“How?” Beth gasped. “I don’t want a fucking personal trainer!”
She said it loud enough that people at the nearby tables turned and stared, but Mara just ignored them. “Did you not tell Byron you missed exercising? Did you not tell him you wish you could have some time to sit down and think of ideas for the podcast without Simon screaming for you?”
“That’s not… I don’t… You can’t justdo this!”
“Watch me.” Mara raised her hand, and a waiter rushed over. “Could I please have another glass of champagne?”
“Of course, Mrs?—”
“You’re not allowed to pay for all this stuff!” Beth interrupted.
The waiter scurried away, and Mara returned her glare with interest. “You helped me with Derek.”
At first, Beth had no idea what she was talking about, but then she remembered the fake kidnapping that drove Derek utterly berserk with sex lust. The memory was so jarring, Beth laughed. “M, that was a game! How is it fair for you to pay for me?—”
“Tohavea happy life?”
“I have a happy life.”
Mara gave her a hard look. “Does that feel true? Or is that just what you think you have to say because you’re a mum now?”
All the air rushed out of Beth’s lungs as effectively as if she’d been pushed underwater. The truth, reflected in Mara’s gaze, was that her happiness was far more theoretical than real. And that was half the weight dragging her down. Who was she to be sad when she had a healthy child and a loving partner? Who was she to be so selfish and low and mean? Her mum? The woman who’d always made her feel inadequate just for existing?
“Yes,” she whispered, her eyes filling with tears. “It feels true.”
“No, it doesn’t.” For the first time, Mara looked like she was about to cry. “We’re losing you, Beth. Byron’s scared, and now that I’ve seen you, so am I.”
“But—”
“You don’t get to decide anymore. You don’t get to drown in post-natal depression because you’re too stubborn to admit you need the help that you’d give anyone else without asking.”
“Iwon’ttake your money.”
Mara leaned forward with the air of someone laying down their final card. “Okay. As much as I want you to get better for yourself, here it is. If you don’t start trying to improve, Simon won’t get to meet the woman his mother was before he was born. And I want him to meet that woman because she’s fucking incredible. You need to fight for her, Beth. You’re the only one who can.”
Beth broke then. Broke like a shattered glass, but she agreed, through sobs and snorts and general batshit behaviour, that she would try.
The first week after Mara arrived was hell, and the disruption to Beth’s routines was even more destabilising than isolation. But true to her word, Beth stuck with it. It was hard to pinpointwhen things actually started to get better. Some stuff, like her sleep, improved right away, but mostly, it went in fits and starts. One day, she and Byron had time to go for a walk on the beach by themselves and talk about things that weren’t Simon. Another day, she wrote for a whole fifteen minutes before sobbing.
Senda, the personal trainer, was friendly but no-nonsense. She made Beth hold planks and do bridges until she was no longer in danger of pissing herself at Target. Her body began to feel like hers again. She booked a voiceover job. She, Byron and Simon went camping for a weekend. Then, what had once seemed impossible—recording full episodes of Sober Bitches, going to Byron’s football games, reaching for him in the middle of the night—became par for the course.
“I love you so much,” Byron said. “I’m sorry I checked out. I just got to feeling that everything I tried didn’t work, and you kept getting worse, and I felt so fucking helpless.”
Beth didn’t blame her husband for what had happened. Byron had been taking cues from her, and she’d been taking cues from the voice in her head that said she needed to handle everything alone, or she was a useless sack of shit. It was a small wonder they’d both gotten lost.
“It’s okay,” she told him. “We didn’t know what we were up against, but now we do.”
In an effort to help anyone who was in her old position, Beth and Dolly recorded a three-hour conversation about new motherhood and post-partum depression. It went viral after Mara and Sal posted about it on Instagram, reaching almost five million downloads. The initial hype didn’t last, but it was like the white pool ball had been tapped in just the right place to send it spinning into a corner pocket. She and Dolly netted a hoard of new sponsors and talk show offers. Beth’s income—which had always been at least a third of what Byron made—shot up until they were almost equals. And so, with pride—andno small amount of fear—she called Mara and asked to pay for her own therapy and to join a Pilates gym instead of getting personal training. Byron was already covering the cost of the nanny service.
“Of course,” Mara said, a trace of humour in her voice. “But if I find out you’re neglecting my friend, you’ll go straight back to trainer jail.”
That was two months ago. Things had started to feel not just stable but enjoyable, and then Byron came to her, flowers in hand. This new job offer was a doozy. He’d been headhunted for an assistant coach position with the Hammerhead Sharks—the team he’d played for before a hamstring injury had ended his career.
“It means moving to Melbourne as soon as possible,” he said, so nervous he could barely look at her. “But the pay’s almost triple what I’m on now, and we can finally buy a house, and it’s… It’s my dream.”
Dream or not, if Byron had approached Beth in the months after Simon was born, she would have been hard-pressed not to scream at the thought of packing up their lives and moving again. This time interstate. But therapy, exercise, time, and support had done its work. Pride shone foremost in Beth’s heart as she threw her arms around Byron’s neck and screamed. “Let’s do it! Let’s fuckinggooooooo!”
Luck was on their side for once. They flew to Victoria and found a picture-perfect house that weekend—a cute three-bedroom in Fairfield. The plan was to stay in Melbourne for at least five years or possibly forever. Beth would miss the beaches of Western Australia, but Mara was less than twenty minutes away from her new place, and so were Sal and Eden and Cheryl and her old mate, Lara. And as much as he could barely admit to having feelings, she knew Byron missed his home city. He had roots there. Now, so would Simon.
