Page 27 of The Family Across the Street
‘Nothing is just anything with you. I can see you planning something. Do you think I’m an idiot? Do you?’
‘No,’ she says, shaking her head frantically, ‘no, I don’t, I don’t.’
He lifts the iPad above his head and then he throws it down on the ground, the glass splintering. Lifting his foot, he stamps on it two or three times until the screen is completely shattered.
‘See what happens?’ he shouts as he stamps. ‘See what happens?’
‘Stop it, stop it…’ she yells, standing up, ‘you’re scaring them.’ Please let the scissors be far enough down in the sofa. Please don’t let him see.
‘Am I?’ he yells and then he lifts the gun and cracks her across the cheek. She falls backwards on the sofa, feels her mouth fill with warm blood. ‘Oh,’ she says, a numbing shock of pain rendering her speechless.
‘Mumma, Mumma,’ shouts George, a word he hasn’t used since he began school and settled on calling her Mum.
‘You hurt her. You’re being mean!’ screams Sophie, her little face red with indignation.
‘I’ll do the same to you too if you don’t shut it.’
Katherine’s head spins, she feels woozy. She, too, has never been hit. She cannot quite believe it of him… and yet it’s happened. She would like to close her eyes for a minute, just rest and let the pain fade so she can think, but if she closes her eyes the children will not cope. The rich metallic taste of blood coats her tongue, and she suppresses the urge to spit it out, to rid herself of the thick, gluggy feeling.
She pulls up the white T-shirt she is wearing and uses it to wipe her mouth but the blood keeps coming. She doesn’t want to take off her T-shirt, doesn’t want to be half-dressed in front of him, even more vulnerable than she is.
‘I need a towel,’ she says, her voice garbled because of the blood in her mouth, vomit rising in her throat. There is a sharp pain where he hit her and she can feel that a tooth has been cracked, slashing the skin inside her cheek.
‘Get her something,’ he says, pointing with the gun, and George dashes out of the room and returns with a large pale blue towel from the bathroom. Blood soaks into it, changing its colour, changing everything.
‘Oh, Mumma,’ whispers George. He has never seen her bleed before. Even when she gets sick, she conceals it from them, taking all sorts of over-the-counter medication to stop a runny nose or bring down a temperature so they still believe that she is able to function no matter what. She can see that George’s view of her is changing, altering – and with it his view of the whole world. If your mother can be hurt this way, then what else is possible? It is this that brings tears to her eyes. He still needs to believe that she is invincible. He still needs to believe in this and the tooth fairy and Santa Claus but mostly he needs to trust that his mother and father and home are his safe space. It’s not true anymore and her children have lost something huge, something unseen and enormous that will forever alter who they are.
Katherine holds the towel against her mouth. Things feels out of control, surreal. She needs to reassure her wide-eyed, stunned children. ‘I’m fine,’ she says and then she repeats it, ‘I’m fine,’ because George and Sophie are pale with shock. They don’t believe her but she repeats it, hoping that repetition will help, will convince them. ‘I’m fine, I’m fine, it’s okay.’
‘She’s fine,’ he says and he returns to the recliner.
She presses the towel against her mouth with enough force to cause pain, hoping to stop the bleeding.
‘I hate you,’ hisses George, standing beside her, little shoulders back, small and fierce.
He laughs. ‘Yeah, well I’m not fond of you right now either.’
She grips her son to her side with her free hand, as if by doing so she can absorb the hurt. So cavalier, so selfish – how can it even be possible? How can someone look at a five-year-old child in distress and not care at all?
She takes the towel away from her mouth and is relieved to see that she is no longer bleeding as much. There is a sting on the side of her cheek and she lifts her hand to touch where it hurts and feels that it is cut but only bleeding slightly.
‘It’s time to stop this now,’ she says. ‘Let them go and tell me what you want me to hear.’
She looks out of the window where she can see plants and flowers in their garden beds wilting in the heat. She would have given the garden a sprinkling of water by now, just enough to keep everything alive, just enough to stop leaves browning and drooping flowers dropping their petals. But it’s too late for that. The merciless heat has taken hold.
‘You know what, I think I’ll take my time. I’m actually kind of enjoying this and I haven’t enjoyed anything in a very long time.’
‘There’s something very wrong with you,’ she whispers.
‘Yeah, well,’ he sighs, ‘you would know.’
13
Logan
Two hours ago
Logan is walking back to his van from another delivery when his phone rings, and he curses when he sees it’s Mack. He cannot deal with another call from his brother-in-law and boss today. He answers as he clenches his fist, ready for what’s coming.
