t answer. I don’t think I had to. From the look on her face as she recoiled and focused her attention back to her knitting, I th
ink she understood I was more than a little pissed. Drew stood me up. He’d fucking stood me up. He left me sitting there, alone like a loser in a restaurant. He didn’t call. He didn’t text. He didn’t even answer when I caved and tried to call him. And it was all his idea to go out in the first place. He asked me. I didn’t invite him.

  Being in Mum’s house had its advantages. If there was one thing Mum loved, perhaps more than me, it was her ice cream. And right now, being let down and humiliated like that required ice cream. Massive quantities of creamy goodness I knew I’d regret later but right now, bring it on. After grabbing the container of chocolate chip cookie dough and a spoon, I headed for my bedroom. I wanted out of these clothes and back into my sloth-covered pyjamas. If I was going to mope and be miserable, then I was going to dress the part.

  By the time I was scraping the last mouthful of melted ice cream from the tub, the sugar coma was descending and my phone had started beeping. I didn’t care. I couldn’t be bothered. Part of me knew it was going to be Drew with whatever bullshit excuse he’d managed to dream up, but I wasn’t in the mood to hear it. He’d let me down. Again. And I was so done with that.

  Being back in this room, sitting on the narrow, single bed brought back memories, some of which I’d repressed for a reason. I could still see where the paint was missing on the walls from the sticky tape I’d used to hold up all my boy band posters. I don’t remember what it was about the boy bands but as a teenage girl, I couldn’t get enough. Maybe it was the matching outfits or the cool, synchronised dance moves. Or maybe it was the fact that there was always one cute one that stood out from the rest. I don’t know, but I was obsessed. Over on the shelf, Mum still displayed, and from the looks of it still dusted, my trophies I’d collected over the years. My stuffed teddy bear, who looked like he’d had a hard life, balanced on a shelf, one eye hanging a little lower than the other and the stuffing falling out from the hole in his leg. It was like being trapped in a time warp spending time in here. For some odd reason it made me feel warm. Loved. Snuggling down under my black doona cover, I curled up in a ball and fell asleep.