Paybac

2014-2015

Angus got a promotion and with it, a work-mandated trip to the doctor for a physical fitness assessment. It was the best combination of events I could have hoped for; more money, and my husband being forced to listen to a frank assessment of his health.

For Angus, the news that he had cardiovascular disease didn't come as a complete shock. Perhaps he knew something was wrong and had just been too afraid to face it.

'Dunno why you stay with me, Hez,' he remarked, staring at himself in our wardrobe mirror.

I was lying on the bed and I threw a pillow at him. 'Stop saying that. You always say that.'

He picked up the pillow and tossed it back onto the bed, before returning to inspecting his figure.

'I've turned into one of those old, fat cunts,' he declared. 'I'm gonna change that. I'm gonna get fit.'

'You're going to become sexy?' I teased.

'So sexy you won't be able to keep your hands off me,' he promised.

'Does that mean no sex until you've lost weight?'

He snorted. 'Not likely, Hez.'

Angus proved his point by climbing onto the bed and crawling on top of me. The bed creaked and sagged under his weight. I desperately hoped the doctor's visit would be the impetus for him to shed some kilos and gain some physical fitness.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss. He responded with slow but gentle enthusiasm, his eyes half-shut. In the background I could hear Pearl wail. We both momentarily stopped. Pearl was a quiet, easy baby except when she was hungry, at which point you realised you had .1 of a second to prepare and warm her bottle. If you dared take a second longer the cries would increase in crescendo until our neighbours probably started to suspect we were exorcising a demon, not frantically heaping S26 into a bottle and shaking it. From Pearl I'd learned you didn't technically need to warm a bottle before you give it to a baby.

We could hear Raf in the kitchen and knew he was preparing her feed and, satisfied that everything was okay, Angus again pressed his lips to mine. I don't know what was going through his mind but at that moment I finally made peace with my infertility. Raf was working and on my days off I'd babysit Pearl, while taking Angus and my mother's to their appointments, and that was quite enough parenting for me. Perhaps it was nature, too; I was older now, edging towards the end of a woman's natural fertility, and I didn't have the overwhelming desire to have a baby. I had my husband and, now that he had a new job, we'd have more money. Maybe we'd finally get to go on this holiday he so desperately wanted.

Angus chewed and sucked my ears and neck until I was squirming. It's appallingly inconvenient to be a person who's both aroused and tickled by the same sort of activity, and I pushed him away while giggling breathlessly.

'Aw, Hez,' he grinned, pleased. 'Show me some titties.'

I wriggled out of my shirt and bra. I'd only gained two or three kilos since I'd met him but I swear half of that had gone to my boobs. I was a full cup size bigger than I'd been in my teens and Angus appreciated every ounce of them. He rolled his thumbs over my nipples, completely mesmerised by the way they hardened under his touch.

Our gazes met and we smiled. I saw love in his eyes and knew he saw my love for him showing in mine. We'd made it nearly twenty years. I'd been with him for more of my life than I hadn't, and I couldn't imagine a day without him in it. I reached out and stroked his jaw, overwhelmed by how intensely connected I felt.

We drifted into slow, lazy foreplay, trailing over fingers over each other's bodies, orchestrating reactions, kissing and loving. Our clothes were discarded, and left buried between sheets or thrown onto the floor and crumped beneath our bodies as we edged towards sex.

I kissed my husband's chest and belly, then slipped between his legs and kissed his balls. I traced my tongue along the underside of his erection, kissed the tip, then licked my way back from head to base. I continued to tease him until he started to twitch, then moved to a proper, more considered - if leisurely - blow job.

Angus's hands rested on my head as his gaze rested on my mouth and it's contents. I raised an eyebrow at him and he groaned and shuttered his eyes, his dark lashes casting shadows on his cheeks. A grunt escaped his lips and he muttered something about it being so good, so good that I should stop now.

He didn't want me to stop, he was just giving me options; get on top if I wanted to feel his cock, or keep blowing him if I wanted to do him a favour. I wanted to make him happy, so I kept sucking and kept working his length, feeling his groin rise off the bed as he drew closer to orgasm.

'Hez,' he groaned. He half sat and reached down beneath me, searching for my breasts. 'Rub my dick between them. I'm about to come.'

I sucked him a little more, just to be absolutely sure he was right on the edge, then got up and reached for some moisturiser. I rubbed it into my breasts, letting Angus get a good look, and not stopping him when he helped me rub it into my nipples. He was quite rough with me, frantic, needing to orgasm, and his urgency left me hot and bothered.

In my drawer was a vibrator, something we'd recently bought together. Angus loved watching me play with it, so I figured I'd give us both a treat.

'Sit on the edge of the bed,' I requested. 'I'm going to kneel on the floor in front of you. Play with my tits and wank yourself while I get myself off.'

Angus didn't need to be told twice. He was right on board with my plan, and watched eagerly as I flicked on my little toy and began to rub it against my clit.

'Oh Hez,' he groaned, grabbing a boob in each hand. 'Are you gonna come?'

I nodded. 'Give me a minute. It won't take long. Sucking you was turning me on.'

He twisted my nipples, unintentionally rough. I moaned at the pressure. Sometimes, sometimes there is just nothing better than a man taking what he wants.

It never took long for the vibrator to work it's magic. The steady vibration against my button had my pussy leaking copiously, and Angus was fucking my chest with the unsteady, uncoordinated moves of a man who's about to climax.

'Angus,' I hissed. 'I'm close. Squeeze my nipples.'

He pinched them hard, harder than I'd expected. Pain intermingled with pleasure. I felt a familiar roll of sensation below and then my full climax hit. I bit back a howl and tried not to collapse onto the ground as I urgently bore down on the vibrator. Angus saw what was happening and with a loud groan grabbed the back of my neck with one hand and his cock with the other. He exploded onto my chest, leaving it scribbled with semen. Our entire, near simultaneous, climaxes were conducted wordlessly, but the moment he was done, Angus grabbed me and kissed me on the lips.

'I love you,' he said. 'I love you, and I'm gonna lose some weight. I'm gonna make a success of this job, and make sure we have money. One day, Hez, you and me are gonna go on that holiday I've been talking about. I promise you. I swear to God, I

will

make this happen.'

~~~~~~~

'Angus is looking good,' my mother remarked as we waited at the surgery for her appointment. 'I always knew he had it in him to dress properly. I still remember when you met him.' She let out a long, irritated sigh as though my husband's appearance had been a personal affront to her. 'He was scruffy, and you had that horrible black hair.'

'It was fashion, Mum,' I reminded her.

'No, it wasn't. I never had black hair. Anne never had black hair.'

I shifted a sleeping, twelve month old Pearl from one arm to another. Mum 'tssked' me and took the child from my arms. Mum and Angus were cordial enough these days, and she was very fond of both Beau and Angus, but Pearl was the one she loved. She and Anne both adored the infant and were forever buying her gifts, asking to baby-sit, and taking photos.

'Such a beautiful girl,' Mum announced. 'She's going to have Raf's skin colour, but it's only the Aborigines who care about that.'

One of my mother's favourite topics was 'black people discriminate on skin colour and then accuse white people of racism when they're actually just as racist', and after a lifetime of hearing her rant on the subject, I was quick to redivert the conversation back to Angus and his weight loss.

'He's down thirty-five kilos,' I said. 'He wants to lose another ten.'

Another tsk. 'He never should have got so out of shape. And you, Helen, you should have kept him in line. You were the one making his dinner. If you don't cook and serve extra, they can't eat it.'

I scanned the room desperately, searching for something - anything - else to talk about. Mum adjusted Pearl's outfit, asked when I'd last changed her nappy, and gave me several pieces of unasked for advice on what and when to feed her in the way of solids to prevent her from becoming fussy about food when she was a toddler.

There were days where Mum and I would fight, where I'd be tired and frustrated and she'd just keep poking and provoking until I snapped, but that wasn't one of those days. Instead, I tried to listen patiently to what she had to say, to smile and nod and let her feel whatever it was she wanted to feel.

We got through the doctor's appointment. Mum had to make a follow up appointment, for results, in three days. The only spot available was at an incredibly inconvenient time and I was frustrated because it would mean rushing to Mum's house from work and then to the surgery.

'Are you sure there aren't any other options?' I asked the receptionist.

'Sorry, that's it,' she said.

'Really?' I asked pleadingly. 'The timing isn't good. Even if you could squeeze us in fifteen minutes later...'

The receptionist shook her head. 'Nope,' she replied unsympathetically. 'Take it or leave it.'

Mum touched my arm. 'Don't worry about it then, darling,' Mum said. She turned to the receptionist. 'I'll come in next week for results.'

'No, no, don't do that,' I said, feeling struck with guilt. Mum was old and she had so few people to rely upon. If ever I couldn't take Rose to an appointment there were always plenty of others available and willing to assist. Mum didn't have that. 'You don't want to spend your weekend worrying about results. Let's come back on Friday.'

Mum apologised all the way home. I kept trying to reassure her that it was okay, but she knew I wasn't one hundred percent impressed.

'Mum!' I exclaimed as we reached her house. 'It's okay. I was just worried about you. Go home. Make dinner. I'll see you on Friday.'

'Call me if you change your mind,' she said, leaning in to kiss me. She smelt of cigarettes and perfume and hair spray. 'I love you.'

'Love you too, Mum.'

I didn't come around on Friday. I didn't need to.

Mum died that evening. she suffered a massive stroke while making herself a cup of tea, and her body was found by her neighbour the following morning.

Even now I feel devastatingly sad that my last visit with her was tinged with frustration, that I was so upset about having to rush home from work that I made her feel guilty. She loved me. She always wanted what was best for me.

Honestly, I still carry guilt around, because I know I should have loved her both more and better than I did.

2017

Ciaran was in Western Australia when life decided to chip away at my happiness and my freedom.

Dani, Pearl's mother, wrote to me and told me she was getting released. This wasn't a surprise; she was pregnant, she'd been six weeks' gone when she was returned to jail for a parole violation, and we'd always known the social workers would be keen to have her released and settled in a home before the birth. She was now seven and a half month's pregnant, and the social workers wanted her out of jail before she was eight months.

Dani had already had three children removed from her care by services and she'd given up Pearl to stop the same thing happening to her. I'm not sure of the circumstances regarding the three older children but I knew that Dani had very limited contact with them.

Pearl had always been told Dani was her mother and this is what she called her, but Dani wasn't - effectively speaking - a parent. She didn't pay child support. She didn't buy Pearl clothes. She'd often, even when she'd had no prior engagements and someone offered to take her, hadn't attended Pearl's birthday parties or day care events.

It was highly unlikely that the fifth baby would be left in her custody. She wanted to keep the child, and the powers that be seemed to humour her, but Dani knew they were watching her like a hawk. One small slip and the child would be gone. Everyone knew that taking a baby from an incarcerated, indigenous woman would cause outrage amongst her sisters inside, but if the social workers allowed her to make the errors

outside

jail, then the removal of the child would cause significantly less backlash. Besides, Dani was only in jail for parole violations, so there would be no community or moral outrage about releasing her.

Dani sensed what was coming and she was distraught. Communities and cultures that are built around strong family networks work well when you actually have a family. For women like Dani, who had no contact with her parents and no siblings, no cousins and no menfolk, there was nowhere to turn. I, the white woman she frequently lashed out at when she felt belittled or down trodden, was her only hope.

I went to Auntie Rose for advice.

'Dani wants to know if she can live with me when she's released,' I told her. 'She wants me to help her raise her baby.'

Rose had always been one of Dani's harshest critics, and the baby Dani was carrying had been fathered by the married son of one of Rose's friends, so I'd assumed she'd tell me not to even consider it. I'd been wrong.

'She shouldn't have had to ask you,' Auntie Rose gently chided. 'You have one of her children. You should have asked

her

if she wanted somewhere to stay.'

Rose's cat came and rubbed itself against my leg. I bent down to pat it.

'I don't want to share my house with anyone,' I said.

'She probably doesn't want you raising Pearl.'

'I didn't ask to raise Pearl.'

'True, but now you've grown to love Pearl, and you don't want to give her back. I think part of you is scared that if Dani shows she's a competent parent, you'll have to hand Pearl back.' Auntie Rose paused, then added. 'As you rightfully should.'

A world without Angus, without Raf, without Beau, without Pearl, and likely without Ciaran? What sort of fucked up joke was life playing on me? What would I

do

? How many men would I sleep with? I only worked a couple of days a week, and only during school term.

My mother-in-law seemed to sense that I needed to process Dani's request, and changed the topic to Ciaran.

'How's your whitefella coming along?' she asked.

'He says he wants to marry me,' I replied miserably.

'Ah,' she said. 'That makes Dani's request more difficult, doesn't it?'

'Not really. He only wants to marry me because he knows things won't work out between us.'

'Has he bought you a ring?'

'Not yet, but he asked me my ring size last week.'

'He seemed like a nice man,' Auntie Rose replied thoughtfully. 'Maybe you two will find a way to make it work.'

'I don't think so,' I confessed.

I gave her the latest update on Symantha, including showing her the woman's most recent Facebook posts. Symantha had ensured that before Ciaran returned to work there had been plenty of happy 'family snaps' taken, and she'd uploaded these for everybody to see.

Auntie Rose 'hmm'd' and 'mmm'd' and mentioned Ciaran didn't look entirely unhappy in Symantha's photos. That was true, and it was something that I, too, dwelt upon, but was it really unfair to expect Ciaran to look miserable when he was playing with his kids at his house, even if his ex

was

around and

was

more than willing to take photos of the moment to insinuate they were again a couple? I didn't know, and I wasn't sure that Rose did, either.

'I know,' I agreed. 'I don't know how much time to read into it, but I'm beginning to think the ring is a good-bye gift.'

'Next time we'll find you a nice blackfella,' Auntie Rose said comfortingly. 'Lucas' cousin said Lucas is trying to find a girl on the internet, and Lucas sure is a cutie.'

I laughed despite myself. Lucas

was

cute enough, but I had little interest in thinking about 'what man should I date next?'

'He's adorable,' Auntie Rose added. 'If I were a young, single girl... that hair of his. It's so beautiful.'

I laughed harder. 'Didn't he shave it off a few years ago?'

'He made his mother cry. She only forgave him because he did it for charity. He raised eight hundred dollars.'

We talked and gossiped about everything and everyone except Dani and Ciaran. I knew Rose wouldn't say anything else about Dani, not unless I raised the topic. I also knew that many of the things I told Rose would inevitably reach the ears of other women, not out of ill meaning gossip, but because she would in turn be worried or seeking advice. Some women talk out of spite and meanness. Rose talked out of concern and kindness, but the end result was still the same; everyone found out about all of my personal business, and I ended up with lots of unrequested and unwanted suggestions on how to manage my personal affairs.

I left her house a few hours' later to pick up Pearl. As I drove to her kindergarten, I dissected my emotions and realised the odd feeling I couldn't put my finger on was resentment. I felt almost obligated to take in Dani and her unborn child, I was obligated to help her become a better parent and when that happened, I would be obligated to surrender custody of Pearl. And yet,

I was not the one responsible for Dani's predicament

. Nor did I at any point even seek out primary caregiver responsibilities for Pearl.

The sweet little girl in question skipped happily towards me when she saw me at the gate. She flung her arms around me, kissed me, and with dark, solemn eyes, told me she'd missed me and that she loved me 'so, so much, Helen!'. She looked so much like Raf, and she had so much of his personality, that sometimes it seemed as if she were just a younger version of my former foster son. My heart just about broke.

~~~~~~~~

'Are you fucking kidding?' Ciaran asked.

'Uh, no,' I replied uncertainly. 'Dani really wants to live with me.'

He yawned tiredly. He was midway through his stint and was switching from day to night shift.

'Tell her to get fucked,' he advised. 'She's already proven she can't parent a pet rock, so the last thing you need is for her to come into your home. Trust me, Helen, you don't want to fall for a sob story. I still can't get Symantha to fuck off, and the longer she stays, the more my parents are starting to sympathise with her. She's always there, always in their ears, always telling them how much she misses me. She doesn't, of course, she's just on her arse broke, but they can't see that.'

'That's what I'm worried about,' I agreed.

Ciaran yawned again. 'Baby, she can sort herself out on someone else's dime. You've done your bit for the disadvantaged Aboriginals of Australia. Sorry if that sounds harsh, but you don't owe anyone your life, your money or your spare room. People like her are just the black versions of Symanthas. I go back home and end up sleeping in the garage on a sofa bed I only bought because my ex made herself at home in my bedroom. That's where it'll head for you. Don't be a Ciaran-level sucker.'

I grimaced. 'What are you going to do about Symantha?'