The dark within them, p.17
The Dark Within Them, page 17
“Aren’t we coming back before the new semester?”
“Like I said, I don’t know how long this will take. Maybe it will go beyond back to school in Autumn.”
“What?” Her eyes were like traffic lights, and they burned like them too. Though she stiffened, he went to her and took her hand.
“As long as it takes, sweetie. Until we’re better. You and me. Until Ivan stops blabbing his mouth.” Her neck drooped and she slipped out of his hand grip. He had her. “Well, we will need a week to plan, I reckon—” He’d already planned most of it, to be honest. Send Ivan off to Jim—long overdue—then take him out onto the fields around the back…Then they had options, he had been debating…Amber was walking wraith-like to the door.
“Yeah. Sounds good,” she mumbled, gripping onto the door frame with white knuckles. He watched her, his forehead knotting.
“Sounds good?”
“Whatever you want. You clearly have it planned out.” Her voice came out hollow. He nodded. Couldn’t find any trace of fight in her. He supposed this was the best outcome. What else could he expect?”
“It’s for the best,” he soothed, and it was. He had the best intentions. The drowning of a dirty secret, of the devil growing inside their household. “We’ll find our peace.”
She did not look him in the eye.
19TH JUNE, 2015
AMBER
“There won’t be a next time.” She traced the grooves beneath the rough edges of Chad’s table with her fingertips. It was a mishmash of abandoned wood offcuts Chad had screwed together and she hated it. The house was devoid of taste and she still felt, if she was being honest, as though she was living in someone else’s home. He was saying she and Ivan were trouble. It scared her to see his gaze drain of its usual affection for her. Guess he needed reminding of why he had fallen in love with her in the first place. That was easy enough, if she swallowed her pride, her revulsion; took her mind to a different place—Chad played all pious, then let her lead in the bedroom. But there was deep-rooted irritation there too. He couldn’t sleep because of her? She stayed in this house, made his lunchboxes and covered up for him after he…She could see the unsettled earth from the window. If she had been in the room alone, the blind would have been firmly shut.
Still. Keep the lips sealed. A little shoulder massage. What other choice did she have? She saw his knuckles crack and the sound sent a shiver down her spine.
“You’re my bad dream.” Pushed her hand away, like it was an irritating gnat. How dare he brush her off like that?
“He can’t ring the police if I confiscate his phone, can he?” He could come at her if she wanted, but was he the brain in this marriage? Who continued to sort out his mess? God knew his poker face would have got him locked up long ago if it wasn’t for her. He was processing his guilt with anger. That was a privilege men had. She had no such liberties. And she was the one with the real entitlement to behave erratically. If she fought his fire with fire, she would be branded a nasty woman. A crazy witch. “Talk to me. That would be a start.”
“What you think I’m bloody doing now, woman?”
She assumed ‘woman’ had now become an insult. A mania was bubbling in her chest—she almost started giggling.
“Sit down.”
She bristled. There was a limit to what she could take. Playing the dutiful wife would always be an internal struggle. She needed the stability of Chad, but she didn’t need his control. She stood, hands on hips. He would falter.
But he didn’t. He grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled her back to the chair. Her mouth fell open. A red-hot burning at the roots of her scalp was festering. Impossible to hide her tears from him.
“I had a revelation and this is how it can go for us—”
“Are you sure?” She genuinely wanted to know, not to take a jab at him. When he first decided to be ‘the one who had the revelations’, she had bitten her tongue, knowing that it would never happen. Men had a problem with her as a visionary. It made them feel small. Chad’s announcement surely had much more to do with dominating her than connecting with God.
He was accusing her of doubting God now, bringing out all the big guns. She reached out to finger the table’s candle flame—knew that she could trust fire as she long as she understood it and her own limitations. The candle she had added. It had been tall and majestic in its red wax casing when she had bought it. Now it had hollowed, a carcass spilling magenta.
“Go on, then.” This won’t be kind. This revelation has been dreamt of, crafted, to hurt me.
“Action is needed.” And he said something about a baptism of sorts, as though he knew Ivan couldn’t swim. Surely he knew, just looking at him? She sat on her hands to quell their tremble. This was a power trip, not a healing. He wanted to feel his hands on Ivan’s head and know that he was physically superior.
The kids had always been a problem for Chad. She’d seen the glint of resentment rest in his gaze whenever they spoke too loudly, left their shoes in the corridor to trip over, forgot to do the dishes…but she hadn’t anticipated rage. Violence. That was something she hadn’t seen in Chad on the retreat. She had thought it just wasn’t possible, that Chad could ever turn out to become a Jack in her life. She’d thought he’d come to accept the kids as part of the package…but since Gilly’s disappearance, Ivan had proved too brave for his own good. He challenged Chad, on all counts, going so far as to correct Chad’s grammar—that had really struck a nerve. Chad’s biggest fear was being seen as stupid. Now he challenged Chad on Gilly’s absence, and every time he did, Ivan reminded Chad of his guilt. Salt in an already-festering wound.
When she looked at Ivan, submerged in his black anger, she still saw the wide-eyed infant who had clamped himself to her breast eagerly, that shocking mop of ginger tickling her skin. She didn’t see a boy who needed healing. Understanding, yes. Connection, yes. Things she hadn’t been able to offer him recently. To ask her to trust him with some experimental water therapy…this man must hate her. His tongue was laced with arsenic. The devil had set him in his sights; wormed his way inside his brain.
“I can’t do let you do that, Chad.” And his eyes widened. But did he really expect her to lie down and take it?
“This is the will of the Lord, Amber. You can’t talk your way out of it.” He didn’t even look at her. Manipulation was new to him. She ran her tongue along the insides of her teeth. What was it she felt? Fear, yes, but mostly…It was disappointment. Not often that she was wrong about character. But look at who he really was, right now, trying to control her. Like every other man she had ever lived with.
“Do you love me?”
She balked. “What is this?” He wasn’t asking for love. Just a limp mussel of a wife, settling on his words. If this marriage had been based on hopes of love…perhaps she had never truly understood him. And love could make people do crazy things.
“If you want to stay under this roof? Obey your husband. Obey the Lord.”
Amber couldn’t help thinking this was Jim’s influence. Chad had returned mealy-mouthed, his eyes beady and hard. His lovemaking had turned rough, disconnected.
“You’d put me out on the streets?”
“Yeah, I would.”
She was on the balls of her feet, buoyant with rage. She pushed past his shoulder to the ice dispenser and enjoyed the crack of ice, like skulls smashing. She was past her sell-by date already, then. Damaged property. This was his grief talking. But she knew grief could change a man, making them feel small. And there was nothing more dangerous than that.
“I could call the cops on you for Gilly.” She could turn on him. Why not? All they had was their reputation. His face pinched. She sipped her water, felt her thoughts cool and level out.
“You’re just a woman, Amber. Don’t hold much weight.” It stung. She had always felt that ‘just’. The shame of walking around with a uterus, when she had the cunning, the force of the man’s brain. She looked away.
“You could help me. This sort of therapy will work better as a team.” With the tilt of the head, she saw victory in the twitch of his smile. He thought he could change her heart? She bit back a smile. There was no intelligence in his eyes’ glint, just excitement. Just another man who believed brute force substituted for a brain.
She gazed at her feet. His plan was something of a horror movie plot, complete with the dead of night, a remote farmyard and a dunking of a child like a witch. She told him there was no way she would allow the therapy and watched his expression turn from frustration to consent, agreeing that the trip to Jim’s could be just enough. It all happened so quickly, she felt immediately suspicious. He was asking her to tell Melanie ‘in case anything happened’, he just didn’t know ‘how long this would take’ and her breath froze in its exhale. She found her feet compelled her away from its poison.
“Like I said, I don’t know how long this will take. Maybe it will go beyond back to school in Autumn.”
But he was looking to the side of her face, and not into her eyes. What was he hiding?
“Well, what do you think?” he said.
“Yeah, sounds good.” She faked casual, only the word choice was off. She felt like she was asleep, talking into a fishbowl, where words expanded and got lost in the bubbles.
“It’s for the best.” Every muscle in her body roared at her to run, screamed at her not to trust him, but she nodded. Something was off. She needed to pray. Needed to steal herself and remember that, if it came to protecting her own son, she could fight with her brain, if not her fists. The Lord had built her to be a wolf of a woman.
20TH JUNE, 2015
AMBER
Amber peeled the plastic seal open and plucked four cupcakes onto a plate, placing the packaging in the bin. She studied them; decided they weren’t believable. Prodded the icing around to a slight imperfect tilt. Chad had suggested she baked in Melanie’s honour—THAT wasn’t happening. She was doing this…out of some sense of warped duty. When the doorbell sounded, she put on an apron and flew to it.
“Melanie! Right on time for cake,” she trilled. Today, she would be the vision of a welcoming housewife, a nightmarish throwback to the life with Jack she’d run away from.
“No, you shouldn’t have!” Melanie kissed her cheek and started to unlace her shoes. They looked second-hand, tired. Like their owner. “Chad didn’t say you were a baker!”
“You can smell it then?”
“Smells like sugar! Oh, no need Amber, I know where things go around here—” Melanie went to place her shoes on the rack where she remembered it…but found it had been moved. There was a polite shoe shuffle, which Amber won.
“I’ve actually moved the shoe cupboard,” Amber said, smiling tightly. “I was struggling to find space for my things.”
“Ah, right…” The two women looked at each other guardedly. “I suppose it has been a few months since I visited the house. And have you settled in, now?”
“I fit right in.”
Melanie nodded, her eyeline fixated on the glint of gold nestled in Amber’s earlobes.
“Always very glam!” she said, to Amber’s retreating back. “So, Chad’s not back yet?”
“Later, later!” Amber called, sailing cake onto a small saucer and gesturing Melanie to take a seat. “But my Ivan is in.” Melanie visibly brightened.
“Oh! Ivan is so like my Connor,” she said proudly, taking a bite of pure icing.
Amber frowned. “You mean...”
“Oh…” Melanie swallowed hard and dry retched. Amber gestured to the glasses cupboard. It wasn’t like Melanie didn’t know where they were. “Well, I just meant my boy, Connor, has cerebral palsy too. So, I thought—” She took a gulp of water. “Well, we have something in common if you just need someone who gets it, you know?” Amber nodded slowly, twisting a lock of hair around her fingers.
“That’s very generous of you, Melanie.” In some ways, Amber was telling the truth. She could see how Melanie’s companionship might be a balm to someone else—but she’d never sought advice on her children’s behaviour before, and she wasn’t going to start now. Amber reached for a cup and poured a steaming liquid into it. Despite herself, her hand shook and shivers of fluid coloured the cork coaster. For you, she gestured, pouring another for herself. “Chad always says you’re very kind.”
“Oh, we’ve been friends for years—”
“Yes, you’ve done well to keep that up.”
Melanie licked her lips. “Well, it’s easy to do. Chad’s a very easy-going guy.”
They fell into an awkward silence, fingering their cups. Amber wondered how much of Chad’s true personality Melanie had ever been exposed to. She seemed the type to wear rose-tinted glasses, justifying any qualms she might have about people as ‘off-days’ for them.
“Has he always been like that?” She tested the waters.
“What do you mean?”
“Never lost his temper about anything—when he was younger, maybe?” Amber observed the liquid pooling at the bottom of her cup, as though her toes weren’t clenched, waiting for Melanie’s answer.
“Oh—well, yes, maybe when he was younger. My Connor has a temper like that, too. But men grow out of that sort of thing.”
Amber almost spat out her tea at that, pushing it back down her nasal passage and into her throat painfully. “Do they?” Now it was Melanie’s turn to modulate her tone delicately. Amber saw her pause.
“Has that not been your experience?”
Amber’s eyes flicked to the closed kitchen blinds and Melanie’s followed.
“Can I tell you a secret, Mel? Can I call you Mel?”
Melanie’s eyes widened like saucers. “Yes, yes!”
“Everyone I’ve ever loved…They turned dark.” Amber whispered, and it felt as though neither person would ever blink again.
“Are we talking about Satan, Amber?” she squeaked, biting her bottom lip.
“His influence, perhaps. Do you believe in shades of wrongdoing, Melanie? Because I feel the wrong decisions, each one, bring you a shade closer to the dark.”
“What happens when you reach full dark?” Melanie dabbed tea from her scalded lips. “In your opinion or…experience.” Amber felt Melanie’s world shrink into her words. There was only Amber now, and unknown territory. Secrets. Melanie held out her hand for Amber to clasp and despite herself, she took it.
“Possession,” she said, her hand was cold against Melanie’s sweat. “My late husband was dark.”
“I heard he was murdered,” Melanie murmured, eyes slightly glazed. Amber withdrew her hand in an upward slash which left Melanie’s bruised against the table. A cold flush surged through Amber’s body.
“Now, I thought we were friends,” she said. “Say that and you’re a real gossip, like the rest of them. Died of natural causes. But I suppose you’ve read about this bit, so I’ll tell you—”
“Oh, no, Amber, I don’t believe in reading newspapers.”
“Online, then.”
“Well, yes, I suppose…Though I think I heard it from Bridie or Mary-Anne…anyway.”
Amber had lost her train of thought. Melanie shifted uncomfortably and gestured for Amber to continue.
“As I was saying…before his death, my husband followed me.” She saw Melanie’s face was blank, and so clarified, “I had decided to leave him. That might be unheard of in our church, but it was justified. Truly, before his death, his soul was already in limbo.”
“What compromised his soul?” Melanie straightened her spine, eyes widening.
Amber crossed her legs and placed her palms on her thigh neatly. “That’s not part of the story.”
“I thought this was a secret?”
Amber tried to keep her face neutral, unflappable. This was an interesting unfolding of Melanie. It occurred to Amber that the woman might harbour the same dislike that she did, for her.
“Yes. But we were talking about Jack following me. It was an awful time for me, I had no one to confide in.”
“You must have been terrified for your children,” Melanie agreed, placing an uncertain palm on Amber’s momentarily.
“Yes. I still believe he was possessed, of sorts.”
“Is that what caused the heart attack?” When Melanie knotted her eyebrows together, her face became a wriggling earthworm.
“Well, no. As I say, that was natural causes. He had a weak heart, the doctors said.”
“Sorry to hear that.” Melanie said this to herself and her teacup, mostly. “But at least you’ve found a good one in Chad.”
Amber had been leading up to this, but Melanie’s smile made her lose her nerve. There had been no indication so far that Melanie was picking up on any of the subtle hints she had been trailing. And anyway, why would Melanie choose to believe her over Chad? “Well, you know what they say. Out of the frying pan into the fire!” She said this lightly, with a stretched smile: this is a joke. Don’t mind me!
“Yes, I’ve never understood that saying, actually.”
A timid footstep announced Ivan. Amber noted his dishevelled clothes, his unbrushed, wet hair and her upper lip curled.
“Ah, Ivan, we wondered where you were!” Amber gestured for a hug and he did so, in the distracted way early teens entertain public affection.
“I was in the shower,” he blinked, nodding at Melanie. “Hey Mel.”
“Melanie! You need to ask first if you want to shorten her name.”
Ivan cracked a smile and shrugged at Melanie, who grinned back. “Hey, Ivan,” she held out her hand for a fist pump and Ivan obliged. Amber bristled at the ease with which they communicated.
“Mom, can I go down to the canal today?” he said, eyeing the cakes. “You got these from Walmart?”
“You have piano practice and temple today, you know that.” How dare he embarrass her in front of a guest! “You know I baked these.”
“Piano, how wonderful,” Melanie piped up, as if to remind them that she was still there.
