But that’s not true. I don’t have to do anything. I find myself stepping back from him, hands off, turning away, fleeing this place before he can hurt me any further.
And as I grab my bag and tear past him and down the stairs, faster and faster towards the kerb, where I’ll hail a taxi, I start laying into myself.What made you think you could slot into a world like Beau’s?This glittering red-carpet ride that he’s on. I don’t belong here, in the reflected spotlight of Oscar-nominated stardom. Of course it was all fake! That’s his job! To tell stories! Maybe I do belong in the safety of the audience. Anonymously. Quietly. Where Professor Ridges told me to go because I had good ideas but they were neverenough. Not without him. And now I have offered my stone-cold broken heart to someone who wasn’t careful with the horrific path I’ve been thrown on. Someone who’s rushed in, guns blazing, fireworks bursting, and trampled everything, hurling my heart at the wall.
I need to hold myself together. Once I slide into the taxi’s back seat, I try to centre myself in the eye of this storm and in the protective stillness of the car.
‘Airport?’ the driver asks, and I nod.
Airport bar …
Breathe, Audrey.
I try phoning my sponsor, Ali, but the call goes to voicemail. Flashes of the impact of alcohol shoot through my body as if I’ve already taken several sips. The way it buzzes through your veins. The lifting of stress. The sense of it picking you up and carrying you away from the parts of life you don’t feel strong enough to endure. In these crashing moments of even more loss, my mind is grappling for control over a body that isscreamingfor the short-term, solve-all balm for which it habitually wants to reach, evenyearson.
And I exhale, long and slow.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Don’t let him take this, too, a voice whispers. I’m digging as deep as I’ve ever had to.
As buildings flash by and we drive through city streets, my imagination is filled with a maelstrom of hurt and harm and disappointment and betrayal, amber liquids and easy magic swirling through the images.It would be so easy …
I pick up my phone again. I could call Rach, but Jasper is teething. She hasn’t slept in weeks. And I think this needs an expert. It’s another clifftop, of sorts. But not the place where I let everything go and allow fresh strength to sweep through me as a result. A place from which it is too easy to slip, gravity pulling me into the surge, smashing me against rocks, dragging me into depths I don’t have the strength to fight again.It’s like wrestling a monster.
I dial a different number.
‘Audrey?’ Maggie says, when she picks up. ‘Listen, I already told Parker it’s okay for you to come to her concert tonight.’
Oh my God, it’s only now that I remember the problems with Parker and how I’ve promised to be there, and wonder if Parker or Josh has spoken to her yet. Why did I phoneMaggieof all people, when we’ve already got so much going on?
‘I’m sorry for calling,’ I say, hearing the strain in my voice. ‘I just need to say I’m heading to the airport in Sydney. Now. I came here for …’ I can’t tell her I’ve been at a table read for a movie—she’d accuse me of intoxication!
‘Is everything all right?’
I wait to catch my breath and my thoughts. I’d have to be crazy to divulge this to Maggie now, when I’m still hopingshe’ll let me back into Parker’s life, but the fact is, I’m desperate. ‘I haven’t had a single drop of alcohol in nearly two and a half years,’ I explain. ‘Not since my first AA meeting. But something happened today that really gutted me. I tried calling my sponsor. She didn’t answer—’
‘Okay, I’m glad you phoned.’ Her whole tone shifts to accommodate a conversation very different from the one she’d anticipated.
I sit back in the car and close my eyes.
‘I’ll stay on the line with you until this passes. Itwillpass, Audrey. You’ve triumphed over it repeatedly. Every single time. I can’t tell you how impressed I’ve been.’
If she’s been that impressed, why can’t I see her daughter?
‘Can we talk about something else?’ The taxi flies onto the Harbour Bridge, and I try to focus on glimpses of the Opera House through steel girders. Strong sunlight flickers through the shadows as we rush past. It only makes me more anxious, and now I’m reminded of a time when I was standing down there with Fraser and Parker, the weekend we went wedding shopping. ‘Anything at all, Maggie …’
‘I need to thank you for talking to Parker with Josh,’ she says, calmly. ‘She came home that night and confided in me about how she’s been feeling and the self-harm. She said you convinced her to and told her about that time we went to the doctor together. You didn’t have to go into all of that in front of Josh. I’ve kept your confidence.’
‘Some things are more important than my pride. I’m glad she came to you. Is she going to be okay?’
There’s a long pause, during which I feel like she is carrying the world. Sometimes I forget what she lost when Fraser died. Her co-parent The only person who loved Parker in quite thesame way, who knew her from birth and was there for every first step. A person now glaringly absent from everything, without any clear label for her loss. Maggie isn’t widowed, but as a sole parent, she might as well be. She’s still shepherding a grief-stricken child through life and doing it all on her own.
‘Audrey, I think I need you,’ she says eventually. ‘In her life. In mine. I’m sorry I shut you out for this long.’
Has she forgotten the purpose of this phone call, and the fact that I seem to be almost back to square one, furiously craving the substance that tore down my life for a time and put her daughter in harm’s way?
‘I’ve literally just called you to say I want a drink, Maggie.’
