Chapter 46
Chapter Forty-Six
Mick
I shove the key in the lock and open the front door. The interior is eerily quiet, a soft glimmer of light seeping into the dark hallway from the living room. Normally Zola greets me with slobbering kisses and a wiggly bum. But not tonight. Perhaps Jules is on the back deck? That’s her go to place when she’s unhappy. Together with a bottle of wine. Or two.
I throw the keys onto the hallstand and straighten my jacket. Prepare myself to confront what is likely to be an angry and drunk wife. Jake’s right. I need to explain everything. Maybe then she’ll understand why I never told her about Melissa and Ashley. It wasn’t a deliberate ploy to keep them a secret from her. It was denial of the past, of the pain and the guilt. I’ve been living that lie for seven years, and it’s time to stop.
The exotic aroma of incense hits my nostrils as I walk up the hallway. The scent is a favourite of Jules. Reminds her of Egypt. She only burns it when she’s in a melancholic mood. Not a good sign, but what did I expect? A roast dinner with all the trimmings?
The corner lamp bathes the lounge room in a soft glow. It’s warm and cosy and chills my blood with the potency of liquid nitrogen. My wife is sprawled on the floor, Zola licking her face as if trying to perform CPR.
Police training kicks in, and I sprint to Jules’ side.
“Down, Zola.”
For once in her life, the dog obeys me and scrambles out of the way.
Jules is pale but peaceful, her chest gently rising and falling. An empty wine bottle lies next to her. The panic swirling in my gut subsides. She’s drunk and passed out. Not ideal, but it’s much better than my initial fears. I head into the bathroom to fetch a wet washer for her face.
As soon as I enter the room, an object on the vanity catches my attention.
What has she taken?
I pick up the small plastic bag. It contains one tablet. A quick scan of the imprint confirms it’s Valium. Since when did she obtain a prescription for a relaxant? And why aren’t the tablets in the original packet? At least, it’s not an illicit substance. Still, this type of medication combined with alcohol can be dangerous. And what I don’t know is how many she’s taken. One? Two? More? Given how furious she was earlier, I can’t be certain what quantity she took to calm down.
I wet a washer and return to the living room. I wipe Jules’ brow and cheeks. Her skin is pasty and clammy, and her pulse is barely detectable. I count the beats. Forty-five per minute. That’s way too low. Jesus, Jules. What have you done?
The beep of the monitor keeps me grounded. Tells me Jules is alive. Her vitals, while weak, are steady. Mine, on the other hand, are off the chart. No matter how much deep breathing I do, my heart still pounds in my chest like a heavy hailstorm against a tin roof.
The plastic chair I’m sitting in is as uncomfortable as they get, but it hardly registers. All that matters is that Jules recovers.
“How is she?” Claire skids into the room, her normally sleek blonde bob a messy mop.
“She’s gonna be fine.” That’s what the doctor promised me. I wanted her in intensive care; he said it wasn’t necessary. I nearly clocked the arsehole for the condescending way he tutted me about the dangers of mixing alcohol and prescription drugs. As if I was too slow to understand.
“Thank God.” Claire prostrates herself at Jules’ side, sobbing.
Jake clamps my shoulder. “How you holding up?”
“Okay, considering.” I scrub my face. “How’s Riley?”
“She’s none the wiser. Tucked up in bed, same as Oscar. My parents will wait up in the lounge room in case either of them wakes.”
“Thanks, man. You didn’t have to come.”
Jake gives me a wry smile. “Claire was determined to be here, and it wasn’t safe for her to drive, given the state she was in.”
Claire buries her face in the sheets next to Jules. I know they’re best friends, but her reaction seems over the top. Even for her.
“You said she took something?” Jake’s whispered words hang in the air like a toxic cloud. Is he thinking about the nightclub incident? It’s been on my mind. Did Jules pop a pill and then blame it on the people she was with? The police never did get a conviction. Then again, she wouldn’t have willingly taken the date rape drug. No way. Someone else had to have drugged her with that.
“We’re waiting on blood tests but given I found a plastic bag with a Valium tablet in the bathroom and an empty bottle of wine, the doctors are confident her condition is a result of their interaction.” My voice is surprisingly steady. Detached. Completely opposite to the storm inside. I guess the police training is holding up.
“It sounds like they’ve got it under control,” says Jake. And they do. If only I can say the same about myself.
Claire drags herself away from the bed and slumps into the seat next to me. “I’m sorry, Mick.”
“It’s not your fault. It’s not like you gave her the pills.”
A murky red stains Claire’s cheeks.
My stomach free falls. “Please tell me you didn’t.”
“No, of course not. But …”
Jake lifts her off the chair and wraps his arms around her. “You couldn’t have known.”
My head is spinning. What the fuck do they know that I don’t?
“What’s going on?”
“Jules has been taking some of her mum’s Valium,” says Claire.
The room stills to the point I can’t hear the beeping machine even though I can tell it’s working by the steady rhythm on the monitor. Numbness spreads through my limbs and into my bones. I didn’t think I’d ever feel as frozen inside as the night Davo died in my arms; it turns out I was wrong. Jake manoeuvres his body between Claire and me as if sensing danger. And he’d be right. Not that I’d resort to violence. Not after all the shit I’ve seen.
“How long?” I ask.
Claire glances at Jake.
“Don’t look at him,” I snap. “I asked you a question.”
Jake focuses his icy blue stare on me. “Watch your tone. This isn’t Claire’s fault.”
Claire wrings her hands out. “I found out last year. Jules had been feeling down, but she promised she’d stop taking them. I should have checked in with her more.” She sobs into Jake’s shirt.
I turn my attention back to my deathly still wife. How did I not notice? I was trained as a detective. Trained to recognise drug users. It seems Jules and I have both been lying to each other.
“Why would she …” The question peters out, swallowed by a bitter cocktail of regret. Last year, I came across a letter in the bin. Not that I usually sift through the trash, but there was an emblem that caught my eye. Turns out Jules had applied for a job at Sydney University and been knocked back. When I asked her about it, she laughed it off and said it didn’t matter. I knew she was lying, but I chose to believe her because it was around that time my past caught up with me via a phone call from Melissa.
I guess that’s when our marriage started to spiral downward—both of us pretending everything was fine. I buried myself in work and Jules … she started drinking more. And now it seems she was popping pills as well.
There’s a rustle in the bed. I leap out of my seat and hover over my wife. Her face scrunches up like she’s having a bad dream. “Jules.” I rub her shoulders. She settles, the creases around her eyes smoothing out as whatever demons chasing her flee.
I brush stray hairs from her cheeks. I should have tried harder. Faced my fears instead of running from them. Is it too late? Would Jules be happier without me?
I fist the covers. No. She loves me, goddammit. And I love her.
If we’re going to have any hope of a future, I need to take care of unfinished business.