Chapter Twenty-eight
‘Where’s Felix?’
Ebony was lounging on the sofa, the kids playing with some Lego I’d bought to entertain them. It was the first day of their visit.
‘Um …’ Now that I’d left it so long, the whole thing seemed ridiculous. ‘We broke up a little while back.’
‘What?’
‘Sorry. I thought I’d mentioned it.’ I had my back turned, making us tea, and hoped we could move past the subject relatively seamlessly.
‘Don’t give me that, Mary. You did not.’ She didn’t sound impressed. She got up from the couch and moved to the breakfast bar.
‘Oh. We broke up. What kind of tea would you like?’
‘How did I not know this?’
‘It was … during a busy time. And it’s not a big deal.’
‘Not a big deal?’ Her voice was rising. ‘You’ve been with this guy for most of the last – how many years? Four? Five?’
‘Six. I’m fine. It’s fine. I’m having peppermint. You?’
‘When? How long back are we talking?’
‘A month? Two? Probably about three, actually.’
‘Oh my God! I can’t believe you. We’ve had like thirty conversations during that time about the colour of my children’s poo and the texture of their snot and you’ve had this huge life event that you didn’t even bother mentioning?’
‘Well, I’m telling you now!’
She just shook her head and glared at me.
‘I thought you didn’t like Felix anyway.’
‘I didn’t,’ she snarled.
We were silent for a moment but the air felt loaded. Even the kids were quiet, sensing the tension.
‘So, who does this place belong to? Your fiancé you haven’t told me about? Your husband, even?’
‘Ebony. Don’t be like that.’
‘Well, you obviously don’t count me as someone worth talking to about key life events, so what would I know?’ She was furious. Steam was practically coming out her ears.
Shit.
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t want to bother you.’
‘You know what, Mary? I’m pretty bloody jack of this whole thing. Didn’t want to bother you. Do you know how that makes me feel? Meaningless. A dependent. Not someone worth sharing yourself with. I’m your sister, not your child.’
I didn’t know how to respond. I felt awful. Sick. Speechless.
‘Mummy.’ Molly had walked over and was wrapping her arms around Ebony’s legs. ‘Why are you shouting?’
‘Sorry, sweetie.’ Ebony scooped her into her arms. ‘Let’s go, kids. We’re heading to the park.’
‘Ebony. Come on. Have your tea with me—’
‘I can’t right now. I’m really, really angry. And really hurt too.’
This was not how it was supposed to be. I should be going to the park with them. I should be pushing Molly on the swing and playing handball with Paddy. Linking arms with my sister and listening to her stories about dates as a single mum.
Instead, I was left with two cups of peppermint tea, an empty house and a feeling of terrible loneliness.
The rest of the week was rough. Ebony seemed to be deliberately avoiding me. When I got back from my shifts, they’d be out. On my days off, she made plans. She was terse and pissed off with me when our paths did cross.
The only saving grace was the time with the kids.
Even at her most difficult, Ebony seemed not to want to get in the way of that.
She let me look after them while she went and visited MONA and when she did some shopping in the city.
I loved those kids in a way that almost physically ached and I’d missed them so much.
When Abel had talked me into letting them stay with us, he’d insisted I sleep in his bed and they have my room.
We’d found a spare mattress to put on the floor for Liam and Paddy to squeeze onto while Molly and Ebony had my bed.
The return to the master bedroom hadn’t been hard to accept, in all honesty.
And even though Abel had changed his sheets for me before he left, it smelt and felt like him. A balm for my heart.
Abel was interstate running another wilderness course and would be back a few days after Ebony left. I was sorry they wouldn’t meet one another, but it made the logistics of the situation easier.
On the fifth night of their stay, Ebony was finally in the room long enough for me to attempt to talk to her.
‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Felix.’
The kids were in bed and she’d just got back from a movie on her own.
I was tidying the remains of the tacos I’d had with the kids and she was heaping the picture books I’d got from the library into a neat pile on the coffee table.
She didn’t say anything, but she didn’t walk out either, which was a step forward.
‘Ebony. I’m sorry.’
‘Sure.’
‘I’d love to actually talk to you while you’re here. You’ve got like, two more days and then we’re back to being thousands of kilometres apart. Can we put this behind us?’
She sighed. ‘You don’t get it, do you?’
‘Get what?’
‘How representative this is of our relationship.’
‘I should have told you. I’m sorry.’
‘But it’s not just this. This is the problem with us. The problem with you.’ She was glaring at me again, her eyes fiery.
‘What does that mean?’
‘You’re so hung up on fixing me and Mum that you completely isolate yourself and make it fucking impossible to actually be close to you.’
I felt like I’d been slapped.
‘That’s not true. I am close to you, Ebony. There is literally no one else I care for like I care for you.’
‘I know that. You “care” for me. But it’s in no way equal, is it? You care for me like you might care for a child. And that makes me feel pathetic. Useless. Incapable.’
‘Of course you’re not useless—’
‘It’s the same way you transferring money every week makes me feel. The way you treat me strips me of my own strength, my sense of capacity.’
‘Ebony. I’m trying to help!’
‘Maybe I don’t want your help? Have you asked me if I want your help?’
‘But—’
‘Maybe I just want a sister. Maybe I want to hear you complain sometimes. Hear you talk about when things are a mess.’ Her eyes were glossy and I felt a lump in my own throat. ‘Instead, you’re always so … so sorted. With your fancy job. And your income. Your financial security.’
‘I do not have financial security.’
‘And your impenetrable emotions. I don’t think I’ve ever even seen you cry, Mary!’ Tears were streaming down her face now. ‘And I’m sick of it!’
‘Ebony, I’m sorry.’
‘I bet it feels good, huh? Always being the together one? While we laugh at little Ebony with her three kids on Centrelink who can’t even support herself without a top up from the big sister.
And just imagine if we burdened her with anything as traumatising as news of her sister’s most significant life relationship breaking down. No, no, no, we couldn’t possibly.’
‘Stop it!’ Her words were like a knife in my chest, turning and twisting. Brutal. Unforgiving. ‘Stop it!’
I couldn’t listen to another word of her accusations. I threw down my tea towel and walked out the door, leaving the kitchen a mess and my mess behind me in a way that felt awful and way out of control.
The night was cold. A harsh wind whipped across the water so the air smelt like salt and my skin felt like it would bruise from the aggressive way in which I was buffeted.
Tears were streaming down my face as I walked the quiet, dark streets.
The same anger and hurt that I’d seen in Ebony’s face bubbled up inside me.
I felt so misunderstood. And stupid. I’d tried so fucking hard all my life, only to be rejected.
Ebony was literally where I had put all my love.
All my choices had been based around her.
All my hopes had held her right in the centre.
Except I’d done it wrong. She didn’t want that version of me.
Which undermined everything. Because, aside from the ambitious, disciplined, supportive older sister, I didn’t know what I was.
I didn’t know if I even had an identity beyond that.
I cried for the fact that I’d made Ebony feel small.
And I cried for me, for having given everything, absolutely everything, only to realise my efforts hadn’t been wanted.
I had failed in the ultimate way. A perfectionist hates to fail at anything, but this was failure at its most brutal. Because it wasn’t for gratification or reward that I’d strived.
It was only for love.