What the Light Hides (14 page)

‘And are you?' asks Pat.

‘What?'

‘Aloof?'

‘No,' I say, surprised by her seriousness. ‘Why would you think that?'

‘You just seem…a bit reserved, somehow.'

I'm stunned and just about to ask her why, when someone knocks on the door.

The smell of wet leaves fills the room as Pat lets Maria in.

‘You're early.' I get up to greet her.

‘I know,' she says, and leans her umbrella against the wall. ‘Do you mind?' She looks from Pat to me. ‘I can come back if you're in the middle of something.'

‘No, it's fine,' I say. ‘We can go upstairs.'

‘Stay here,' says Pat, ‘I'm all done.' She gets her raincoat and gives us a quick wave as she leaves.

‘There's more coffee if you want some.' I give Maria a hug.

‘Yes, please.' She takes off her scarf and sits down.

I walk to the kitchenette. Leaden light falls through the windows and touches the wooden floorboards.

‘Is Pat a friend?' Maria asks as I hand her the cup.

‘No,' I say. ‘She runs this place.'

‘You seem friendly.'

‘She's nice,' I say and sit down.

Maria reaches for the sugar bowl. There is a Mickey Mouse bandaid on her index finger.

‘What happened to your hand?' I remember how Ben loved his Winnie the Pooh bandaids. Once he wore one on every finger for a whole week. Vera had to pry them off him in fear that he was going to get a fungus.

‘I chopped tomatoes last night and forgot what I was doing.' Maria stirs the coffee.

Again I am struck by the change in her, but I can't put a finger on what it is. She still looks tired, but is perfectly done up as always—her lips painted, her dark hair in an immaculate ponytail.

A car accelerates past on the laneway outside.

Maria puts the spoon down. ‘I'm sorry. I know this is the last thing you need, but I really do need to talk with you.'

‘I'm not sure I can do this,' I say.

‘It's just…I have no one else,' she says.

I look down at the table. Someone has scratched the initials ‘S. N.' into the thin lacquer.

‘Something happened that day,' she continues.

I look up at her, confused.

‘I left the door open,' she says. ‘I didn't imagine that anyone would just walk in.'

It takes me a moment to realise that she's talking about the break-in.

‘I was letting air through the house,' she continues. ‘I had just washed the floors and went to make tea. He was standing in the middle of the living room when I came back. There were dirty footprints all over the wet floor.'

Red patches appear on her cheeks.

‘There was something wrong with his eyes. I knew it right away. Something horribly wrong. He came right up close and I asked, “What do you want?” But he didn't answer, he didn't say anything at all, he just put a hand around my throat and squeezed.'

‘He tried to strangle you?'

‘If it hadn't been for Jared I would have been dead. He came running in from the garden and started yelling and shouting and the man let me go, just like that. And then he left.'

‘I'm so sorry,' I say. ‘I didn't know.'

‘I'm scared all the time, David. I can't sleep, I can't eat. The other day I had a panic attack at the shopping mall. They had to call an ambulance. I thought I was going to die.'

‘Is someone helping you through this?'

‘I'm going to leave Neil.'

‘What?' I say.

‘I have to.'

‘But you love Neil,' I say.

Maria takes off the scarf and I can see faint grey bruises on her neck. ‘I always thought,' she says, ‘that if I was a good wife and a good mother then I would get some kind of return. Like a safe passage for me and the people I love.' She tries to laugh, but it sounds more like a sob. ‘I thought that if I just did everything right then I would be able to control the future. But then this man walks into my house and destroys everything.'

‘What if I could talk Neil into moving house?' I ask.

She shakes her head. ‘There's something I'm not getting, something I need to find. I just don't know what it is. I need to start over, David. To go back to the beginning.'

‘But what about counselling?' I say. ‘It could help you figure all that out. It could help Neil too. We both know he drinks too much.'

The sound of the rain increases. There is a low rumble of thunder in the distance.

‘No,' she stands up. ‘I just came to make sure that you'll be there for Neil.'

‘Maria, please don't go. There must be something we can do. Think about Jared.'

‘Jared will be fine. He's got two parents who love him.' She looks at me steadily. ‘Please, will you promise me?'

‘Of course I'll look after Neil,' I say.

She kisses me on the cheek. ‘Don't tell him before I get a chance to speak to him. I'll do it soon.'

I walk upstairs feeling immensely sad for Maria and Neil. I sit down near the window and look out onto the rain. A woman with blonde hair and a red raincoat pauses in the lane to put up her umbrella.

I remember Neil the other night, swaying drunkenly to the Ramones. Sweet, pompous Neil. As much as he talks about his love for Marx, Maria has been the centre of his world for as long as they have known each other.

I get my phone and do the only thing I can think of doing for him right now. I dial my mother's number. As the phone rings I imagine her at her desk with the green lamp lit and papers spread out in front of her. Her intimate world. Her fortress, from which she lives and rules.

She picks up on the second ring. ‘Beatrice Oliver speaking.' Her voice is as authoritative and charismatic as ever.

‘Neil told me you'd come home,' I say.

‘A few days ago.'

‘How was Arizona?'

‘It was hot,' she says. ‘The faculty was brilliant, but the desert was even more brilliant. Cowboys and cactuses, you know. They offered me a position. I'm considering taking it.'

‘And you're not going to ask me how we've been?'

‘Are you going to be mad at me, darling? Because if you are then we might have to do this another time, I am terribly jetlagged.'

I take a deep breath. ‘I'm in Sydney,' I say and watch the rain splatter on the windowpane. ‘I was thinking of coming for a visit.'

‘Neil hinted that you might be leaving Vera. I was hoping it wasn't true.'

A flock of galahs, radiantly pink, gather under a tree in the wet lane.

‘I haven't left Vera,' I say.

I'm not angry with Neil. He still tells our mother almost everything. He has done it for as long as I can remember, hoping, I am sure, to be loved in return. Once when we were teenagers I caught him having a very adult cup of tea with my mother while earnestly discussing the details of a secret I had confided in him earlier.

The galahs scatter when a man walks past on the lane. He walks quickly, backpack lifted over his head as a shield against the rain. I see the Che Guevara patch on the backpack and recognise the lanky walk.

‘Ten tomorrow,' I yell. I throw the phone on the desk and sprint down the stairs and out into the rain. By the time I reach the lane Ben has disappeared from view.

I run as fast as I can, trying not to slip on the wet leaves. My footsteps ring against the bitumen and within seconds I reach the end of the lane. I am soaked through, gasping for breath, and I can't see him anywhere. ‘Ben,' I call out. ‘Ben!' I turn left and start running again. A dog scampers out of my way and into a yard. Its fur stands up in wet tufts. A car races by, spraying water all over the footpath. I come to a halt when I see a woman in a black raincoat chaining her bike to a fence. She instinctively takes a step back when she sees me. ‘Sorry,' I say. ‘Have you seen a young man pass by?' She shakes her head. The bike lock in her hand is a fluorescent green.

I stop at the next intersection, panting. My chest burns and I can't see him anywhere. I start walking in the direction of his flat. Ahead the city is erased by fog and rain.

Ben's apartment is empty. Everything is where I left it: the gnome is on the table, the pink shirt on the bed. The place reeks of alcohol and I open the door to the rain-drenched balcony. Music drifts in from the flat next door.

I put the kettle on while drying my hair with a towel and then I find a packet of tea. The music next door changes from some unidentifiable rock to a piece that I recognise. It's a piano piece by Philip Glass, one that Ben likes.

I walk across the landing and knock on the door. A woman opens. It's the same woman I met the other night. She is dressed in sweatshirt and jeans. Her hair is up and there's something wholesome about her, something reminiscent of farm life and full-cream milk.

‘Hi,' I say, aware that I am drenched and look a mess. ‘I'm Ben's dad. Ben from next door.'

‘I was wondering when you would come,' she says.

‘When I would come?' I repeat, but she doesn't seem to hear me.

‘I don't have long, but come in for a moment,' she says and steps aside for me to enter.

Her flat is the mirror image of Ben's, but it feels lighter. The curtains are white and her bedspread is bright blue. A cup of tea sits on the table.

She turns the music off. Cold air comes through the open balcony door and I shiver in my wet clothes. And then I notice the garden gnome that sits, shiny with rain, in a cluster of succulents. It matches the one I found on Ben's balcony.

She reaches over and shakes my hand. ‘I'm Alice,' she says. ‘But you already know that.'

‘No,' I say. ‘I'm sorry, but I have no idea who you are.'

She looks at me, surprised. ‘I thought Neil would have told you. Or your mum?'

I'm taken aback. ‘You and Ben were together?'

She gets her bag from the dresser. ‘Neil said you took Ben's death hard.' She looks at me. ‘Maybe that's why he didn't tell you. Sorry, I just need to pack a few things while we're talking. I'm starting a new job today, so I can't be late.'

‘How long were you together?'

She pulls out a white shirt from a drawer. ‘Since our trip to India,' she says and adds the shirt to the bag. ‘We both went with Engineers Without Borders. And later, when this flat became available, I moved in.' She picks up an umbrella and places it next to the bag. ‘It was almost like living together, you know. It made it really difficult when we broke up.'

‘And when was that?' I ask, thinking that maybe it's all her fault. Maybe this innocent-looking farm girl is to blame for all that's happened.

She stops what she's doing and looks at me. ‘Ben left me two months before he went missing. I didn't even know he was gone. I had already stopped knocking on his door, stopped ringing him. And I spent most of that time at home with my mum anyway. I didn't know what'd happened before Neil came around one day and told me.' She closes her bag. ‘I'm really sorry, but I have to go.'

‘Why did he leave you?'

She shrugs. ‘He didn't give me a reason, he just said that there were things he needed to do.'

‘Was he behaving differently in any way?'

‘He was his usual self.'

‘And what was that?'

‘Restless,' she says. ‘Always pushing boundaries.' She takes her cup to the sink.

‘What did he like doing?'

‘Walking across the Sydney Harbour Bridge in the middle of the night, running out of restaurants without paying, or getting locked into the state library after closing hours. He was impulsive and totally crazy, and I loved him. But all that stuff was rarely fun for me.' She looks at me. ‘Except for the night he turned up unexpectedly in a borrowed a car. We drove down the coast to Neil's house, bought some bread and cheese on the way, and stayed there for a whole week, just him and me.' She tears up.

I wait.

‘He used to say he wanted a relationship like the one you and your wife have, and I thought…I know we were young, but I thought it might be us, you know?'

‘Did he ever talk about taking his own life?'

She shook her head. ‘Never. I would have done something about it straight away. My aunty works for Lifeline. But, look, I'm sorry, I really do have to go. Maybe you could come back later?'

‘Just one last thing,' I say. ‘Did anything else happen around the time he broke up with you?'

She hesitates. ‘He started hanging out with this guy he was working with at Wanders.'

‘Wanders?'

‘A cafe down on King Street. It's pretty grungy. That's where he met Kaiser.'

‘I didn't know he had a job,' I say.

‘You weren't close.'

‘We used to be,' I say and feel the pressure on my chest again. ‘We used to be really close.'

She puts the bag over her shoulder. ‘I need to go,' she says.

‘Sorry,' I say. And then I get my wallet out and hand her one of my business cards. ‘I want you to have my number and I want you to ring me if you see him.'

She looks at me. For a moment everything is dead quiet, then she blushes and her eyes flood.

‘I want you to go,' she says.

I'm about to tell her that I'm not crazy, but she backs away from me and reaches for her phone.

‘You need to leave right now,' she says, ‘or I'll call the police.'

By the time I make it back to the house it has stopped raining and a feeble rainbow paints the sky. My pants cling to my legs and my feet are numb with cold. I get out of my clothes in the bathroom, but I am too angry to shower. Instead I march naked into the living room and dial Neil's number.

‘Finally, David,' he says, answering the phone. ‘I've left you about ten messages.'

I don't bother saying hello. ‘You didn't tell me Ben had a girlfriend,' I say.