‘Of course. I’d like to be part of that discussion, so we can make the plan together.’
If I had been holding a glass, I would have crushed it in my hand.
‘I don’t want to hurt them.’ Matt’s tone turned gentle, and I was reminded, suddenly, of the way he’d talked to me when I was pregnant, wrapping his arms around me from behind, resting his chin on my shoulder, and cooing to my belly. I’d used to cherish those memories, but now they made me want to climb out of my own skin. ‘They’re my kids too. I love them.’
‘You haven’t—’
‘—done a great job at showing it, I know. I tried so hard to make things clean that I went too far. But I want to fix it.’
‘When are you leaving?’
He sighed. ‘Tomorrow morning.’
‘Good. Stay on the west side of the river until then. We’ll stay on the east. You can text me when you’re back in Melbourne. I’ll let you know what their therapist says.’
‘Fi—’
I hung up. If I had to speak to him one second longer, I was going to burst into messy, violent, angry tears.
I didn’t remember much of what Matt had said the night he’d told me about Laura – entire stretches of it had blurred into onelong, endless scream – but two words had burned themselves into my brain.Clean break,he’d dared to say.I know this is difficult, but I think it’s best for everyone if I just leave and we make it a clean break– as if the fact that their father was choosing his other family over them was like a broken limb that would heal perfectly if we just got the kids in plaster casts soon enough.
Then he’d made it so clean that I hadn’t heard a word from him for months. No phone calls picked up, no messages responded to, no emails replied to, no answers at all to very reasonable questions like,So are you planning to contribute any money at all towards the raising of your children?orAre we actually legally married or is our marriage certificate some kind of forgery?orHow the actual fuck have you kept this going for so long?
I hadn’t been happy with Matt before he’d left. I’d been hungry for something more – a lot more – than what he was giving me. But I hadn’t realised just how badly I needed him – just how much I relied on him – until he was gone.
I let out a long breath. Thank god it had beenthatnight Birdie dropped all the glasses. Otherwise, Matt would have told me about Laura in the middle of Tsundoku, the way he’d clearly planned to so I couldn’t make a scene. No matter how much I loved the place, and no matter how much I adored Satoshi, there would have been no way I could ever go back there then.
Satoshi.
I leaned back against the kitchen bench.
I’d wanted to sink into the ground when we’d run into him at Abode. I hadn’t thought I’d ever be able to feel anything but embarrassed in his presence ever again, but something had melted in me when he’d presented that pink lemonade to the kids like it was a bottle of the finest wine.
I wasn’t wrong. I was me, he was him, and we could never reallybeanything.
But Sadie wasn’t wrong either. There could be no softer place to land than with this kind, generous, patient man.
And what had happened in the restaurant corridor had shown that he was offering to be that landing place not out of charity or pity or compassion, but because – somehow – he wanted to.You’re not asking anything of me,he’d said,that I don’t want to give you.
There were things I didn’t want to ask. There were things I didn’t want to need. I didn’t want to rely on anyone, ever again. No one knew better than me the humiliating depths in which relying on someone could land you. I had no desire to hand anyone the hammer they could use to break me.
But as I watched my daughters play, I surrendered to the ever-present, dangerous urge to get ahead of myself, and let myself imagine Satoshi standing here with me. Not some fantasy sex dream version of him, ripping my clothes off and setting me alight, but just Satoshi, my friend Satoshi, here in my kitchen, putting his arms around me and letting me lean back against his chest.
You’re safe,he would murmur, breath warm against the shell of my ear.I’ve got you.
Chapter SixSatoshi
Tasting today: tea-based sparkling alcoholic alternative.
This is not wine, nor is it like it. The key to enjoying an artisanal non-alcoholic alternative is not to dream of what you really wish you were drinking – it might be a pale substitute, but try to enjoy it on its own merits.
‘Yes, Okasan, everything’s fine,’ I said in Japanese, flipping the page of the massive binder of MS theory notes that I had open on the bar. ‘Sorry I missed dinner yesterday. I had a cellar appraisal in the afternoon, then study group, and by the time we wrapped up, it was getting too late to come out to the vineyard.’
‘You work too hard, Sato,’ my mother said on the other end of the phone. ‘What is all this work for, if you never take a moment to enjoy your life?’
I resisted the urge to sigh. I had no problem telling my brother to butt out – even if he never listened – but my mother was another matter. ‘I’ll be there next Monday, I promise. How are things with you? Any guests at the B&B this week?’
Tsundoku was still empty by the time I hung up. Although it usually picked up in the evenings, this wasn’t terribly unusual for a Tuesday afternoon, and while it wasn’t ideal from a businessstandpoint, I usually enjoyed it. There was something peaceful about being in the bar when no one else was, sipping something while I sorted out some admin or studied.
