Erin
She felt detached, separated. Like she was standing outside of herself, watching life happen. Like none of this was real.
At least they could leave now. Go back to Brisbane. Get out of this country, this situation, this goddamn house.
Jason gave her various reasons why he couldn’t sell the house on Delaney Row, none of which made much sense to her at the time.
She didn’t want to go back.
So much so that the crumbling house where her husband used to bring his mistress seemed like the better option.
‘We could live here,’ she said. ‘Finish the renovations, put it on the market. Use the money to start again, somewhere else.’
It was a couple of days after the sentencing, twenty-four hours before their flight back.
They’d made their statement on the steps of the courthouse and refused all interview requests.
Today marks the end of what has been an incredibly trying time for us, and we ask now that you respect our privacy and leave us to rebuild our lives in peace.
They were lying on the mattress that served as their bed – a mattress that had, on occasion, also been their bed, Jason and Hannah’s.
Erin wondered where Hannah was tonight. She pictured a thinner mattress on a steel frame in a prison cell and felt a pang of guilt, then oddly jealous. Hannah was free of him, at least. He couldn’t get to her there.
Jason rolled over and said, groggily, ‘What?’
‘I don’t want to go back,’ Erin said. ‘I want to stay here.’
A long silence, followed by a deep sigh.
‘I’m not going back,’ he said. ‘I was going to tell you tomorrow, but …’ She heard him sit up. ‘Sure. Yeah. Let’s do this now.’
‘Do what?’
But she already knew.
‘I’m going to stay here,’ he said, slowly and evenly, like he was speaking to a child.
‘In this house. But alone. I’m leaving you, Erin, so you need to leave.
I don’t care where you go. This is over.
It should’ve been a long, long time ago.
I nearly managed it, just before everything happened, but then I found out what you’d be entitled to, what you’d be able to do to me.
Or think that you’d be able to, and I didn’t want to waste my money fighting you in court.
But I didn’t love you. I didn’t even like you any more.
The truth is I don’t even remember what it was like to like you, it’s been so long since I have.
And then there was nothing for you to try and take, and then I had to stay because it helped my side in the case. ’
Why had she stayed?
Erin stared at the dark bedroom ceiling, searching for an answer.
Well, in the immediate aftermath of the accident, she’d stayed out of duty.
There’d been surgeries, rehab, pain. In some ways, she’d quite enjoyed his helplessness.
There’d been a few times when she’d decided to suddenly develop a hearing problem, or forget to charge her phone, engineering humiliations for him both big and small.
Then he lost everything, so there was nothing to win.
And then, the little voice in her head, the one that had never really gone away, started whispering once again, Without him, you have nothing at all.
But that wasn’t true, was it?
Without him, she would have something, actually. She’d have more than she did now. She’d have a chance.
She’d be free.
‘OK,’ she said. She pulled back the sheets and stood up, feeling his eyes boring holes in her. ‘Fine.’
She went out on to the landing, then into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. Turned on the tap. Looked in the mirrored cabinet over the sink.
And saw her, staring back.
Twenty years wiped away, undone, given back.
A school uniform. Blonde hair. Bright eyes.
A bright future.
Across the hall, in the unfinished office, tools lay scattered on the floor.
A mallet was among them. Erin knew how heavy it was because she’d had to move it out of the way numerous times, when Jason had left it propped against a chair in the kitchen, or on the stairs for her to trip over, or even, once, covered in dust and thrown on their bed.
She knew it was heavy enough.
She smiled at the girl in the mirror. She wished she could’ve saved her, but this would be the next best thing.