Shallow Breath

II


Your task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it.

RUMI





WHAT WOULD YOU CHANGE?

She shoots upwards. As she does, this one question spins faster and faster, creates a vortex of all the other questions she has ever asked, and all the answers she cannot find. Matched and mismatched slices of her life stream past her, rearranging themselves into new mosaics.

At last, she breaks the skin of the water, ravenous air forcing its way into her body. She gulps it down, and swims over to clutch on to one end of a wooden pen, trying to regain her breathing, and her control. In the early morning light, she thinks she can see fire in the distance, and someone running.

She looks along the edge of the harbour wall. She cannot see beyond it to the black rocks that litter the coastline, but she knows they are there, hundreds of them lying low in the water, like submerged crocodiles. It is the only way to escape, but she will have to go a long way out to be sure of avoiding them.

She hears a shout. There is no more time to think, or to catch her breath. They are coming for her.

She takes another gasp of oxygen, focuses on the horizon, and lets go of the pen.





13

Rebecca




‘You need to let the light in, Dad.’

Rebecca goes across to the window and takes hold of the curtain, about to pull it back.

‘Leave it.’

She pauses.

‘I can see the telly better in the dark.’

It is true that Rick rarely takes his eyes off the television, but Rebecca doesn’t think that’s the reason he’s stopped her. Still, she lets the curtain drop and goes over to the sofa.

‘I’m going to go in a minute. Do you have what you need?’ She plumps up the pillows unnecessarily, looks for anything out of place.

‘You get going. I’m fine.’

She walks across and checks the side table next to the lounge chair, re-counts the pills, just to be sure.

‘Now remember you have to take these at five, if I’m not here.’



‘Don’t fuss, I’ll remember.’

She sighs and makes for the door. Before she leaves, she glances back. Rick’s face is in profile – his eyes hidden by puffed cheeks, his white hair unbrushed and greasy, and his jaw covered by a long, heavy beard that he refuses to trim. To look at him you wouldn’t think there was anything much wrong, but Rebecca wonders how much time he has left. Instinct tells her it won’t be long.

It doesn’t surprise her that he has withdrawn from the world. His whole life has been such a display of strength that he cannot accept the slow dissolution of his body. But there are other reasons that Rick cannot look his daughter in the eye. Did you really think it wouldn’t end like this? she wants to ask him. Did you really think you could dominate us all forever?

For years, Rick had made an art out of quiet malevolence, of being a watching presence, leaning against doorways, making sure they always knew he was there. He hardly ever raised his voice – instead, he would bend close to an ear and expel his rage in violent whispers. He could exhale on a cigarette and send fury flying through the house in smoke trails. And burns were always inflicted on stomachs or backs.

But since he has become housebound, he has withdrawn into himself. Now he is a volcano, occasional outbursts of malice erupting from the still-burning centre of him, to spite his stiffening, sagging frame. And even though he can no longer move fast enough to grab her, Rebecca still fears him. Fears that a person can remain like this, at the end.

Her mother, Marie, had taken over thirty years to walk out and move to Sydney. In conversations afterwards, it was as though she had seen it as a favour to the children to stay. As if the violence was borne as a trade-off for regular meals and a roof over their head. Rebecca’s brother, Marcus, had gone to England, and they all knew he would never come back. The last thing he had done before he left, after twenty years of sitting on trembling hands, was to give his father a black eye.

Rebecca has stayed close by because she married Theo. No one who is aware of Rick’s nature understands why Rebecca still cares for her father. But she knows. She doesn’t want bitterness dripping like venom into her life. Her father must realise that he doesn’t deserve anything she does for him. Rebecca uses her love as vengeance, and he has no choice now except to let her.

And that was fine, until it rebounded on Caitlin.

It had taken Theo and Rebecca years to have a child. They had almost given up when Caitlin came along. Rebecca was in awe of her miracle daughter, and couldn’t stop marvelling at each thing she did. As a little girl, she would only wear dresses, and would dance wherever she was, as though there were a permanent soundtrack in her head. In school, she was both academic and good at sports. An all-rounder, Theo would say happily. They tried to give her a sibling, but it hadn’t happened. Yet Rebecca never felt the same resentment about that as when her arms had been empty. She and Theo knew they were lucky; they appreciated every moment. But eternal gratitude hadn’t been enough to keep Caitlin safe.

Their lives changed on a Thursday. Rebecca would always remember that, since it was the only day she had to take Caitlin with her when she went to her father’s, because she didn’t have time to go home before Caitlin’s dance class. She wouldn’t let Caitlin go inside with her, because she never knew how Rick would be – instead, Caitlin would sit in the car in the driveway and read a book until Rebecca had finished. But that day they had to take Rick to an appointment. He was only beginning to get sick then, and he was as mad as hell about it. It had been late afternoon by the time he had marched down the driveway to the passenger door, and as Rebecca followed her first fear had been that Rick was about to let loose on Caitlin for sitting in his seat.

She had heard the engine first. It roared a warning as the car shot towards them, up the verge, across the neighbour’s grass and into the driveway. Rick had turned, frozen, and then at the last second – the very last second – he had jumped out of the way, so that Rebecca could hardly believe that he was still standing as one car ploughed into another with a sickening bang.

Desi had climbed out so calmly. She stood staring at the crumpled cars with a frown, as though trying to figure out how she had missed.

But Rebecca was already running, even before Caitlin began to scream.

As she remembers, somewhere inside her there is a madness bubbling, waiting to spill over and begin its poisonous flow. Because no one has ever offered her an explanation. She still doesn’t understand what went on with Rick and Desi – but she is damn sure it goes further than she has been told.

Theo is the only person she has confided these suspicions to. And, predictably, he has tried to turn her mind away from them. Theo doesn’t know about malice – she has carefully chosen the opposite of her father. He is kind and dependable, and not at all ‘weak’, as Rick has called him more than once, because Theo refuses to be needled into an argument.

She holds onto the door frame and watches her dad carefully. ‘Desi is out of prison, Dad. She’s home.’

Nothing moves in the lounge, but only now does the atmosphere feel frozen.

‘Dad, did you hear me?’ she says.

He will not answer her. She would love to go closer, to shout in his face until he responds, but she doesn’t dare. If she pushed him, it wouldn’t surprise her if he could summon some latent strength, enough to get up and tower over her and give her the glare that had always sent her running.

She closes the door and scurries down the steps. She needs to hurry; Theo is waiting for her. She is gone so fast that she doesn’t hear the television go off behind her, the house plunged into silence. Nor does she see her father at the window, peering through the gap in the curtain, watching her go.