‘Yes, and you’re not going to have one. Are you?’
I shut my eyes and listen to my body. Inhaling fortitude, exhaling anger and fear and grief. I picture myself arriving at the domestic terminal in Mascot, getting out of this taxi, walking through security, straight past the bar to the coffee shop …
‘No,’ I say. ‘I’m not going to drink.’
‘I can stay on this call until you board,’ she explains. ‘You’ll only have to get through the flight itself, but I believe you can.’
I imagine the flight attendants dragging the trolley up the aisle, little bottles rattling, within reach. I see myself ordering water. Maybe a chicken wrap. And I believe that Maggie and I have averted my current crisis together.How do any adults get through their lives completely alone?
‘I’ve only ever wanted to support you with Parker,’ I tell her. ‘I know she and I have music, but I will never replace you, Maggie. I never could.’
‘Can I save a seat for you at the concert beside Josh and me?’ she asks. ‘I don’t want her looking for us in three different parts of the audience.’
Much as I could do without seeing Josh after all of this, I agree. Parker has enough going on. She needs a united front.
‘I’d love that.’ It’s as if, in one conversation, the tension in our entire relationship has ratcheted down several notches. As if we’ve been on opposing teams all this time and one of us has crossed sides.Are you watching this, Fraser, wherever you are?
‘Do you want to call me from the other side of security?’
The airport is in sight now. ‘I think I’ll be okay.’ That horrible, itchy static that was screaming for alcohol has dissolved, and I’ve got the music back in my head.
We end the call and I cue Fraser’s song. That invisible, powerful thread I’ve always felt between us. Grounded by what we had. Guided by it …
Except now the song also reminds me of Beau, and I can’t hear it without my brain layering the new sounds over the top.
What I must not do is let this latest betrayal harden me, or let this one tumultuous week close off my life. I must protect Parker, my music and my sobriety over everything.
As I climb out of the taxi and enter the airport terminal, there’s an incoming message from Josh.
Audrey I really need to speak with you. Before tonight.
Forfuck’ssake. There is nothing he could tell me at this point that would fix things between us. Men like Josh and Beau—the type who dazzle you with their creative admiration, luring you skyward—promise to keep monsters at bay.
Then they feed you to them.
Sully, this is bigger than you and me.
59
FRASER
Parker is self-harming.
Maggie’s text brings my elation about Rachael crashing to the floor.
Self-harming? How did I not know?
Isn’t it a parent’s job to know? Have I been here, thinking about myself and Rachael, grappling with grief and joy and romantic potential while my child has been right beside us all, quietly sinking?
What does ‘self-harm’ even mean?I’m jolted back to the times I plunged to my lowest, when my life was at risk, sick to my stomach that Parker could have reached anywhereneara place like that.
Fraser, it’s not the same as you.
It’s as if Maggie, professional as ever, has hurdled our divorce and remains inside my head to this day. I turn to Rachael and feel the apology that’s written all over my face. It’s not been five minutes, and I’m about to complicate her life already. I pass her my phone.
‘Oh, God. I’m so sorry,’ she says. ‘But also, I know a little about this. It’s a scary term, and it’s serious. But it’s often driven by a need to let out painful emotions. It can be an attempt to feel better. Not worse. Try to stay calm.’
Calm?In these few moments I’ve already cycled through every mistake I’ve ever made as a parent. Could I have tried more to keep her mother and me together? Should I not have repartnered with Audrey? If I hadn’t repartnered, we wouldn’t have lost Audrey and gone through such an intense few years. Did I lose myself in my own grief? Neglect hers? Was she collateral damage to my own depression? And now my brain presents me with a reel filled with arguments over messy bedrooms or late essays, and I’m questioning every impatient word I’ve ever spoken.
