Chapter 5
The talking-to Leonie expected didn’t come when she left The Spice Pelage in her mum’s car.
Nor did it come at dinner that night or when the family sat down to watch the news the following evening.
The absence of such a pressing topic unnerved her, after Mum’s initial rant over the phone.
Maybe Dad had said something to her, but that didn’t seem likely—of the two of them, Leonie’s dad was the one most likely to lecture her about his opinions.
Heaven forbid they finally decided she was an adult who could to make her own decisions as well as take responsibility for them herself. Was it too much to hope for that all those years living out of home and being with Mark had done at least some good for her dynamic with her parents?
As she sat quietly, facing them over a white-clothed table in the noisy Chinese restaurant, she decided that yes—yes, it was too much to hope for.
“I think you must try again,” her dad declared out of nowhere, setting down his chopsticks.
“Mark is not a bad guy,” her mum appended, opening the teapot for the waitress doing the rounds with a jug of hot water. “And you made a vow.”
Leonie’s jaw tightened, and she bit her tongue to stop from grinding her teeth. “I’m done with Mark,” she said.
“At least stay in the same house while you sort it out. Are his parents still coming to stay? Let him save face, lah.”
She rankled at her mum’s suggestion, the same kind of rankle she’d get when Mark cornered her with suggestions so reasonably put that she’d be in the wrong for disagreeing.
It was the same rankle when they discussed the colour of their front door, when they debated which receptionist resumés looked best, and when he’d asked her to mind the front desk just a few days ago.
Leonie pushed a half-eaten piece of pork belly around her plate, her appetite for dinner dwindling.
Maybe she was being unreasonable, just walking out on her marriage and job.
It certainly wasn’t a smart thing to do, not while she had so much invested in the business and client bookings still listed under her name.
She could go back to the house just for a while, agree with her very reasonable parents, see out the rest of her bookings and just tell Marla not to make new ones. It would be so easy to slip back into the old normal, except the thought made Leonie’s stomach turn.
How could they? How could Mark cheat on her and lie to her all these years?
Sure, they weren’t happy, but he could at least have gone about it truthfully instead of doing something that would hurt her.
And how could her parents sit here and put her lying husband saving face ahead of their own daughter’s happiness?
Even if they didn’t know why she was unhappy in her marriage, couldn’t they see it was wearing her down? Were they even looking out for her?
She set down her chopsticks and pushed her plate away. “I haven’t told his parents he’s been cheating on me,” she said, curtly. “Not once, but many times over the years. I think I’ve helped him save enough face.”
Her parents looked at each other. Mum sat back. “What about the business?”
“I don’t care about the business.”
“Aiyah, you can’t be like that, Nee. You’re an adult now.”
“Thanks for reminding me, Mum,” Leonie replied in a low voice, as polite as she could be so as not to give her dad an excuse to lecture her about how she spoke to her mother.
She gripped the edge of the table, not wanting to cause a scene in a crowded restaurant, but not wanting to just let this go.
She never fought back when her parents whisked her to a new home over an hour’s drive from her old life.
She couldn’t fight back, not at that age.
And now at thirty-three, she knew better than to argue in that loud, shouty, hurtful way that would break any parent’s heart.
They may have been unreasonable about some things, but they did provide her with a comfortable life—the number of times she’d come out of her room at night, and her mother would get up to make her a snack; the first car her father bought her so she wouldn’t have to catch the bus to uni in the rain.
Even though some frustrated part of her wanted to kick and scream and tell her parents to back off, the rest of her knew that wouldn’t get her what she wanted.
She knew she was doing the right thing, whether they understood or not, whether they agreed or not.
She didn’t want to argue with her parents—in a way, she didn’t need to.
She just wanted to act of her own accord, not be cajoled or manipulated into decisions, not just take the path of least resistance into a life she didn’t want because it was easier than doing the hard thing, the disapproved-of thing. She grabbed her handbag.
“You’re right, I’m an adult,” she said, quietly. “And I’m going out to think. I’ll see you at home later.”
The fist inside her loosened its grip on her heart the further she got from the restaurant.
The roaring in her ears subsided, giving way to her rhythmic breath and boots on the sidewalk.
She did it—no scene, no admonishment, no argument, just a quiet exit.
She never turned around to see how her parents would react.
She just paid for dinner on the way out, zipped up her coat, picked a random direction, and walked.
She left on her own steam. This was her, swimming against the tide, making her own decision. It would have been so easy to give into frustration, but that was a kind of giving in too. This was Leonie, fighting in her own way. And it felt good.
She reached a small grassy park, well lit at night.
She remembered this place—it was where she used to come after her parents moved them to this area.
She’d sit here and miss Sam and Hayden, until eventually her new school and new friends absorbed her, and she went with the flow that swept her away from her old life.
But now she sat on the swing over the sandpit and remembered missing them, thankful they were both in her life again at last.
Her phone buzzed in her bag. She took it out, expecting a stern instruction from Mum or Dad, telling her to come home. But it was a text from Hayden.
FURBALL MOORE
Don't suppose you're free tonight?
ME
My evening just became available
FURBALL MOORE
Movie night with my sibs. Wanna come?
ME
Love to. Where are you?
He texted his address, and she punched it into a rideshare app. The trip would cost a bit, but it’d be worth it just to get her mind off everything for a while before going home later. But just before she booked the ride, he texted again to ask where she was. He’d pick her up instead.
Fifteen minutes later, she climbed into Hayden’s car, and they headed for the gourmet trattoria not far from her parents’ house. “I offered to shout the fancy pizza, no strings attached,” he said.
“How’d you know I lived here, though?”
“You said your folks were south of the river, so I took a chance.”
“I might have meant Mandurah. You could have been driving for ages.”
Hayden shrugged it off with a smile. “For you? I don’t mind.”