Chapter 4 #2
‘And he keeps talking about taking Justin out of Colville. He says Killeen High is free and Justin needs to toughen up. And this evening he told me he’s going to sell our family home.
All night everyone’s been asking me, “Where’s Craig?
” And every time it’s like a slap.’ Katrina choked back a sob.
‘If I could just speak to him, I’m sure we could work this out.
But his girlfriend’s controlling his phone. ’
Michelle absorbed this for a beat, then said, ‘Really? That’s awful.’
‘And you know how there’s always a winner and a loser in these things? Like with Chloe and Nick’s divorce? Well, I’m the loser. Just like Nick.’
Michelle stared. ‘You mean Nick Jasinski? Did Nick Jasinski and Chloe Dalton get married?’
‘Chloe’s got her big job and she’s already found someone else.
And even if it’s a passing thing and not real love, Craig has Roxane.
And here I am, pretending everything’s fine and waiting for him to come back.
I’m such a fake! Such a loser!’ Katrina buried her face in her hands and groaned.
She felt terrible for venting to Michelle, who wasn’t exactly a friend.
‘Sorry for dumping all this on you, it’s so self-absorbed. ’
Michelle sat down beside her. ‘I get it. To be honest, I just lost my job. I only came tonight to find a new one. So you’re not the only fake.’
Katrina glanced up, her interest sparked. ‘Colville is a good place to network,’ she conceded. ‘What was your job?’
Michelle grimaced. ‘Account executive at a pharmaceutical company. I look after my dad and I haven’t even told him I’m out of work. I said I’m on unpaid leave.’
‘You live with your dad?’ Katrina thought about her own mother and blanched at the thought of trying to look after such an exacting woman. Everything would have to be perfect. ‘What about aged care?’
‘Can’t afford anything half-decent. That’s why I’m showering a cranky eighty-year-old man.’
They sighed in unison.
‘I hate how everything always ends up being about money,’ Katrina mused, sniffing and wiping her nose.
‘If Craig really wants to sell the house, I don’t think I can stop him.
I can’t afford to buy him out and I can’t afford Justin’s Colville fees, either.
Everyone says money’s not important, but that’s not true.
When you don’t have it, money’s the only important thing .
. . except love.’ Her voice cracked. She picked up her glass again and swilled her last trickle of champagne, then sadly admired her wedding ring, which was sitting in her palm.
That ring used to glow with the sacred light of mutual adoration; now it just seemed like a cold, hard chunk of metal.
Michelle refilled Katrina’s glass to the top and said, ‘Cheers.’ They clinked, Michelle with the bottle. She took a swig and leaned back against the wall.
‘Do you know I’ve applied for seventy-seven jobs? And I only got one interview. Not a great conversion rate.’
Katrina winced. ‘I’m sorry. How did the interview go?’
‘The teenager who did it said I was too “experienced”. Code for “old”.’
Nodding sagely, Katrina drank deeply from her glass, then stood and walked to the vanity mirror.
‘I wanted to go back to physiotherapy,’ she said.
‘I used to love it, loved helping the clients, but the physio board says I’ve been out for too long.
’ She examined her face, flicking a smear of mascara from under her eye.
‘One thing you have going for you is that your skills are serious. You can apply for jobs that pay decent money. No one’s going to pay me, because all I have are wife skills.
I really was a dream wife, despite what Craig and my mother think.
I know all the secrets of stain removal.
I can cook a dinner party for eight people in two hours for under a hundred and fifty dollars while supervising a kid’s maths homework. I can even fold a fitted sheet.’
‘Really?’ Michelle sounded impressed.
‘Yep. I’ll teach you how, if you like. But what job would those skills get me?’
Katrina held out her glass and Michelle refilled it. They both drank, lost in thought.
‘All I seem to have are wife skills, too, even though I never married,’ Michelle said at last. ‘I spent every workday running after my boss and sucking up to clients, while at home all I do is cook, clean, make medical appointments for my dad and deal with his tantrums . . .’
‘Tell me about it!’ Brandishing her champagne glass, Katrina pushed away from the vanity.
‘Even women with jobs end up doing the wife work! And I hate how people look down on wives. People think we’re inferior because the work we do doesn’t pay, but the only reason everyone else gets to go out and conquer the world is because there’s someone at home stocking the pantry and washing the underpants!
’ Was it the alcohol lighting this fire under her?
No, it was her own sense of injustice. ‘What we do is real work! Without wives, the global economy would collapse, but do we get paid for our labour? No! It’s appalling! ’
Michelle gazed blankly at the wall above the lockers.
‘Michelle? What do you think?’ Katrina needed validation.
But Michelle raised her hand. ‘Shh for a second.’
Hadn’t she understood Katrina’s point? Hadn’t Katrina’s fury lit an answering flame? The way she felt now, Katrina was sure she could solve the gender power gap single-handed.
Michelle topped up Katrina’s glass again, took another sip from the bottle, and said slowly, ‘I think we could make money out of that. What are wives for? Leaving out the sex, wives are for changing a soulless house into a home. If I had a wife, I’d want her to cook, clean and make things cosy.
I’d want her to sit down over dinner and let me debrief and unload.
Some men would pay for a wife experience. Women, too.’
Katrina stared at her.
‘You’d have to set very strict boundaries,’ Michelle went on, a faraway look in her eye. ‘It wouldn’t be some fantasy prostitution thing—’
‘Oh my God, Michelle, you’re a genius!’ Katrina saw it all in a flash.
The fifties housewife! The apron! The roast!
Breathless with excitement, she flung out her hands, spilling champagne.
‘We could start a business and make millions! If Troy can do Warty Wax, we can do this! It would solve our money problems!’
Michelle began to pace. ‘I think we could really leverage ourselves. Wife skills are transferable, they’re valuable and worthy of respect, whether you’ve got a husband or not.
’ She seemed to be lecturing an unseen audience.
‘A “wife” isn’t just defined by her husband.
I mean, I’m kind of a wife, too. Lots of women end up like us, serving people and stroking egos. ’
Katrina realised her glass was empty, so she grabbed Michelle’s bottle and drained it, bursting with excitement. As she slammed the bottle down on the vanity, she caught sight of herself in the mirror and thought she looked glorious. Like a majestic amaranth warrior queen, riding into battle.
‘You’re right!’ she crowed. ‘I’m still worthy of respect even if I don’t have a husband! I’m not going to hide anymore! I’m a wife and I’m proud of it, with or without Craig! I’m not ashamed of who I am!’
With exaggerated care, she set her champagne glass on the sink. Then she swept out of the change room, wobbly and dishevelled but holding her head high.
* * *
Michelle scooted around, gathering up the glass, the empty bottle, Katrina’s clutch. ‘Wait!’ she cried. ‘Katrina!’
But Katrina had disappeared. She’d also drunk way too much, and that was partly Michelle’s fault. Now it was Michelle’s job to keep Katrina safe. What if Katrina decided to drive off and confront her ex, or kill his new girlfriend? Michelle had to stop that from happening.
Bursting out of the change room, she nearly fell into the pool. She stood at its edge, scanning the shifting, glinting rectangle at her feet to make sure Katrina wasn’t in the water.
Nope.
‘Katrina?’
The exit door was flapping. Somehow, Katrina had managed to circumvent the pool in those ridiculous heels.
She needed to be stopped before she drove her car – or did anything else stupid.
But once again, in the tangle of new corridors outside the aquatic centre, Michelle got a bit lost. By the time she reached the hall (where she managed to offload the glass and bottle), Katrina was already climbing up onstage.
Michelle’s heart sank. She spotted Bray Louk swigging a beer, but knew it was too late; she’d missed her chance with him. Katrina was a more urgent priority.
‘Katrina?’ she called.
‘It’s okay, Michelle!’ Across the sea of heads between them, Katrina gave her a thumbs-up. ‘I’m going to do it!’
Do what? Michelle hated to think. Katrina was shushing the orchestra and when the conductor tried to object she brushed him off, saying, ‘It’s all right – I’m on the parents’ committee.’ Then she grabbed a microphone and bellowed, ‘Attention! Attention, everyone!’
Michelle cringed. Around her, conversations limped to a halt as people swung around to stare at the woman in the wine-coloured dress clutching the microphone.
‘Over here! Hello? I’ve got something to say to you all!
’ Katrina peered into the crowd. ‘Oh, hello, Harriet, are you happy with your honour boards? No one cares who topped Sanskrit in 1958, by the way, even though they’re too polite to tell you.
And Pauline, will you please stop fiddling with those canapes and listen? ’
Michelle heard a few snickers, but they didn’t faze Katrina. Perhaps she couldn’t hear them.
‘As you probably know, I’m Katrina Webb – no, Katrina Quigley – and I have an announcement.’ As she thrust a tanned arm into the air, her wedding ring glinted between her thumb and forefinger. ‘See this? This is my wedding ring and I’ve taken it off!’