Chapter 52
Chapter Fifty-Two
Mick
T he psychologist’s office is decorated in the palest of pinks. It’s the complete opposite of the depressing grey rooms I visited after Davo died. And Tom is a world away from those shrinks. He’s never mentioned anything, but I sense he’s a kindred spirit who knows all too well the pain of losing someone in violent circumstances.
“You need to be patient with yourself, Mick. It’s only been three months since you started seeing me. It takes time to work through intense guilt and grief.” Tom’s smile is so warm and uncomplicated that I have the sudden urge to mess it up.
That’s fine for him to say, but how much longer before Jules meets someone else? Decides I’m not worth waiting for? I grip my thighs and breathe in deep. Then out again. “I don’t have time for patience. I need to get back to my life.”
“Have you had any more anxiety attacks this week?”
They were almost a daily occurrence in the months following Davo’s death. As was the eye twitching. I’d gone from being known as ‘the mask’ because of my ability to hide my thoughts to having a physical reaction to every emotion running through my veins. It’s been years since I had a meltdown. Jules throwing me out triggered them again. That’s what finally prompted me to ring the number on the card Jake gave me and book a session.
I shake my head to erase the memories. “The last one was two weeks ago.”
Tom scratches on his notepad. He’s surprisingly old school, preferring a pen to the keyboard. He can write on a blackboard or carve words into a stone for all I care, so long as it helps me sort myself out and get my family back.
“Why do you think the attacks have stopped?”
Jules no longer looks at me like she wants to use my groin for target practice. And the heavy weight crushing my heart has lifted. “My wife and I are getting on better.”
“In what way?”
Fuck. The questions. He’s worse than a detective in the interrogation room. “Her expression is softer. She even smiles when I show up on the doorstep.”
Tom nods. “That’s good. Is she still off the drink?”
“Yeah. The whites of her eyes are clear and the irises sparkle.” It seems incredible now that I never questioned the red stains before. It was too easy to blame it on lack of sleep. Little did I know she was drinking even more than I realised. Hiding it from me.
“And what about Melissa and her son?”
I wait for the sharp blade of guilt to slice through me, but it doesn’t. For the first time in seven years, I can think of Davo’s family, about Davo, without crippling pain. “They’re doing well. Melissa’s dating the principal at Ash’s school.”
Who knew the guy was acting like an arse because he ‘liked her’? He’s forty-five, not fifteen. I paid him a visit and warned him that if there was any return of the disrespect, I’d bury him. I left him pondering if I meant literally or metaphorically.
“Ash has joined the PCYC and is already shedding the attitude.” It doesn’t hurt that Emily volunteers once a week and has shown the kid the important role martial arts play in self-discipline and impulse control.
When my time’s up with Tom, I’m reluctant to leave. This has become a safe place where the guilt of surviving is slowly disappearing. There’s no changing the past. Undoing the broken promises. The only direction is forwards. And making new vows to be a better person. To be the husband and father my family deserves. I gulp. Assuming Jules takes me back.
“Same time next week, Mick?”
I squeeze my eyes shut and open them. I’d been off in my own world again. Except that world is a much happier place than it used to be. There’s no blood. No screams. No death. Only life.
I lift out of my chair and shake his hand. “Yep. See you then.”
I smooth my hands down the front of my shirt. “What do you think?”
My father beams from his recliner. “Like every woman’s dream.”
I laugh. “Dad, I’m off to a work meeting.”
He places the book he was reading onto the side table. “I wasn’t born yesterday. No doubt you’re going to call on your family on the way home.”
He’s got me there. Jules suggested I swing by at seven-thirty. Tuck Riley into bed. Apparently, she’s been asking for me a lot this week, which makes me feel like the worst father ever. I want to be there for her every night. Part-time parenting sucks.
My mother hovers in the kitchen doorway. “Maybe you should let it be.”
My heart drops to my stomach with the weight of a boulder. The downside of staying with my parents is my mother’s convinced my marriage is over. And worse, she hasn’t bothered to hide her dislike of Jules. All these years I thought she approved of my wife. Turns out she’d been pretending. It seems that particular skill runs in the family.
“Mum, I’ll only say this once and then we never speak of it again.” I straighten my shoulders and eyeball her. “I don’t want a divorce. I love Jules and I intend to win her back. And I expect those who care for me to respect my decision. Respect her. If you can’t do that, you’ll be seeing a lot less of us.”
My mother gasps, her right hand flying to her throat. “You wouldn’t keep my granddaughter from me, would you?”
“Of course not.” I’d been blind to her little theatrics. Not anymore. “But if …” I pause. Be positive about the future. That’s what Tom said. “ When Jules and I are together again, there’ll be no more family get-togethers if you can’t accept her as my wife.”
“You’d choose her over your parents?”
Why is she making this so difficult? “No. I’d choose the woman I love over the malicious intent of the mother who claims to have my best interests at heart.”
Mum covers her face with her hands. I detest hurting her, but just like everything in my life, I’ve been blind to the truth. And I have Tom to thank for helping me see it.
Dad pushes out of his chair and shuffles to Mum. “The boy’s right, love. You don’t have to agree with his choices, but it’s not your place to judge them.”
“Why, Mum? Why do you dislike Jules?” And why hasn’t Jules said anything? Because one thing I’ve learnt from overhearing phone conversations is that my mother has let her true feelings be known to Jules when I’m not around.
She drags a tissue out of her pocket and dabs her eyes. “I want lots of grandbabies.”
“That’s not a reason to hate her. Besides, we might have more kids.” I hope. One day .
“I don’t hate Jules. I …” She huffs. “At first, I feared she was using you because she got pregnant. And then it seemed like she was drifting. She didn’t want more children, yet she wasn’t trying very hard to find work. I thought you could do better.”
Wow. This is probably the most honest conversation I’ve had with my mother, and I wish it was possible to erase it. “I have no idea how to respond to that, Mum.”
“I don’t expect you to. I love you, Mick. And I love Riley. I just …” She ducks under my father’s arm and rushes up the hallway, sobbing.
Dad clasps my arm. “She’ll come around.”
I’m not sure about that, but what else can I do?
“Jules is a wonderful wife and a loving mother, Dad. You know that, right?”
“Of course, I do. I love Jules. She’s been good for you.” My father pulls me into his bony embrace for a quick hug, then gestures to the clock on the wall. “Now, go on. Otherwise, you’ll be late for your meeting.”
The click of the front door lock sounds ominous as I exit. Will I regain my wife only to lose my mother? Or am I destined to lose both of them?
Stale beer and sweat greet me with the familiarity of old friends … or enemies as I enter the pub. The smell sends shivers up my spine even though this place is light-years away from some of the dives I frequented while I was undercover.
I slide into a chair opposite Jake. He’s an imposing figure in his crisp, dark grey suit, while I’ve changed into jeans and a polo shirt. He’s also taken the best spot. The one with a good view of the bar whilst protecting his back.
Will I ever stop thinking like a cop? My shrink, Tom, said ‘ probably not’ on my last visit and that it’s not necessarily a bad thing.
Jake pushes a glass across the table. “I took the liberty of ordering you a lemon lime and bitters.”
“Thanks.”
“Have you decided?”
I guess he’s not going with warmup chitchat today. The clash of glasses and murmur of voices fade into the background. I can’t believe I’m even considering Jake’s suggestion to join the civilian intelligence branch of the NSW Police Force, but here I am.
“Yeah, I have. My answer is yes.”
Jake smiles, transforming his expression from scary cop to friend in a heartbeat. “That’s excellent.”
“Before you get excited, I have conditions.”
The smile vanishes as quickly as it appeared. He folds his arms across his chest. “Like what?”
No way am I falling for his obvious power game. I’ve had the same training as he’s had, even if I wasn’t in the force for as long. It’ll take a lot more to intimidate me. “I’ll need to arrive late and leave early two to three days a week so I can do drop off and pick up for Riley at school.”
“Is that all?” He unfolds his arms. “Jesus, Mick. I thought you were going to demand your own office or something.”
My lips curl into a smirk. “I hadn’t considered that.”
“Then don’t.” He rubs his jaw. “So, are things improving between you and Jules?”
“I think so. What does Claire say?”
His lips flatten. “She refuses to tell me anything for fear I’ll share it with you.”
As if Jake would ever break a confidence. He’s one of the most ethical people I know. “The tension’s a lot less than it was. Jules has been going to AA, and I’ve been seeing the guy you recommended about my PTSD.”
“How’s that working for you? ”
“Good. Real good.” I sip my drink, pleased that my hands don’t shake. “I hadn’t realised how much of myself I was holding back from everyone around me, especially Jules, since Davo died.”
“That’s great. Asking for help is never easy.”
“No, but I want my wife back, Jake.”