“We’re both fine,” Danika says. “It’s not that, but it’s complicated. I’ll tell you when you come.”
“Fifteen minutes,” her mother says, and the call ends.
It’s thirteen minutes before a car purrs to a halt in the driveway. Her mum springs out and tip-taps her way to the front door. Once inside, she kisses Danika on the cheek and kicks her heels off. “Is the kettle on, or does this need wine?”
“I’ve opened a bottle of red.” Danika leads the way down to the kitchen and pours two large glasses. Now that her mother is here—come running at the hint of distress—she doesn’t know how to start.
Her mum sits on the couch and pats the seat next to her. “Let me give you a hug. And remember there is nothing—nothing—you can’t tell me.”
It’s true. Danika has always confided in her mother, including when she was nine years old and received her first detention for dropping Maisie Reynolds’s gym shoes in the swimming pool because Maisie was mocking Krystal Jones, who walked with a stick. Shirley had pursed her lips and agreed Danika had good reason, but that two wrongs didn’t make a right. She’d picked her up after detention and taken her for ice cream.
“It’s about Chris.” Danika clutches her wineglass in both hands, rolling the wine around so that it clings to the glass in a ruby-red sheen.
Her mum just nods.
“This is going to sound like a B-grade movie. A woman knocked on my door a few weeks ago, and claimed to be Chris’s de facto partner of nine years. She has a daughter who’s a few months older than Cami.”
Her mother is uncharacteristically speechless. Her mouth hangs open, and she closes it with a snap, then grabs her wine. “I didn’t expect that. I thought you might be about to tell me you were dating, or that you’re selling up and moving to Adelaide, or that Cami announced she likes girls. But not this.”
“No to the first two. And Cami’s only just turned eight. Hopefully, she has a few years until she thinks about crushes and dating.”
“When you know, you know,” Shirley says mysteriously. “Age has little to do with it. But back to Chris. Is this woman genuine?”
“I’m sure she is. She showed me a private investigator’s report. It’s pretty conclusive. I’ll email it to you.”
“It blows my mind,” her mum says. “To be honest, not that Chris had an affair—I’ve wondered about that—but that he had a secret second family for nearly a decade. That takes commitment. What’s her name?”
“Kim Varga.”
“Want me to have her investigated?” Her mum whips out her phone and jots the name down.
“No. That’s not what this is about. I’ve accepted that it’s true. I just don’t know what to do.”
Her mother taps a finger on her lip. “It’s not just about you though, is it? It’s also about Cami, who has a sister, and about Kim and her daughter—what’s her name?”
“Bella.”
“Bella,” she repeats. “How are you coping with this?”
“I don’t know. Badly so far. Angry, scared, confused. Mainly angry that Chris did this. We werehappy. It’s not like we were stuck in a terrible marriage.”
“Tell me everything you know.” Her mum holds out her arms.
Danika moves into the comfort of her mother’s embrace and tells her everything.
Another glass of wine later, her mum says, “You don’t have to have anything to do with Kim if you don’t want to. You can block her, pretend all this didn’t happen. Keep it from Cami. Despite her less-than-ideal first contact, Kim sounds considerate. I think she would respect your decision.”
“Would she?” Danika asks. “She’s going to tell Bella. And then, Bella has the right to know her sister. They’re already friends—they gravitated together at the soccer clinic. There’s no way Bella would not want to see Cami.”
Her mum inclines her head. “Fair point.” She wraps an arm tighter around Danika’s shoulders and pulls her even closer.
Danika nestles under her mother’s arm, leans against her, takes the offered comfort. She closes her eyes and speaks from the heart. “At first, I wished Kim had never come around. That I could go on blissfully ignorant and look back at my happy marriage and loving husband. Now, I want answers I’ll neverget. Likewhywould be a bloody good start. I want to scream and yell and sob at Chris. If he’d been buried, I’d be kicking his tombstone. He loved Kim. If it were just an affair, why continue for nine years?”
“Have you thought,” Shirley says carefully, “that maybe he loved both of you? It happens. Mothers love all their children; we love many friends. Society has pushed us into monogamy, but it doesn’t take away love.”
Danika sits up. “I have thought that, and I think you’re right. But why didn’t he tell me, ask for an open marriage? Polyamory is a thing—even I know that.”
“And if he had, what would you have said?”
