Page 44 of The Family Across the Street
‘Get away from me,’ she spits. ‘Just get away from us and get out of here.’
She’s angry with me but it wasn’t my fault. I watch her, sensing the shift in her, the change. She’s been trying to appease me all day, but now she’s finished doing that. I remember this about her as I watch her struggle to get off the floor. She tries and tries but she reaches a point where she’s done. I can see she’s reached that point.
She’s the one who attacked me. It isn’t my fault that we’re here. It’s because of her, because of decisions that she made, and now she thinks she gets to be angry at me. ‘I don’t think so,’ I mutter.
She climbs back onto the sofa, slowly, painfully, her breathing heavy and her face twisting with the pain. They all slump together in a heap, pure hatred evident on all their faces. Even her. The kids’ faces are dirty, grimy with chocolate and food and sweat. She has blood dribbled onto her white T-shirt and large sweat patches under her arms. I can smell myself and it’s not nice. We are an unpleasant bunch to look at, to breathe in, but we will not be here much longer. They will not be here much longer.
I never thought I would see hatred on her face. Anger and frustration, yes, but not actual hatred. I never thought she would feel the way about me that I have come to feel about her. I don’t like it. My legs feel heavy, the weight of my sadness too much for them.
I never wanted her to hate me. I only ever wanted her to love me for who I was and not who she thought I could be.
The three of them look drained of energy. But they’re still willing to fight. That’s fine because they have no idea how far I’m willing to go.
I’m also tired now. I would like to rest, to sleep, but in order to do that I have to be done with this. There is no way out except the only way I imagined this would end.
‘Be a shark, son,’ my father said and so that’s what I will be.
I nod my head as though he is watching me. I understand what I need to do now. I start to count. I count down from one hundred in my head, slowly, carefully, knowing that when I get to one, this will all be over.
28
Katherine
Defeat makes her want to cry. She has no idea how on earth they’re going to get out of this. There is a ringing in her ears. Her body has never been hurt like this before. She cannot comprehend pain without a purpose. She remembers the feeling of pushing her babies into the world, the overwhelming sensation of agony that ran through her, but she could harness it and use it for the energy she needed. Something has changed in her. Something has superseded the fear she has been fighting all day long. It’s a wonder to her as she gazes out of the window that it is still light, that night has not arrived and the wind that was supposed to bring the cool change has not blown through the open window, chilling them all.
They have been in this room forever but she’s not going to be here forever more. She is not going to let him hurt her and the children. Not anymore.
Last week she had taken the twins to the shopping centre for groceries and they had walked past the pet shop and stopped to look at the puppies cavorting in the window, little white balls of yapping fluff. ‘Oh, please, Mum, please,’ Sophie begged, as she did every time they saw a dog, ‘I will love it forever.’
‘When you’re old enough to really take care of one – I promise.’ She is planning a puppy as a Christmas surprise. She has already been in touch with a breeder. How can it be possible that they will not be here for Christmas? An impossible thought this morning; a very real possibility now unless she does something.
He wants this to end as well. She has to make sure the children survive and so she has to fight through the pain she is feeling, the physical agony from her wrist, her cheek, her ear where he hit her, and the anguish in her heart of someone who is supposed to love her, to love them, hurting them. She and she alone has to end this now.
Help isn’t coming.
29
Logan
Now
He slides open the side door, taking the computer box in his hand again, but as he starts for the front gate a woman stops him.
‘Excuse me,’ she says, ownership and judgement in just those two words.
Logan looks at her. She is an older woman, dressed in batik-print, three-quarter pants which are a riot of flowers and colours. She is also wearing a blue sleeveless top, revealing muscled, ropey arms. Her short brown hair is pinned back with a child’s butterfly clip.
‘I was just going to deliver this computer,’ says Logan.
‘You don’t look like a delivery man,’ says the woman, eyeing his tattoos. He knows exactly what she’s thinking. He shouldn’t have ripped off his shirt but there’s nothing to be done about that now.
‘Well, I am,’ he says flatly.
‘Yes, well,’ huffs the woman, pursing her thin lips. ‘I live next door and I can tell you that Katherine receives lots of deliveries but I’ve never seen you or your van. I’m concerned for my neighbour, so I’ll thank you to show me some identification.’
Logan sighs, contemplates getting back into the van and driving off, heading to his in-laws’ house and sitting across from his wife, smiling into her beautiful face. The neighbours heard screaming. The words come back to him and his sister’s voice calling for help sickens him.
‘Look, I—’ he begins.
