CHAD

  He sat with his arms hunched over his knees on the veranda. It was dark now, and the automatic lights weren’t triggered by his form, which he preferred. He wanted time to think.

  “Can you see her yet?” he heard Amber call from the living room window.

  He didn’t turn his head. “No.”

  The shutters clicked shut and he cracked a knuckle. This was exactly the kind of drama he hadn’t signed up to. Managing kids who had clearly been allowed to do whatever they pleased.

  “Soccer,” he muttered and shook his head, firing a glob of saliva in front of him. What kind of teenage girl went around playing soccer with a group of guys after school?

  “But they don’t have a girl’s team,” Amber had told him, as if it wasn’t a public embarrassment to them all. And now Gilly wasn’t answering her phone. Why give them these expensive tools, if they didn’t use them for anything good?

  A pair of white, scuffed sneakers came into view, glowing under the vernanda’s lights. “Hi, Chad.”

  He grunted and shot out an arm to block her entrance into the house. “Where have you been?”

  Gilly took a step back and frowned, tilting her head. “You know where.”

  He stood up. “Then why didn’t you answer your phone?”

  She felt her short pockets and retrieved a phone, which lit up with missed calls. “Oh yeah. Sorry about that.” But her face didn’t look sorry at all. He stepped towards her.

  “You worried your mother.” Gilly wrinkled her nose and went to say something, but he put his palm over her mouth. “I won’t be having you disrepect us like this!”

  Gilly shook her head free and wiped her mouth, glaring at him. “Like what?”

  Upstairs, a shutter unlatched and Ivan’s head popped out. “What are you doing?”

  Gilly saluted him. “Our stepdad won’t let me into the house, apparently.”

  Ivan giggled. “Are you sleeping outside tonight, like a dog, then?”

  Gilly stuck her tongue out at him. Chad felt his nostrils flare. “Both of you!” he blurted. “Have been allowed to...behave like animals! I won’t have it. As of tomorrow, you both have a curfew...of 8pm!”

  “What!”

  “This is all your fault, Gilly!”

  He clenched his jaw. Their squawking set him on edge. “Get in the house, both of you.”

  Gilly put her hand on her hips. “Thought I wasn’t allowed inside, Chad?”

  He roughly grabbed her arm, and opened the front door. “In,” he said, giving her a push, and she ran up the stairs with a wild kind of roar.

  He exhaled and tried to count to ten. These children were like a test sent directly from the Lord to test him.

  10TH APRIL, 2015

  CHAD

  “Sounds tough, huh? Like she’s possessed or something.”

  Chad snorted. “Naw, Amber’s talking to God, not Satan!” Melanie was having Postum with him in the church meeting room. The room echoed—the ceiling was a high dome with a skylight—and he sensed a few raised eyebrows around them at the name ‘Satan’. He wasn’t bothered, but noticed Melanie glanced around anxiously. “You forgot your sweetener.” He nodded at her cup.

  “Doctor’s orders. Got to cut back.” She tapped her belly with a sigh.

  Chad loved it in here: the bright colours and the mishmash of people, of all ages, made him feel welcome. He wore his best clothes here, and it gave him a glow of pride. Where else could he wear his corduroy trousers, pressed to perfection? (Plus, he’d never been one to turn down a free cookie.) There was a buzz of excitement in the room, which smelt like gossip. Sometimes Melanie would indulge in it, but more often, she sat with Chad, chatting about bad films or seeking advice on how to make her faith podcast more professional. (Chad said she should think about uploading it to iTunes or Spotify, but she had replied she didn’t know how these things worked, really. It all sounded ‘complicated’.) He knew that these chats were the highlight of her week. Now that she was retired, kids having left the nest…Chad cracked a smile at a running kid and dunked a cookie in some hot froth, his wedding ring suffering a fleck of milk in the process. Melanie reached out with a napkin, but he brushed her off immediately—she was always trying to mother him.

  He leaned forward. “You should invite Amber on your podcast, you know. She’s got some real insight into alternative lives, what happens to us all after death, I suppose…She says it a lot better than me.”

  Melanie licked her lips. “I’m sure she wouldn’t want to waste her time. I don’t have many listeners, you know…”

  “Don’t do yourself down, Mel.”

  “Well, I’m not sure I’d know what questions to ask anyway.”

  They sipped at their cups and fell into an uncomfortable silence.

  “You’ve got bags under your eyes now,” she told him.

  “Take off the specs, then?”

  “Oh, I can’t see at all without them.”

  “Stop complaining about my face then!”

  She spluttered hot cocoa down her chin. He grinned at her.

  “You know Mel, there are babies here with better table manners.”

  “I know, I know. You do look worn out, though, Chad,” she said, dabbing her chin with a napkin.

  “Well. House renovations, for a start. Things not to Amber’s liking. Things to change. And the kids are a lot to handle. Then Amber’s been having these nightmares. Although, during the day, too—so visions, you know? Every day, sometimes. Really wipes her out and…it’s a lot for me to take in.”

  “What sort of visions?”

  “Well, like I said. I don’t get into specifics with her. She communicates with those who have passed.” He shuffled in his chair. He always felt on the spot when someone asked him about Amber’s work, or her book. It felt…personal.

  “Sure…Not something I can begin to understand.” Melanie’s voice was quiet and her words pronounced hesitantly. “It’s a level of exaltation, you said, I think, exaltation which I don’t imagine I could reach.” He nodded slowly. He knew Melanie had always wanted to see him happily married, surrounded by kids, and yet his choice of wife…Perhaps they were just too different to understand each other. And he got it, really, he did. There was the spiritual and then there was Amber. And that could be intimidating.

  “Yeah, that’s the one, exaltation.” Chad smeared a napkin across his stubble. “But you know, when you’ve been near death before, the veil is always sorta open.”

  “She taught you that?”

  “Well, I’ve seen her have the visions, haven’t I? And that’s the veil opening, so.” Chad’s leg jolted up and down, knocking Melanie’s briefly. She placed a cool palm on his knee and he stiffened.

  “A lot to handle with Amber, I’m sure.”

  “I don’t like your talk, Mel.”

  She blinked and removed her hand. “Now, Chad. How long you known me? I meant nothing by it.” She laughed and shook her head at him.

  “Why, hello you two!” It was Brett, the head of the church, doing his welcome rounds. He moved between tables like a dog undergoing an agility course, making him seem much younger than he was. Chad had always loved Brett’s voice: warm and booming—the warmth necessary, as his beard encompassed most facial movement. He stroked his own stubbled facial hair, wishing it could grow to that length. “Blessed be you. Did you get the chance to donate to the church fund this morning? We’ll be visiting the sick next week and every penny is a pound of kindness.”

  Ah. He made a show of patting his pockets, but knew he had forgotten to bring his wallet out again. Melanie seemed to catch the movement because she spoke quickly:

  “Hello Brett, thank you for a lovely service as usual—I actually paid for Chad and myself this week.” Melanie spoke quickly, with uncharacteristic confidence. He mouthed that he would pay her later but she waved him away.

  “Well! You are certainly a friend most kind, Mel. Give my love to your father, will you? And where is the new apple of our eye, Amber then, eh?” Brett’s eyes twinkled mysteriously, as if letting Chad in on a private joke.

  “Well. She is sorry to miss today. But she’s got a headache the size of the canyon, I’m afraid,” Chad sucked on his teeth to produce a long whistle. “Wooo, it’s a real sucker punch to the skull.”

  “That’s a crying shame, will you send my prayers to her? Well, we all certainly noticed. Missed her. Gilly and Ivan are due an approval, you see, before they enter the temple. Made an exception for the wedding but it’s a bit of a sticky one! Can’t use the temple without an approval, you know? Sticky, sticky…” And then his face lit up. “But what did Amber think of it? The renovations are pretty impressive, right?”

  “Oh, she’s impressed alright. Mentioned the canvas on the ceiling—”

  “—forty-eight panels that is, yes, yes, glorious,”

  “—must be the most impressive Latter Day Saints temple around, I reckon.”

  Brett nodded solemnly and patted Chad on the shoulder. “Sure is. You tell her to come bring the kids for that approval, now. But good to see you.”

  “I’ll tell her.”

  “You do that,” Brett’s back had already turned towards the next parishioner mid-cookie bite.

  “She should try some lavender tea,” Mel blurted.

  “What?”

  “For her headaches, Chad. A world of good. Or just a bowl of hot water, set it up, and then inhale the steam.” She smiled and patted his shoulder. “I’m sure it’s just settling in nerves. She’ll be alright soon enough.”

  “Sure enough,” he said.

  “Here when you need me…Though I worry you never will anymore!” She laughed, but it came out hollow. He pulled at loose skin around his thumb and attempted a smile, unsure what to say. “Well…” She scooped up her bag and empty saucer efficiently and nodded a goodbye.

  “Do I not get a hug?” Chad gave her a wry smile.

  “Oh. Did you want one?” Her feet were angled towards the door, but her eyes were wide and hopeful.

  “Guess I was just being grumpy. Maybe that’s what happens when you get married, what do you reckon, Mel?”

  “Oh, you are just terrible,” she said and they laughed. There was a pause, and he thought perhaps her pride would hold her back, but then she caved, and gave him the hug.

  16TH APRIL, 2015

  AMBER

  “It’s just a coffee morning,” she said to her reflection, splashing water onto the back of her neck. She looked good. Ready to face the town, give them the gossip they desperately needed. She’d dabbed some tasteful silver shimmer around her eyes and worn her favourite little black dress (you couldn’t go wrong—some would say ‘demure’, some would say ‘suggestive’, and she’d be happy with either). She circled her tummy, scooping it sideways. From certain angles you couldn’t even tell she had birthed two children, she was certain of it.

  Right, she couldn’t hide in the church toilets forever.

  First impressions were that the highlight of the church’s weekly social calendar took place in a kind of flea market venue. Decorations seemed mismatched, retrieved from skips or donated from charity shop hauls. She counted seven chequered shirts in various colours, some of which blended in with the tabletop coverings. She suddenly felt like a bit of an idiot in her black dress, more suited for a cocktail bar than a coffee morning.

  Chad was already scoffing a cookie at the bar (could you call it that, when it would never serve alcohol?). He didn’t have the most defined of jawlines. Walking towards him, mid-bite, was like looking ten years into the future (she simulated the second chin. Perhaps she wouldn’t mind, by then? They could just cohabitate, all sexual desire having faded into vague acts of service). He was with Melanie, of course. Their greying neighbour, with a habit of staring for longer than was socially-acceptable. Not that the woman was a threat, but Amber found it a strange coupling. Just because they’d lived alongside each other this long didn’t mean he had to continue being her best friend for all eternity. Apparently hanging out with Melanie was a weekend feature of Chad’s life—how depressing. Sure, she felt bad about it, her gut reaction, but…surely there were more interesting characters around that he could spend his time with? She had preconceptions about Melanie’s character. Possible infatuation with her husband was one. A needy disposition was another—and Amber didn’t want her lingering around Chad’s house, integrating herself into their marriage like a leech.

  Melanie spotted her first and Amber found herself in a tight hug, inhaling a strong wave of lavender.

  “Welcome!”

  “Thank you.” Amber disentangled herself, a little ashamed of herself now that Melanie had greeted her so warmly. She returned the nods of strangers stepping around them with china detritus.

  “You’ll get to meet everyone now!”

  “Well, I introduced her to people at the endowment ceremony,” Chad pointed out and reached out his hand for Amber’s, pulling her closer into the room.

  “Oh, but it’s not the same, is it?” Then she wrinkled her nose at Amber. It was a girlish action but, in old age, heightened her wrinkles. “Come sit with us.”

  Amber allowed herself be led to a table housing a mother and her baby, surprised by how tactile Melanie was. “Come with me,” she mouthed at Chad, but he was already talking about last week’s trout catch with some overweight man she didn’t recognise.

  “Amy, this is Chad’s wife!” Melanie presented Amber as though she had baked her in the oven—from scratch.

  “Well, my name is Amber,” she corrected, tetchy. Amy dislodged a hairless baby from her right nipple to her left in order to reach out her hand and shake hers.

  “Amber! You’re feeling it already, then?”

  Amber sat gingerly next to her, taking in Amy’s threadbare T-shirt, which read ‘Don’t ask me, Google It’, and her ginger ponytail. The chairs here were plastic and woefully old. They made Amber want to go round and spray everything with an antibacterial spray. It seemed the entire budget had been spent first on the exterior, the palm tree-framed gardens and the pristine lake, and then on the hospital-white Temple…there had been nothing left for the tea room.

  “Feeling what?” That came out harsh—borderline rude—but Amy didn’t seem to take offence.

  “That you’re losing your identity. Now you’re a ‘wife’. People forget to use your name.”

  Amber laughed despite herself. A sharp tongue and opinions had not been what she was expecting from this young mother. Melanie laughed too, but it sounded more like nerves.

  “Oh, come on now. Amber is in her honeymoon stage, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

  “I suppose my list of complaints is small.” Amber wiped sweaty palms against her thighs and was rewarded with a giggle from Amy.

  “How old is he?” She nodded at the child, hoping she was correct that the child was a boy.

  “Seven months. Thank God.” Melanie tutted and Amber rolled her eyes instinctively. Melanie had clearly forgotten that babies necessitated blasphemy—and cuss words—anything that might help substitute for a lack of sleep.

  “You wishing the baby phase away?”

  “Oh, why would anyone wish that?” Melanie cried, loud enough to raise eyebrows.

  “I’m just glad that he can smile now.”

  “Lucas,” Melanie added.

  Amy frowned but inclined her head to acknowledge the interruption. “Yes. My husband said we should use his own name. Going to cause chaos when he can talk. But like I was saying, the smiling helps. Feels like he’s less of an ass now when he shits in a new nappy—to spite me mainly, I reckon—but then he smiles, and I think, at least you got a sense of humour!” Lucas released a nipple and gurgled milk down his chin, smiling at Amber as the liquid dripped.

  “He’s cute,” she said. She knew that was her cue to say it. “But like, don’t feel bad. I couldn’t stand either of mine for months. And how fragile they were disgusted me. I was scared to touch them at first—what if I dislocated a joint of theirs? I used to stand over their crib…And I didn’t know if I was meant to feel how I did. Because no one tells you that, do they?”

  Amy grunted her approval and patted Amber’s hand.

  “It’s a lonely time, for sure. You must have been pretty young?”

  Amber nodded. “Twenty, with my first.”

  “That’s not how I felt at all,” Melanie piped up, cheeks rouging. And Amber could see that this was a woman who came from love, married for love, and had been given love in return. Amber and Amy stared at her, united. “Did you not feel that uncontrollable burst of love when the nurse first handed him to you?” Amber smiled but shrugged. She wished she had felt like that—an instant connection would have made her feel less alone, holed up in the house, waiting for Jack to come back and acknowledge her existence.

  “No,” Amy said frankly. “I’d ripped my vagina to shreds, Melanie, and after twenty-five hours in labour, I barely even loved my husband.” Amber erupted into laughter as Melanie’s face crumpled, and Chad drifted their way. Amber clocked him and grinned, but he didn’t return the smile. Something seemed to have irritated him. From the way that he stared at Amy as he approached, she expected it had something to do with her.

  “How squeamish are you, Chad?” Amy asked him.

  He grimaced and placed his hands on Amber’s shoulders. “Have I walked in at the wrong moment?” he said into her ear.

  “The best moment,” Amy told him gleefully. “We’re chatting childbirth!” Chad pulled a face and pretended to hide behind Amber’s chair.

  “Oh, Chad—” Melanie reached for his arm. “It was lovely to meet Amber properly, but I’m afraid I have to go. You’re both very welcome at mine, any time. In fact, I insist, Amber. I make a mean Jello Salad, just you ask Chad!” Leaving was just an excuse, Amber thought, as they said their goodbyes, but at least it had become apparent early on. It was a matter of personalities: Amber and Melanie were very different people. Chad would just have to accept that.

 

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