Scribblings

Super-Mom in ten Minutes 
Still needs serious editing, but this is the general idea.

Chapter one – to maid or not to maid

“Mo-o-om…!,” her shriek attacked me, clawing at  my raw nerves. I held onto the kitchen counter and counted to ten…. Why is it that since the grand occasion of being a Mom, I, Rebecca Mae Banfield, a well educated woman, tertiary education even, is only able to count to ten? I only ever see the need for counting to ten, because everything else happens so many times that it is impossible to keep tally.  The dirty lunch dishes stare back at me accusingly as I pass them on the way to my daughter.

    As I approached her room, I can hear the music that yells from her sound system. One thing to be grateful for is that it is actually Gospel music! No Really. Gospel is written on the cover of the CD, I do not recognise it as Gospel, but that is what it says. This should please me immensely, but I find it difficult to take joy in the bashing of drums and the screeching of electric guitars no matter the genre.

She’s lying on her bed, on her back with her knees drawn up. Jason is doing his hair in front of her mirror, with her hairbrush. I suppose it was not funny. Just before I got mad I smiled. He didn’t have anything on his head that even warranted the use of the brush. His hair was long now, and it might have reached the length that a number four blade would shave it!

“What is it?” I wonder what could have been the cause of such a desperate cry.

“Jason won’t leave my things alone.” She whines.

“You called me for that? You screamed at me, because of that?” I yelled loudly.

This was the last straw!

I have absolutely had it! I was not smiling any more!

No matter what the situation… it is always my problem to solve!

Well no more!

    Honestly speaking, Rachel calling me that afternoon has absolutely nothing to do with my emotions. She just happened to call me at the time when I was feeling exhausted and hopeless in my situation. Or would that be ‘in our situation’?

Oh yes, and I was out of Vitamin B which is a bad sign. Vitamin B is the life saver in this house. Everyone should be introduced to the soothing qualities of Vitamin B. We use it most days, especially on days when things are a little wild, and aim toward being tense. Certain times of the month too, when the peanut butter starts to take a dive, I make sure I hand them out. I don’t get ratty with my premenstrual cycle, everybody else does though!

Somehow, this wonderful vitamin has the ability to give us all better days. Alas I digress.

It has been years and years, somehow it feels longer, but no, it has only been years, that I have caught myself in this predicament. Each time I become aware of it, I strongly determine to stride my way triumphantly out of it. And then, all goes well for a few victorious days and I find myself falling irrevocably back into the same blinking rut again.

I have a feeling I am not the only mother or housewife caught in this cycle.

Housework. Now there’s a dirty word if ever there was one.

‘Why don’t you get yourself a maid?’ you say? Well, sure we could afford a maid, but…

I have found that when I have a maid, it’s almost like having another child in the house. Most times you have to train them… every week. And I think I could only cope with a maid once a week. A Char is what we call them here. And then you are still not quite satisfied with the work that they do. Not forgetting the guilt!

Here are two scenarios:

    The Maid is going to be here on Friday scenario one, so Thursday evening means you scramble around like a mad thing, trying to tidy and clean so the maid does not think you live in a pig sty. You take all the laundry that has been dumped into the way-too-small basket, start folding it neatly and place it back in the still way-too-small basket. At least now it has a pile that towers toward the ceiling rather than covering the guest room carpet! You pick up and put away things you didn’t even know you had. Climb over the feet of those lounging on the sofa watching TV. Grumbling all the time that you are the only one who ever does anything around here. In the bathroom, another disaster awaits. Toothpaste is drying around the mouth of the tube because some one did not replace the cap, so neither did anyone else! This has been going on for a while, as said toothpaste cap refuses to go back on tube. Grab one of your kid’s tooth brushes and start scrubbing frantically!

    Note to self: no need to use your own toothbrush when there are so many to choose from.

    By the time you’re ready to fall into bed, you are rather thrilled at what you were able to accomplish in just one evening, and wonder whether it is really worthwhile having the added expense of a maid. You can manage fine you tell your half dead self as you begin to dose.

    Maid is going to be here on Friday scenario two. This one is as bad as the first, or maybe worse. Great, that means the place will be tidy for the whole… Friday? No seriously. Have you found that too?

If the maid is going to be doing her thing,(or would that be your thing/my thing)anyways, if she does the housework on Friday, it is fair to assume that the place will be tidy for longer than the time it takes her to leave, isn’t it?

No? Blow me down, she’s scarcely out the door and there are traces of the building of a peanut butter sandwich all over the kitchen counter. I turn around from waving her goodbye, and promptly trip over a stray school bag or shoe! It is really as bad as this. And then … the great attempt! This is where we all try desperately to keep our home tidy. We even wash the dishes after dinner on Friday night. (The pizza boxes just get slung out, I know, but sometimes there are a few plates too). Saturday morning, we have things to do places to go and people to see. This inadvertently means that we will get home late, or with shopping or both, and dump things where they do not live, and, because of our joint fatigued state… leave it all there. Sunday being the day of rest, is just that!

Monday comes along and we all start to slog our way around the house, in the kitchen, in the bathrooms… oh yes... we even have bedrooms! I am not so sure that I even want to go there with you though.

And so we wait for Friday to happen again, because the maid comes on Friday!

    I am not sure that I want a maid. I am sure the household is supposed to be my responsibility. I am absolutely certain that I want to be able to cope. And that I am able to cope. If only I had a little help…

Chapter two – freezing what?

    Being Mom is great, no, really! I love the thought of being the one that is responsible for the caring of my children. In the same breath, I am scared sockless! What an amazing privilege to be able to have the lives of children to mould and fashion into real human beings. Teaching them all they need to know. Showing them the ropes when it comes to the things that matter. Sure their dad has a role in this too! But I am talking the nuts and bolts here. I am talking the stuff that counts everyday, all day not just the time after all the chores are done, well hopefully done. But when the homework is complete, when bath time is a thing of the past even dinner sometimes has come and gone before dad gets a peek in at them. Then all he hears about are the good things that happened that day. Not the things like Mom had to threaten like crazy before they actually cleaned their rooms. Not going to tell him how crazed she looked flying around the bedroom screaming that she had the most ungrateful kids south of the Equator. She was flapping a huge black garbage bag in her wake, calling to mind, a witch with her cape. Black bin bags are all the rage here. All that was missing was a grass broom, though not sure whether the vacuum cleaner makes quite the same statement…

School shoes are finally polished and the mess on the carpet has been salvaged to a rather acceptable grey smudge.

Dinner dishes are done, well sort of, but the amount of whining and arguing that accompanied the task had Mom counting to ten yet again!

Silkworms were fed… with leaves that Mom collected from a neighbour because we no longer have a Mulberry tree, well not since Jason poured the mower’s petrol out all over the base of it anyway. These leaves are kept in the refrigerator, and the squiggly creatures get their daily allowance from there.

A learning experience is what they are supposed to be, that’s even what the teachers at school say. What do they know? I’ll bet they didn’t know a silkworm can be frozen!

Well it’s true; we saw it in our own kitchen! Rachel was supposed to feed them, and instead of, hey I’m not sure what she intended, but the worms ended up in the freezer. The next day when she went to do the same thing again, and feed them,, she discovered that the leaves she had placed in the shoe box yesterday were all still whole. Albeit a little wilted! And not a worm to be found!

“Mo-O-M! They’ve gone!” accompanied by the galumphing footsteps down the stairs.

“What now?” while silently “four, five, six…” My default reaction this counting thing. As soon as I hear that tone, it just kicks right in!

I have a default menu too, its spaghetti bolognaise, we have that for dinner when I don’t feel like cooking or don’t know what to cook.

“My silkworms, they’ve escaped!” She sobbed, shoving the box under my nose.

Now you know, and I know that silkworms don’t do that, they stay where you put them… on the leaves!

But, they were gone, nowhere to be seen not under the leaves, nor under the box. Nowhere.

“… eight… nine… blast!” I pushed my hair behind my ears, completely baffled.

Where could they be? What did we do with them, it’s not like we played with them. One plays with kittens, one plays with puppies but not silkworms. They aren’t that much fun. Anyone who’s gone through silkworm phase knows this. All they do is eat, eat and sleep, well I think they sleep, I must say that I have never watched them long enough to really find out, as I said before, they’re not much fun. All I could assume was they had been thrown out. Dumped in the bin with the old left over leaves from yesterday. I did that once with my potato peeler, chucked it out with the peels. But the potato peeler didn’t need feeding.

By this time Rachel was beside herself. Her cute little fat worms were gone, now how was she going to be able to sell worms she didn’t have?

Jason, normally not the sharpest knife in the drawer, mooched over to the fridge to look for the worms. Like I said, not the sharp one here. Only he wasn’t bothered with the lost worms, he wanted a drink. He reached for the juice decided he wanted ice in his juice so opened the freezer compartment.

That’s where they were, stiff little non-wriggly silkworms in an icy pose, still waiting to be fed.

Jason laughed so hard he spilled the juice. Rachel just cried harder at the demise of her not very exciting pets. I was grateful that we found them, as I would have hated to find them floating in the washing machine between the bubbles and socks.

Okay, so that was the end of the silkworms. We scooped them up and threw their stiff little bodies into the garbage bin. Rachel was sobbing slightly less by this time.  I suggested that the remaining Mulberry leaves follow smartly behind the critters.

     Note to self:

Remember this when you agree to silkworms next season.

    So taking her sweet time about it, Rachel opened the fridge and started gathering leaves from the crisper. As she pushed the bin pedal with her toe, opening the bin, she let out a screech and promptly hurled the leaves all over the kitchen, slamming the bin shut as she jumped away from it.

Well I nearly wet myself, and Jason messed his juice again!

The worms were alive! They were moving over the garbage looking for lunch.

Chapter three – this is how we look

     I figure I am part of a rather regular family unit. I am also sure that other families cope better at being a family than I do. I have a husband who loves me. At least I think he does, as he takes good care of me and financially sees that we lack for nothing. Barring sanity, but I can’t really blame that on him. John is a motivational speaker. He does really well in great big companies, getting people to work well together, talking together and this with complete strangers. Whereas on the home front, he is unable motivate himself enough to hang up his jacket. He does not even talk much. He communicates what needs to be communicated, but general light chit chat seems to be beyond him. He looks good for his age; he works out downstairs in the gym quite regularly. He has dark hair with some silver at the temples, making him look rather distinguished. His crows feet creases are endearing, and his eyes dance with laughter most of the time.

 I find that rather unfair don’t you? His crows feet are endearing, mine make me look old. Causing me to run around from shop to shop, flit from product to product hoping to find that elusive potion that’s going to stop them! I remember the first time I bought some wrinkle vanishing cream or wrinkle lift or erase or some such rubbish, and used. I was still standing in front of the mirror, with some of the gloopy, evil smelling stuff on my fingers and John walked passed me. “It doesn’t work.” I said to him. Still staring in the mirror. His grey hair makes him look distinguished while my salt and pepper effect boosts my good friend Lady Clairol’s sales. If I kept my natural look, I would be more of a frump than what I am already. On the other hand if John even as much as looked at hair dyr for himself, I would do something really ugly, and would not be held responsible for my actions. Isn’t that a strange phenomenon? No, what’s god for goose is most certainly not good for gander!

Both children are healthy, lively children. They do normal children-like things, and don’t do normal children things either. They are both fair skinned and dark haired. Rachel wears her hair in a long pony tail, and Jason just has his. He takes as little time with his appearance as possible. So, we shave his head a number three. This stops me sending him back to the bathroom to do his hair each morning, and stops Jason from having to do his hair each morning. This could be classed as one of the few ‘win win” situations in our home. Freckles dust their noses rather sweetly. That they got from me. Rachel, two years her brother’s senior, does not feel they are sweet at all. In fact as she is twelve going on twenty, not too much is sweet in her eyes. She pretty much has something negative to say about just about everything. But as a family, they are pretty good to look at.

I conversely, in contrast or rather great contrast to the others need much attention.

I seem to have succumbed to “the force”. I know, because I actually saw it myself. It’s true you know, one is clearly able to see it. It’s not like a magnetic force that you can see when you play with metal filings and a magnet. Nothing as mundane and entertaining as that. The force I am talking about is by far more powerful, destructive and sneaky too. It creeps up on you when you aren’t looking. It attacks in ways you have absolutely no defence against. And it starts in places you cannot even see.

Like your butt! So that by the time you notice the damage done by this great power it’s too late to be able to do anything about it!

It goes by the name of Gravity.

This is serious. I went to the mall the other day to find a bathing suit. Well it’s Spring and I thought a new one would be a good thing, as I was still wearing the matern… well, one from 10 years ago. I was certainly due for a change.

Okay so there I was, in a mall, to purchase one item of clothing. It was eight fifteen, in the morning, I should be back home by nine thirty. That would give me more than enough time to clean house before going off to fetch the kids from school.

Note to self:

Shopping never goes the way you planned

Making my way up the escalator, aiming for a store I knew sold swim suits I watched my reflection on her own escalator.

Auburn curls pulled up on top of her head, tied with one of those teeth things. Big green T-shirt hanging over a pair of blue jeans. I couldn’t see the health sandals in the reflection, but I knew they were there. A rucksack for a handbag, slung over one shoulder. Not too bad, but I was fully aware of the fact hat the Big T-shirt was covering up… er… something!

I made my way over to the underwear department attracted by the bright sunny colours in front of me, I reached for what I thought would be my size. But there seemed to be too little cloth.

Lovely material, yes, just not enough of the stuff!

Well I stretched up anyway and took a few different styles.  Braved my way over to the fitting room, looking around to see if there was anyone I recognised. I would hate to have to share this experience, you see.

The first thing to say about this exercise is … why on earth is it called a ‘Fitting Room’, when it’s smaller than my closet? There is No Room!

Picture this: I have a rucksack over my shoulder and seven hangers with bits of fabric hanging from them. The hangers seem to be larger than the fabric. I push open the curtain, and … there in front of me, is another me! This huge mirror, I was later to discover, was terribly distorted. But not only is this the tiniest room I ever saw, but I have to share the blinking thing with another me!

I finally get myself into the space, and hang up my bag. Now I am standing with a fist full of hangers and need to get undressed. I don’t want to put the clothes on the floor. So I slip my bag off the hook and force seven bits of metal over the hook.

Right, so far, so good! The only thing is that the curtain doesn’t seem to quite fit either. I reach up and yank it to the corner, only to watch in dismay as the other side opened up. Not much, I agree, but too much for me. I could see the whole store through that gap. Thinking for about 40 seconds, realised that no one was interested in this booth, and they really would be able to see anything anyway.

I bravely slip my T over my head and move to take off my jeans. Golly but I need a tan. I know in this day and age and ozone or no ozone, tanning is a taboo, but the great white is I!!! This lighting doesn’t help either. As I bend to pick up my jeans, someone touched my rear.

I jumped up so smartly nearly banging my head on the mirror, only to see that it was a something and not a someone. What a relief you might think, No, it was the curtain that touched me. You see this place is so small I cannot even bend over! Now the gap has grown too. In my unders, I start the curtain wrestle once again. It’s five after nine and I still haven’t even tried on a suit. Seeing the time I decide to ignore the stupid curtain and start the trying on process.

The blue one first.

This is a gorgeous periwinkle blue with tiny white Lily of the Valley printed in sprays down the front. Nice, excepting it only goes midway up my thighs. Scratch that.

Taking off that one I reach for the next. This one is plainer, navy blue, also a full piece. I manage to get it on all the way. This is a good thing.

Well it was until I saw that other me in the mirror!

My boobs were gone!

But my butt was still there, because I could see it falling out below the material! There was no room for the boobs, so the suit squashed them flat and no room for the butt, so it got kicked out!

Next!

All this wriggling is hard work.

I exchanged the Blue for a less aggressive pink. This one looked like she had promise. Yes, this one felt so comfy. It had a plunging v in the front, another in the back… oh my gosh, where’d it go? I turned to face the mirror and saw that it was terribly see through. I could see the shadow of my belly button even! And it made me look ill. The colour was all wrong. My freckles came alive and it made me look fat!

Pink blimp, no thank you.

Well, that was how I spent my morning. Trying on first one, then another skimpy tube of lycra after the other. Each one equally rude in their attack. One hid the boobs, another showed off my belly, and another made my butt twice its size, by being half the material needed in size!

Three and a half disheartened hours later, I emerged from behind the curtain.

Still no choice made as to what I was going to wear at the beach this summer.

I needed some coffee. During a cappuccino with cream my thoughts were deep on the forces of nature. One is able to get insurance against earthquakes, and theft and brutal mugging, but has anyone ever thought to insure against Gravity? No of course not. There is no stopping this ruthless beast. And no amount of counting will help me cope better with it either….

Chapter four – Dinner

"…. and that was our winner for this morning, she has won a trip to The Beach Hotel for two nights,  bed and breakfast, evening shows at the Beach Club, movie tickets and lots, lots more including spending money to the value of R3000.00. Congratulations Miss…"

Boy, could I do with a prize like that! Not the money and stuff, just the getting away for a couple of days…. I’m sure it won’t solve any of my household problems, but it sure as anything would make me feel better! I didn't even want to attend the shows, just a room, where no one would barge in on me at any time, tune into the radio station I wanted to listen to for a change, and go to the loo uninterrupted! Bliss!

But this was not to be this morning as I dodged yet another taxi doing a social something in the middle of the fast lane. Africa has some interesting road rules, and they are ever changing.

I was actually feeling quite put out by these silly little things that were winning so many neat prizes. I knew that I could write better stories than the ones  that were winning…. but of course, so much against her, again!

Between getting children ready for school; fetching and carrying, driving home to start on the laundry, floors, laundry, cooking, laundry and dishes, picking the kids up from school, library trips, swimming meets, and extra math classes… remembering there’s a husband in there somewhere too. Besides, she had to admit, maybe John was right in saying that she was being frivolous, a dreamer who had no right to be a dreamer. You see, secretly I dreamed of being a writer. Not just any writer, but a writer of children’s stories. Stories that would change the world. In as much as they change the children who read them. Stories that would teach children how to deal with the knocks that life throws at them and how to develop into well adjusted adults. These adults of course are to be our future leaders… etc .

"There is no time in this life for dreaming, that doesn't get the bills paid now does it? Or the new pool put in, we gotta work together at this thing" … And well, maybe he was right after all.

But that does not change the fact that these stories being vomited out on the airwaves were still lacking in so much.

Another "early morning syndrome" on the downhill slope, the drive home from dropping off kids is usually a little time to myself before I start on the days' chores. On the local radio station, I hear about another Ninny winning some outrageous prize for an equally drab bit of writing. Frustration starts to climb.. you know the kind, when there are so many options that its really difficult to decide? Well that was it. Today the laundry could wait, the kitchen floor wasn't that bad really, burgers for lunch, some frozen soup for supper? Decided!

All I did when I got home was make up my and Johns bed, tidy the room, surface the lounge (vacuum tomorrow) and put the kettle on for a cup of tea! Though there was a definite need to mop up the milk, sugar and cereal bits on the counter before even putting my cup down next to the kettle. It was just before ten. John Loves me very much, but he doesn’t seem to understand this thing inside me that needs to get out. I really, really want to write. If I hadn’t had children so early in our marriage, I would have been an active journalist today. John seems to think that writing is not ‘real’ work. I disagree of course. As much as I generally respect his wishes, I feel he’s wrong in this instance. It’s his opinion, I know, but still, I have a life and an opinion too. I didn’t always just do housework, ferry children back and forth and cook you know. This morning I was about to rebel!

I could feel my heart racing, like when you get on the roller coaster for the first time…… That was it! I knew what I would write about! So taking my tea to the family room, sat down in front of the computer and simply got to it.

Without a hitch, I wrote down my paragraph, and sent it off on e-mail before I lost my nerve!

Maybe I could have, but no, it was too late, it was done, it was sent, no turning back!

My tea was cold, pale skin kind of cold, yuck! I boiled the kettle and made another cup. Sitting down at the kitchen counter to enjoy it slowly, I looked about my sunny kitchen. Noticing that little Jason had left his homework diary at home again, Rachel left her lunch, again, wondering whether Rachel was trying to deliberately not eat?

Nah, not Rachel!

Looking across at the fridge, talk about a blast of negative confirmation! With all the pictures and paraphernalia on the fridge door, it was painfully obvious that there wasn't an ounce of creativity in this family!

Note to self:

The kids need some artistic/creative influence in their lives.

Creativity is "The Something Special" that happens to the artist when standing before a clean, fresh canvas, that same "Something" that springs up in the actor that brings character to life. Creativity is the ability to make something unique of the mundane, the building of an exciting journey from the obstacle course of life. It is the ability of imparting of one's self with the object of enriching others.

It springs from deep within, snatching from what is on the surface, to mould and shape into the minds of others…. the freedom to explore.

The more the stimulation - the better the results, and practice is a hard taskmaster for the artist. Rehearsals are painful for the actor, so too do re-writes build the writer.

To see with fresh eyes all that can be creative, one must never stop looking.

I’d better get the dishes done before fetching the youngsters from school. Looking toward the sink, the adrenaline rush of the morning fast left the room, and a slow panic starting up in its place. A leg of lamb was slowly, non-committal in its act of defrosting on the draining rack. Though I could feel it staring at me.

Dinner!

Tonight!  John’s boss and his wife!

Tuesday!

Today was Tuesday, and I knew they were coming here tonight, how could I have forgotten? Shute, tonight would have to be perfect, for John's sake, his promotion depended on it! It didn't matter that I had dreaded this dinner for two weeks solid, the wife was really something else! She just looked down her nose at everything she saw, insinuated all sorts of things. She was a trial on her own. I wonder what made her that way. I was still considering this when I started thinking about my own childhood. I wonder how different I would have been if my circumstances were different. I would probably be very much the same. I might be able to say I would have been more disciplined etc, but nah, we are who we are I believe. The Director wasn't so bad; crows feet etched deeply into the laughing face would set anyone at ease, but Mrs. Director …!

Can't think now! Got to fetch the children. It is going to have to wait until we get back home.

I told he kids about diner in the car on the way home, and some sort of plan had started to form by the time we got there.

Now my Rachel, isn't she just the sweetest? She actually thinks that she will be able to cook while Mom cleans! I suppose one could even say she was being creative!

"Well sorry to say, Honey, it’s the other way around! Another time maybe, but right now I need for you and Jason to get stuck in to the lounge, bathroom and dining room. Dusters and vacuum cleaner and rags and buckets! Now!"

“Uh , Mom, what about lunch? I'm hungry." Well now if that was not typical Jason..

"Not now Son, we'll all have something to eat later! We don't have the time to make anything right now."

“So why can't we buy something?”  Starting to whine now, “The Homefeeder will bring it! You always say that we don't need to use the delivery service, but now you can see that we do! You won't waste time cooking food, or cleaning up the kitchenafterwards, you won’t even have to go and fetch the food…."

What did I say about no creativity?

“Jason! You genius you! That’s it, I'll call the hotel! Surely they will deliver us a meal? At least if we order a meal for four it won't be too pricey?” I was warming to the idea as I spoke.

"Great, and what will we eat now?"

“Oh just shush, you genius! Here take the pizza menu and, Penny, You call and place an order for the two of you.”

I left the kitchen with garlic versus mushroom arguments falling on the decorated fridge.

Where was the phone book? Would it work? Will they even do the wine? They do it on TV. Let’s find out, we can only try!

"That was wonderful, Mrs. B, what a fine spread you put on for us." Mr. Director purred, leaning back in his chair rubbing his broad mid section.

John had hardly looked at Becky all evening, and when he did, it was with a puzzled expression in his clear blue eyes. Even Mrs. Director couldn’t find fault! One-nil in Becky’s favor!

Her face ached with grinning while waving goodbye, she knew that she had to face John head on, before he got started.

"Well, here goes” I  breathed silently.

“My darling, you were magnificent this evening, though I thought you said that we were going to have lamb roast for dinner. Not that the fillet wasn't delicious! And your choice of wine, you really surprised me. You did me proud, I think it went very well, thank you." He praised while kissing me in the neck.

“You’re welcome" I replied, while skipping off into the kitchen, to wash-up. John came up behind me and started to lend a hand. Filling up the sink with sudsy water I started with the glasses while he began bringing dishes to the kitchen. I was on such a high, that I didn't even begin to foresee what happened next.

"Rebecca, where does this tureen come from?" asked John turning it over in his hands.

My hands froze as I tried desperately to come up with a suitable answer.

"I, uh, what one?"

"Hotel Lombarde? How come we have…? Do you mean to say that you got food from the hotel for tonight?” His eyes flashed with anger as he realised what I had done. “Are you crazy? That costs a fortune!” Then he began to nod his head in understanding, “No wonder everything was cooked so well! I should've known better than to think that you would be able to achieve anything nearly as good as we had tonight! Trust you to cheat your way into Mr. Director's heart. What kind of impression will that leave?”

“What do you mean what impression will it make? He enjoyed the food just fine!” I retorted angrily.

“He eats there all the time! Especially when he has to entertain high powered associates, we can't afford to live like he does, that’s why I need the promotion!! Don't you think at all during the day? What do you do all day anyway? You certainly aren't making money as fast as you are spending it! I won't even ask how much this evening cost…. because I'm not paying for it, you are! And I don't care how!”

On that note he stormed out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on his trousers as he went. I could hear the bathroom door slam shut as he went in.

"Wonderful, and goodnight to you too!” I shouted at his back even though my heart was breaking, I would not let him see how much I was hurting.

"Jason, you still haven't done your hair. Where are your school shoes?" I squinted my tired, red eyes at the early morning sunshine. Jay had sloshed milk over the counter and it was dripping on the floor. Again. It could wait. Again.

"Rachel, get out the bathroom, Jason needs to do his teeth!"

The kids looked at each other but were both wise enough not to ask questions about last night.

Dad was gone early this morning, something had obviously gone wrong.

On the way home in the traffic, I was contemplating my life, fed up with having to make ends meet, always penny pinching, routine maid, chief cook and bottle washer. No pay, on call twenty four hours a day, no sick leave (maybe if actually dying) And not even able to go to the loo without someone questioning your whereabouts! Fed up doesn't even come close! Suddenly in my thoughts I heard my own words coming back to me:

"….and you realize that this is the beginning of the rest of your life, you fling your arms wide, and grasp hold of it with all that you have, and enjoy the ride…! -And that was this morning's winner. The prize for the best by far, and I hope you are sitting down, Mrs. Rebecca Mae Banfield, you are, as of this morning Ten Thousand Rands richer! And that is not all, you get to go on a two weeks' holiday in the Maldives, for two all expenses paid. Well done, you will be hearing from us shortly!”

Sitting. Of course I was sitting. Paralyzed. Sure I was sitting! In fact I was parked on the highway in the middle of peak hour traffic! Sitting! Causing a tremendous ruckus, and not too popular either for that matter!

I had completely forgotten why I was in so much trouble in the first place! Why I'd spent the whole night crying. I'd never seen John so mad before. The one time I took a chance and went with my heart, all I got was trouble!

Last night I had sworn never again. But now?

“I won! I won! I won!” I laughed hysterically in the car.

"I'll pay for the dinner, Mr. John Andrew Banfield, so there”, Still laughing. “And to boot I'll even take you on a stress free two weeks to the Maldives! And after that I'll get a maid who can do the housework and I'll do what I've never had the time or confidence to do! And yes…. This is the beginning of the rest of my life, Mister, and I am about to make the best of it!”

Chapter Five – Enter Maria

This is me, Becky starting out on a brand new life. You see, I have had a maid before but never have I experienced the pleasures and joys of a live-in maid. The casual maid scenario is not for me, as you have previously been enlightened to. But this is a whole new ball game.

Maria is her name. She is round and beautiful. And makes tea! My hat, she makes me tea, I don’t even have to ask and its there! I can’t believe the changes a maid can bring. Last month I was pulling out my hair in frustration, now, just look at me.  I have been banging at my keyboard for two hours already this morning and now it is tea time. Enter Maria Mahlangu bearing a tray and a huge white smile in a very black face. She bustles past me and goes on to the patio, where the table and chair rest under the shade of a garden umbrella. A new garden umbrella, bought with the winnings of the competition. We have still not gone on the holiday yet as there are some difficulties that John needs to iron out at work first. And we need to be sure that the children will be fine with Maria in the time we would go away. I think they’ll be fine personally, but John seems to have his reservations. But soon we will go and I might even fit into a new swimsuit for the occasion.

Saving what I had written I get up and follow her out. She pours. You heard right, she even pours the tea!

‘Thank you, Maria”, I say as I tuck in to a sandwich. I should cut down on these, as good as they are, my jeans are starting to complain when doing up the zip. Better watch it or I won’t be able to find a swimming suit hat even fits!

I look out at the garden and see the laundry hanging out in the morning sunshine. My heart warms at the sight. No longer am I the one who is chasing after missing socks, and rotten bits of clothing that never seem to make it to the wash. This is all Maria’s joy now. I know, I seem so fickle don’t I? Before I had Maria all I did was complain about having a maid in the house. But I’ve changed. No really. I am woman after all. She has changed my life. Actually it has only been two weeks that she’s been with me. No it’s not with ‘us’, it’s with me. I am the one who worked my butt off never getting anywhere, I am the one who nagged and begged for family to pick up after themselves. Me.

Threaten and cajole were my inventions. They have my picture next to them in the dictionary! I am the one who is paying her salary after all, and telling her what to do. Not that it makes any difference what I tell her. She does whatever she wants to. But at least she does it well. She never seems to stop working and never complains. Now I on the other hand would flop down regularly to catch my breath while doing housework and I would complain bitterly all the while. To top it off, I knew it would start all over again the next day, with stuff done yesterday! I hated that. I was becoming a real whiner. Maybe that’s where Rachel got it from. Check this out, a day in the life of Rebecca Mae Bradford.

Up early, not because I have to, but because I am not so terribly worn out anymore. Like I was saying, I am up early and head for the kitchen. Sit down at the breakfast table to a fresh pot of coffee, which Maria has provided. She just makes it a little weak though. I’ll talk to her about that today sometime.

Have a cup then take one in to John, who seems a little sour lately. I think his nose is a little out of joint because of the money and the maid. We are still going to take two weeks on the Maldives. John just is not able to take time off from work at the moment.

He grunts his thanks and greeting.

Then I pop in to the kids’ rooms and wake them up. Nice and slowly. I have noticed if they wake up well, they are surprisingly sweet while getting ready for the day. Oh yeah, and as I am not chasing around like a mad thing in the kitchen getting breakfast ready, I am a calmer person too. I still have to forge my way through the debris on the carpet to get to the bed, but it is no longer my problem.

Back to the kitchen for a relaxed breakfast with the family. Maria cooks well. She rarely cooks things the way I would like her to and she cooks far too much at a time. There are heaps of leftovers after each meal. She is normally theone to benefit from the leftovers, no wonder she is so round. But it’s worth it. Its worth not having the hassle myself.

The kids don’t misbehave in front of her. So it’s a peaceful breakfast generally. I let them finish up and go and hop in the shower. I know I should do some exercise, but maybe when I get back from taking the children to school. Maybe, I said.

Okay, then I take children to school, and have a pleasant drive back home, listening to either the radio, or an audio book. (I still feel guilty if I sit down and read a book so I have found these wonderful lifesavers. I used to listen to them when I did the boring brainless household tasks, like ironing, sweeping, laundry sorting, come to think of it, I used to listen to them nearly all the time). I return home to set Maria on her daily chores, which includes taking out food for the day.

The idea then is to go off to my computer and start writing for the day. This is a good time as there are no, or at least limited interruptions.

Then after tea, and some more messing around on the computer, I go and fetch the children from school. I take them to various after school activities , we sometimes even go to the library and shops before coming back home. Just in time to do homework with them, and get them ready for bed before their dad gets home.

Rachel has started fighting me on this one, I might add.

Maria has done supper and so we eat. John has been getting in from work later since his promotion, so we don’t wait for him. I put his food in the warmer and he sometimes has it when he gets in. More often than not its still in the warmer in the morning.

I watch TV, or go to bed early with a book to wait for John. Invariably I am fast asleep by the time he makes it home.

So, that’s my day. I haven’t made any money with my writing yet.  I have, however, submitted two articles to magazines for possible publication. I haven’t heard anything from them yet though. As far as the children stories that are going to change the world, well, they are yet to take hold of my muse. I really don’t have a muse. I just talk about one to feel like a real writer. But anyhow, there’s nothing there. Though there are some people who really believe I have one. I have made some rather interesting connections on the internet. I have joined up with some writers forums and clubs. All in the comfort of my own home, I might add. Which is very comfortable now that Maria is with me, she and I are fast becoming friends, United in the fight against  “drowning in muck”.

Returning to the subject of writing, I have no idea how to string more than six hundred words together. That’s as far as it gets. After five hundred I am already dry, so I tend to catch myself milking another hundred out stretching it to what I think magazines really want. Though my new  writing cyber buddies believe I am witty, overflowing with prose and an incredibly successful writer. I haven’t actually told anyone that I have had anything published, but I also have failed to say that I have not had anything published. They will never know anyway. They just think I am wonderful! That doesn’t do anything for my new career, but I do feel loved and wanted, appreciated and all that. See I didn’t actually finish with my journalism diploma, I had to stop because I was very pregnant and just couldn’t manage the classes and pressure anymore. Short articles are therefore my forte.

Maybe I should spend some time at the library to research what editors are looking for in their magazines.

Note to self:

Get out more girl!

You have Maria to take care of the rest.

This is true. I forget that I have a Maria in my life. I can get out more. I could even take in a movie on my own. A movie of my choice, not one that is animated. Though there are some awesome animated movies! My thought is more along the lines of dramas and loves stories with actors like Don Johnson, Mel Gibson and Richard Gere as opposed to Mickey Mouse, Shrek or some other imaginative creature that talks English.

Chapter 6 – It’s my life

I licked the cream off my little finger, while stirring my Cappuccino. It’s Tuesday morning again, and here I am just like the last five Tuesdays. See, Having Maria allows me to spend some time doing things that do not include the dusting of corners and shelves, suspect laundry sorting and washing the eternal flow of dishes at the kitchen sink. Those things are Maria’s to deal with, no longer do I concern myself with them.

He’s here again. I can spot him behind the plant. He thinks I don’t know he’s here. I can tell, because he looks away as soon as he sees me looking in his direction. I wonder if he works near by, or maybe he’s come from the movies too. No I can’t believe a man of his age would be hanging around at the movies dressed as smartly as he is too. He must be meeting someone, or just on a break from the offices upstairs. I catch his eye, and smile. Well I knew I shouldn’t smile at strangers. Even my kids tell me that. They know better they say… right, and who taught them that?? Answer me that. It’s as if I know he wants me to notice him. What harm would be in it anyway, it’s just a smile.

Oh my hat, he’s getting up. He’s coming over to my table. What am I going to do?

Nothing. Do nothing. That’s what I’ll do… nothing. Easy, I’ve done it plenty of times before. Not talking to strangers in coffee shops, I mean I’ve done plenty of nothing before. Lifting my Mega mug  to my lips, I peered over the rim to watch.

Tsk, I can see he’s nervous. He shouldn’t be though, he can see by the ring on my finger that I am married and there is no use in trying to pursue me.

Gosh, I’ve been reading too many romance novels. Why would I even begin to think he’s remotely interested in me? That’s dumb, he probably just needs to pee and is heading for the Gents.

No, he is stopping at my table.

‘Is this seat taken?” in the richest baritone I’ve ever heard.

What is he? Blind? There has been no butt warming that seat for six weeks now, who would it be ‘taken’ by?

I swallow my coffee, spluttering just a little, but trying to hide it. I can feel my cheeks redden, darn, I hate to blush!

“Er, no”, Wow, what an intelligent answer, such style, such pizzazz!

“May I?” His eyebrow shoots up with his voice.

“Sure”, I stammer, returning my mug to its saucer. I nearly miss it in the process as his eyes lock mine on to his. My heart, oh dear, my heart is pounding like it’s never pounded before and I realise that I have stopped breathing. Gasping for a breath, before I pass out, I try to smile at him.

I must’ve managed, because he smiled back at me.

“I’ve noticed you here before “, he remarked. “And I’ve been plucking up courage all this while to come and share a table with you.” He grinned.

Heck, he didn’t sound as if he was nervous, he did not sound remotely like the kind of person who needed to gather his wits and make a plunge. Strange that.

What would attract him to me any way? I’m grossly over weight, don’t really take enough care of myself. My clothing lacks.. well lets just say my style of dress desires much. You can only wear jeans and men’s shirt so many ways…

“You have the most beautiful, intriguing eyes I have ever seen”, he says still holding my eyes with his rich brown ones.

Putting his hand out towards me across the table, “My name is Michael, I don’t bite”.

“…er,  uhm, er mine is Becky. Rebecca, nice to meet you”, while my hand found his. Strong fingers, nice grip, secure and well, I do admit, it felt real good. I stumbled over saying my name, how on earth was I going to be able to hold any kind of intelligent conversation with him.

Still blushing I looked down at my coffee cup.

He didn’t seem in the least perturbed and just gazed at me. He was watching my internal struggle play on my face. I know that’s what he was seeing, because of the turmoil going on in my heart. We were quiet for a while longer, it didn’t seem to bother him, then he called the waiter over.

 “Another?”, he offered.

“Yes, please”, that was easy enough to reply to.

“Would you want something else with it?” he asked, that eyebrow lifting again.

He talks with his eyebrows!

That’s so endearing. God I must be mad!

What on earth am I doing?

Having coffee with a normal everyday man, not committing a sin, you nut! This is my inner me talking back at me.

Note to self: When your own inner you starts calling you names, it is getting to be time to take a long hard look at yourself, without your inner self in the room!

“With the fear of sounding corny, I just have to say…”, drawing in a breath, and holding it just a moment too long, “Since I first saw you, I have not been able to get you out of my mind.”

I can feel I am frowning, I look bad when I frown, I shouldn’t frown.

“What am I supposed to say to that?” I stammer, “I don’t have any control of that.”

He smiled at me then and oh, my hat, what a smile.   His eyes are so dark yet so bright. Crows feet appearing gently around them, making me smile too. Right then I felt myself relax. This was some one who was interested in me, someone who liked what he saw. John, doesn’t even know I exist at the moment.

“I know that, it’s all me, I didn’t mean to imply you were responsible, but it should be illegal to have eyes like yours. They are absolutely beautiful. A shade of blue, or are they green? That I have never encountered before”.

I can feel myself blushing again.

“Oh, I was given those’, I reply, “I actually had no choice in the matter, so really I am unable to take any credit for them either.”

Michael suddenly began to laugh.

Oh golly, he thinks I’m funny.

“No it’s true, I was just born with them,” I smiled back, realising that what I said really was funny. I started to laugh too, it was a great relief. All of a sudden I felt as if I had known him for a life time. It was truly weird, but I really was completely at ease with him after that.

We chatted about all sorts of things. He was married too, had two children. He was five years older than I, liked ‘pottering around’ as he put it. I enjoyed Tuesday morning immensely.

I found out too, that he had seen me on my first solo excursion, noticed how uneasy I appeared, and just took an interest from that first day. He also remarked that as the weeks passed so it seemed did my anxiety. He really has been watching me. He also decided to take his break at the same time each day to coincide with my visit to the coffee shop.

Now, what can a girl do about that? Am I supposed to get up and leave?

No, that would surely show my immaturity.

Should I stop going to movies once a week?

No, don’t be stupid.

Should I change where I go to movies?

But this is such a good place, so many movies to choose from…

“…prefer, Rebecca?”

His voice broke into my inner reverie,

“Sorry, I beg your pardon, what did you say?” I blush at him again. The waiter brought my refill and his coffee too, pushing my car keys and cell phone to the centre of the table as he placed the cups down. The waiter had interestingly long fingers. His fingers looked like they would be more at home playing piano somewhere or doing wild yet sensitive oil paintings in some hut on the river side. What a disappointment life must be to hands like that stuck in a job like this.

“I asked, what do prefer I call you, Becky or Rebecca?” The waiter took the used cups away.

“Oh, I much prefer Becky. My mother used to call me Rebecca Mae Stanford, when I’d done something wrong as a kid. Humph, thinking about it now, she still calls me that when she’s miffed about something I’ve done. John calls me Rebecca too. He figures if you have a name use it. Why change it? But I really much prefer Becky. It just sounds so much friendlier. Don’t you think so?”

I know I am rambling, but I just can’t seem to help it.

“Then Becky it is. No, in fact, Becky you are! You ooze Becky-ness”.

“Is this a good thing, or something to be avoided at all costs?” I catch myself asking.

He threw his head back and laughed.

“That wasn’t meant to be funny”, I pouted.

All he did was laugh some more. Eventually I joined in. Oh it was so good to laugh again. It was so good to feel special. Even though it was nothing I did, it felt good none the less.

John never laughed anymore. Neither with things I say or things I do. All he does nowadays is frown. That is certainly something he does well. Frown and growl. Oh yes and occasionally we might encounter a lighter grunt.

“What are you thinking about?” Michael asked gently. “There was a shadow that fell on your expression there for a moment.”

“It’s nothing, don’t worry,” Golly, he was so in tune!

“Tell me,” Michael insisted.

“No, my new friend, another time maybe. But right now, I need to finish up my drink and get a move on.”

I can not believe what happened next. I actually made an appointment to meet with Michael again next week. Can you believe that? I had made a conscious decision to meet a man again. This was so scary. I had never, I mean never, ever done anything like this in my life. And here I was making a date with Michael for next Tuesday!

I reached over to get my car keys and phone when he quickly took my phone and started punching the buttons.

“My number,” he retorted , “just in case you want to talk.”

I couldn’t believe it. He was giving me his phone number.

“But only if you want to.”

I opened my hand for my phone, and as he returned it to me, his hand lingered for just a fraction of a second too long. My knees went weak, I dropped the phone back onto the table as I pulled my hand away from his. I was scared. I was not scared of the man sitting across from me though, I was scared of me. Scared of my reaction to this man. Scared of what it could mean.

“I gotta go.” I fumbled with my rucksack, keys and phone, got up and nearly ran to my car which was waiting for me in the parking lot.

Chapter 7 – Michael

I thought about him all the time. I was distracted from everything else. Maria even began to notice. I didn’t write at all anymore. Well I know and you know that I wasn’t really writing anyway. But I didn’t even pretend. The whole week my thoughts were taken up by Michael. His smile. His voice, his openness, just plain everything about him. I couldn’t get his eyes out of my mind. I kept seeing the crows feet fanning out from the corners. Everything I did, I seemed to mentally pass it through Michael. Like, what would he think of this? How would he react to that? What would he do in my place? Where was he now? Who was he with. What was he doing? I was becoming obsessed with someone I didn’t know a thing about. For all I knew he could be a stalker. A serial killer. A , a anything!

“…three, four… five… six”, I panted as I dragged my chin towards my tummy. This exercise thing was for the birds.

I really need to do something about the way I look. Maybe that’s why John was so cool towards me. Maybe he was plain and simply grossed out at the way I looked. He knew what was hiding beneath his shirts anyway. Yeah, so I wear his shirts because they are so much more comfy than my own.

“…nine, TEN!”

 Rachel found me there. On the gym floor, spread eagled and panting.

“What are you doing here, Mom?”

“What does it look like?”

“Well why, when you hate gym? You have never bothered before, why now? Especially now that there is so much work to be done!” she grinned wickedly as she said that.

“Mind your own business,” I panted. Sadly I could feel that I pouted too. Yeesh, I was supposed to be the adult!

“It is my business when I need to call the ambulance guys to fetch you when you give your self a heart attack!” she laughed meanly and went away.

She was right though. Maybe I should go to a proper gym and get proper help with a proper trainer. I could do that.

I’ll go tomorrow. Saturday would be a good day as John was away this weekend. Work, he said. Anyway, it would be a good time to join a gym and get started. I would really like to feel better about myself and its about time I did something about the way I looked anyway. Michael didn’t come into it at all. I have known for a while that I am beginning to sag something terrible. And in any case, Michael approached me now, not fifteen years ago, so Michael doesn’t matter. It is not for Michael at all.

Right, who was I trying to convince?

Friday night rolled around, the kids went to youth at church, at least I took them to youth. On my way home from the church I considered phoning him. I had his number after all. He obviously wanted me to call, else why would he have given me his number? Well in the ten minutes it took for me to get home, I had thought of sixteen reasons why I should not call him, and only two why I should. That was not a good start. I really wanted to call him. I wanted to hear that rich voice close to my ear.

Oh God, what am I going to do? What am I doing?

I battle to believe that I am even considering this at all.

This is me, Becky Banfield, wife of one, mother of two. Devoted wife, devoted mother even. I am not supposed to be going through this. I should be putting my family first.

I should also be able to talk to someone.

I should in fact be able to talk to John.

John my husband, my mate of fourteen years, who doesn’t seem to care whether I live or die.

John, who is so busy at work since his promotion, has so many out of town speaking engagements, that when he is home the last thing he seems to want to do is talk. He doesn’t seem to be remotely interested in what the kids are going through. He doesn’t care for things that Maria does or doesn’t do, depending on how she feels. And he has absolutely no interest in how I fill my days. His response to most things is,

“Hmmm, that’s nice.”

Or, “Really?”, or “I see”, while not seeing a darn thing!

Taking my cell phone out of my pocket I start to the address book, getting to Michael’s name and number, I hesitate, for the umpteenth time I might add, and shove the thing back in my jeans. Leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom, I decide this is so stupid, so I take out the phone again and dial. His phone rings, once, twice, three…dead.

I switched it off. 

Immediately my phone rings, Michaels name is flashing on my screen.

Green button, red button, green button yes!

“Hello,” I say quietly.

“Becky?? Is that you?” his voice is excited. “Becky?”

“Yes, Michael, it’s me.” My heart, I am sure he can hear it through the phone.

“Oh God, I have been waiting for you to call me. I have missed you so much this week!”

“How could you miss me, Michael, you don’t even know me?”

“I know enough to know that I needed to hear your voice so badly that it hurts.” I can hear the earnestness in his voice.

My heart is still pounding, I know deep inside that I shouldn’t be talking to him, that I shouldn’t encourage this; I shouldn’t be a part of this at all. This is wrong.

“Michael, I should not have called you, this is wrong.” I say these words, but I am not too sure I really believe them. What harm is there is talking on the phone to someone? That’s all we are doing, just talking.

“Why did you take so long to call me?”

“I needed to pluck up the courage to do so?” tremulously I reply.

“Are you scared of me?”

“No-o, rather more scared of myself and what I think I might be capable of, and scared of my need to want to call you…” I just know I am not making any sense at all.

“Don’t be scared of me, please.” He quietly asks, “Please don’t be scared of me, trust me, I want to be your friend, I want you to trust me. I am not a bad guy, I don’t want to break up your marriage or interfere in your family life,  I just want to be your friend. Not only that, but for fear of absolutely scaring you off, I want to be a part of your life.”

Shoot! This is ridiculous. It sounds so good, yet I know it’s so wrong.

“I gotta go.” I say into the phone. I just have to go. I can’t listen to this anymore. Darn, I am so confused. I am supposed to be a clever woman. I am supposed to be able to make out the difference between right and wrong. I thought so anyway, as I have taught my kids the right and wrong things. How the hell did I get myself into this?

I can feel myself slipping.

No really, I slip down the door frame and sit on the floor. I am staring at the bathroom floor tiles while holding my quiet phone in my hand. It dangles between my knees when suddenly it vibrates the alert that there is a text message on it. Picking it up and opening the message, I read that it’s from Michael.

- sorry if I frightened you, M-

I continue to stare at the floor. I started tracing the stitching on the seam of my jeans with my finger. Not really thinking about anything, yet at the same time my mind wouldn’t be still.

It vibrates again:

-mom, we r dun, u can fetch us. Rachel-

88888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

But I didn’t hear a thing, I was still thinking of Michael.

Saturday is Maria’s day off. That means I am supposed to try and muster the family to clean up after themselves. Well by nine o’clock I catch myself screaming like a banshee, desperately pleading my case to the two kids. Who, I might inform you are stuck in front of the television. I feel like I have done this all my life. It’s amazing how quick one forgets the times it didn’t happen. I’m getting there though. And Maria is back on Monday. The kitchen looks as though a tornado has swept through it, and I am the only one a little disconcerted by that. Little disconcerted…if screaming like a banshee could be labelled that. Banshee screaming. I’m far too big to be called a banshee, especially since a banshee is a faerie, a woman faerie that announces her presence by screaming and wailing under the windows announcing the death of someone inside the house.  Well, we have three things right: One, I am wailing, two, I have been screaming and three, if something doesn’t change around here, someone will die!

My phone vibrates in my pocket.

In my mind I am able to hear bells tolling ominously… honestly, distinctly, I hear them.

-thinking of you this morning, wishing I could give you a hug, sorry for scaring you last night. M-

I knew it was from him before I read the message. I knew because I knew. I didn’t reply to it. I deleted it and put the phone away again in my jeans. I made myself a cup of tea and took it outside on the patio. Pushed up the umbrella and sat down. Was this my life? Was this going to be the rest of my life? Was this all I had to look forward to?

Messy kids and a disinterested husband? A career going nowhere? Well I know, I do not really have a career do I?

And my greatest achievement in life would be to have one day when I wake up in the morning without finding dirty dishes in the kitchen sink? And now, to have a bit of hope or interest from an absolute stranger?

Oh dear Lord, help me!

I don’t think I could be satisfied with that.

My pocket danced as another message came through on my phone. I tried to ignore it and concentrate on my tea. I nearly managed to finish my tea before opening the message.

-Becky? U ok? I love your smile, M-

Yeah well, Buster, I’m not smiling right now! I say out loud to my mug of cooling tea. Suddenly feeling terribly sorry for myself, I swipe away at the tears that make their way down my cheeks.

-need a reason to smile today, and could do with a hug right about now, B- I text him back impulsively.

Oops, I don’t think I should’ve sent that message.

But it was too late now. It was done. It’s probably going to take about four seconds to get another message from him.

“four…, five…., six…, seven…., eight…, nine…, ten.”  And then again, probably not!

“Jason, please go and get a litre of milk out of the freezer for me, would you?”

He was bugging his sister again so I thought I’d give him something else to do instead. I could see him through the window, he got up after saying something to Rachel and moped off to the kitchen.

Milk in the freezer? You must be asking. Yes well we buy the milk in one litre sachets, when I buy them in bulk, twenty five of the things, I get them at a good price, so that’s what I do. Jason is the one to pack them in the freezer, and he also is supposed to let me know when we are running low. These sachets were bought on Monday.

“Mo-o-om” I heard coming from the kitchen. It wasn’t an angry call at all, but instead, rather forlorn sounding.

I sighed as I placed my tea mug on the table and went inside. Now, coming in from the sunshine outside, the inside seemed extremely dark. I couldn’t be sure of what I was seeing. But, upon entering the kitchen I saw legs. Not just any legs, but Jason’s legs, sticking out the top of the freezer.

Well I did say I needed something to smile about, and here it was. I laughed, in fact, and laughed and laughed. Jason was absolutely disgusted with me, not forgetting embarrassed. He frowned as he made his head the highest point of him again, and struggled to get out of the huge white box.

“What are you doing in there?” I asked, knowing full well he just tumbled over.

“I couldn’t get the milk separated from the chicken packs,” He whined.

“Well, when you packed them did you spray them?”

“I couldn’t find the cooking spray, so I just put them in as they were.” He answered miserably. “I didn’t think it was that important anyway”, he admitted.

“Well no, you are right, it’s not really important, but it is certainly a help in situations like this for the stuff in the freezer to be sprayed. That way I won’t have to fish out little boys from in and amongst the frozen goods of my freezer.” Still laughing I ruffled his hair. Okay so we still needed to get he milk out of the freezer. Let’s see what I can do, I took hold of what I could get out, and with the milk, came two packs of chicken fillets and some Farmers sausage. Right, we could have ourselves a barbeque this evening. I placed the frozen goods on the counter and left them there to defrost slightly. As soon as they were ready, I would separate what I needed and then spray the remainder with ‘spray and cook’, and plonk them back in. Next time there would be no sticking!

During this time, I had received three messages from Michael. I hadn’t noticed my phone’s vibration. I read the first one:

-what can I do for you to make you smile?, M-

Then -

-Becky? Are you sure you’re ok? M-

-may I call you now? M –

As I held it in my hand, the phone announced another message.

I opened it and read,

 -Becky, I am going to call in the next five minutes if you don’t get back to me! M-

I panicked; I could not have him call me while the kids were here. I didn’t know what to reply, I didn’t trust myself to tell him ‘No’, because I knew I wanted to hear him again, that rich voice that does something to my soul.

I can’t believe I’m starting to wane poetic here.

I switched off my cell phone instead. I took myself back outside to retrieve my tea which by this time had grown a pale white skin over the top of it. My tea often gets that way. I get busy with something or someone else while in the middle of a mug of tea, and this is what happens.

I went back inside and called the gym. Well, I did say I would do the gym thing this morning didn’t I? And as it is Saturday, that’s what I’ll do. Rachel can laugh all she wants, I’ll show her!

Just listen to me, defying my daughter for goodness’ sake! I do need to grow up!

Seriously this is bad. But let me get on with the task at hand. I end up making an appointment for later in the afternoon. My PT (personal trainer) will be Seth.

All I need is godlike being in my life called Seth. I would have much preferred a female PT. At least she won’t be repulsed by all the flabby bits, or on the other hand, maybe she would. No, perhaps a male trainer is better. It would probably make me work harder too, knowing the nature of the human race, which is always out to impress the opposite sex, no matter the age. He could be older than me though. Nah, the chances of that are very slim. Slim, is such nice word. I would like to be slim. I would like to be described as “that slim woman with the smiling eyes” or something else as sunny as that. Though I do admit, the smiling eyes bit is rather corny!

Tracksuit here I come. It’s been a while since it saw the light of day. I should think of getting something else to work out in. Bravery is in the fore and off I go. I drive with confidence, my audio guy keeping me company

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            8888888888888888888888888888888

 When I get to the place I am somewhat embarrassed by car. Its five years old, which I know, is not really old. But it is certainly the oldest in the parking lot! I duly switched the reader off when I cut the ignition.

The bright lights hit me as I enter the place. Music is pounding and there are half naked men and women all over the place. Skinny women to boot. This was no place for me.I stood there for a while, feeling alien , and I totally freaked out when this skimpily clad stick of a woman made her way to me, I turned around, and left. Never to return, well at least not until I was at least fifteen kilos lighter!

Chapter 8 – fifteen kilos to go

Well I did say I wasn’t going back there didn’t I? I have got to start getting up earlier and forging my way to the gym downstairs. It dank and creepy, but I am going to do it.

I am able to wear my tracksuit here and not feel embarrassed either. This is a good thing, because I cannot afford to purchase another outfit for gym, and cannot justify the action either. So this is my plan of action:

One would be to clean the place out. Oh wait. I have Maria, she could handle that after the ironing tomorrow. At least that way I would have a reason not to work out tomorrow.

Two would be to make sure I have proper gym shoes. I would hate to break an ankle or something while doing a power walk on a tread mill.

Three would be to put some decent music, or wait, what about an audio book , on my MP3 player. Hmm, I do believe an audio book would be the way to go.

So instead of me doing any cleaning of gym rooms, that what I’ll do. Monday will see my overweight butt in the library. I’ll take my time to choose what I want to listen to, and sneak in a cuppa at the coffee shop. I will then go home to download the audio book on to my laptop. That should take quite a while but it is not as if I need to baby sit the thing all the time.

The chances are good that Tuesday will be my official first gym encounter.

Two days to pluck up courage!

Why bother starting something if I’m not going to finish?

This is something that was pointed out to me a few weeks ago. I have this amazing quality that gets me all excited about a project, only to leave it halfway to die an unexciting death. I can be full of great ideas, and start to put them into action, only to lose interest before they’ve even started to take root.

 This little slogan will hopefully keep me focussed and allow me to complete something. In this instance, my gym programme.

I should take a look at the library and find some diet that I could follow too. That would certainly help the gym effort.

Oh sure I know diets. I have weighed each morsel of food placed in my mouth, only to wonder what the next morsel would be, and how many of those I still have.

Then I have experienced the cabbage soup thingy as well. That stuff is really totally disgusting. I would get it in the neck from the tribe, if I left it on the stove, or in a container in the fridge. So my solution to that one was to fill up polystyrene cups and plonk them in the freezer. That did the trick, I lost weight with it, but then I lost my soup in the freezer and that caused me to lose focus and go back to my normal unhealthy way of eating.

I did find a stray cup of grey something there the other day and am assuming it was soup. I dumped it, and did not experience any guilt at all.

…three, four would be that high protein one. That was really great to do. Easy and right up my alley as far as cooking is concerned. I loved that one. Didn’t lose too much weight though, but at least I didn’t feel like a martyr.

There’s also one that you take small steps and sacrifice for instance, your sugar. Sacrifice, or fast all your sugar for a week. That’s all. Just do that one thing. You will get victory over that, learn to take control and so from there you move onto the next item. The secret of course is to not deprive yourself of all the things you know you should stop consuming, or at least consume a whole lot less of. This way you get used to the ‘loss’ of the morsels, no need to weigh them either. So eventually it will be all but only feel like one at a time.

This week… I think I will do this. Can the whole library research thing. This week, I’ll fast sugar. That’s all, nothing else. Just the sugar. I know that means desserts and chocolates too, I’ll really try and do those too.

This is one thing I want to achieve. I really want to get back into shape. I have to change my habits. I understand that if I continue to do what I’ve always done, I’ll always have what I’ve always had.

No longer is that good enough for me. Change of plans, I think that this week, it should be bead. Bread is what I am going to give up first.

 And to accompany me through this week will be my new car friend… 8888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

Chapter  12– I must I must uplift my bust

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…5…6…7… How do they do it? Leg ups are so tough to do! My personal trainer says I should do three sets of thirty. Well he hasn’t met my abs has he? Coming to think of it, I couldn’t find them to make the introductions! And my legs… well they know they are supposed to be down. They know this so they are refusing to change. I never realised until now just how stubborn the body can be. This certainly means that we have more than just one brain in our bodies. Let’s face it, you’ve known this for a while too, haven’t you?

Getting out of bed in the mornings, is a prime example of stubborn limbs. They are especially suspect when you set the alarm real early. In order to spend some time in the gym for instance. They won’t move. Firstly the alarm does its thing and you can do nothing about shutting it up as your arm is still asleep. This is a common occurrence as you insist on resting your head on your arm. Finally you are able to reach out and quiet the offending thing. In the meantime, there have been growls from the other side of the bed.

“Good morning , Darling”, you say, reaching out a still dead arm over the growler. ‘Sorry about that, want some coffee?” anything to make him feel better. Now you have to get up. Time for the great coercing to begin. Come on legs… move. Wriggling toes.. yep, they are still there, etc etc etc. Getting dressed is quick as its gym stuff , which still smells new, and they were on the chair just waiting for you to get to them this morning. As you make your way towards the kitchen,

the cat accosts you midway down the passage, wanting food. As if you have neglected to feed the thing for the last week. That’s what she makes you feel like . In the kitchen, you find the pellets and start to pour them into the cat’s dish, because you are still half asleep, spill half the contents over the counter and floor.  The cat thinks it’s great that she has so many places to eat this morning but completely ignores her dish. You switch on the light, get the brush and pan and begin to sweep up the rebel pellets. You replace pan and brush, discover it’s the last pack of cat food and decide to write it down on the shopping list. While you’re at it you may as well check what else is needed in the way of groceries. So you start taking a tour de kitchen, making scribble marks as you go.

Putting the little note pad down on the counter, discover a sticky spot and grab the dishcloth and wipe it up. Start doing the dishes which were left in the sink last night, and before you know what’s happened, it time to get the children up and ready for school. Breakfast needs to be prepared and going down to the gym is just a good idea that never materialised today.  Though I had full intentions of doing a good workout today, I just never got there. I often find myself doing that. So I decide that when I get back from fetching the children to school, I’ll go down to the gym and spend a half hour there, I might even get to spend a whole hour in there. Well that’s the idea anyways.

John is in a rather foul mood again this morning. I pull my hair up into a pony tail as he starts to get out of bed. He doesn’t even have breakfast with us anymore. So Right now I am not too concerned as to what his day looks like. He’s not interested in our day, so… yada yada yada.

I know I should take more time with him. I understand that this marriage is a two way relationship.

I understand too, that it often is lopsided in its giving, etc. The getting seems to lack terribly for some. Well, enough of that , I yank my hair  again, just for good measure and head out of the bedroom. As John goes out the door towards the garage, he mentions that he won’t be home tonight again, and maybe even tomorrow night. No other explanation, just, he won’t be home. Now, doesn’t that make alarm bells go off in your head too?

“Oh, where will you be?”

“What’s the matter, don’t you trust me?” He lashed out.

“It’s not that, John, I am interested in where you will be, that’s all!” I replied, softly.

“Why must I always give a running account of my whereabouts to you? Why can’t you just say good bye, John, have a nice time, John? Why can’t you just let me go in peace without the twenty questions?”

“John, what’s the matter with you? Where is the John I know? Why are you fighting me so much? Why are you so angry all the time?” I know, I was starting to whine, I hated it when that happened, but there was nothing I could do, it just came out that way!

John slammed the door and left me standing in the kitchen in utter bewilderment. It was a s if he was trying to pick a fight. Trying to make out that the things he was doing was all my fault. Trying to make it seem as if I was doing wrong by being interested in his life. Golly, I am not quite sure what happened there. I take the car keys from the hook and make my way out to the car. The kids soon follow behind me. They are much quieter since John left. They seem to understand my confusion, as it probably matches theirs. And they behave well in the car. There was no bickering in the back seat today. Thankfully, by the time we got to school they seemed to have recovered somewhat from the morning episode with their dad. They did however both give me a hug and kiss before they hopped out the car. See? They do have hearts!

“…"That's me, Jer.  And let me be the first to say I'm proud of you!  Finally, a sentence with words that contain multiple syllables."

            "That's Detective Blessing to you, Beal."

            "Fine with me, Jer.  Where's Chuck?"

            He'd love to throw me a beating.  We both knew it.  He felt that me having Chuck as a buddy prevented him from demonstrating his Daryl Gates School of Law Enforcement training.  He snarled something, like Yosemite Sam used to do, and tilted his head at the office in the corner.  Jerry's a charmer, he is.  …”

On my way home, I thought I’d give John a call. So I shut off the cassette player in the dash. Apologise for this morning, that’s what I would do. I would let him know just how sorry I was that I had angered him. Make him feel a little better, and not so angry at me. Though I still was not really sure that I had done anything wrong in the first place. I knew that the only way to sooth  things over would to be the one in the wrong and to apologise. It sounds really weak doesn’t it? I know, I used to think that too. But lately. I have found that it’s okay to be wrong. It’s okay to apologise, its not painful at all. What it does achieve though, is harmony. I love harmony. I would do almost anything to gain harmony in the home. Sad, I know, but well, that’s just me. That is probably the route cause of a lot of the hassles in our house too. Maybe I need to go for counselling or something. Maybe I need to establish what my problems are and all that, but in the mean time, I need to make a phone call to my husband.

‘The subscriber you have dialled is not available’, is the message on his phone. I knew he was not out of range of cell phone coverage; he has just switched off his phone. Maybe he’s even blocked me on his phone. No, surely he wouldn’t do that? I know that it seems extreme, but he could have done that, couldn’t he? Some phones have that facility and I am sure that his does have it. I can’t believe that he would do that though. I realise that I am working myself into a state here, yet I can’t seem to be able to control myself. Maybe his battery was flat. Maybe he forgot to put his phone on charge last night. Maybe I didn’t see it plugged in to the wall after all. Maybe I was trying to make things better, when they were really much worse than I had ever imagined. Maybe I should stop maybe-ing and find out for sure!

Note to self:

Find out the facts before you get yourself completely knotted.

Hmmm, Maybe I have been watching too many movies and now my imagination is reaching much too far because of it.

Why is it, that as soon as I decide its time to check my intake, the kids start wanting cake, or cookies or something sweet? Then again I must admit that when I decide to cut out on non-healthy foods, I get the urge to bake too. Humph! And I figure the its not the kids this time, but myself. I want to make them something sweet, just so they feel special, and maybe to help them forget what happened this morning with dad.

Anyway, Maria has already cleaned in the kitchen this morning, she’s been tackling the ironing pile for the last two hours, and whilst listening to a radio station I don’t understand the language of. I am  not one for baking, mainly because of the mess baking entails. What with measuring cups and spoons, and oil in containers that get coated in either flour or sugar, yuck, it’s a mess to clean up. Unless… yes that’s a good idea. If I could just mix everything in the baking dish, then I wouldn’t have to clean a mixing bowl.  If I could gauge the amount of ingredients, then I wouldn’t have the grotty measuring cups to wash either. Right, this is what I would do. All cake-like mixtures need some basic ingredients, right? Right! So that’s what I would do. Getting out a square glass oven dish, I put it on the counter and spray it with the anti stick stuff. Spray and cook, is a wonderful product. I use it for more than just frying eggs without oil, or baking trays. Any how, once again I digress, I reached up and took down oil, sugar, self raising flour. In the fridge got out three eggs and the milk.

Down on my hunkers, scrambled around in the cupboards till I found a can of pie apples.

“This should do fine,” I  grunted while getting up again into a human position.  Cracked the eggs into the dish, added some oil… I suppose it was about half a cup, but as I didn’t measure it, I couldn’t say for sure. Then added milk, also just poured it out into the baking dish, to join with the eggs and oil. The sugar soon followed. Then the flour, this was all mixed together with a whisk, oops, a little runny, so I added some more flour. Not sure all in all how much flour, but at least it was slightly stiffer and  not so runny, more like a normal cake mixture now, it was. Any how, next I opened the can of cooking apples and plonked them into the dough. Well actually I plonked them onto the dough and pushed them in a bit with my fingers. Then I sprinkled brown sugar and nutmeg over the top, could find the cinnamon, so I used nutmeg. I then shoved it in the oven at 180 degrees Celsius. Sort of an average baking temperature I thought. I was not too sure on how long to bake it for, but knew I should watch till it became golden brown on the top. It turns out that it takes thirty minutes to bake and to get browned. And all I needed to wash up was the whisk, which just rinsed off under the tap! My kind of baking!888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

My MP3 player kept me company in the kitchen.I could make some custard to accompany the cake, or I could just serve it with ice cream. Ice cream we had, no dishes with ice cream either. That was settled then. The kids were having apple cake and ice cream for lunch!

Before I went to fetch them, I decided to take a shower, as I hadn’t showered this morning. Well you wouldn’t shower before gym now, would you? Right, and I didn’t get to go to the gym either, so I took a long hot shower, and set off on my twice daily ride to school.

Chapter 13 - Crisis

I was parked over the road in the shade of a huge old oak, waiting for the school bell to release my children back to me.

The afternoon was hot and sunny. I was trying to catch my place in the book that murmured in the sound system of my little car.

“…Rubbing my knuckles, I smiled, shaking my head. 

            "A sucker punch.  The mug fell for a sucker punch."

            Chuck, who must've heard the commotion, came barreling out of his office.  There was a crowd of blues and plain clothes standing by Jer's desk, taking a look, then walking off.  Chuck pushed through the gang and saw Jer, flat on his back and out like a light at my feet.  Chuck's face was getting red enough to make a bull charge and was staring at the reddening knuckles on my hand.  Like a dope, I hid my hand behind my back and grinned like a mental case.

            "He slipped, Chuckie.  Honest."

            When he began to vibrate, I grabbed my coat and went to the door.           

            "You coming?"

            I opened the door and got out while the getting was good…”         

 Jason emerged from the sea of blue uniforms and dashed towards me. Not looking left or right, I saw the car coming, but was suddenly paralysed and couldn’t let Jay know what was about to happen. Suddenly the screeching of breaks broke the spell, and I rushed out of the car only to see Jason flying through the air in slow motion.

Everything slowed down; my scream slowed so much it caught in my throat as I tried to get to my boy. I could see my necklace of beads up in front of my face, I noticed how the sun caught them, and made them glitter. I saw exactly how the dust gave way beneath Jason as he landed. The surprised look on his face was almost comical. He hit the ground almost gracefully, and bounced. I remember wanting to laugh at the astonishment on his face. I remember wanting to weep because my baby had got hurt. I remember so much, yet I don’t remember calling Michael on his phone. I don’t remember even thinking that I should call him. Not the taking of my phone in my hand, nothing.

I do however remember his arms around me. I recall his strong, rich voice soothing us, while he effortlessly carried Jason to his car. I truly got back to earth when we were in casualties section of the hospital. Rachel was pale and Jason was quiet as we waited for the doctors to see to him. Michael too was quiet. The kids never really worried as to who he was. They accepted him in this circle without a thought, or so it seemed And then it hit me. I needed to let John know. I tried his number.

‘The subscriber you have dialed is not available…’

“Damn it!” Suddenly, it was all too much for me and I burst into tears.

I got up and went outside. Michael followed me, leaving Jason in Rachel’s care. Michael came and put his arms around me and held me close. He held me strong and firm in his arms. I wept harder and harder until there were no more tears. That’s when he kissed me. I could feel his lips against my hair and I felt him kiss my head.

That was so precious to me. He really cared about me, I could tell. He didn’t complain about being here at the hospital with me, he just took it in his stride. He made one phone call on his cell phone to his office and that was that. He was in no rush to go anywhere, but be here with me.

    It turns out that Jason had a rather badly broken arm. It had to be set in theatre, so he had to be admitted. While I made the necessary arrangements, Michael kept Rachel company he even took her to the canteen and bought her a cool drink and some crisps. They seemed to be getting along just fine. That was rather a relief, as Rachel was quite sharp and could be rather blunt and hurtful in her manner. She never seemed to question the fact that this man, whom she had never met before, was taking such an important role in this situation. Maybe she was just stunned with all that had transpired this afternoon. She was quite content to explore the sterile corridors and gawk at other patients. The smell of the antiseptic didn’t affect her at all either. She did however, remark on the sick green colour of the paint on the walls! That was funny, well I thought so at he time.

    We left Jason there at the hospital, golly, but he looked so small and pale. Anyway, we left him there, while Michael took us home. It dawned on me upon getting home that my car was still at school.

Maria was there to greet us as we went indoors, and Rachel flung herself into her arms. Maria had prepared some dinner for us, and even though she was worried, she had a big while smile for Rachel.

“Michael, I know you need to get home, but could I ask you to take me back to school to fetch my car?”

“It would be my pleasure, Becky,” he replied.

‘The subscriber you have dialed is….’ I was still not able to get hold of John. Where was he? What was he doing? Who was he with? These questions plagued me.

    In Michael’s car, on the way back to school to fetch my car, I was quiet. I was nervous and embarrassed as well, I am not exactly sure why, but I was. I found myself sitting very close to Michael. I needed his warmth. I needed his strength, I just purely needed him.

“Where was your husband?” He asked me quietly. “Why did you call me?”

“I don’t even know, Michael, he said he wouldn’t be home tonight, and when I queried where he would be he got really angry with me, he shouted and ranted then he stormed out. I haven’t been able to get him on his phone all day”. I looked out the window at the passing traffic.

“That’s why I called you. I’m sorry if it was the wrong thing to do.”

“Not at all. I’m glad you did. I’m pleased that you felt you could call me. It’s going to be a helluva thing to explain to my wife but it doesn’t change the fact that I am glad you did.” He chuckled nervously.

“Sorry, I’m so sorry Michael. I just didn’t know who else to call.” I said with my head in my hands.

He pulled over to the side of the road and stopped the car. Putting his arm around my shoulders, he pulled me close to himself.

“I am just so glad that I have had some time alone with you in all this. I don’t care what my wife thinks, it worth it just being here with you, like this.”

    That’s when I knew everything would be okay. It would be fine. Jason would be fine, and I would make it. I didn’t understand how I knew all this, but I did.

In Michael’s arms, it felt like home. This was where I was meant to be. I belonged here.

This scared me.

It gave me strength and scared me simultaneously.

Chapter 13 – Jason and I

“Well of course you are hungry,” I rubbed his hand as I spoke. He was scared of going in to theatre. He had his last something to eat last night just before ten. And even then it was a sandwich and hot chocolate only. They should know that a young fellow like Jason is going to need more than just that to sustain him.

We got to talking quietly between us while we waited for the time to pass.

“Who was that man who brought us here yesterday?” He asked.

I didn’t know what to say. So I decided on the truth.

“It’s just someone I met last week, at the movies. Well not the movies actually, but at the coffee shop afterwards. And well, we’ve sort of become friends that’s all.” I held his eyes with mine as I answered him.

“Why didn’t Dad come?”

I knew he was going to ask this one. I had to keep honest with him. This is not a situation that I can bluff John’s way out of. I would tell Jason the way it was.

“I couldn’t get him on his phone.” I said cautiously, “I tried right after I dropped you at school, and again when you got run over, but his phone seems to be off.” I didn’t even blink. “Michael was the only other person I could think of to call.”

“I like him.”

“Who?”

“Michael, I like him.”

“You don’t even know him. I don’t even know him. How can you like him just like that?”

“I dunno I just do. He makes me feel safe.”

“Yeah, I think I know what you mean. I feel like that when he’s around too, isn’t that weird?” I smiled at him and chucked him on the chin.

“Does he have children?” Jay queried.

“I have no idea. I know he is married though.”

“Oh.”

Did I detect a note of disappointment in his voice? Just then a nursing sister came in o the ward carrying a kidney bowl with a syringe in it.

“Time for your pre med.” She sang. She came around to the bed and lifted the blankets to get to Jason’s behind.

“Mom?”

“It’s okay Jay, she needs to give you a shot, it will help relax you for when you go in.”

His eyes were huge, and I felt so sorry for him. He winced just as the nurse finished up.

“Was it very sore?”

“Not really, I think the thought of having the injection hurt more.”

“That’s my boy.”

“Is Dad coming?”

“I still can’t get hold of him. I called his office this morning, but Aunty Sue said she hadn’t seen him... she seemed a little distracted when I spoke to her though”

“What about Michael? Will he be coming back?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t heard from him since he took me to fetch my car last night.”

“Why don’t you call him?”

“Well, because… well I don’t know. It just didn’t seem like the right thing to do. We have already taken up a lot of his time… I don’t know.”

Jason’s eyes were beginning to close. He was drifting slowly away to the land of nod. I was relieved because I did not think I could handle any more of his ‘Michael’ questions.

His hand was terribly blue and rather swollen. The pain killers he had been given were obviously doing their job. He seemed quite at ease and pain free. Suddenly I felt so tired. I didn’t get much sleep last night. And the sleep I did manage was interrupted by images of Michael mixed together with images of John.

I should try and get hold of John again.

I was hesitant, but I knew it was the right thing to do. I was sure that when John finally did get here, or get to know about the accident, he would make it out to be my fault. I was used to that. He had a knack of twisting things so that he comes out of it all smelling sweetly while I always was at fault. It’s just the way he is. He cannot bear to be wrong in any way. So he will defend himself by attacking me instead. I really did not want to get him on the phone. This is one call I did not want to make.

My phone vibrated.

-Good morning Becky. Thank you for calling on me yesterday. I appreciate it. M –

I smiled. How did he know I needed to hear from him just then?

- Did you manage to get hold of your husband yet? M-

If anyone had been watching. They would have seen a shadow pass over her face. She pushed her fingers through her hair as she was wont when she was harassed or upset, and started punching the letters on her hand phone.

-Not yet. Still no answer. Thank you for being there for me. Jay is about to go in to theatre now. Am at the hospital. B-

-do you want me to be with you? I could be there in twenty minutes. M -

-I know I should say ‘No’, but my heart is screaming ‘YES’, and that scares me. B-

Theatre staff came in to take Jason away. He was dozing peacefully. They changed him over on to a gurney, talking calmly to him all the time. He even managed to smile at me. Then they were gone.

“Er, excuse me, sister, do you have any idea how long you will be busy with him?” I asked nervously.

“Not too sure, Ma’am, but I’d say by the looks of his arm… two hours at least. Could be less though, and it could be more too.”

Two whole hours!

What was I going to do in that time? Well, for one, I’d try again to get hold of John.

I dialled his number… this time he answered. Albeit curtly.

“What is it Rebecca?”

“Oh thank God I got you. I’ve been trying to contact you since yesterday morning!”

“Why? I told you I was going to be out of the office!” He snapped, “What is so important that it couldn’t wait until I got home?”

How come is he so able to make me feel as if I am at fault here? Why is it that he has to shout at me? I haven’t done anything wrong! It’s all about him! That’s it! It’s all about me inconveniencing him! Well let’s see how he takes this…

“Jason was in a car accident yesterday!”

I quickly shut off my phone.

Serve him right! Let him stew a while. He had no right to treat me so badly, I was wrong to try and reach him. He didn’t care about us at all. All he cared about was John!

Well, now he could try and get hold of me and feel how I felt when he was unavailable!

Childish I know. But oh so sweet is the taste of revenge!

I took my rucksack and made my way to the cafeteria, I needed some coffee! At least I had a book in the bag, so I settled down to read and enjoy my coffee. I couldn’t concentrate on the book and kept rereading the same sentence. I decided to try and make head or tales of the audio book again. So I rummaged in my bag and retrieved my mp3player and stuck the earphones in my ears. I had arranged for a friend to collect Rachel from school today, in case I didn’t make it back in time. So there was no time pressure at all.

“…"You know, Jake, when we first met, I checked you out?"

            "So I heard."

            "It was nothing personal, you understand.  I liked you well enough, but you were a mystery to me, and you know how I hate mysteries."

            "Sure do, Philo Vance.  Go on."

            "You received exceptional scores on your tests from the Police Academy.  Your natural deductive skills would have taken you far.  Why'd you quit?"

            I used my thumb to lift my hat back several inches.

            "'Cause it ain't the same."

            "What's not the same?"

            "When I grew up, cops were your friend; you could trust them.  But times changed.  These days, no matter if it's being on the take, or being a little free with the billy, being a bad cop seems to be all too common.  People seem to trust; no, scratch that - admire guys and dames that work outside the law and get the job done.  That's what I do.  I'm a gumshoe."

            "And the Bogart wardrobe?"

            "Weren't you listening the last three times I told you?"

            Chuck just glanced at me and smiled.  It was like Chaney, Meredith and the rabbits.  We both knew he liked hearing the story, and he knew I liked telling it.  I gave him what he wanted.

            "Dad loved movies.  We did too, but Dad loved them.  Couldn't get enough of 'em.  We'd climb into Ol' Betsy and go to see a double feature at the Majestic every Saturday night.  At least until the flicks started to…”

 I was just getting into my story  again when a shadow fell across me.

He was silhouetted against the window, but I knew it was Michael. 

I didn’t know what to say or do. Picking my jaw up from my lap would be a good start though, I realised.

I spluttered, nearly spilling my coffee, but I was so relieved to see him. I spontaneously got up out of my chair and into his arms. It was so good being there. This is what I had wanted all along. Was it wrong? I think so, did I care? No, not at all. Where I was in my relationship with my husband, whose supposed to have and to hold through good times and bad… humph! This was where I needed to be right now! This was where I felt safe. This is where I knew everything was going to be alright. I could feel Michael’s lips against my hair. Oh, God, he smelt so good. We never spoke for a long while, we just stood there, holding on to each other.

Those two hours flew past. Michael refreshed our coffee twice in that time. I don’t remember what we talked about. I do remember that I laughed a lot. He did his fair share of laughing too. I never tried to contact John again during that time in fact I never even switched my phone on till much later.

When Jason came out of the theatre, he was still very groggy. But things seemed to have gone well. Going by the size of the cast on his arm, he was going to be a grouch for quite a while! He smiled when he saw Michael beside me. Michael ruffled his head and grinned back. This felt so right! Michael left us around lunch time, promising to keep in contact.

I did find out that he had two children. A pigeon pair as he called them. His daughter was just married and his son was still in school, he was fifteen years old. His son is fifteen, not Michael. Michael it turns out was five years older than I am, and his birthday is just two days before mine. Interesting. I do remember sharing how inadequate I felt in my relationship with John. How I was forever made to feel stupid or guilty where in actual fact the situation had nothing to do with me. I also discovered that Michael had studied psychology, and as he asked questions about me and my marriage, was also able to give what I thought was pretty good advice.

“You need to learn to negotiate, Becky.” He had suggested. “John is smart, and knows it, he uses it against you, maybe not purposely, but he does, none the less. For his own survival, he reacts in a certain way to things that he can’t cope with, and this reaction is what you need to negotiate.”

Whew, I do believe the man is right. I was able to assess different circumstances through those eyes, and it seems to ring true each time. I certainly had a lot of learning to do if I wanted to save our relationship.

Later, in the afternoon, I put my phone back on, just in case Michael wanted to call me. Only to discover twelve angry, pleading messages from John!

I finally capitulated and called him.

“Rebecca!” he was desperate, I could hear it in his voice.

“Have you finished finding fault with me, John?” Golly, I sounded so assured!

“Rebecca, where are you, where’s Jason? Is he all right? Is he hurt?”

“Quiet, you’re babbling. Jason is in hospital with a broken arm, he has just come out of theatre. He’s fine and he’s sleeping at the moment.”

There was a long uncomfortable silence.

“Where were you John?”

Still silence.

“John?”

“I, er, I was …”

“Are you trying to think up something that I would believe John? Are you trying to find an excuse that would make up for switching off your phone on me?”

My voice was getting louder and louder with each question.

“John, you had better tell me the truth!”

This time it was his phone that went dead on me.

That’s it! I must have caught him out. He is too guilty to even try and lie his way out.  Then again, could it be my own guilt with my relationship with Michael that is causing me to see John through the same lenses? Oh Dear Lord, I hope not.

Chapter 13-

Jason was to stay in hospital overnight again. Observation they said. Something to do with swelling and circulation, I’m not exactly sure what it was all about but I was fine with that.

I needed t get home to take care of Rachel anyway. She needed me at this time, and as her dad was surely not around, it must be pretty scary for her right now. I had been home for about half an hour when Sal pulled up in the driveway bringing Rachel home.

Rachel’s eyes had dark smudges beneath them. When she got out the car she came towards me and put her arms around me. Golly, this was so unlike her that it scared me.

“Thank you so much Sal.,” I said, “It seems like he will be out tomorrow.”

“You’re welcome dear, if you like I can do it again tomorrow.”

“No, thank you, but I think we’ll be okay tomorrow. I might just keep Rachel from school, and she can come with me when I go and fetch Jason. It’s Friday after all, give her a long weekend.”

“Where’s John?”  Sally asked, “Have you heard anything from him at all?”

“Well we spoke on the phone, but I don’t know where he is yet, and he’s not saying!”

“I am sure he’ll be back soon enough, and we’ll be able to sort things out.” I know I sounded braver than I really was.

Rachel picked up her school bag and started toward the front door, as she went, she called me to follow. Giving Sally a quick squeeze,

“I’ll be okay.” I whispered in to her ear.  I could feel the build up of tears unshed. I didn’t want to cry, I needed to be strong for Rachel, I couldn’t break down now and I had done so well till this point.

I needed a long bath.

“Rachel?” I called down the passage to her room. “You okay, child?”

That when I heard her weeping. I raced down the passage and stopped at her door, there she was, curled up on her side hugging her pillow, crying.”

“Rach, come on Baby, what’s up?” I went over and climbed on the bed with her.

“Are you and Dad going to get a divorce?” she sniffed as she spoke.

“Now why would you ask that?” as if I didn’t know!

“He didn’t come when you phoned him, and you fight all the time and there was that Michael guy all over you and, and, you seemed to not mind him hugging you, and and …”she sobbed harder as she got to the end of her tirade.

“Shh, shh, shh,” I gently held and rocked as I tried to soothe her.

“Dad did not come because he didn’t know. I could not reach him on his phone.” I defended him.

“And, yes we have been going through a tricky time, but that does not mean we don’t still love each other,” I continued to rock her, “and Michael was just there when I needed someone, he is a friend, that’s all. He is just someone I met last week there is nothing to write home about between us.” I heard myself speaking to her, and realised that I wanted it to be different to what I was saying…

I ran the bath water and threw in some bath salts, nothing like a warm bath to relax one, I thought to myself.

Rachel was still upset, I could tell.

“Hey, you wanna join me?” I asked her, laughing lightly, trying to make her feel better.

“Only if you use bubbles!” She shouted back. Bubbles and bath salts really don’t go together, “You got it!” I shouted back while pulling the plug on the nearly full bath!

Damn, I wanted to have time for me, never mind, another time to take a bath would always pop up… well I did bath often!

Putting the plug back in place I poured in a generous amount of bubble bath. The water running in to the tub again I called Rachel.

“Hey slow poke, come and get in the bath before I make all the bubbles disappear!”

“No-o, don’t do that Mom!” she wailed down the passage at me.

“Okay, Okay.”

I slipped out of my jeans and shirt, dropped my under and outer clothes into the laundry basket, and climbed into the bath tub. Heaven. I leaned back as the water still climbed. Bubbles came all the way up to my chin, this was good. Rachel came bouncing through the door, eager to get in, not because she wanted to bath, she just needed to be close to me. Sharing something as intimate as a bath, made us feel safe with each other. Made us both appreciate each other. We were vulnerable together, making us trust each other I suppose. I am not really sure what bathing together does in reality, but it sure is what we needed then!

My phone rang in the kitchen.

Let it ring.

It vibrated a few moments later, a message had been left on it. It rang again, I stayed in the bath.

Then it was the house phone’s turn to ring. It must be John, trying to get hold of me. He should be home from work soon. Or from wherever it was he had been.

I wasn’t looking forward to seeing him, it had been a helluva two days and I just wanted the day to come to a peaceful end. I didn’t need any strife or fighting today. I had about as much stress as I was able to handle.

Rachel and I stayed in the bath till there were no more bubbles, we had squashed them flat or at least that what she said. We played with the silly foam and talked. We didn’t talk serious stuff at all, we just chatted girl talk kind of stuff. It was good for me as well as for her. Even though I had really looked forward to a quiet bath on my own, I was glad I asked her to join me.

She left the bathroom to go and get dressed into her pyjamas. I got out and put on my tracksuit as it was rather chilly. I went to the kitchen to decide on supper. Not that I felt like cooking or anything, but I thought John would be home soon, and would want food, so I decided on my default menu.

Spaghetti Bolognaise.

Everybody liked it, so I didn’t need to worry about that. And another bonus was that it could be done in twenty minutes.

Spaghetti here we come.

If I was not mistaken, I even had all the ingredients to make the easiest spaghetti ever.

Rachel came into the Kitchen wanting to help with supper. Hey let’s not lose this opportunity…I set her to work.

“Look and see if you can find the dehydrated onions in the cupboard and while you’re there get a packet of cream of tomato soup.

I was browning some minced beef with garlic and oregano. As soon as the meat was browned, I added a handful of dried onions and the tomato soup powder. Mixed it all up and added cold water till it just covered the meat. The water for the pasta was just coming to the boil, so I added the spaghetti, and let it boil again.

“Pass me a clean tea towel out the drawer please, Rach.” I stirred the pasta and covered the pot with the tea towel before placing the pot lid on top. Then I switched off the plate under the boiling pot.

“There we go, that should be ready in about fifteen minutes!”

While we waited for the food to cook, we set the table. Three places were set with serviettes and glasses too. I thought a glass of wine would go down just fine tonight.

It was after seven when we finally sat down to eat, but only two settings were used. John still had not returned home. Rachel never said anything about the fact  that we were eating alone, but I could see the concern in her eyes. They were dark with worry, and large in her face.

After dinner I remembered that my phone had gone off while we were in the bath.

“Blast! I forgot my phone,” I said to Rachel as I got up from the table. “Maybe Dad called to say he won’t be in for dinner.”

I reached for the cell phone, two messages, one was from Michael.

-hope you are fine, call if you need me. M-

And then there was one from John.

- TRIED TO CALL YOU. AT THE HOSPITAL WITH JASON. WILL GRAB A BITE HERE –

I was thrilled. I could show the message to Rachel, and she would be at ease at least.

“There you go Rachel, Dad did leave a message. He’s at the hospital with Jason. He says he’ll get something to eat there. Now if only I had read the messages we could have gone to Macs for burgers!” I laughed.

She smiled too, I could see the relief on here face.

Thank You John!

I replied, first to Michael’s message

-Doing fine, will call you tomorrow some time… thank you Michael. B-

Then to John’s

-great. Give Jason a hug from me. What time do I expect you home? Rebecca-

-I WILL STAY TILL THEY KICK ME OUT. JASON IS IN SOME PAIN. WILL WAIT TILL HE SLEEPS –

Great! It was bed time anyway. Rachel was already dosing in front of the television set, and I was bushed too.

“Hey you, Dad is going to stay with Jay till he’s asleep, wanna sleep in with me tonight, till Dad gets back?”

“Are you sure? Yes please!” she scrambled up and made for my bedroom. I switched off the lights and locked up on my way to bed.

We didn’t talk at all I just held her and hugged her till she slept. That was not very long. I was thinking that it takes a crisis for us to do the important things in life. Rachel had left her sharp tongue somewhere, which was fine by me and I was not under any kind of pressure right now. There was nothing more I could do about anything that was happening to me right now. I did feel special though, with the care and attention Michael was sending my way. This was actually turning out to be a precious time for the two of us. Rachel and I mean, not Michael and I. There is no Michael and I! I drifted off thinking of Rachel and my bath together, and woke up drowning!

Can’t breathe!

Drowning, suffocating I wanted to scream but couldn’t! I was under water, in the bath, I could see the bubble bath bottle on the rim of the bath, but I couldn’t get out the water. John was looking in at me, smiling. He was holding a coffee mug while he watched me drowning in the bath!

This is bizarre! Why can’t I get out the water, why was he smiling, I needed air!

I opened my eyes and was completely disorientated. Rachel’s hair was all over my face. I could smell coffee brewing. Maria! It was morning! Where was John?

Gently I extricated myself from Rachel and pulled my dressing gown around me. I couldn’t find my slippers, so padded down the passage barefoot.

John was at the kitchen table, drinking coffee and reading the newspaper. He was showered and freshly shaved, dressed ready for work.

“Hmmm, smells good, may I have some?” I smiled at him.

He got up and made his way to meet me spreading his arms wide for me to come into the circle of those arms. I did. It was good to have him home. I don’t know why, but just then I needed to cry. It was as if everything was suddenly too much for me, and now that John was here I didn’t need to be the strong one anymore.

I wept for a good ten minutes.

Not loud and sobbing, just with absolute relief, John was here, everything would be fine again.

John never said a word he just held me and stroked my hair. He smelt so good, so familiar it was good to be here. When I finally stopped crying, I sat down at the table while John poured me a mug of his brew.

“I didn’t want to disturb the two of you, I slept in Jason’s room,” he said quietly. “Jason was given pain killers at around nine last night, that’s when I left the hospital when he was settled.”

I didn’t say anything I just looked into my coffee mug. I had so many things to ask him. So many unanswered questions going through my mind, I didn’t know where to start. I didn’t want to start. I am glad that he went to spend time with Jay. Jay really needed his dad’s assurance. I didn’t want to break the atmosphere that we were in. I didn’t want reality to force its way in on me now. I wanted things to stay as they were. I was scared to delve too deep for fear of what I would discover.

“I’ll go and fetch him this morning. Rachel is not going to school today, she’ll come with me.”

He just nodded in agreement. I can’t believe he wasn’t fighting and shouting at me. Accusing me of being a stupid cow and all the other things he tended to call me.

It was after seven, and he needed to get to the office.

“We need to talk John.”

“I know we do, but can we wait a while? I need to sort some stuff out for myself first, okay.” His face was drawn and pale. I hadn’t noticed that before. I had been too concerned about me and what I was going through to even notice his appearance. I nodded, scared. I was scared of what that meant. Scared of what he wasn’t saying to me.

“But let’s not leave it too long, okay?”

    With that he collected his briefcase and keys and left. No kiss goodbye, no touch, no nothing. He just left.

I was dreading what he had to say to me. I wanted to hear him say he was seeing another woman I wanted to hear him confirm the suspicions I’d been having. But I was scared of what that would mean for us. Scared of the implications on my kids, on myself even!

In a bit of a daze I got up and went to the bathroom to take a shower. I welcomed the hot pins of water hitting my body and I welcomed the space to think. I washed my hair and just stood under the water spray until the water started to cool…

Chapter 14

I called the hospital to find out what time I could expect Jason to be discharge.

“I cannot disclose that information,” The sister in charge told me.

“Well will he be discharged this morning or this afternoon?” I try again.

“I cannot disclose that either.”

“Why can’t you just say you don’t know? And tell me, when will you know?”

“I won’t be able to tell you anything until the doctors have done their rounds.” She replied, a little less righteously.

“What time do the rounds happen then?”

“I can’t say for sure…”

“For goodness’ sake woman, give me an approximate time, I won’t hold a gun to your head if you’re out by a few minutes!” I was losing it. I could feel I was losing it.

“Er… they are normally done by around ten.” She hurriedly replied.

“Thank you!” I put the headset back in the cradle. Man alive these nurses were something else!

Maria was standing in the doorway, watching me carefully.

“You okay, Ma’am?”

“Fine,” curtly.

Rachel stuck her head around the door, “Hey Mom, do you know where my fat cow socks are?”

I looked down at my feet… there they were; Rachel’s fat cow socks.

“Mo-om!” she whined…with a smile mind you, “Why do you always wear my socks?”

“Because you have nice socks?” I answer her with a question.

“Mom, you buy my socks, you buy your socks, and you get to choose. Why don’t you buy yourself socks you like then?”

“No, my darling, Mommy’s too old to buy herself whacky socks.”

“So why do you wear mine?”

“I said too old to BUY whacky socks not too old to WEAR whacky socks!” I grinned.

 “Tell you what,” I try, “why don’t you wear one and I wear one, then we can both wear one plain sock and one cow sock?”

She looks at me and shakes her head. Laughingly she agrees and goes to fetch another pair of socks to share.

“You’re crazy you know that?” she says as she hands me a navy sock. I laugh while giving her own cow sock back.

In the car on the way to the hospital old faithful buzz was doing the murmur thing

888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

“Mom, what kind of rubbish are you listening to? It sounds just like one of those stupid detective movies Dad watches on Television!”

Well she had that right! She switched it off and set the tuner of the radio to something more her style than mine.

The first thing I saw when we got to the ward was that Jason was not alone. Michael was with him. They were having a good laugh together about something.

Michael’s eyes caught mine and held them over the boy’s head. He stopped laughing and smiled at me. Rather he smiled at us as we approached them. How could I be so naive to even imagine that the smile was solely for me. Rachel smiled back and ran to her brother. Michael lifted himself off the bed and came towards me. He casually slipped his arm around my shoulders and squeezed gently.

“How’re you holding up then?” He enquired softly.

“Okay, I think.” I returned his smile.

“I thought I’d pop in on this young fellow and see how he was getting along.” He explained.

There was nothing wrong with that was there? I wasn’t sure. I wasn’t sure of a lot of things right now. There were so many things that were confusing me at the moment that this was just one more to add to the list.

I would start sifting through these things later, when I had the energy. And maybe by then they wouldn’t matter so much any more.

“And how is he getting along?” I asked as I placed a kiss on Jay’s forehead.

“Fine, the doctor said I could go home today. He just wants to talk to you, and get someone to fetch pain stuff for me from the main farmer!” he babbled happily.

“Pharmacy! You mean the main pharmacy, that’s where they keep all the medicines.”  Michael corrected Jason, smacking him lightly on the back of the head. Jason ducked laughing again.

It seemed so natural. The way Michael interacted with Jason, seemed so right! John hardly ever spent any time with the boy at all, and never so playfully. When John spent time with Jason it was to teach him something, or show him how he could do something better.

“Don’t you have a life?” I asked Michael, under my breath. “How can you be with us all the time?”

“I am superman!” was his reply, eyes twinkling at me.

Rachel watched our interaction, and didn’t have anything to say. She seemed to have accepted what I told her yesterday and was happy with the situation. On the surface anyway.

I took out the clothes from the bag that Jason would wear home, and handed them to him. I wondered if he would manage to get himself dressed. Michael took the clothes from Jay and led him to the bathroom.

“Come on youngster let me give you a hand with these.”

Jason was quite content to be led away by this man. This was freaky! Jason didn’t even like his Dad to see him without clothes on. Gosh, I wonder what heck was going on here.

While the guys were away Rachel and I packed up the rest of Jason’s things in the bag.

“He’s nice.”

“What?”

“I said he’s nice.” She repeated.

“Hmmm, he is rather, isn’t he?”

“I wish Dad was more like him.” She sounded almost wistful.

“We don’t even know him, Rachel. And is Dad so bad?”

“No, Dad’s just not around much is he?”

“Okay this is true, but it’s because he’s out making a living so we can live the way we do that he’s away so much.”

“No, it’s not that. Even when he’s at home, he’s not really around is he?”

“Oh come on, Rach, that’s not fair.”

“But its true Mom, Dad is not interested in us. We bore him. You don’t even have any decent time with him when he is home. It’s him and us. He is completely on his own, all the time.”

Oh my Lord, she was right. I had just never seen it that way. But it was true, John was so much his own person he didn’t need us like we needed him. He was fine on his own. In actual fact he often made it clear by his actions that he would have been better off without us hanging round his neck.

“Penny for them,” a voice right by my ear. I jumped, startled that the guys had returned and I hadn’t noticed.

“Nothing.” I said flustered. Rachel watched us.

Jason was dressed, but his sleeves couldn’t go over the cast, so his shirt hung off his shoulder.

This was not going to work. I would have to make a plan with some of his clothes to accommodate this cast.

About half an hour later, we all left he hospital. It was nearly lunch time by now,

“Anyone hungry?” I asked the crowd.

It was a positive, all around. “Burgers okay?”

Absolutely! So that’s what we did. We looked like a family. Excepting that it was the wrong ‘daddy’.

We had a wonderful time, teasing Jason as he tried to manage with one hand. We laughed a lot and generally had a lot of fun while eating our burgers and fries.

I sent a message to John, saying that we had collected Jason and we were on our way home. He did not respond to the message. But in any case, what was there to respond to? I just stated a fact, and he would get that. Still, I felt he could have at least acknowledged the fact that he got the message or even try and chat to Jay.

Michael was watching me. His eyebrow shot up in question.

I shook my head ‘No’. He reached out and gently squeezed my hand.

Rachel saw the whole exchange.

I smiled at her and she gave me a huge grin back!

I couldn’t believe it, she seemed to be telling me that it was okay! Okay to like this man. Okay to smile back at him and okay that he was holding my hand!

“What do we call you?” Rachel addressed Michael without preamble.

He was a little taken a back, took his hand from mine and rested his chin on it, trying to look casual.

“Exactly what do you mean?” friendly frowning.

“What do we call you? Do we call you Uncle?”

“Well my name is Michael, you could call me that, or if you’re not comfortable calling an adult by his Christian name, you could call me Uncle Michael, or Mr. Strydom, or Sir, Mike, whichever you feel most comfortable with.”

“Okay, and why are you always with us?”

“Rachel!” Gosh I was embarrassed, “Sorry Michael.”

“No, she’s right to ask, she has a right to know.” He dropped his chin and placed both his elbows on the table and held his hands together, pyramid style. Looking Rachel straight in the eyes he said, “I like you.”  He paused taking a long breath and then he continued slowly, “I like you, I like your Mom, and I like your brother. And two days ago, when your Mom called me to help out when Jay got hit with the car, I felt so good. It made me feel needed and important. I was glad she called me. And the more time I spend with you all, the more I like spending time with you.”

“But Mom said you are married.”

He looked at me then, and grinned crookedly, “Yes I am, and so is your Mom, and that means we are just friends, doesn’t it?”

My heart was pounding. I am sure they could hear it around the table.

“Okay.”  Rachel was happy with the answer he gave. She didn’t look for anything else, her curiosity was appeased and that was that! I couldn’t believe it. She was normally so full of questions that nothing had ever satisfied her that easily! But Michael had absolutely convinced her that there was nothing more to it that met the eye.

“Congratulations,” I said to him across the table.

“Why?”

“Well I think you are the first person to satisfy that little girl’s questions with just one answer.”

“I think that’s because I told her what she really wanted to hear, that’s all.”

“Humph,” I grunted, “Maybe I should have studied psychology before embarking on motherhood!”

“Yeah, well it does help,” He admitted, “I must say it has come in very handy in the past. And… if you like I could teach you.”

The two children had gone off to play in the playground outside, and it was just the two of us in a rowdy burger joint, decorated with clowns and bright colours. Lights so bright that they made the place look like the hospital we had just left.

“Hmmm, I’m sure you could teach me a thing or two,” We both knew that I was not referring to psychology either. I was flirting with him! I couldn’t believe how I was flirting with him.

He answered me by throwing his head back and laughing out loud. He had such a nice laugh. You wanted to join in when you heard it, contagious, that what it was. He had a very contagious, genuine laugh. Hearing him laugh like that just made me feel so at ease with him. I should have been embarrassed with what I said to him, but I wasn’t. Not even a little bit. He made me want to play. Gosh, I can’t remember the last time I felt like playing silly beggars with anyone.

He was charming. Though he was nothing much to look at really. No Greek god looks about him at all. He was tall, probably six foot two, was greying at quite a speed, and was nearly bald. He did however sport a beard. A goatee in fact. Rather nicely put together, but nothing outstanding in any way at all. Apart from his rich voice, dark eyes and that eyebrow of his that said so much when he talked.

 Just nice. He was nearly the antithesis of John. John with his neat hair style, tall tailored look even when he wasn’t trying. Clean shaven John. Clean cut, clean everything.

Nothing Out Of Place John.

I couldn’t believe that I was actually comparing he two of them like this. It was not fair to John as he wasn’t shining quite so brightly next to this man. This is so scary.

The children caught my attention and I realised it would soon be time for Jason’s pain-killers; I wanted to get them home.

I wanted to get the children home, but I didn’t want this time with Michael to end. There was no way I would invite him home with us.  He probably had to get beck to work anyway. We had taken up far too much of his time already.

“I need to leave you,” He spoke quietly. “As much as I have enjoyed this morning, I need to bring it to an end,”

This man was a psychic!

“I was just thinking the same….”

He got up, leaned over and kissed me full on the lips, and left to wave goodbye to the children…

“… thing.” I finished.

“I’ll call you.” He said over his shoulder and then he was gone.

My husband and I will be driving up to the Northern Province  with the kids tomorrow to go and visit with some of John’s family. So today I prepared for the trip by taking my car in to have the oil changed. Also, for the past six days, a strange little light has flashed insistently on the dashboard. It looks like a neon drawing of a radiant sun, but the sun has a tiny, fervent exclamation point placed inside it. Hmmm...the sun shining with urgency. Global warming? Can't be. Indeed, the car's guidebook informed me that what I had was a brake light problem.

So after my usual school drop-off, I took the car in to see Henry, our local automobile man. When Henry saw me, he gave me a puzzled little grin. At that moment having focused on nothing but breakfast and loading the kids' backpacks into the boot of the car, realized that my hat was on lopsided and I was wearing narrow sunglasses that could be seen as kooky. And even though Henry couldn't see my lower body from where he was standing, I knew I was also wearing billowy red cotton trousers under my top and long coat, pants I had actually slept in last night that would be appropriate for an audition at the Boswell Wilkie Circus

"Henry!" I say, taking my hat and glasses off, and running one hand through my hair. "Hi, I'm feeling a little disorganized. I came in here for an oil change for tomorrow's drive, but now I see there's a light on that indicates a problem with the brake lights."

"Okay," Henry says. "We'll take a look."

"And also, oh!" I remember an additional, previously unacknowledged problem: "Be careful, because the immobilizer system button is broken where it attaches to the key chain and you could lose the button. It just falls off."

Henry squints at my key chain and picks it up.

"Oh, I can fix that," he says, staring at the torn hole where the beeper attaches. "Do you want me to?"

"Well, sure," I say happily. "I thought I was going to have to get a new one from the dealer."

"No, I can fix that with some wire and a little epoxy."

"Oh, would you? You'd really do that?"

It was such a small favor. But I found myself oddly incredulous, immensely relieved. It was going to be a good day today.

Chapter 15 -maid schmaid

“There’s Maria,” Rachel noted as we got closer to home. Sure enough, it was Maria, but she was carrying one of those big black garbage bags. I wondered what she had in it. She was heading away from home, so she must be taking something from home to somewhere else. I stopped the car and rolled down my window.

She got such a fright when she saw me that she dropped the bag onto the pavement. It burst open on impact, spilling its contents.

“Sorry Maria, I didn’t mean to scare you.” I apologised. I was just about to offer her a ride to wherever she was going when I noticed the stuff on the pavement. I recognised my clothes and John’s stuff too. There was Jason’s jacket he had been looking for. And Rachel’s clothes were there too.

“Maria?”

She couldn’t look me in the eye, and started talking in her own language, I didn’t understand a word she was saying, but she surely knew what I meant when I said, “You’re fired, get your stuff, and go!”

I left her there, picking up the clothing from the ground, and went home. I was shaking, I was so mad! Here I was thinking all this time that I had found a treasure in Maria, when all the time I had been hers. I thought my household and maid issues were a thing of the past only to have them right back in my face again. John couldn’t wait to say “I told you so” I just knew he would get a kick out of this. I didn’t need this in my life right now. Any other time I would have probably been able to handle it much better, but right now I knew I wasn’t going to cope so well.

I got home, parked the car and got Jason’s stuff out he boot of the car. Unlocking the door we went inside, the place was a mess. I was wild with rage. I knew I should have been a green eyed red head when I felt like this! No housework had been done, no wait, things were all over the place. The Hi-Fi was gone, the DVD player too. The TV was still in its place.  Too heavy for her!

I ran outside to see where she was, but she was nowhere to be found. The burst bag had been collected and there was nothing on the pavement.

I turned back and went to her room to see if she was there. Nothing! It had been completely cleaned out. Not even her bed was still there, the bed, wardrobe, and rest of the small furnishings she had been using were all gone. Even the curtains had been taken! So much for me telling her to take her stuff and go… she certainly took stuff!

Maria had obviously been planning this for a while.  I stood in the middle of  her room and screamed. I screamed hard and loud, so much so , that Rachel came running to see what it was all about.

“She’s gone!” I screamed. “She’s gone and cleaned us out!”

I was mad. I felt violated and I was mad!

I stormed back into the main house to assess the damage.

Toaster, mixer, tea sets and cutlery sets gone. Coffee machine, Gone!

Damn! I was really annoyed. I walked through the house to see what else was gone. It turns out she was not alone. She obviously had an accomplice or two. There is no way she could have carried her stuff off without the help of a truck of some sort. She cannot drive either so it would have to mean that there was someone else involved.

I didn’t really know too much about her. I didn’t know where her family stayed. Well I knew the area but not the address. Then neither did I know her full details, such as her Identity number or anything. I didn’t feel good getting those details from her because I didn’t want her to think I didn’t trust her! What a bloody joke!

I was about to pull out my hair at the roots!

Rachel came and stood beside me. “Try not to touch anything, Baby.” I managed quietly. I went to go and call the police.

The damn phone was gone too!

Luckily I still had my cell phone. I dialled the number, and waited.

… and waited

… and waited some more.

I waited so long that my cell phone kept switching me off. They shouldn’t be taking this long to answer the phones at the police station, surely?

Then again, this is South Africa. Argh! The jokes that have been going around regarding our police service have been rather mean. But I must admit the people who make up the jokes have plenty of fuel to work with. There is one that goes, ‘South Africa is the only place on earth where the police are at the scene of a crime before they’ve been called.’ Yeesh, where was my mind going?

I decided to call John rather than wait for the police to pick up their phone.

Another call I was not looking forward to.

“John? It’s me, I have some bad news,” I started. “We’ve been robbed.” I could only tell it as it was.

“Oh No! Was anyone hurt, were you there? Did you get any details? Did you see anyone…?”

“Hold on, John. Let me tell you all I know. No, no one got hurt. It was Maria. We saw her in the street with a big bag, she got quite a fright and dropped the bag of stuff… our stuff.”

I continued to explain what had happened and he was very quiet on the other end of the phone. I decided to let him know it all. Even though I still was not dead sure on all the stuff that had been taken.

He told me to stay put and he would be home in about twenty minutes. I wasn’t to try and call the police again, he would try from work. Maybe we would just go to the police station together to report the burglary. At least we still had most of our stuff. Jason went into his room, to see what had been stolen from there. He had no bedding left on his bed. Most of his toys were scattered over the floor, but apart from that all looked to be there. Oh no, his C.D player and his two way radio was missing too.

He came out the room screaming at a Maria who wasn’t there. He was mad too.

Rachel was doing the same in her room.

Same thing. The C.D player was gone too. Her little mp3 player, however was still hanging on the back of the door. But her camera was gone too.

She came out to let me know.

This was bad. This was really bad! Not the best thing to happen at this time in our lives.

I was still looking around the place when John arrived.

I could see he was angry, I didn’t blame him.

“Well I hope you’ve learned your lesson!” was the first thing he said to me.

“Excuse me?” I asked astonished that this could be my fault again.

I couldn’t believe the gall of this man! Why is it that whenever anything untoward happens, it get laid at my feet?

I have had it! Had enough of this, make no mistake!

I never said anything else.

He marched around the house, taking some kind of inventory of what had been taken, snarling all the way.

I calmly got Jason his pain killers and gave him two. I was so calm it was scary. I asked John whether he had managed to get hold of the police before leaving the office? He didn’t respond at all to me.

“JOHN!”

He just looked at me, and made his way to the front door. Taking the list he had just made with him.

    I couldn’t handle this any more. I sat down in the middle of the passage and cried. I held my head in my hands and cried like I had an endless source of tears. It certainly seemed like it anyway. I couldn’t carry on like this. I was living with a stranger. He never used to be this way. I don’t understand what has changed him so much. I didn’t know what to do anymore. I didn’t know what else I could do to rectify things in our marriage. Right now, I wasn’t even sure I wanted to fix anything in the relationship. He was making it terribly easy for me to just pack up and go.

    That’s where Rachel found me. She was in shock too because of the way her dad had left. Jason was trying to get the television going. It’s a good thing Maria couldn’t carry that. At least he wasn’t in pain at the moment so he was happy to sit and watch TV. I don’t think he understood the fullness of what had happened to us besides.

    “Okay Rachel, let’s see what we are able to do with this place. Oh wait, maybe we still shouldn’t touch anything.”

    I decided to brave calling John.

    “May I start cleaning the mess, or should I wait, John.” He was still mad. Hell, I was mad too!

    “Don’t you think you’ve done enough already? Just leave everything as it is.”

    “Jason has got the TV going, is that okay?”

    “Damn it woman! Can’t you think for yourself? It is obvious! Leave everything until the police have been, they can’t take any fingerprints if you are going to go and wipe them all out now can they?”

     I switched off my cell phone I didn’t want to continue listening to this kind of abuse. I would not subject myself to it anymore.

    “Rachel, Jason go and get a bag, pack in your underwear and toothbrush. We are going to Nanny’s for the weekend. If you can find a change of clothes, bring them too..”

    I can’t believe I was doing this. “Mom? It’s me, Becky, can the kids and I come round to your place for the weekend?”

    “Sure sweetie, what’s up?”

    “I’ll tell you when I get there. If I can, it’s complicated.”

    “It usually is dear, come whenever you want.” What a relief, Mom was always eager to have us round. At least she didn’t ask too many questions.

   

   

   

    Chapter 16 – mother dearest

   

    During the drive to my mother’s house, Rachel suggested I phone Michael and tell him what was happening. I was not sure that I wanted to call him just yet, I needed to get my own thoughts together first. And in any case, what would I say to him? Rachel, asked whether we were going to get a divorce now, after this afternoon.

    “That’s not the idea, my luvvy. I just need some space to think and sort out the way that I am feeling. And I can’t do it when Dad is always on the attack”

    “So we are really going back home after the weekend then, aren’t we? We’re not going to stay with Nanny forever then?” Jason asked timidly from the back seat.

    “No darling, we will be going home. We can’t just up and go because things have got a little rough. We also haven’t said goodbye to Daddy, so we have to go home.”

    “I don’t need to say good bye to him. He didn’t say goodbye to us, did he?” Rachel was pouting as she said this.

    “Hmmm, I hear you, but two wrongs don’t make a right, you know. I am not planning on leaving your dad, okay?”

    Though he might be planning on leaving us, I thought silently. I was shocked at the way he handled us when he got home. I was embarrassed too. Rachel was starting to see the way he treated me, and she did not believe it to be fair. She was more on top of things than her dad realised, things were not at a good place. But at least the two kids were still friends with me, and didn’t agree and side with John’s ideas of me.

Sometimes there were advantages to John not spending time with the children. At least he wasn’t able to poison their minds and hearts towards me. 

    “Listen you two, when we get to Nanny’s, Jason I want you to lie down on the couch for a while okay? And Rachel, I want you to offer to make some tea while I let Nanny into the picture, is that a deal?” They both said that it was, and we settled into a comfortable silence for the rest of the trip.

   

    My mother was sixty two years old. I was the youngest of four children. I had two brothers and a sister. They mostly got on with their own lives though. We didn’t have too much interaction, excepting for birthdays, holidays and special occasions.

Special occasions would certainly include my sister’s daughter’s concert. My niece is a special needs child. She is a special person. Last week we attended the first night of her school Christmas concert. I know, the timing is always odd, but that’s just the way they did it there. September is not too far from Christmas, right?

We laugh about it every year. It was quite a bustle to get there. John did not join us, but I took both the children. I didn’t think they needed to be protected in any way from these kids we were about to sit down and watch. We always go well armed with a box of Kleenex tissues. There’s something tangible in the air when it comes to  First Night.  Okay so they only have one night. It’s not like they are up to performing for weeks on end. And in any case, the audience consists of parents only. Not many other people are wont to have their consciences pricked about the other kinds of people that live and breathe and might need them.

The hours, no, the days, weeks of constant rehearsal.  The tireless patience of mother’s helpers, therapists, teachers and mothers alike. My sister  was a dedicated mother to her daughter, even though she was no longer responsible for the day to day care taking of her anymore. We often went to visit with Tanya. She would be thrilled to ‘see’ us. In fact all the kids in the home were pleased to see us. Sometimes Jason would go and play with other children. Rachel would read to Tanya, and whoever else would want to sit still and listen. Some would listen but be unable to sit still at all. Besides that, these kids, have been coached, and coached and did I mention coached? They have so many different things mixed in here that it is so funny. All the nursery rhyme characters, well certainly not all, but a fair representation of the are involved in taking gifts to the baby Jesus. It’s a scream to watch. We are familiar with Humpty Dumpty. Every year it’s the same guy who plays the role. He is rather aggressive, but his one saving grace in the role of Humpty Dumpty is that he is able to fall on cue!

This is the moment they’ve worked so hard for. Their time has come, it’s Christmas again and a warm breeze soothes the already electric air. Medications are taken, full strength as the hyped up children get ready for their moment of fame. Wheelchairs are polished and shiny as new, useless shoes are polished too. Eyes, normally rather dull, tonight shine brightly in anticipation, peeking out behind the curtains, muffled, with nervous laughter they give themselves away. They can’t hold on much longer now, they had better get on with this show. Suddenly the lights go out and all is dark, as the most incredible melody fills the hall. Music that’s deemed to touch the soul reaches out to the bustling parents. Such emotion, such strength, such energy and life ripples off the black and white keys to a now dumb struck audience. Gently now, a spot lights up, depicting a crumpled, little body, in a shiny wheelchair. Blind eyes stare in absolute serenity as those crooked, clawed fingers make their own magic. Tanya, as we know her well, is eight years old, and just as she sits is an absolute miracle, she wasn’t given even a month to live, and take a look at her now. She has the voice of an angel trapped in the body of a cruel joke, but her heart is so pure and true, and this is what we hear. The notes lift us all to places we’ve only ever dreamed of, our trip is rudely interrupted with a thump from behind the curtains. Tanya doesn’t falter, she continues to play, intent on taking us away to the place of our dreams until she decides, and the music starts to fade and we are brought back to the hall, breathless. A moment of still, before the auditorium erupts in applause! Tanya, well she, she “stands” so tall, the spot light highlights the joy flowing from her; this is what she lives for!  There’s hardly a dry eye in the house. It’s as if we’ve been punched in the stomach…. at this, great dis…….. Dischordant voices rise eagerly in nearly recognizable carols, as the dusty curtains part. On the stage is a scene that not many get to see. Jason, gets a thrill at this part. It happened to him last year as well.  Handicapped wise men, three, limping to  a mother and child. The “child’s” head is as big as a watermelon and “mother” well mother is simply twenty four years old in reality but actuality brings her to around six. Joseph stands and does as Mother Mary does. Various wild life in the background, does … well whatever they want to. This is so, so sad but simultaneously so funny. But we know that to laugh would encourage chaos. So we simply enjoy the children’s enjoyment quietly. This is where they are waving musical instruments and bits for percussion. Tanya continues to play carols for all, mums and dads wave frantically at their children on stage.  While smiling hard with tears falling to their laps. My sister was next to me, I saw such peace on her face. Bringing her daughter here was the best thing she could have done, she has absolute peace with it, now any way.

A firm word is heard from the wings, and all obey, children and parents alike.  Cues are given and the story begins. Mother’s helpers and aides are doing their best to keep order on the stage. Wise men shuffle forward to drool over the baby and give him gifts. Gifts are things like marshmallows sweeties, a physio ball, wedges for sitting and a wheelchair too. Things that have relevance to these

precious children. What do they know of Franken scents and myrrh? For that matter, what do we know of Franken scents and myrrh?

In the background, the interest starts to dwindle. Mad applause as the story we all know draws to a close. Just in time Tanya’s bent fingers reach for the ivory keys in front of her. That such beauty can come from those… is beyond understanding. But imagine what beauty can come from us, the normal people, also known as the beautiful people? Just think, if we did whatever we did with purity of heart as Tanya plays her music? What a better place the world could be. Tanya, she plays as an angel would. She smiles as an angel would, she is my angel. Sure I’m biased. Tanya is ours. She belongs to whoever is blessed by knowing her, it’s time for us to share her now, till her time with us is over.

As the music reaches an inspiring crescendo, tears flow freely from the eyes of all. Even Jason is touched by the intensity of the moment. Parents, some who are relieved that there are places like this to take care of their little ones. Others cry with guilt, and others simply weep for joy that these children are loved and that they love so freely.

Sometimes I wish that we could be more aware of our blessings and our families. We are a family that pulled together when Tanya was born. We were there for Sue.

 It’s not like we didn’t get along or anything, we were all just busy with our own lives. It is sad I know. Every now and again we would meet each other at Mother’s place. Often I would stop by unannounced to find my sister just on her way home. I would drop off groceries to supplement Mothers meager pension. Sometimes buying her the kind of things she regarded as luxuries, like olive oil and fresh Pork Pies from Woolworths. Mom was a good sort. She was down to earth, and she prided herself on her honestly and fairness. Which, I might add, these days was not always the truth, but never mind, she was getting on in years and we could well afford to be gracious to her. She had a great sense of humour and a good voice too. Often we would catch her singing her heart out while doing her laundry or watering her garden. Yes, she was a good sort.

    She was out in the garden, watering her roses when we got there. She wore a huge red sun hat on her short grey cropped hair and a broad welcoming smile on her face. The smile reached her eyes too as they sparkled at the children.

    “Goodness young man,” She blurted in surprise, “What have you been up to?” she looked at me while asking Jason the question. Putting the watering hose down she crossed the path to the gate to let us in. We all hugged her while Jason gave a rather animated account of the past two days including the mention of Michael, twice!

    “Well, are you sure the hospital staff will be alright not having you to take care of anymore?” she asked the young survivor.

    “Aw Nan, you’re teasing me!” Jason blushed bright pink as his grand mother slapped him on his cast gently! “May I be the first one to sign that huge white canvas?” she inquired seriously.

    “Sure Nanny, I actually forgot that it was supposed to get signed! Thanks!”

    “Well he seems happy enough now,” my mother said, “Why didn’t you call me? And who is this Michael that Jason mentioned so often? And what the hell is going on that you and the kids need to be here for the weekend?”

    “Slow down Mom, I’ll tell you all in good time, okay?”

   

    Rachel went into the kitchen as decided and put the kettle on to make us all some tea. She was busy scratching around looking for biscuits while Jason went to the lounge to lie down and watch television. Mom and I sat down on the porch at the table to catch up a bi. She was worried I could tell, but being her practical self, she didn’t turn on the hysterics or anything. She just wanted to know the facts. I started at the beginning… well I thought I did. As I related the events of the past two days she listened without interrupting me at all. Until I got to the part where I had Michael take us to the hospital.

    “Hold it Girlie, who is this Michael, where do we know him from and why is he the one taking you to the hospital, instead of John?”  I knew this was going to be the tricky part to tell.

    Rachel delivered a tray, beautifully set, at just that time. I smiled at her, grateful for the chance to get my story together. Nanny smiled and remarked on what a big girl Rachel was becoming, and where’d she find those biscuits? Nanny had lost them three days ago, and couldn’t remember where she had put them! “Clever child,” she winked at Rachel.

    Rachel grinned and went back inside the house to find Jason. That’s when I told Mom about Michael. I didn’t leave anything out at all. I even told her the way he made me feel so special. The way he kissed my hair when he held me. Everything. She watched my face all the time I was talking. Never taking her eyes off me, she said,

     “You’re in love with this Michael, aren’t you?”

Actually it wasn’t so much a question as it was a statement.

            “That’s just it, Mom, I don’t even know the man. He is friendly, sure enough. He makes me laugh, true, but I don’t know anything about him! I didn’t invite him to join me for coffee. I didn’t dress in any way to aim at attracting a man to me. I am married for goodness’ sake, and for that matter, so is he!

Mom, watched me while I spoke.

    “Do you compare him and John?”

    “How’d you know about that?” I asked flummoxed.

            “Mothers know these things , Child.” She laughed at me. “What do the children think of him?”

            “Well that’s the funniest thing… they like him! In fact Rachel has told me as much. This morning when I went to fetch Jason from the hospital, Michael was there! Sitting on the bed laughing with Jay, like they had known each other forever! They just accept him as part of the family! They like having him around. It’s not like he’s on John’s turf there either, John hasn’t really been around since he got his promotion.”

            “That’s not necessarily a good thing either,” Mom said to me, but I didn’t quite get what she was on about.

“What’s not a good thing?” I asked her, puzzled.

“The kids just accepting this Michael as part of the family. They shouldn’t have their foundations rocked. They should be assured of your and John’s relationship not encouraged to accept the stranger as part of their family.”

            “I didn’t encourage anything, Mom, really. It just happened. And their assurance of their parent’s marriage was pretty well shaken this afternoon, and that had nothing to do with what I did either, John was doing fine all on his own there!” My eyes started leaking tears down my face as I said this, Mom handed me her hanky so I blew my nose and pushed the hanky up my sleeve.

“Oi! I want that back, remember!” She joked, trying to lighten the moment.

“What am I going to do, Mom?”

“Honestly, Becky, I don’t know. Does John know you are here?”

I shook my head. I didn’t want him to come here either, because would just mean more shouting and fighting. I didn’t think I could cope with any more of that today.

            “Do you think there’s another woman involved?”

She asked earnestly. There it was: the question I didn’t know how to answer. I had thought about that it a few times before, always convincing myself that there was no way John was seeing someone else. But now I was not so sure anymore. We hadn’t been intimate in a long while. Probably months even. And that was one of the main factors that would indicate that he was being sexually satisfied elsewhere, right? I didn’t want to believe it. I really think that deep down I didn’t even think he was capable of such a thing.

    “No, I don’t think so. Or rather I didn’t think so. Lately though, I am not so sure. I can’t just say categorically ‘No’ anymore; I will have to ask him outright, and soon.”

    I was pretty much avoiding that one as I could just imagine the kind of repercussions that question could cause. He could start by asking me whether I don’t trust him, or whether its what I was doing that caused me to ask the same of him. Or to expect he was getting up to the same as I was. It would be really nasty, and I didn’t want to get into any unnecessary nastiness at this point. Or any other point for that matter.

    “You need to let him know where you are. It’s not fair on him, if you don’t,” Mom remarked casually, “Would you like me to call him?”

    “No Mom thanks; He has my number he can call me if he wants to know where we are. I am always the one making sure he’s not uncomfortable about anything. I am always the one smoothing the path, always the first one to give in in a situation. I am tired of it. I am going to let him contact me for a change. He never phones me unless it’s to give me some instruction or other. Never does he call to find out how I am during the day. When I call John just to say ‘Hi’ or find out how he is doing, he says I am interfering and should talk to him when he gets home! I can’t carry on like this any more Mom!”

    “A marriage is supposed to be give AND take, by both parties. Not one give and the other take! This time I am going to play the game by the rules he uses.”

    We both finished our tea and took I got up to take the tray back indoors. I wanted to cal Michael to tell him of the latest developments. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it. It wasn’t his problem, after all. It was mine. Mine and John’s.

    Mom went to get the put-you-up for me, and the kids made themselves a bed in the lounge. Dinner was a very relaxed affair of cheese, apples and biltong with glasses of milk to wash it down with.

    The kids thought this was great! I on the other hand couldn’t get the reason we were here out of my mind. Saturday would surely bring some answers with it, I hoped as I settled down to sleep. And sleep I did! I awoke long after the sun was up. The children were in the garden helping their granny tend some veggie patches. Mom was talking to the children in her lovely voice. She had their attention. It was nearly nine o’clock; the coffee was still warm, so I poured a mug and headed out to the veranda. I listened to the familiar voice, and the story I knew so well. All the time I knew knowing I was putting off the inevitable.

“…Pulling up under the old oak, dust drifting skywards, the grey dull van came to an exhausted halt. Mary heaved a huge sigh, as she started gathering her things from the back seat.

“Who’s Mary?” from Jason

“Never mind that,” thank you Rachel. Nanny nodded at the two of them and carried on with her story,

“Skree-bang! That was the sound of the screen door.

Fighting with the grocery bags,

"Blast these handle-less brown paper bags! Who was the designer of these things anyway. Brainless Barney presumably. " she muttered, not unhappily.”  Nanny changed her voice to sound like anyone but herself. "I'm home" she called louder.

Silence received her as she made her way through the kitchen. The screen door was still now after its abuse. The tired sun was sliding up the wall catching frivolous dust motes in dance, while the warmth of the day lingered, in welcome.

"Tom? I'm back, an' I got your favorite fish for dinner."

The grocery sacks started to spew their contents in disarray over the counters as she searched for the said fish. Leaning her jean clad hip against the sink she reached over for a glass. Fresh orange was her all time best drink and she had just stocked up on that too.

Tearing the carton in one swift motion, she poured the liquid into the glass.

Hmm. Heaven.

The TV was talking inanely to an empty den, interspersed with bits of music. Company when there's no one around, sure but

"Tommy? I'm back. " She called to an unresponsive space. Grunting she continued drinking. Getting up she fetched some ice and plonked them in the glass.

She began to put away the treasures she had brought home. Home, good to be at home again.

It was getting more and more difficult to go out. She held her glass and looked deep into the orange. Not really seeing it, she was suddenly deep in thought. Oblivious to her surroundings. It wasn't so long ago when getting about was easier. She was getting a lot slower these days. He right leg in particular was taking the brunt at the moment. And as she plucked up the courage to go back out to the van, for the rest of the shopping, decided to quit moping and look for Tom instead.

Skree-bang, Jason got a fright at this sound effect his Nanny put into the conversation. Rachel laughed at him teasing him about being a scaredy cat,

“Letting go the screen door,” nanny continued, hardly missing a beat, “as she squinted into the lingering sunlight.  A good thing she went when she did, this afternoon, as she wouldn't have been back before dark had she gone any later in the day. Chores were certainly taking longer and longer. The last of the bags securely in her arms, she made her way back to the kitchen. All the while keeping an eye out for Tom. Tom enjoyed the garden at this time of day, but as of late, Tom had been getting really fat and was less mobile too.

Skree-bang.

Leaving the bags just in the door, she headed into the studio to see if she could find Tommy. Nothing, but silence. Which in itself was normally welcome, now seemed sinister. How can something like a room change with just a flitting thought? But it did. Easy.

"TOMMY!?" Scared now, she made her way to the bedroom, no Tom

Bathroom, no Tom

Main bedroom, no Tom

Laundry, but still no Tom.

This was so unusual. Tom never went anywhere, her only friend  The one she could always count on. Now suddenly, gone. What had she done to make him leave? Why hadn't she noticed all the small tell tale signs. Why had she been so blind? Stupid more likely.

Skree-bang

Painfully, running out to the shed

Just as she thought! There he was! Only he wasn't alone!

Four skinny rat like creatures were in front of, Oh my, oh my Tom?

Aren't you a clever mummy then? Why didn't you wait for me? I didn't know you weren't a Tom. I did tell you  that didn't I? Well done Tommy boy aren’t they beautiful? Four of the prettiest kittens I ever did see!” Nanny finished, smiling and still digging out the weeds. She was great with the children, no really, she liked to be on her own, but she also enjoyed to be with the children. I know that she would probably want to spend more time with them, but also got very tired when she did have them with her. Probably because she spent so much time telling them stories. A lot of the time the stories would be absolute fiction, and others they would be stories used to teach the children something. Granny’s Parables, is what I called them.

I smiled as I sat there, holding my now cooled empty coffee mug. Jason had gotten waylaid and was now digging an ant’s nest apart. Rachel was a little helper, and was picking up what had been taken out of the bed and was placing that into the wheelbarrow.

There was a message on my phone. It was from John and it read:

   

    - INSURANCE CLAIM TO BE COMPLETED BY YOU AS YOU KNOW WHAT IS MISSING. LEAVING IT ON KITCHEN COUNTER FOR WHEN YOU GET BACK. I SUPPOSE YOU ARE WITH YOUR MOTHER-

   

No apology nothing! Oh he made me so mad!

   

    -Up yours!-

I replied and pressed the send button. I know I shouldn’t have but it was too late now! And it felt oh so good though! I sat down and finished my morning coffee. Watching the others in the garden was great. What was also rather nice was that I didn’t have anything to do. No one expected anything from me. That made a change! Jason seemed to be coping fine with his big cast. I should make sure he gets his pain killers again, else he’ll start getting sore and with that ratty.

I sent a message to Michael.

-Morning, would like to chat if it’s ok. B-

-just say where and when and I’ll be there. M-

-What about your family? It is Saturday after all… B-

-they are out, missus took son to buy school shoes and soccer gear. M-

-coffee shop where we first met? Say eleven? B-

- deal. M-

I put my phone back in my pocket as I finished the last of my coffee. “Morning guys,” I called out to the garden.

“Sleep well?” I smiled at Mom,

 “Yes thank you, like the dead! I must have been exhausted. I don’t remember going off to sleep at all!”

    “I need to go home for a bit this morning. Would it be alright if they stayed here with you?” I asked pointing to the children as I spoke.

    “Of course it will be fine. Have you heard from John yet?”

    “Nosey Parker! Yes, he sent me a message saying I need to fill in the insurance claim forms, and that he assumed I was here with you.” I wry smile accompanied my words. Basically we were nice and rude to each other and now I need to go. I grabbed a shower and brushed my teeth. I shoved my hair up on top of my head with my toothy clip thing again.

    I set off just before ten thirty, after I had a shower and changed my clothes. I even put a bit of lipstick on. Mascara found its way to my lashes too.  I was looking forward to seeing Michael again. Shame, the poor guy had no idea as to what had happened to us since yesterday. He was in for a surprise. I didn’t want to tell him over the phone either. I admit I wanted to see him again. I know I shouldn’t be encouraging this situation but I couldn’t seem to help myself. I was completely at peace when he was near to me. He smelled so great, he felt so good. It is like when he hugs me, he hugs my soul. He hugs an aching soul, and that’s what I need right now. My soul is being crippled and I hurt.

    He was there, at his usual table, this time it was I who join him. My heart bounced an extra bounce! It was so good to see him again. He got up when I approached and made to hug me. I went easily into his arms. I felt him kiss my hair as he had done before. Oh my, it was so good to be here again. I’m not sure he should be kissing my hair, but it was all he was going to get as far as kisses are concerned right now from me anyway. In any case, he shouldn’t be kissing me at all.

    “What’s all this about then?” His eyebrow asked. “Are you alright? Jason okay?”

    Wow, he really cared about us. I was not sure why I wanted to talk to him, I knew here was nothing he could do about what was happening, but I also knew I just wanted to be in the same room as him. He made me feel so safe. And that’s something I craved right now. I didn’t know where to begin. Or even whether I should begin. What would it help, really help, anyway?

    I sat down and brushed the menu away, cappuccino is all I wanted with cream of course. But they knew me there and that’s what they brought me. I hadn’t had breakfast but wasn’t hungry either. Michael ordered breakfast, and I had a piece of his bacon.

    “I don’t know where to begin and I am not even sure that you should be part of what has happened, then again I want you to be in it so much. I’m babbling aren’t I?”

    He threw his head back and laughed heartily at that.

    “Yes you most certainly are!” He smiled, “Let me know when you’ve figured out what you want to say and then we can talk, in the meantime, you can watch me eat my breakfast.”

He was funny. I watched him for a while, not missing a thing. I watched as he buttered his toast and he licked the butter from his finger.

            “You okay?” he asked again.

            “Yes, I think I will be.” I answered. I really thought I would be fine. Things would surely get sorted out, one way or the other, and either way, I would be okay. I would muddle through all the emotional stuff. If John and I did separate, it would hurt, but it would be a relief at the same time. If we didn’t separate then that means we would have sorted out whatever it is that has gone wrong. Either way, I would be okay. I would love to be able to share all this but didn’t really know how. Michael was watching me as I thought, and he never said anything. He just smiled every now and again, encouraging me to get things sorted in my mind. He was such a wise man! When I finished my coffee, he automatically ordered me another, and one for himself. It was strange how we were so at ease with each other that we didn’t need to talk at all. He watched me as I thought through all that was going through my mind and I watched him eat. He was a neat eater. He was meticulous in his approach to his breakfast. He was certainly interesting to watch anyway. My second cup of cappuccino came and I played with the cream, licking it off m finger as I was wont to. This time he was watching me. He smiled as he finished the last of his toast.

“What are you smiling at?”

“You.” Was his answer.

“What’s so funny then?”

“You. You have figured yourself out haven’t you? You don’t really need me to bounce things off, do you? I could leave you babbling quietly to your self all day.”

    I smiled at that. He was so accurate in his assessment. I can see he studied well when he did his psychological studies. I didn’t need him to give me advice or anything able as he was. I just needed some way to sort through my thoughts. This was it. I did start to share about the robbery and that I was with Mom, because of the way John handled the situation.  I shared with him a bit of the way John had behaved. But I wasn’t emotionally broken while sharing with him. I was simply stating the facts, letting him see the picture.   He could come to his own conclusions as to how I was emotionally. But I was not going to get him involved on that level. It was bad enough he was as involved in my life the amount he was. I

I was just glad that he understood human nature so much and that he gave me the room I needed to sort out what to do next. That’s not all… I liked him for him. Maybe I even more than just liked him, but I wasn’t prepared to explore that at all at this stage. Maybe I would let it pass completely, never explore that and grow up and live my life. Not live a dram or a fantasy life that has no bearing on reality at all.

I just really liked spending time with him though. It was innocent , but would it stay that way? What about my thoughts? They were not always that innocent. I’ll bet Michael’s thoughts were far from innocent. He had so many hassles of his own, an unfulfilled relationship with his wife, I was absolutely sure his thoughts were far from pristine! That most definitely did a certain something for my ego, I must admit.

    I left him while he was still having his coffee. I squeezed his hand, and rose from my seat taking my backpack off the floor.

    “Thank you Michael. For everything.” I said quickly and left to go home. This little dog, with only three paws waving at him lopsidedly as I moved away. I could feel his eyes on me as I walked. I was tempted to wiggle my butt at him, but then decided against it. As I approached the exit going toward the parking, I did. I actually wiggled my bum, I didn’t look back to see whether he noticed either. I then thought if any one else saw that action they would figure me to be a nut… so what’s new? And what did I care anyway? I didn’t know them, they didn’t know me, would never recognize me again in the street, and if they did, well, Bully to them!

    Chapter 16 – John

   

    When I got home John was there too. I went to the kitchen to get the forms for the insurance and started filling them in. I felt my pocket dance as my phone juggled the alert of a received message.

- Nice ending! M-

Talk about innuendo! I could feel myself blushing, so he had seen it after all!

Note to self: If you don’t want it to be seen, don’t do it!

Listing the losses was quite something. I had never really taken much notice of what we had, or where it lived. And I did not know anything about the garage, whether any tools were gone with Maria or not. So I went to the lounge to ask John.

   “ I need to know what’s missing from the garage and garden shed, John.” I said to him. “Could you go and make a list for me?”

    Not waiting for a reply, I turned and went beck to the kitchen to finish there.

    “We need to talk.” He said coming up behind me.

    “No John, we don’t need to talk, you do. You need to tell me what the hell is going on inside your head that you think you can treat me the way you have been for the last while. I need to hear what you have to say. You know all there is to know about me. You are the one who has changed here.” I didn’t mean for that to all come out like that, but I am glad it did too.

    “I know,” he answered and went out to the garage to make the list I asked for. He was gone for maybe twenty minutes when I went to see how he was getting along. I found him leaning over the work bench, with his head resting on his arms. His paper and pen held in his hand.

    “John?” I approached him slowly.

    I don’t think he heard me. He stayed that way without moving at all. I didn’t know whether to leave again quietly or to go to him and find out what was wrong. I decided on the coward’s route. I turned and left him there in the garage. Okay, so I am not proud of myself. But I had so much to deal with regarding my feelings and emotions that I honestly just didn’t even want to be the one dealing with his too! Maybe later, maybe another day even, but right now, I was too fragile to be strong for him. In the house I finished up with my list and left it on the kitchen counter where I had found it. When John had done his part of the list, he could add the items himself. I opened the front door and quietly let myself out.

    I am not sure whether I did the right thing. But at the moment I didn’t think I could cope with the emotional blast I could see looming on the near horizon. I just wanted to get strength in my own mind first, before tackling John. He had a way with words that would make me feel completely inadequate and helpless within the first three minutes of a discussion and in an argument it took even less than that.

I pulled up at the grocer store to get some supplies for the rest of the weekend at Mom’s. I couldn’t expect her to pay for all of us. She wouldn’t complain, I know, but I also knew she couldn’t afford us to live off her. Filling a trolley with more than what was needed, I went to the tills to pay. I would use John’s credit card. I wanted to keep the cash I had.

“I’m sorry, madam, but the card will not go through.” The young trainee cashier told me.

“Are you sure? Try again, you have probably done something wrong,” I advised.

She did, she even called over her supervisor to do the transaction again. It still came up transaction denied. Insufficient funds, was the printed message.

I couldn’t understand it. I delved back in my purse to get my debit card out and used that instead. This time it went through without a hitch.

After bagging my goods I went home, well to Mom’s place.

He rest of the weekend went smoothly enough. I didn’t hear from John during the rest of Saturday. I did however get a message asking whether we would be in time for dinner or would we be back too late.

I had decided then that I would get the kids back so they could get set up for school. I also needed to do some laundry. I had to make sure their uniforms were ready for them. So I  let John know we would be back home mid to late afternoon Sunday.

    “I filled out the rest of the form and faxed it to the insurance guys.” John informed as soon as I got in. I acknowledged him, and went through to the kids rooms to get the uniforms for the laundry. At least Maria was considerate enough to leave us with some clothes. We had a few changes, but all our really good clothes were gone. The house was still in a bad state. There had been no tidying since Maria pulled her last stunt, and John had even added to the mess by not washing any dishes, and using so many. Things were out all over the kitchen. In fact there was not a single clear space in the whole house. I was getting worked up about this, and the kids noticed. They started tidying up their own rooms, and I hadn’t even asked them to! This was a good thing. John on the other hand back down in the lounge where he had been before we came in.

    I grabbed the duster, and then the vacuum cleaner and started down the passage to my bedroom. One thing I had realised, was that whenever I was annoyed or angry, I would work. And cleaning house was what I would automatically start doing.

    What was anger after all? Anger was simply a surge of energy, I could decide whether I was going to be destructive with it, by screaming and shouting and lashing out, or to use it constructively. Obviously my makeup was the type that avoided the conflict thing so I used the energy constructively, and cleaned house. Maybe that’s why as a family we were bad about cleaning up after our selves. Maybe we all related the act of cleaning with being angry! Wow, I needed to really think about that one. If it was the case, then maybe it was completely my fault that we were never able to keep the house tidy, no matter the threats involved. I could hear the children studiously cleaning their own spaces. I was grateful to them for this small thing they were doing. I hadn’t to beg or nag, it was good feeling.

    “Thank you guys.” I called down the passage.

I could here some giggles from down near their rooms and wondered what they were up to. But as long as they were okay then I was okay. So I continued with my chores. I wanted to change the linen on our bed, but remembered that we had no extra linen to change to. So I made a mental note to wash the bedding early in the morning so it could have a chance to dry and be put back on he bed on the same day.

John, came slowly into the room

“What can I do?” he asked tentatively,

Well what the hell did he want me to answer him with? I looked at him, long and hard, and rather clipped said “Whatever you can see needs doing, John, there is no more Maria, we are Maria now!” I was annoyed, and that was a dumb question. It took nearly two hours before the place could be called tidy again. The laundry was hanging out in the late afternoon sunshine, and we were all in the lounge having a cold drink.

            “We still need to talk,” John said over his glass.

            “Yes we do, but I am not sure it should happen right now, John,” I returned, pointing to the two children sitting on the floor in front of the television, and frowning. He understood what I was getting at and suggested that we go for a walk, leaving the children behind.

I figured they’d be fine and agreed to go. We walk nearly half a block before he started to say anything.

“Rebecca, please forgive me.” He started. This scared me. He never apologised for anything, I couldn’t begin to think of what he had to say to me. In the space it took for him to get a breath, I was convince he had been seeing another woman, and was going to ask me for a divorce. I could feel the blood leave my face. I couldn’t breathe.

He stopped walking, I thought it was so I could recover a little before he came out with it, but he stopped for himself.

He slowly let out a long sigh, and said he couldn’t help himself. He hadn’t been to work for nearly two weeks, as he had been fired.

There was no air to breath now. There was just this vacuum sucking me in deeper and deeper.

“What are you saying John?” I asked in what seemed a very controlled voice. My insides were screaming and here I was talking as if I was considering what biscuit to choose to go with my tea? I astound myself.

My mind was in fact all over the place, but not where it should have been.

John was trying to tell me something else. I could see in his eyes that he was trying hard to think of how best to say what he had to say.

Well of course its hard to tell your spouse of forever that you have found someone else and you don’t want to be with them anymore, and you love the other one more than you are ever going to be loved and, and, and…

“I have a problem,” John said.

I didn’t hear him.

“Did you hear me?” he now asked.

“What did you say?”

“I have a problem.”

I took a deep breath. I held it till I could feel my pulse all over my by now red face.

“What kind of problem, John?” I finally voiced.

“Gambling.” Matter-of-factly.

“I am addicted to gambling.” He held his breath now too.

He looked at me, trying to see whether I understood what it was he had just said. Gambling. Not another woman? Gambling?

Suddenly I couldn’t help it, but I suddenly burst out laughing. What a relief! There was no other woman. There would be no divorce, no separation!

I was so happy!

No, in fact I was thrilled! There was no other woman, I discovered in that moment that I really truly loved John, for all his grouchy ways, I still loved him. He was my life. Gambling I could cope with. But another woman in his life, I couldn’t even begin thinking of how to handle that one.

“Okay, Okay, sorry, but I couldn’t help it. Okay, John, tell me, how much of a problem is this problem?”

I had heard that it could be as bad if not worse than alcoholism if not caught early.

We turned the corner and started on the home stretch, and that’s when he told me how bad it really was. It was bad. As he hadn’t been at work for the last two weeks, he had been going to the casino. He had hoped he could make some money to bide us over till he got another job. That’s all he could think of. He didn’t want to tell me, didn’t want to disappoint me. So he tried to do this on his own.

It was really very serious: The reason the hospital would not accept my card from the medisure, was that we had stopped our payments three months ago. Oh and there was no credit in the bank at all, in fact if we did not make our payment at the end of this month, the house would go on auction by the end of the month. John had bonded us to the hilt. There was absolutely nothing left to draw from. He hadn’t paid his car in four months, luckily my little runabout was fully paid for. I had thought it could never get to be as bad as it turns out it was. Suddenly the thought popped into my mind that it might have been easier after all if he had been seeing another woman!

That made me smile.

            “Well I am glad you can still find something to smile about.” John observed shyly. I told him my reason for smiling, and he joined in. It had been a long , long time since I had seen him smile. I told him so too. It had been even longer since I had seen tears in his eyes, and right now, that’s what I saw.

His face seemed to go from a smile to a crumpled up piece of paper in one smooth moment.

            “I am so sorry to have put you through all this,: he confessed. “You must know that the last thing I wanted for you to get hurt. I tried, I really tried to get it sorted out on my own, but it just went from bad to worse before I realized it.”

“I believe you John, we’ll get out of this , I promise we will.” I assured him, “At least now there are two of us in it, that should lighten the load by half at least!” I smiled at his look of astonishment to that.

“You are always so positive in everything, that’s one of the many things I love about you.”

It had been such a long time since I had had any such reassurances that I was a little blown over at the easy way those words came to him. It’s like he really meant too! Like he thought it all the time, inside, and this time the words just slipped out unannounced. All of a sudden things did not seem quite a dire as he had made them out to be. My heart sang, and I could handle anything. Just knowing that the silly man still loved me and had wanted to protect me, seemed to make the burden lighter already.

Well we certainly had our work cut for us for the next few hours. We needed to sort through all the things we had. John calls them assets, heck I don’t care what their names are , they need to go regardless.

Then we need to do some serious book keeping then planning as to how to handle this.

I did understand that john needed some kind of counselling, as did he. There would be little benefit if we got back on our feet again while John still was addicted to the rush of gambling. To the adrenaline rush for the ever just out of reach quick fortune.

   

   

Chapter 17 – he was a gamblin’ man

It wasn’t easy, but we seemed to crawl our way through the first week of ‘knowing’. The kids were great they didn’t whine or fight the whole week. Jason was enjoying all the attention he was getting with having his arm in a cast. Each day he had more and more signatures on his cast. The kids had really gone to town in Art class too, as he now had poster painting on there too. He even managed to get Rachel to carry his school bag for him for the first two days of the week till she twigged that he was having her on. She was rather put out that it took her a full two days. She had been carrying her school bag and Jason’s, one over each shoulder on her way from school to the car on Tuesday afternoon, when she realise that Jason still had the full use of his right hand and  arm and shoulder!

She stopped on the dusty path and dropped his bag down in the dirt. He was astonished at this and when he asked her what the matter was, she simply replied, “Nothing. Nothing with your other arm, now pick up and carry your own junk!”

Well, I laughed when she told me upon getting to the car. Her face was a picture of indignation. Jason caught up to us and was grinning sheepishly at being caught out. Served her right, she should have twigged earlier!

We knew that John needed counselling and we did not really know how to go about it. I asked John if he would trust me in finding out what was needed and whether he would agree to what I came up with. He said so, and I went ahead and called Michael. So Tuesday saw the two of us meeting again. The coffee shop was doing well with us as patrons. This time I was in a much better frame of mind than I’d been in for a while. Michael noticed straight off.

“You look wonderful,” He said, eyes smiling, as he hugged me close.

“Yeah, you don’t look too bad yerself!” I retorted.

“Need to talk.”

“Like last time we met here?”

I laughed, heartily, “No, I mean really talk this time.”

I could sense his disappointment. He could tell things were better for John and I. He knew he didn’t stand a chance with me anymore. Not that there was a chance to begin with, mind you. Anyhow, I had come to ask him advice about the gambling thing. And that’s what I did.

The pain I saw in his eyes was not what I was expecting. He looked at me with great sympathy.

“You do know that this is going to be a very long walk with your husband don’t you?” I didn’t. “There are going to be major trust issues that are going to have to be worked through too. You will never know all his whereabouts all the time. You won’t know what you still have when he gets in at night. It’s going to be hell for you and the kids, until he can kick this habit.”

Looking at him over the rim of my coffee cup, I saw something more. I saw that he was relating from experience. I saw raw pain coming to the surface. I asked him, “Michael, are you talking about me, or are you talking about you? I don’t understand the other part of what you are telling me?”

He smiled then, breaking the mood, “You are sharp, Becky!” He praised me, “you should consider counselling as your career!”

“Why, am I spot on?”

He looked at his hands on the table for a long time before answering. Then with a deep breath and a look my way…

“Oh yes, my wife is an alcoholic. I know what’s in store for you. I understand the no more trust issues, I understand how much easier it is just to throw in the towel than to go through the pain.”

I wondered where he was going with this. As I waited it became clear. He beat himself up regularly because he could not help his own wife with her addiction to alcohol. He felt like a loser and a fraud in this matter. He believed that the system he used for addictions worked, until he had tried to implement them on his own wife. Gambling is an addiction like any other. Whether it be substance abuse, or anger it’s just something that someone does even though they know they shouldn’t. When they do it because they need the feelings it gives them. There is something that happens to the body and mind when the adrenaline rush surges through the blood stream. Some people are addicted to stress for exactly the same reasons. There is a power in the rush. Sadly, abusers of people and even children experience that same power. It’s all related and he didn’t think he had the answers that so many of his patients/ clients paid him for.

“The key thing is though, that the addict must want to change. Not just think it’s a good idea for others, but it must really truly be a desire to stop. They must admit that they need help. That’s probably the main one. Needing help. Then I believe we will be successful. My wife on the other hand, does not even think she has a problem. At least she does not admit that she thinks she does, and I can’t work with that. I can’t help some one who does not think they need help, or who just don’t want it.

    A lot of this was making sense to me. A lot was scaring me as well. But I decided to find out as much as I could so I could help John.  I wasn’t doing this just for John I was doing this for me too. I was also doing it for our family as it to be. At least for what I thought my memory had regarding our family. There was most certainly a selfish element to my eagerness to assist him in getting his life back on track.

    I caught myself watching Michael as he spoke, I now that I didn’t understand the half of it, and I also knew he knew. I did enjoy watching him talk, he was animated and passionate about what he did. He believed in what he did, and that gave him a great purpose in life. It was very noble to want to spend one’s life in the helping of other mortals. I was amazed at how he didn’t even consider this, this was just what he was made to do. It’s what floats his boat or would that be rows his boat? Hmmm, I am never of that one. At least I know it is what blows his hair back. Shoot, he doesn’t have much of that ether. Hey, you get what I mean. He couldn’t change it, as much as I couldn’t change the fact that I was a mother.

    We both finished our coffees and I was just getting ready to leave when he said,

    “Becky, I will be here for you. I don’t want you to go through this alone. I want to be here for you. I want to be the person you call when things are going tough, and believe me they are going to get tough long before they get sweet. Let my phone number be the one you dial. Promise me?”

    She got up and looked down at him as he was still seated. A smile played around her eyes. She leant over and gave him a kiss on the forehead. As she got up she stopped just short of her own area of focus and looked at him, smiled , thanked him and left. Heaving her backpack over her shoulder she made for the car park.

   

“…Once inside, I felt my jaw go south when I took a gander at Curtin's office.  It had to be the size of a basketball court, with a long mirrored wall.  On that wall were shelves made of the same smoky black tinted glass.  And on those shelves were high polished framed photographs of Curtin with this big wheel and that big shot; all grinning like a gaggle of shysters at a fender bender.  The shelves were also packed with awards, some glass - some gold - some a high gloss chrome.  Then my eyes stopped to a lit spot above and behind the huge glass desk that was cut in a circle, but had a entrance/exit opening. 

            There, on a small glass shelf, lit by a single spotlight, was an Academy Award.  An Oscar!

            I knew I didn't have much time, but fer petessakes, it was an Oscar!  I had to see it up close.  Fortunately for me, the old man's computer was directly below it.

            I stood up on my toes and read the…”

Rachel was right…. This was a stupid story. I had no idea what was going on anymore, actually, I don’t think I ever did, really. And in any case the accent was really laid on thick and it was beginning to grind me. I needed to get another one from the library. It would give me something else to do. This one was a goner. I needed to rewind this side of the tape and return it as soon as possible.

The library was on my way home so that’s what I did. It was good to be there. This morning there were some pre school children having a story time. It was refreshing to watch them. They were oh so innocent. They had absolutely no idea of what life held in store for them, and neither did they care.

If only I could have a little of that. But hey, I know better, right?

I exchanged my audio book and headed home.

The house was a mess again. John had returned to work again. Though he did not do any long distance travelling anymore. I am not sure how much of John’s travels were work related anyway. But he did make a point of coming home at a regular time. At least he was here each night for dinner. This was a change too. It had been months since he had been a regular part of our family.

I stick in tape one to my cassette player and a woman’s voice joins me in my car. At least she does not have some weird, fake accent. She has a pleasant reading voice, I get familiar with the way she speaks, and start listening to the story.

 “…side one chapter one…says the disembodied voice…Autumn - the year is drawing to its close. One sunray flares for a moment from behind gathering clouds, lights up their lining; shadows lengthen. The wind rises, scatters  the clouds like frightened sheep, stirs up the dust on roads. Leaves on the vine clinging to the wall of the Women's House yellow, then detach themselves, drifting, one by one on the sweeping wind, slowly falling to the garden floor to cover the soil, which has hardened through the long dry months of summer. One by one the minutes of my life are draining, drawing it to its close; the memories yellow, detach themselves from my whole essence, drift away like the falling leaves.

        As memories go, these cannot always be coherent. I try to convey my thoughts and my feelings besides telling my story, and sometimes they get all mixed up together. Graves loom in my memories; graves of relatives, friends and enemies: those of my father…”

Well this story had better buck up too! I kill the lady as I park my car in the driveway. I extracted the tape from the mouth of the player and took it inside with the rest of the cassettes, I would get them over on to my computer and then transfer it over onto my mp3 player so I could listen while I cleaned house. Actually I had ironing to do too, so that would be a good time to listen. This was what my days consisted of, making beds, making food, making war, making a mess, making peace. Not necessarily in that order either. I was forever fighting a never ending battle against dirt and untidiness. I was always on the losing side. It seemed too as if I was the only one who even cared. No matter how often I manage to muster help in the shape of the children, within minutes, it’s as if nothing had been done. We seemed to have far too much stuff, which was hard to believe after what Maria had already taken from us. John really did not enjoy coming home to a mess. He was immediately in a bad mood if the house was untidy. He would start saying things like ‘You don’t care’,  and ‘You are so used to living like pigs’, and some more rather derogatory sentences he would come up with.

I would do my best to avoid these situations. So I would work my butt off, trying to make everything appear clean and tidy. Though honestly speaking, I never got to clean at all, all I was doing was keeping up appearances. Bad one, don’t try that. If John wanted something that was needed or looked for, I might or might not know where it could be hiding. A search would ensue and before I knew it, there would be complete chaos again. John would have the item, and I would have the mess!

This happened so often, that I started getting antsy incase John might need something when he got home. He was looking for a whole lot of bank statements and details due to our soon to be housing problem. He wouldn’t put his stuff away where he would know where to put his hands on it. He was bad that way as he would leave things just where he used them. This was true for coffee mugs, snack plates and socks! I was not always sure of the paper’s importance and stick it out of sight somewhere, anywhere, only to be scrambling around trying to remember what it was and where I had stuck it a few nights later!

Golly things needed to change! I thought as I tackled the pile of ironing. Oh blast! It was time to fetch the children, better leave this and carry on when I return.

That afternoon, around four, my phone danced in my pocket.

-sending you an email, with stuff you might like to read, uhm, could I have your address?  lol . M-

I smiled while I sent it to him, then went and set up my laptop to go onto the internet and receive emails. His wasn’t there yet, so I played a game of spider solitaire before preparing dinner.

Spider Solitaire, what a wonderful card game. It came on my computer, I didn’t even know it existed till I got the computer! But only on the computer can it really be played, because it needed far too many cards! Any way let me tell you, I have played this game for about three years now, and not cracked the difficult level once. Not even once. I have played the easy level, which just lets you understand what you van and cannot do in the game, then the next level is more tricky, but doable. Jay was the one to start this. He asked me one day if I had the played the game, and showed me how he won every time! Well on the ‘easy’ mode, that’s what happens. You win all the time. Level three is another ball of wool though. I am so challenged to accomplish this that often I find myself wasting good hours sitting in front of my computer chasing this devil! It’s so easy to lose track of time when doing this.

‘Beep’

Ah, there was mail in my inbox! I closed that silly game and went to take a look at what it was that Michael had sent me. Whew, it was quite a document. It all had to do with the addictions subject that we had spoken about this morning. I would print it and read it later. Right now though, I needed to get on with dinner, as John would be returning soon. The kids had done homework and were watching television.

    “Please would you two set the table?” I called toward the lounge.

    “I did it last time, you can do it.” From Rachel.

    “Mom asked us both to do it, so if you don’t do it too, then I won’t either,” Jason tried.

    “Come on you two!” I was getting annoyed. Why couldn’t they just do what I ask without it turning into world war three?

I began getting the cutlery out and the plates soon followed. I would make it easier for them.

    “Guys, I have taken it out, you just need to take it to the table.” How difficult could that be? I got on with the task of dinner. While the chicken was cooking I started on the salad. The chips would happen once the chicken was done. That would be easy enough. I dug in the freezer and found some frozen fries –American Style- big whoop! I thought it was the Belgians or French who started with the fried potatoes thing.

    Jason came through to the kitchen first, with his French knitting spool. I thought he had lost interest in that thing. It seemed that since he had his cast on his arm he wanted to prove how good he was at coping. Something like that anyway, as he had left that disgusting thing for such a long time I thought he had given up wanting to break a Guinness record with it.

    Seriously, that’s what he decided about a year ago. Hence the word ‘disgusting’ when describing it. The piece still needs to grow  a substantial amount before he can get his name in any great big glossy book full of silly records. But that’s what he wanted to do. There’s a guy by the name of Ted somebody or other, from England who knitted for more than ten years to get into the Guinness book. Jason did not realize that the length could be different, and much longer as the Book of Records that we had was a 2001 edition. Surely there has been some other not so bright nerd who has beaten that length? This Ted guy was in some place called Kent. Spare us the same fate! Ted’s piece of knitting had grown to about eight and a half miles. Jason traipsed through to the kitchen with a tail of, uhm, three meters? Shame, he still had quite a distance to knit! Of course, Jason had a problem… he couldn’t sit still long enough to make any remarkable difference in the length of the offending woolen tube.

    “Put that down and start setting the table, please Jay,” I asked.

    “Aw, Mom, Rachel isn’t here yet,” he whined, “If I start she won’t have anything to do.”

    Well if I wasn’t annoyed before, I certainly was now. “Jason… Now!” I knew my eyes were wide open, and I could feel my eyebrow reaching my hairline too.

“ And if you don’t start you won’t ever be able to do darn thing again!”

Now get to it!

Oh Boy, he made me mad when he got like this. Actually it was probably my own fault as I was supposed have instilled in them a something that made them sweet  and loving kids. But no that’s not the way they are, aren’t they? Inherent sin is very apparent in children. The first things they learn when it comes to a new language is the swear words and when they go to play school for the first time, they come back saying “MINE” and ripping whatever it was you had in your own hand! Not forgetting the fat bottom lip which faithfully accompanies the screams of MINE! I wonder why he couldn’t want to take on something really good to break a record with. Like, the longest time of being obedient. Or maybe even setting the table without complaining everyday for three years.

Another wonderful one would be ‘Cleaning bedroom everyday for his whole life, never having to be asked, reminded, begged, cajoled, threatened and the like’. Now that’s a record I could work with. But no, he chooses to drag a grubby bit of wool behind him as he walks. The only one excited about his woolly tail is Hagrid, our lazy good for nothing cat!

Man, it wasn’t easy this. I think we have to be mad to take on this whole thing of motherhood. Or okay I suppose parenthood would be the correct term. We go into so many situations that are completely uncharted waters. When you take on a profession there are so many classes that you can take so that you are equipped. We have years and years of university fees and a thesis at the end. So that when something goes wrong, you are inevitably able to go back to your text books and lookup the said problem, find the solution on page forty three and hey presto!

I remembered to print the pages Michael sent , and glanced over them. Wow this was interesting stuff!

Well here we sit with a situation that the last class I had was on breathing and pushing. Nothing like that has surfaced again! Oh yes… and that manual did not even go till page forty three! That particular one stopped at page twenty two with what to take to hospital when going through the joyous event of giving birth. It included things like a hairdryer and a pale shade of lipstick, so needless to say I did not read the whole of the said text book on parenting!

Okay so there are some books on parenting. But they did not take my children and their characters into account. No seriously, they were written when all mothers stayed at home. All houses had full time maids not just one maid either. And those houses even had housekeepers to handle the maid!. Not forgetting grannies to help take care of said children. We also understand by the style of dress in the illustrations that it all got printed in 1912!  Television, advertising and PS2 games were not the influencing factors in those kids’ lives! They had the good life, like the milking in the morning followed by the feeding of the chickens, baking bread, and such! Then the afternoons, after their tutors had taken their leave, they did wholesome things like pony riding and long walks over the fells etc! They did not have enemies made up of half beast and half something else with an awful attitude problem that wanted to beat the living daylights out of them!

Right now, as I stood on the other side of the kitchen counter, I could relate beautifully to the half beast something with an attitude problem wanting to beat the living daylights out of my own son!

    “Rachel! Get your little butt in here right now!”

Yeah I know, my most loving mother and ladylike voice has gone! I must have left it somewhere between the darks and the underwear in the laundry! I didn’t care, I was done! I was tired of always doing the same stuff every day, and saying the same things only to repeat them all again tomorrow. I was tired of not being taken seriously as well! Most times, no, let me be fair, often, things that I say are challenged by my snotty kids, and that makes me not a nice person! Now was one of those times. I did however realize that it had nothing to do with them really. They were needing some kind of reassurance which unfortunately right now, I was unable to give them. At this point, I was needing reassurances too, but they weren’t forthcoming. John had said he would trust me in getting the necessary help he needed. But he didn’t seem to go out of his way to get that help himself either. I almost feel as if there is a part of him that figures if what ever I bring to the table doesn’t work, then I could take the blame for his failure…. Dunno, just a thought that popped up last night, and it scares me.

Shoot, I seem to scare easily these days. I used to be so together, humph, things have sure changed!

   

    John was late.

First time since the great confession!

I was worried and now really taking out on the kids! They had to take care of the dishes that were in the sink as well as the dishes that we had just created from our supper. John hadn’t been this late for a long time! I didn’t want to call him for fear of making him angry. He wouldn’t take the action as concern, but rather as interfering. He would believe that I doubt him and his resolutions to stay away from the casinos. Honestly, if I thought about it hard enough, he would be justified in thinking I didn’t trust him. I think I really want to trust him. I want to trust him fully, but as soon as there is one ounce of change in his routine, I automatically think he’s gone gambling again. Trust isn’t something I am able to fabricate. I want to trust him, but I think its going to take time. Maybe he is going to have to earn it, I don’t know. Maybe that is the only way it can happen. One is unable to place an order for the stuff like buying from a catalogue.

Who knew? And in any case how would one place the order

One endless supply of trust, unconditional preferably. Sent to the following address… Another question would be to whom would one send such a bizarre order?

Trust, I am beginning to think comes from experience. It’s like you know because you know. You cannot know because you aren’t sure.  I needed to see a pattern emerge, a pattern of trustworthy actions that would be how to build up the trust. And that is not something that happens quickly either, it takes time. It needs to take time, so that the natural reaction to a doubtful situation would be to trust/. It might also take some work from my side. But I believe if I want to trust him enough, it will start to happen… but right now it was a little soon. And right now, I didn’t feel guilty about it either.

I didn’t know what to do. I needed to talk to someone. I needed to talk to an adult preferably. My kids were not an option as I had sent them both off to bed for their nastiness. I know, over reactions and all that. Anyway, it still didn’t solve my adult void here.

I did not want to talk to Michael. Okay so I did but needed to restrain myself. I couldn’t go running to him at every sign of a storm on the horizon. He was very sweet and very dear and all that, but I still could not use him this way. He probably would welcome my interfering but it was not fair to him. And… well yes, it was not fair to me either. I needed to get him and his lovely voice and sweet words out of my system

I locked up and made my way to bed. I would continue recording the audio book onto my laptop, so I would have more to listen to tomorrow while I did the ironing which still did not get done… again!

Chapter  18 -

88888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888  I had no idea what this woman was on about! I knew that I should be interested in the story but I just couldn’t understand it! Maybe the thing had been translated directly from Hebrew or something.

I picked up one of John’s shirts and placed it over the ironing board.

Last night was not what I wanted to dwell on. But the story didn’t help me so I did.

    When John eventually got in, it was after three. He had no explanation as to his whereabouts either. He just slid into bed next to me. I didn’t pretend to sleep or anything.  He knew I was awake but I didn’t want to question him and sound like a nagging house wife or anything so I just greeted him. He said ‘hi’, and that was it! Seriously, the gall of the guy! He just climbed into bed and pretended all was fine!

    Tall about being worked up! Well I couldn’t sleep after that, so I got up and did the ironing. At least I started it, making a decent dent in the pile. I could now contain the rest of what needed doing in the laundry basket. It’s rare that this is the case. I had better hurry though because there is more hanging out in the sunshine, drying rather quickly with the breeze…

    It is as if it has a life of its own, I can be done one moment, the next, there it is just waiting to be dealt with again. 

    I tried moving the story along to see whether I could understand anything or just recognize something that would make some kind of sense to me.

8888888888888888888888888888888888888888888This wasn’t helping at all. Maybe I was just too distracted by John’s behaviour. I needed to talk to Michael if only to find out how to deal with this. Maybe I made a huge mistake, making as if there was nothing wrong.  I switched off the lady and the iron and went to get my phone.

            And right then I decided I was being silly. I was a big girl now, bigger than I really should be, but I needed to cope with this one.

I would be firm with John and I would let him know exactly what I went through with the decision not to nag. And let him know too that I do not condone or condemn his behaviour.

That should work.

Hmmm, I do suppose that depends on what time he gets in tonight. Another interesting factor would be his state of mind. Jeez, I am not cut out for this. I much prefer everything to be straight up and down. These horizontals and diagonals are sending me all over the place.  And when things start to get rough, its time to go shopping!

I had some things to get to fill up our house again. Thank you Maria, insurance is a wonderful thing. I always believed that after every ten years of marriage one needs to be given another Kitchen Tea. Isn’t that the truth? The bread knives are no longer capable of cutting bread. We are grateful for the sliced bread guys… no really, they have no idea! The cheese slicer Aunty Mabel gave us when we got married has long since moved house. The potato peeler has taken over the cheese slicer’s tasks. Hence we only buy skinny cheeses that fit in the blade of the potato peeler. Or… wait for it, the sliced cheeses? Argh! They are only to be used in case of a nuclear fall out! When taste buds are a thing of the past! Okay, back to the humble abilities of the common potato peeler. This changing of job descriptions of the drawer buddies is the kitchen version of using a screwdriver as a chisel in the workshop. We started off with sets of matching cutlery and crockery, now, without the help of Maria if the truth be told; we now grade our kitchenware by whether it will do the job or not, whether it matches or not does not even enter the equation. We even had the correct tools and implements of activity for the right targets! And right now I don’t seem to be able to find even the humble potato peeler and that would be thanks to Maria. I still had time to do some of this shopping before my day would be punctuated by fetching my cubs from their cages.

Before they get released into the wild, let me get on my bicycle, right! Get in my car! You knew that so don’t act all surprised.

The rest of the afternoon went pretty smoothly. My heart gave a little skip when Michael called me, just to find out how things were progressing. And I think I handled it pretty well. But then again, I would. Just considering the decision I had come to.

“Well I am finding some challenges that I need to deal with, but I think we will do okay all in all,” I sounded a whole lot more positive than I really felt. Both the children wanted to speak to him. They hadn’t seen him since Jason came out of hospital a week and a half ago. They enjoyed their new Uncle Michael, and both of the children laughed during their time on the phone with him. When I asked them about it, they both just grinned. Obviously they had a secret! It is frustrating when they know something that you don’t… well I suppose I am going to have to get used the feeling, and simply live with it. Guaranteed there will absolutely no begging or nagging to get it out of them. I am much bigger than that after all. Right? Sure! They could just keep their secret information to themselves and see if it bothered me at all!

Damned if I was going to let on!

    When I pulled up in the driveway at home  there were some people in another car outside the front of the house. It was strange, because they looked official like. I went to the front door and unlocked it, turned around and faced the strangers, but they were just pulling away from the curb. This was really odd, so I just went to the car and fetched the bits and pieces that I had bought.  Sans cheese slicer. I figured we’d been so long without one that it wouldn’t matter.

    The children did their homework, and seemed pretty calm and all, when I saw an envelope with Rachel’s homework. “What’s that Dear?”

    “What?”

    “That envelope,what is it, who’s it for?

    “Oh its another letter for Dad,”

    “Oh? Another letter? How many are there and who are they from?”

    “They are from the  school office, the secretary said I must be sure to see Dad gets it.” A little nervously now.

    Only Dad?” I thought this was a little strange. So I reached over and took the envelope.

   

            Dear Mr Banfield,

    

     It has come to our attention that you have no intention of paying your overdue school fees. As this is a private school, we rely heavily on the regular payments of the school fees to pay our staff for an extremely well done job of educating your children. You have ignored all earlier communication. We hereby, ask you to remove your children from this facility. We are certain they would be welcome in a public school where the costs of education are remarkably lower.

    

     Sincerely

     Mr. R S Dean (principal)

“When did you start receiving these letters from the office?”

“Oh, around February, I think.” It was now mid September, and the school fees had not been paid at all?

“And you’ve been giving them to Dad all the time, why?”

“Well, I gave the first one to dad because I was told to. And then dad said to me that I was never to give you the letters because it was stuff Daddy would take care of. You needn’t worry yourself about it. So that’s what I did.” She smiled, still a little nervously at me. He eyes bright and blue.

    I was not sure how to handle this turn of events. Maybe this was just what I needed to get me off my butt and to start home schooling these two.

    I had always had these dreams, before the children started to attend school that I would train up my own children on my own. But I never had the confidence or even understanding of the curricula available. I was not an organized kind of person. I am still not an organized kind of person.  I am also not quite as confidant in my abilities as ‘teacher’ as I think I should be if I am going to do something like this successfully.

    I have researched a little on the subject and found some rather interesting facts. For example it’s a darn sight less expensive than any school, even public school. Something that is a great plus is the fact that you go according to your own timetable, not dancing along to somebody else’s tune. That is certainly something I like the sound of. Then there is the whole peer pressure thing. Or absence thereof rather. I could live with that. Or without that. High on the good side of home schooling is the family unit. We would work together, learn together, and in an ideal world, even be friends together. With all my heart, I wanted that. I wanted to have my children my friends, as I so wanted to really be theirs. I needed to do some more investigation, and I should talk to real people who are doing it and find out some more. I was excited. Poor Rachel was still a little pale at me having read the letter. I reassured her that it was all okay and went to my office to get on to the internet to find out what I could about the whole subject.

    As the rest of the afternoon disappeared into the evening I searched. I searched for the good and the bad. I found systems that were great and systems that would never work here in South Africa. Not many people were doing this and so it was more bundu bashing and cutting a path out of the brush here in suburbia. I discovered too, that the government was not too sure on how to handle people who wanted to home school their children. It was far too new a concept for an all new government. Our government was still trying to cut it’s teeth on how to maintain roads, this was not one they knew much about at all.

    Dinner still wasn’t ready when John got in. Oh dear, I still had to deal with John about last night, now I have some more stuff to approach him about. Not sure what to do, I decided making some kind of dinner would do for a start.

    “Rachel, Jason , please come to the kitchen for me,” I called, hoping they would not fight me.

    “You two are going to make us some dinner, nothing fancy, but dinner nonetheless.” I set them to it in the kitchen and called John to the bedroom. The kids had strict instructions not to call us unless of an emergency. Things that constituted as an emergency involved fire or blue sparks, water higher than knees and blood. This they understood.

    I was a little nervous to approach John but I sat him down on the recliner and I sat on the bed opposite him.

     “We need to talk”, I ventured the obvious first, “We are getting into trouble with all sorts of things, and I want to help.” I thought starting on that kind of note would make the event smoother.

    “You’re right, I’m sorry,” He returned.

    “What are you sorry about?” I ventured.

    “I’m just sorry for all I’ve put us in,” I wasn’t actually too content with his answer, I know it sounds bad but it is the truth.

    “John, just before we go any further, I want you to try something. This is something I learnt about a while ago, instead of just saying you are sorry, start by saying ‘I regret’. Then after those two words name what it is you regret. Try it.”

    He just sat and looked at me, as if I had landed from another planet. “Look, I’ll go first,” I said bravely, “John, I regret that I am not a perfect housewife,”

    “I regret that I gave you such a fright when I told you Jay had been in the car accident and left you to think the worst.” I was on a roll now, “I regret that I have become overweight, I regret that I trusted Maria and did not get her details like I should have.” I sat back on the bed and waited for John to start.

    Nothing. But what was interesting was that I could see tears in his eyes, I think he understood what I was getting at.

    “I accidentally came upon a letter from the school today, saying that we haven’t paid school fees for basically the whole year, and that the children should be removed to go to a public school. They are not prepared to carry them anymore.” I finished. The shock on John’s face was real. He had obviously never thought it would come to this. His head dropped to his hands and he rubbed at his smooth hair.

    “But…,” I said  almost triumphantly, “I have a plan!,”

    He looked up at me, somewhat dubiously, “What plan could you have?”

    “Home schooling.” I said excitedly.

    He was properly puzzled as he considered this crazy scheme of mine. He was quiet for a long time. His eyes looked down, then up at the ceiling as he leaned back in the chair. He held his hands, he picked at his nails as he considered this idea.

    “Do you honestly think you could pull it off?” earnestly, and maybe just a little excited. “Because quite frankly, I think it is a marvelous idea! God knows I have certainly stuffed up in my responsibilities with the school, so maybe this would work. Thousands of Americans do it, missionaries and farmers do it too. So why shouldn’t we try?”

    It was such a relief! I bounced of the bed and took him by the hand,

    “You still need to learn how to say the ‘I regret’ thing John. I am serious about that. You need to hear the thing you are most sorry about, Be specific, and then it will be easier not to continue doing the same thing over and over. We’ll try it, are you game?

    “It makes sense, yes. The reason I didn’t say anything earlier, was because I would be regretting for a lot of things for a really long time, and I know the kids are doing dinner…” he put his arm over my shoulder and smiled. “Let’s go and see what Rachel and Jason feel about the idea.”

    We sat down at the table and tucked in to our ‘supper’ of scrambled eggs, baked beans and toast. This was one meal the children could do, and they did it together without much incident! Rachel handled the eggs done with fried onions, and Jason warmed up the can of beans in the microwave oven and did the toast. 

Not my favourite meal, I’ll grant you, but I did not prepare it, which in itself turned it into a slice of heaven. We wanted to launch this home schooling idea, and see what the children’s reactions would be. Well it was unanimously positive. I couldn’t be sure why, but it was. When we asked them later why they were so very keen to stay at home, the answer was from Rachel,

“Then I can learn the stuff I want to learn.” And from Jay, bless him,

“I can stay home with you, Mommy.”  Now I understand that should not be motivation for leaving school, but right then, it’s just what I wanted to hear.

I had absolutely no idea whether I would be able to pull this one off or not, but I was sure willing to give it a bash. 

Chapter whatever – schooling schmooling

“…four, five, six….” The kids were screaming with laughter as they ran up the passage to go and clean their rooms. I stood behind them with a mop, counting to ten, threatening to do serious bodily harm, wetly! But it was all in fun this time. Things had taken a strange turn since the decision to go the route of bringing the children home.

I was more confidant too. I am not sure whether it was a justified confidence, but it got the job done.

After many phone calls and email correspondence, I settled on a ‘unit studies’ system for our new ‘school.’ It was the system that suited me the best. I decided, well, both John and I decided that the best thing to do was get me the system that made me most comfortable. We were starting to make decisions together, not because we were so much in love and all trust was restored and it was all roses and rainbows, not at all. We were scared of making mistakes. We had no idea what we were doing, so we automatically relied on the other, so if it all went terribly wrong, we were both responsible! Joint decisions equals joint responsibility .Anyhow, because of my severe lack of organizational skills we chose the unit studies system that would give me the most freedom to operate. My nature just really battled to handle severe restrictions, I needed to change that, but right now that’s where I was. So the system was solely for my benefit. Once I was at ease, I was sure I could make it work for my offspring!

I did understand that I could teach. I didn’t have to be a qualified school teacher. In fact, maybe it was better that I was not one of those. For the simple reason, school teachers are geared to get results. They are geared to compartmentalize all that they do. I on the other hand, couldn’t spell that word without a spell checker! Never mind still function that way! Teachers taught all the stuff that we as students chuck out of our minds as soon as our exams are over! Teachers teach children how do be quiet in a crowd of more children. Teachers teach children how to relate to other children their own age. Mothers teach their  children to brush their teeth, and tie their shoelaces. Things they will do till they die! Mothers teach their children how to say please and thank you in all the appropriate places. Mothers are the one who manage to teach their children to handle the complex tools of the eating world, the knife and fork! No simple feat! Especially when one of a mother’s children is left handed! And on top of the tools thing, to keep their mouths closed while chewing the food that has been delivered by said knife and fork! Now if I, as a mother could manage that, then why could I not teach them about the knee joint, or the eye, or why we are the way we due to the industrial revolution? I admit that the mathematics side of things was a little more daunting, but I reckoned, if the children could learn it, then why couldn’t I? I had already accomplished the more difficult teaching challenges!

It was decided that they would complete their school year while I was getting set up, and just plain get used to the idea of not being alone at home in the mornings anymore.

            I needed to share our news with some one, so called Mother. She was great, she thought it was a good idea, and she even congratulated us on the news.

The next day she phoned me, with a list as long the day filled with questions. Like ‘What about exams?’

“…uhm, the system did not require exams as such, but they could always be tested as to where they are at if we wanted. That could happen anywhere.”

“What about their social life?”

“Ah that’s an easy one,” I said to her, “They both go to youth on a Friday night, and they will do drama as soon as it starts at the local theatre next year.”

“Sport!”

“Rachel is not interested in sport as you well know, and Jason can always join a soccer club for his soccer passion.”

Rachel has her dancing, but that has nothing to do with the school system at all. It’s completely separate and happens in the afternoons.

Well she had some more and  I managed to field them, but I am sure she will have some more questions soon. I think it had something to do with the fact that we had given her a cell phone for her sixty first birthday. Well it was her own idea, but  I am sure she did not realize that sight had to be something to rely on rather a lot when it came to using a cell phone for the first time. And the thing about predictive text in the sms section, was entertaining to say the least!  I would do her a favour and send her some answers before she asks the questions on her cell phone. The cell phone was her idea so we could all stay in contact with her. She had this package thingy that gave her one hundred free air time minutes each month. She used this to regularly call us and make sure we were all right. She used her cell phone too , to show she had a cell phone to her friends. She didn’t really like the idea but knew that they thoughts she was rather a modern old stick with it. I must say the other day o called her on it and it just rang, then it switched over to voicemail. Completely automated. I must say I was pleased that she felt she could or should question me or us on this subject. Anyhow, the fact that she used it to call me was good. She managed to send an sms or two as well. It was a very good exercise for me, as answering her questions just confirmed my convictions that his was the way to go.

Another big bonus was the fact that it cost so much less to home school than to send kids to a school, whether it be private or public or government schools. The savings on school uniforms was certainly something to write home about. And then of course all the unseen costs that come under “Mom, my teacher says we need to such and such by Wednesday!” And “Mom, everyone else has them, why can’t I?” or, “We have to pay before we can go on the field trip to the public library!” Heck, I can take them there myself and not have to even pay for parking!

In fact that is probably where anyone would be able to find us for a lot of the time starting next year, as the system we have opted for, makes use of libraries rather than set text books. Hmm, we might even start as soon as… now? It might be nice to start the system without it being a great big formal launch!

I do know of a story that really spoke to my heart a few years ago. There was a young mother who could not afford school fees for her child, and she worked full day, so there was no one to take care of the daughter during the day at all. Needing someone to care for the daughter in the afternoons if she did go to school, would cost too much. So what she did was this: Left the child at the public library each morning. She would stop the taxi or bus or whatever transport system she was making use of, and the daughter would alight. Her instructions to her child were these… Firstly she was to spend the whole day in the library, not to leave the building. Secondly… she had to read from the reference section and thirdly, she could read fiction in the afternoons only. But read, she must read.  It evolved that this little girl who started her school day at eight in the morning, till around five in the afternoon, excelled! When tested upon entering a school, two years after her Library school began, she was too far ahead of her peers. She had learned so much, that she qualified, by means of an entrance exam placement test situation, she was the material that third year bio-physicist students are made of. She was eleven years old.

This was really great as far as I was concerned. I had really tried to instill a love for books in the children. Rachel, I had no problems with at all. Jason, though, well he was wired differently, wasn’t he? His interpretation of books had nothing to do with the contents; rather it had to do with the actual physical aspects of how it was put together. For instance he would examine the spine, the binding and the gloss on the cover. Often removing the gloss, picking and the glue and testing the bend ability of the spine. What he did get a great buzz out of though was the Guinness Book of Records. I believe it was because the content was fact- however bizarre, short and to the point. Also, the covers were really something special, what with their three dimensional, holograph things , just what Jason needed!

Rachel loved to read, she would spend all day with her nose in a book. Literally, I should consider getting her eyes tested as I a forever telling her to move away from the television too. Besides that, she loved to divulge information gained out of books. Whether it be fiction or fact, she would portray it all as fact. Terry Prachet’s wild woolly characters and ways too! Including facts on Dwarfen (which, in case you are as uneducated in this field as I was… is the language that dwarfs speak)and gnome speak, argh, she was something else.

There was no talk of ever taking on another maid to help out with the household while we were going to do the school thing. I should really start something that’s going to work in keeping the home in a halfway decent state. I had absolutely no idea how this would ever happen, but I certainly realized the importance of this. I only wish it were possible to instill this understanding in others. Others, including John!

   I have mentioned earlier that I consider myself an intelligent woman, I still believed this. I just needed to find that belief again. I have spent so many years cleaning, ironing, changing babies’ nappies, wiping noses etcetera that I had to find confidence in my own abilities outside of that realm.

I do believe that we came to a workable solution where the house work was concerned. Well it did seem as if we had certainly come to it but I realised later what my key mistake was.

I decided to set up a schedule. I was going to start working according to the schedule in the mean time, and see how we would manage. Sunday afternoons and evenings I would cook. I would prepare five meals. Five dishes of meat and vegetables that could be put in the fridge or freezer. In the winter time I discovered that they could live in the fridge without going off, but in summer I simply popped them into the freezer. The purpose of doing this was the following. If I was going to be kept busy in the mornings with taking care of the children and doing school with them, then I wouldn’t have the time or energy to take care of dinner. My children were not as involved in the kitchen as I would like them to be, and by doing this, they could begin to get busy with meals too. The rice or pasta or potatoes would still need to be done with each meal, so one of the children could take responsibility for that, while the other took care of the salads. Setting the table could become part of salad duty etc. I wanted to get them well versed in the ways of the kitchen I wanted for them to understand the mechanics involved in the many things they and John too, took for granted in the basic day to day running of the household. There is much to be achieved here. The rest of the family understand the time implications as well as what the cleaning up entails according to the dishes that are prepared.

That is just one dimension of house schedule. I set up a system that would encourage the kids to clean where they messed. We called it Secret Agent. That name evolved because of the nature of the system. It was a game. We, all of us, had to leave a room as we found it. We could not leave any evidence of our being in the room. I stuck up little pictures of hats like our very popular uncle Sherlock Holmes’ and magnifying glasses, and if that was too abstract, buckets with mops, brooms and vacuum cleaners began to decorate all our obvious wall space. Notes on the chest freezer that likes to swallow little boys, had a note on it that said ‘Please leave me clear’ etc. In more obvious places a simple red sticker, or a star or something like that would be sufficient. Especially effective where bags get dumped upon the grand entrances. Something I often did was put my handbag on the kitchen counter , and it would stay there. Now I too listen to the very silently screaming red dot on that spot. Conforming to my own rules has been quite a growing point for me. I am happy to set the rules, and expect the children to obey them but when I have to do the same thing it gets just a smidge uncomfortable! What I found particularly scary was trying to ensure that John too would adhere to these whacky life saving rules. I often fell to rescuing him from what I was trying to establish, and doing his chores, or picking up after him. I started getting resentful in this. I didn’t have the guts to address him either.

One that worked for a very limited time was a list on the door of the children’s rooms.  On this list was the things hey needed to do before they left their rooms in the mornings. Simple things like picking up their clothes and placing them in the laundry basket. And making up their beds. Yes sure they don’t start off by doing exactly the way you want it done. Or the way you would do it, but I had to learn to be patient and allow them to find out what worked for them and me. Sometimes Jason had ‘made’ up his bed, without him knowing, I might slip in and do it again, or improve on his handiwork. He would still feel part of the system that way. Getting them to enjoy their laundry was something else. I was not too keen on them taking care of their own laundry all the way. They were still small after all. What we agreed on was this: together team tries. We learned how to hangout the wet clothing on the line in such a way that we could avoid ironing completely. Now we did our ‘ironing’ on the lounge carpet, together, sans a hot iron! Folding and packing away the clothes happens each day now. No longer will there be a pile that grows as if it is being fed with fertilizers. I do believe we had something good here, if only we all played together towards a common goal. Lesson 1 used to say that I was busy with the children….. but they're bigger now and that's not a valid reason anymore. Home schooling them. Too hot!

In fact I hang my head in shame, there is no excuse for me not to be writing far more than I am at the moment. When the children are doing their "schooling" is in actual fact an ideal time for me to write. I'm in the same room as they are. And the weather is wonderfully cool , down in the Cape and I could get up an hour or two earlier just to get the serious thinking parts done with regards to my writing and the assignments that I've set myself.

This in all actuality means that I could get in a good five to six hours a day! Wow! I never realized!

Husband -      Hmmm, I think, he thinks its wonderful to be able to do this. Probably wonders whether anything will actually come of it. Would like to see it used very practically. Like maybe furthering things that he wants to do. Biography of our lie etc. Short fictions stories, I believe are rather impractical…. So why?

Daughter-       Probably she thinks it would be great to have a writer for a mum, could feel a bit threatened, but in general is pro the whole thing and would encourage.

Son -               I don't believe he really for or against. Writing anything as far as he's concerned, is not something he likes to do himself. Doesn't understand the thing that drives this dream at all.

I am happy to say that I was spot on with them all! They are all pro, therefore give me the time and understanding that I need. If I need to reach a deadline in something, I am assured that they would try all they could to allow for it to happen. Neat,  huh?

Three undisturbed hours during the day/ morning.

1 hour early hours.

With four hours, I could achieve a lot and manage to complete drafts that are running around too!

As I'm working in the same room  the children are in, it is a little tricky to chase them out and still get them to do school work, so, I'll make myself a "dNd"   label to stick on the back of my cap!

They think this is a great idea!

Chapter 9 – turning point

I know that I have to do something about this. Once and for all, there will be severe repercussions if I don’t. I’ve tried, and tried and tried. Obviously it is going still to be up to me to see to it. The responsibility has in fact always been mine. I was just ever hopeful that the rest of the Banfield family would take that responsibility with me.

“Oh Dear Lord, give me a way to take control”, I prayed resting my head in my hands. It was a disaster. My home is a disaster area. My family is a disaster. And oh God, my marriage is worse than a disaster! How am I ever going to cope when the children are at home? How will we be able to find a clear surface to just do our school work?

I have tried it all. The threats, the tears, the nagging , the works! But all to no avail. My house is still a mess. And it is the cause, the underlying cause for everything else that is going wrong here.

Rachel has no regard for a single thing I say to her. She has seen throughout the years that I never say what I mean. That what I set up, or institute always lasts for maximum of two days, well okay, maybe one week. Then we are right back to where we started. Nothing ever changes. So it does not matter what I say, ever, because my words have little or no effect.

Jason, well Jason couldn’t be bothered either. He is convinced that my sole purpose in this house is to shout, rant , rave and scream. I do not even think he’s ever heard what I say. Honestly, I am not that sure I would want to listen to that kind of noise either. Sure I would hear it, but actually take the time to notice and actually listen to the meaning of the words? I think not. So here we have two kids in one house. No not a home at the moment. Simply a house. Brick, mortar, and tiles.

There is little or no soul to be found. But as I was saying here we have two kids. One thinks I have nothing of importance to say, the other thinks I am completely fickle and flaky and wants nothing to do with that. The scary thing is that the two of them make up fifty percent of our household. With Maria gone I cannot even have her added to make the figures even look better.

I rub my eyes, look at my watch, I know I need to leave soon to do the school run. Damn, have coffee on my sleeve! Can’t they even wipe up that kind of thing? Now I am going to have to do it, and change my blouse as well! I am just adding to the laundry pile unnecessarily. I slowly get up off the bar stool and reach for the superwipe, and notice I am in dire need of a manicure. And just when will I get the time for something like that? I can’t take it anymore. Then the next thing is, I am crying. Not just quietly sniffling, but crying, howling. Sobbing my heart out and I can’t even tell you why. I took Vitamin B this morning so I shouldn’t be feeling so down, but I was. I think I was anyway. I really don’t think that the manicure thing deserves such violent tears.

It was not just the manicure was it?

It was my life. That’s it, it was my life. I can’t handle it anymore. I really cannot. John is still staying away. I actually think he is having an affair. He must be, I wouldn’t blame him either. Just look at me.

I am very overweight. So completely dissatisfied with myself. My hair hasn’t seen the inside of a salon in ages. Pony tails no longer work for me. In fact they haven’t for the last ten years I think. My wardrobe consists of tracksuit trousers and king sized T-shirts. I call them comfort clothes. But I am obviously getting enough comfort from food.

“Oh God, I hate myself”, I sniff at my reflection in the oven door. And promptly burst into tears again.

I am very conscious of the fact hat I need to leave to pick up Rachel and Jason, but for once, I don’t care.

The radio in the kitchen, on top of the fridge starts to intone:

“It’s sad, so sad… why can’t we seem to talk it over.

What have I gotta do to be heard ….

It’s a sad, sad situation

And its gotten more and more absurd …

by Sir Elton John, I wonder if he ever felt this way? Did he know I was going to go through this? Did he know I was going to be twenty kilograms overweight before I turned forty?

The radio switched over to an ad break then a time check. I was late. I would never make it in time to fetch the children. So what?

Right then, I decided that I didn’t care. I had cared so much for so long, and look where it had gotten me. Nowhere! Absolutely nowhere. They could wait for me for a change. I have spent countless hours waiting on the two of them.

Waiting for them to pick up their clothes off the floor.

Waiting for them to get  in the car for school.

Waiting for them to finally get to the car of an afternoon after school.

Waiting for them to take responsibility for their decisions

Waiting for them to, to …

Waiting for them to grow up.

“Oh dear God, has it really been all bad?”, praying again, but never expecting a reply.

I was leaning against the kitchen counter and started to slide down to the floor. It was a wonderful feeling. Just letting myself sink lower and lower, till my butt rested on the cool tiles. I wrapped my arms around my knees, and rested my chin on them. Thinking.

Still crying and sniffling, but not nearly as loud or extravagant as a while ago.

That’s how they found me.

Chapter 10– the birth of ten minutes

I don’t know how long I sat there.

I know not how many times the phone rang. And I don’t care either.

Sitting on my kitchen floor, I realised a lot of things. I understood that the reason things were going so terribly wrong in my life. It was me. Simply me. No one else could fix this mess. It was entirely up to me.

Superwoman does not live here. I am just a Mom. I need to make some drastic changes. I need to set priorities and stick with them. If I let them slide, no one else is going to take them seriously.

I need to take absolute and complete control of all areas of my life. I know this now, but how the heck am I suppose to do this? How do I change so drastically?

How do I suddenly, after fifteen years of marriage and motherhood, begin to change into a person I had only ever dreamed about?

The answer to this.. at the beginning. I need to take one step at a time, with strength and determination to see it through to completion.

Sitting on the kitchen floor that Tuesday afternoon, it became terribly clear to me. 

And that’s how they found me.

I was sitting there with a stupid looking grin on my face. I was completely at peace with myself for the first time in years.

I didn’t care that there was no dinner on the stove. I didn’t care about leaving the kids stranded at school. I didn’t care about anything but me. It was my turn now. I realised that if I continued to let myself take fourth , fifth and sixth place in this household, no body would benefit at all. Why it took so long for me to see . I have no idea. Maybe I did know it all along. But for some reason I related selfishness with taking care of myself. Probably a cupboard martyr or something.  Anyhow, so far and no further!

I don’t remember too much about the evening, I do however remember red flashing lights. I was taken to hospital. The poor kids had no idea what to do with me, Dad was away and wasn’t answering his phone, so they did the next best thing and called an ambulance.

I rested there.

Heaven!

Four days of vitamin B injections, multi vitamins and a balanced diet that I did not prepare…. lots of sleep and a note book with pencil.

John was not allowed to see me for the first three days. He only found out what had happened at the end of my first day there. Obviously he was an unavailable subscriber or plain not answering his cell phone, which was becoming more the norm than not. I had complete uninterrupted rest. It was the first time in fifteen years that I had not been with my family. It was the first time they had to cope with home on their own. It was the first time they had to really appreciate all the things that I do around the house and generally in their lives. They probably didn’t like it, but I was beyond caring about how they felt right now.

I had a plan!

 If my judgement was right, it should take about ten minutes a day to take care of all the household chores. I was certainly ready to give that a try!

I wrote furiously on day four. Scratched out what I wrote and wrote some more, until I finally had it! There might be some kinks that need to be ironed out, but as far as I could see, I was about to usher Superwoman into our home once again.

Chapter  11– welcome Super-Mom

“Coming Honey”, I call to John as he makes his way to my office. I push my fingers through my short hair, lean back in my chair and smile. I look around me and take stock a while. This is my office. This is where I write. This is where I do the stories that are going to change the world. This is where I display all my Rejection Slips. This is where I display too, my first pay check from writing. I love it! I love my life. I love my kids and I love my husband. Not necessarily in that order though.

It’s Thursday afternoon, the children are out today and I have managed to catch up with some writing. This morning was my ‘own’ time. Once a week I do something for me, today it was manicure day!

Oh my hat, I remember the time I cried when I saw my nails! I go to gym three times a week now, and it’s showing. I feel so much better for it. I have also lost twelve of the twenty kilograms that found me. I like the new me, and John seems to as well.

John sticks his head round the door, comes in and kisses me deeply. I lean in toward his chest as he puts his arms around me and thank God for John again silently.

Dinner is ready; we are going to fetch the children, choose a video together and come home again. We do a lot of things together these days. This is so different to before.

The credits start to roll, and popcorn kernels coat the base of the bowl, the lights are on and its time for bed. The movie was great, but what about the mess?

“Ten Minutes”, I call happily.

What a pleasure to watch. This is all it takes to clean house everyday. Ten  minutes. Truly, take a peek:

Jason has gone to the kitchen, taken a mop and bucket and a broom. Rachel has done the same, only she has a polishing cloth and feather duster too.

Even John, he’s taken the vacuum cleaner, a feather duster and dust cloths too. I make my way to the kitchen and pack away the dishes from dinner, fill up the kettle for the morning and set the counter for breakfast. The floor needs a once over here too, so I reach in the cupboard for the other broom and mop.

This is the secret you see. Having more than just one tool for cleaning. Allocate areas of the house to individuals and hold them responsible for it. After a while they start to motivate others to stop leaving things lying around. And, voilá, what we have  here is -control.

The first one ready to go to bed or simply call it a day, shouts out “ten minutes’ and everyone else drops what they are doing and do their chores.

It works. It really does. I do the ironing on a not too regular basis, as the children are taking care of much of their own laundry nowadays. We have also learned how to hang out the clothes so the least amount or ironing is needed. There is no exception. Everyone does it together every night.

No longer do I rescue my kids. No longer do I do everything for them and not allow them to grow up in the real world. No longer do I treat John as someone better than the rest of us that he doesn’t need to do his part. We are a family together; it is a team thing, so we do it together. We have agreed that this is the way forward, and we help each other stick to it. And it is getting easier and easier to do. We all appreciate waking up in the morning and coming in to a tidy clean and sunny kitchen. There is no ‘putting down’ anymore- that has become ‘putting away’. It took a while to have homes for everything. Now that we all know where things should live, it is so much easier to put it away. It is also so much easier to find things.

I have stopped whining and nagging and threatening. This means that home is a more pleasant and happier place to be.

And to think I prayed not expecting an answer!

It was the night before Christmas….

“Why do I do this to myself? Why do I get myself to do things that I’m really not cut out to do? I’ll have to sit down and do it tonight, tomorrow’s Christmas and I said that it was all under control, when will I learn to say NO!?” she muttered to the floppy, pale turkey. Wondering what was so great about this big bird anyway. “I’ll never know.”

“Mummy,  Mummy come and see! The Christmas tree only needs the star on top! Come and look, come and look!”

Leaving the turkey to dress itself in the kitchen she traipsed off to the living room to see the children and Dad proudly surveying their handy work. The lights were flickering just right, the draft from under the door was doing its part by making the candles flutter, and in all, a general sense of well being oozed from the room. Why could it not be like this more often? This question grabbed her so hard that suddenly there was a lump in her throat and her eyes began to tingle. It was getting late and still there was so much to do. Exasperation was climbing up in her, she urged it down, trying to enjoy this moment for a little longer. It was so rare these days that they were all in one accord about anything that she wanted to make it last.

The shiny bright eyes of her three children looked up at the tree in both adoration and excitement, what would tomorrow bring? They knew about the secret shopping sprees, they had all been part of them at different times during the past months, secrecy was key to this time of the year, curiosity was in the forefront. They had saved and schemed and changed their minds so many times, that even if they had done the buying or making, they had a hard time remembering themselves what their gifts to each other were. That was why we did it all as early as we did.

 It was time for eggnog and chestnuts, done just right over the open flames.  Eggnog, raw egg and cow juice? Could anybody please tell her the appeal? Why was it that children place so much hope in this time of year? She had read some of the Santa letters,

“please make Mummy and Daddy happy again Santa”

“Santa I really want for Mummy to laugh again.” “Could you please make Daddy not go away so much, Santa?”

 Really heartbreaking stuff, only little Matthew remained a constant here,

“Santa, I want a red bike with gears and a skateboard like my friend Barry and also if I’m really, really good, could I get a playstation?” and scratched in as an afterthought, in a different ink  “P.S. and thank you.”

That of course was the easy stocking to fill. After they had all gone to bed, including Dad, she sat down at the computer to attempt to fulfil her promise.

There were days when she used to believe. She used to believe in many things, even the goodness of life, maybe even in Santa, those were days that were certainly a lot happier. She could remember when she would sit down and make up stories about her children and make them laugh. Or the times in the car, fetching them from school when they would compose limericks together and laugh so hard that she would have to pull off to the side of the road while the laughter overtook them so completely. She believed in good, she believed in making happy memories for her children, and herself, she believed. She even believed in making happy memories for Dave, funnies and things to brighten up his days at the office.  Like the time when she put chocolates in his shirt pocket, he didn’t realise it and they melted… oops, Maybe that wasn’t such a good example. Well it was funny, but well, Dave didn’t think so. Just her thinking about it now, brought the shadow of a smile to her face. Or the time when instead of chocolates, that little shocker buzzing thing. Sense of humour sometimes lacking but that was funny too, especially that he was in a meeting in the board room when he discovered it. It still remains funny, maybe not so much the deeds, but certainly the reactions. Never mind. Those were the good days, which sounds like such a cliché, but they truly were. That hasn’t happened in a long time, she missed it too. But why did she have to tell Andrea “yes”, at just this time of year? Why is it that as parents they would never break a promise made to their children but it was okay to break oaths made to each other? You know the one?

 …To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer for poorer, for better, for worse… why is that one, made in front of so many witnesses allowed to be broken? She could not say for sure if in fact there was anything really broken, he just stayed out later and later. Left for the office earlier and earlier, had Take-out for supper more and more often. Though Dave would probably deny that there was anything wrong. But the magic had definitely left, slamming the door behind it too. In its place, a vacuum, where was the laughter? That only exists when you believe.

She was pounding at the keyboard, hoping to make some laughter. That’s what Andrea had asked for hadn’t she? Andrea, her serious child, eldest of the three of her children and born old. She hadn’t let these changes go unnoticed, and this was the only way that she could think of to fix what she assumed had gone wrong. Like laughter was the problem or the lack of it at least. She obviously figured that things would be just as they were as soon as the laugher returned to our home. How wrong can a little girl be? But who was a Mummy to dash a child’s hopes? Leave that for the morning.

She heard a ‘thunk’ in the living room, just after midnight… Could’ve come from the kitchen, maybe the turkey turning over in the roasting pan. Maybe it was from in the lounge?

Probably just a dingle-dangle that has fallen from the tree. Maybe…..

“ No, it’s an over active imagination at work.”

“Ho, ho, ho??” Ridiculous! Sneaking down the passage to take a peek, noticed that the carpet in front of the fireplace was wet? No way! Milk and cookies were still th… this is impossible!

She was an adult after all! This stuff was for kids! Who ate the cookies? Just wait till I get my hands on….

“Darling,” the sound of Dave’s voice. He hasn’t called her ‘Darling’ in months. Changing direction in the passage, a slow smile teasing her lips, she heads for the main bedroom. And there, in stripy pyjamas, and only his, very endearing kind of bedhead, (from pillow wrestling)

“Please come to bed, I miss you so much “…Maybe its not too late to believe after all?

Someone once said this:

To laugh ... is to risk appearing the fool.

To weep ... is to risk appearing sentimental.

To reach out for another ... is to risk involvement.

To expose feelings ... is to risk exposing our true self.

To place your ideas, your dreams before the crowd ...

 is to risk loss.

To love ... is to risk not being loved in return.

To live ... is to risk dying.

To hope ... is to risk despair.

To try at all ... is to risk failure.

But, to risk we must,

Because the greatest hazard in life is to risk nothing.

The man, the woman, who risks nothing ...  does nothing, has  nothing, is nothing.