‘Oh but I do hope you found someone out there, some poor unsuspecting victim for your…charms.’
‘Nice of you to have such faith in me, Jack.’
‘Faith, that’s a lot like faithful, an interesting turn of phrase.’ Drink and fatigue were beginning to compromise my speech.
‘Jack, please, have a rest. You’ve worked hard today.’
‘Whore.’
She half turned and composed herself. ‘This does no good, Jack. What’s done is done, it meant nothing—it was nothing, so why go on torturing yourself this way? It’s so needless.’
‘Good old Greg. I bet he was gagging for you after all this time. I bet he could hardly believe his luck.’
‘I’m going for a swim.’
‘You’ve just been for one. Don’t tell me—someone down there to impress is there?’
‘Jack, I’m just going for a swim. Leave it now, please.’
‘Whore,’ I hissed at her shadow.
I had lived with Caroline for seven years and been married for five of them. All of that time we’d spent in England, but just two months ago we’d returned to New Zealand. The purpose of our return was to heal the rift between Caroline and her parents, and her sister Mary. However, on the night of the reunion Caroline lost her nerve and instead of meeting the family sought the company of Greg, an old artist boyfriend. The betrayal was deeper than a mere liaison, because it denied me the chance of seeing Mary again. However, that was something I could never share with Caroline—how could I? Now Caroline bore the brunt of my ruined plans and our ruined marriage. We retreated to Dad’s bach to repair the wreckage of our life together.
I slept on the sofa until evening. When I woke the light and warmth had gone from the day. Caroline was in the kitchen washing lettuce in the sink. Holding her from behind I kissed the tender spot on her neck exposed by her ponytail and smiled with the quiver of her body. The smell of the sea was on her skin. She wriggled free from my hold, turned and held my head in her hands, her thumbs massaging the temples. Her eyes were puffy, the rims red from crying. ‘So many marvellous things happen in here, Jack.’ She rubbed my head, her fingers like feathers. ‘Amazing things that only happen in your head, things that nobody else believes a person can think. But it’s so hard, Jack, so bloody hard.’ Her eyes welled with tears and she looked away. ‘The cost to you is so great.’
‘How do you know?’
A tear broke away and ran down her cheek. ‘Because I’m here with you all the time, Jack. I see you when you win,’ she dropped her head and stared at the floor, ‘and I see you when you lose, when you just rip yourself apart and all the ugly shit pours out. And I’m here when you abuse me as though that alone anchors you, stops you from floating away to some unimaginable part of yourself.’ She looked at me again and saw me crying with her. She held my head again and kissed my cheek.
We ate a supper of cold chicken and salad with which I drank two bottles of pinot noir. When Caroline cleared up I took a walk on the beach in the dark. Ohawini Bay has no more than fifty homes and only a handful of permanent residents. Mid-week, even in summer, the place is all but deserted and I could see only four house lights. A breeze blew from the hills, bringing with it the scent of freshly cut grass from one of the rear paddocks. A horse brayed and a dog barked in reply: apart from the constant roll of the surf, these were the only noises in the night. The thick belt of the Milky Way was easily visible. I looked long enough to catch the speck of a satellite speed across the sky like a star racing to a new and better position in the night. The breeze dropped for a moment and all was still.
Caroline sat on the sofa, flicking the pages of a fifteen-year-old National Geographic taken from a pile of similarly ancient reads stacked on the bottom shelf of the coffee table. ‘Good walk?’
‘Just tell me once more, what was it about Greg that made you want to see him again after all these years?’
‘Not now, Jack, I don’t have the energy.’ She looked suddenly tired and I felt a flutter of pleasure at having caught her with her defences so unusually low.
‘What, no smart answers, Caroline?’
‘Why do you do this? We’ve had a good evening and you’ve worked today. There’s just no need for this.’
‘I just want to know. I need to know.’
Ever so precisely she placed the magazine on her lap. ‘Jack, it was your idea to come back here to New Zealand. It was your idea to put the past to rest, to, as you said, mend the bridges. I didn’t want to, you knew that, but I agreed because it seemed important to you that I make peace with Mary and the rest of the family.’
‘That’s right, your family, that was the past I was talking about, not some old has-been artist you screwed when you were young.’
‘I just wanted to see a friend.’
‘You went to see Greg, but not your parents, not Mary.’
‘I wasn’t ready to see them, Jack, I told you that. I’ve been through this a hundred times.’
‘It was all agreed, Caroline. It was all set up, the time and place to begin the healing. Instead you go and shag Picasso.’
‘Like I said, I just wasn’t ready. Now please, Jack, I’ve told you I’m sorry a hundred times, I’ve told you it meant nothing a hundred times. I’m so tired of this, please let’s finish now.’
‘Not so tired when you visited Greg though, were you? Lucky fellow, what is he now, fifty—fifty-five? He must have thought it was his bloody birthday when you rolled up on his doorstep in all your glory.’
‘Jack, please, keep this inside yourself. For once lock it up somewhere, anywhere, because, quite honestly, I can’t cope with all this again. I’m so tired.’
‘Angry, my love?’
She stood and flung her magazine at the front window, which it hit with a heady whack. She was crying again, her cheeks flushed red. ‘Yes, I’m angry. Happy now?’
‘Not really, it doesn’t give me any answers.’
Caroline raised her arms and snorted a half manic laugh. ‘Answers? Answers? It’s always answers with you, Jack, but you know, sometimes, sometimes there are…just…no answers.’ She walked to the whiteboard and slapped it with an open hand. ‘You might find answers here, Jack, but in the real world, you can’t always find them. I don’t have any for you, Jack. We go through this night after night and I’m exhausted by it, exhausted by you. I don’t have anything more to offer you, nothing more to give. Nothing. I’m all answered out.’
‘I’ve tried, Caroline, believe me, I’ve tried…but I just can’t drive the image of him on you out of my mind…’
She started crying again.
‘…and I feel so wretched, so disgusted and I plead with myself to let go, but I can’t. I can’t let go. I feel betrayed, Caroline, betrayed that you saw him instead of your family, you chose him over your mum, your dad, Mary and I think it must have been so important for you to see him instead. You just left them waiting at the restaurant, feeling like useless shits. There must be a reason why you did that, you must have an answer.’
‘I wasn’t ready to meet them.’
‘We came back here to meet them, gave up our life in England to meet them.’
‘I just wasn’t ready. That’s all, there’s no other reason.’
‘There must be.’
‘Oh please, Jack, please, I can’t stand this shit any more.’
‘Leave me then.’
‘You know I can’t do that to you.’
‘So what do I do?’
‘Stop drinking, it’s destroying you. It stirs up every ugly thought you could have. Perhaps without drink you mightn’t want to find answers all the time.’
‘Oh, I knew we’d get to the drink soon enough. You really think all this is that simple? Turn off the tap and all our problems disappear? It’s easy to blame the drink, but it’s not the booze—it’s you. If you want to blame, blame yourself.’