Insider

Don't read if all you want is mindless BTB and mayhem.

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Twelve months.

Twelve long, lonely, depressing months, as a guest of the government. That had been the sanction for my crimes. But today, I was to be a free man once more.

I'd been sent away for my part in an insider trading scheme and fined one hundred thousand dollars. I'd not paid the most of all the conspirators, I was only a small part of the corrupt group, but I still paid. And it was a hefty price.

Twelve months were ripped from me, taken from me, and I was the one who had set it in motion. As I waited for the gate to open on my new freedom I considered my existence and knew that I was going to have to start rebuilding my life from scratch.

My job was gone, I'd been sacked from my prestigious job as a financial advisor with Hunter & Baker Financials, a job that I loved and had worked hard to achieve.

But twelve months away from my friends and family were worse. Far worse.

Family. My family.

I was certain, beyond a shadow of a doubt that it had cost me my marriage, and it had most likely cost me any relationship that I had and would have with my parents and siblings.

[ -- ]

For the first few months behind bars, all of my family visited me regularly. They visited even though it hurt them greatly. I know that they tried, both for themselves as well as for me, I could see the effort that they put into the visits, the facade they hid behind, but none of them could truly mask the disappointment on their faces, the emptiness in their hearts. I had let them down, all of them. Their words were nothing but empty platitudes, meant to build me up, help my esteem, and get me through this tough, horribly dark period of my life. They thought they were helping, but in reality they did nothing but tear me apart and destroy me.

I knew that I had fucked up, I was honest with them, with myself, I was honest when addressing the judge and jury who presided over my case. Perhaps that honesty went someway to gaining leniency, perhaps my pitiful mental and physical state curried favour and compassion. I was truly grief stricken with remorse for what I had done. Leading to the trial, and during, and more so alone in my cell, there was not a single waking moment where I didn't regret those choices and decisions that I had made. I repented to the empty spaces, to the walls, to myself for all the ill-conceived plans and desires, my gullibility and my greed. I was struck with misgivings and contrition for everything that had led me here.

My beautiful wife, Nerida, who was the love of my life, was hurt most by my incarceration. I could see the shame in her eyes. I could hear the hurt in her voice. We had two young children, and my avarice had robbed them of a father, and her of a husband. She needed me, but I wasn't there. She needed my support, needed my income, needed my love. But I could give none of it, and worse still, the fine I had been slugged with, though small in the grand scheme of things, still took a substantial toll on the ones I professed to love, and cut them deeply.

But my own self-loathing, self-pitying was nothing, for slowly, my world of hell and self reproach began to unravel even further.

It was four months ago that Nerida had suddenly stopped coming to see me. I was confused and hurt by her absence, emotions only exacerbated by the strange and half-answers given by my parents Donna and Jarvis, and my siblings, Blake and Bianca. Even as their visits had all started to become fewer and farther between as well. It seemed that I was being cast adrift upon a leaking boat, in a sea full of sharks, sharks of my own making.

"Where is Nerida?" I had asked often enough.

"She, she couldn't make it. One of the kids isn't well." That was one of my mother's favourite responses. The kids seemed to be ill a lot those weeks. I had thought to myself that if a child wasn't well, surely one of the family could have looked after them to allow my wife to come and see me, even if it was just to spit in my face and curse my name.

"She got a migraine." That was another that got rolled out on occasion. My wife had never suffered migraines before, so why did they suddenly start now?

Finally, my father, Jarvis, gave me a more plausible answer, though given the line that they had tried to feed me previously, I didn't buy it any more than I did the other excuses. "She can't stand this place, son. She can't bear to see you in here. You know she loves you, but seeing you here kills her. She asked me to apologise to you, but she won't be seeing you until you're released." There was probably some small measure of truth in those words, but I was sure that there was more in what wasn't said.

As I said, they'd fed me a lot of shit.

I knew there was something that they weren't telling me, and even though I didn't show a lot of brains in the past, ending up at Cooma Correctional Centre because of that lack, I had enough to read between the lines. I knew what I thought I knew. I just needed proof, I needed corroboration. I had hoped that I was wrong, but I couldn't very well be angry with her if I wasn't, well, maybe a little bit. Though, even if she had decided to leave me, she could have had the decency to tell me to my face. As heartbreaking as it was, I could forgive her for abandoning me, but I could still be angry with my family for the lies and the cold manner in which I was discarded.

It took less than a week for my lawyer to get back to me.

"She's pregnant."

And with that, even though I had expected something along those lines, even though I had told myself that I couldn't blame her if she walked away from me, it still cut me to the core and shook my soul.

"Who?" I had asked Harry Kingston, the lawyer who I had dealt with a number of times over the years, and one only two people I felt that I could now trust.

"Our investigators are still working on that, Paul. It's only been a couple of days, but she's seen nobody obvious. She does still take the kids to see your parents as well as her mother, and they all get together every few days. But other than that, nobody so far seems to be in her life. They all know she's pregnant, it's starting to become obvious. From all reports, she's probably about three or four months along."

My heart broke. I was dealing with life in gaol, and now, I had to deal with an unfaithful wife who was pregnant with another man's child. Worse still, all my family knew I had been made a cuckold. They were lying to me. The cheating, if possible, seemed the least egregious of all the sins committed, even if it was the one that all the other transgressions stood upon.

From that day, I had declined all visitors except for Harry or Kent, my best friend and one of the few who had stuck by me. I never asked him about Nerida, never mentioned what I had found out. And other than once, when he asked me why my family were badgering him about me declining their visitations, he never mentioned it again.

"I just don't want to see them," I had said, "their disappointment in me is far too obvious. I can't stand it any longer." It was both the truth, and a lie.

[ -- ]

Twelve months. Twelve long, lonely months, and finally I was free, but to a world and a life that was barren and devoid of hope and inspiration. I had cut myself out of it, as surely as Nerida had cut me out of hers.

I walked out the gate to see my father and brother waiting for me beside dad's Hilux. I had not expected to see them there for me as there had been no communication between us since I found out that Nerida was with child. They had smiles on their faces, pained, stressed smiles which attempted to conceal their worry and possibly their guilt, but they smiled nonetheless. I moved cautiously, continuing my approach. Dad had stepped towards me with open arms, seeking to embrace me whilst my brother trailed a few steps behind.

To their shock and umbrage, I gently but firmly pushed my father aside without a word, and then avoided my brother's clumsy attempt at a hug as well. I wouldn't be getting a ride with them, I wouldn't be returning to my home, or what was left of it. Not today at any rate. No, I had made other arrangements through both Harry and Kent.

Whilst dad and Blake stood mouth agape, I climbed into the uber that was waiting for me, giving the young man behind the wheel the address to the home of Kent's sister, Kelly. The driver was most likely a uni-student earning a few extra bucks as a glorified taxi driver. He had a wispy, and poorly groomed beard and moustache which was ginger like his hair, and a pair of thin, wire-frame glasses sat perched upon a hook-like nose. I could smell the slightly sour stench of body odour and stale sweat, but I wasn't sure if it was him, his badly creased and probably unwashed shirt, or both. Clearly he needed to learn better personal hygiene, especially if he wanted to continue working in the field he was in. But for his failings, his vehicle, which was just a small hatchback, was meticulously clean. Thankfully he was also quiet. Perhaps he was nervous, maybe he had never picked up an inmate after release before, or maybe he was just polite and didn't want to bother me. I didn't care about the reason for the lack of conversation, instead I relished it. I was unnerved by the presence of my family members, and needed time to process what it might mean.

After a few minutes, I turned to look out the back window, as a prickly sensation played across the nape of my neck.

"See that black hilux behind us?" I asked the driver, who nodded silently in response. "I'll pay you triple if you lose it." I could see him look at me in the rear-view mirror. It was a quizzical look, full of curiosity but also concern. "They're not dangerous," I said to reaffirm him after realising he may have felt threatened, afterall for all he knew, I was a dangerous underworld figure and my brother and father were hitmen meant to do me harm.

"They're just my estranged family. I want to avoid them if possible. Price is not an issue."

The driver relaxed, and again nodded silently as a smile etched its way across his face.

His looks belied his ferocity behind the wheel. No sooner had I reached the agreement with him to burn my family's attempted pursuit, then he had suddenly become a demon, maddened with the challenge. He zipped in and out of traffic, taking sudden turns down one-way streets, and at one point, doing an insane handbrake turn that became a U-turn as he floored it, and shot back down the road he had only moments before, driven up. My father was a safe and careful driver at the best of times, and he had no chance of keeping up with the manic uber driver, even though he tried his best, acquitting himself with his honour intact. It seems my family didn't want to give up on me just yet. I just didn't reciprocate that feeling.

A week before my release, I had brought Kent into the pain of my personal life, my family's lies and Nerida's cold departure from the marriage. He was horrified at what had happened, he had not seen Nerida for at least six months or more, and didn't know who could have knocked her up. In the tradition of true Aussie mateship, he had sworn black and blue that he was going to find the son of a bitch and make him pay. I had laughed nervously at that, but made him promise not to do anything. I didn't want him in trouble on my account, and as I told him, I had let Nerida down. I couldn't really blame her, not if I was honest with myself. I just wish she'd been honest with me.

As such, he had spoken with and gained permission from his sister to let me housesit. Kelly was overseas for another three week, travelling with her boyfriend who Kent expected to be her husband upon their return. I had known Kelly for a number of years, and had gotten on well with her, she was bubbly and friendly, and I thought of her as just another mate. Still, it was highly unlikely that anyone would look for me at her place, our friendship was one that would fly under the radar so to speak.

Kent was waiting for me at the house, vaping away as he did so. As we had agreed upon when I last saw him, Kent graciously paid the driver, baulking only slightly when I told him to pay triple for the excellent wheel work. Kent knew I'd pay him back, I was good for my debts, and would never take advantage of a friend, but it was still a pretty bit of coin to part with.

"Here's the keys Paul," he said as he gave me a set of 2 keys on a gaudy Harbour Bridge keyring. "The fridge and pantry are well stocked, including booze. Netflix is queued, you can use her account, same with Kayo if you want to watch some sport. She also said that you're welcome to use her computer, but to try and not use it for too much porn." He smiled as he playfully punched me in the bicep, "Though," he began laughing, "given you've been in the clink for the last twelve months, you're probably going to need it to get over all the dropped soap in the showers and the big hard dicks."

I shook my head. It wasn't like that at all, at least not for me. I had a few issues, a few run-ins with some hard cases, sure. But it wasn't some crazy Hollywood prison drama full of murder, assault, blowjobs and buggery. Gaol had been more tedious, more of a never-ending soul crushing loneliness, and the worst punishment of all, my own conscience that never left me.

"Thanks Kent. For everything."

"You're going to meet up with the family at some stage, right? You need to clear this before you can move on."

"I will in a week or so. I'm assuming that the shit is about to hit the fan. Harry had put me in touch with a reputable divorce lawyer, and this afternoon, Nerida will be getting divorce papers."

Kent whistled, low and long, shaking his head as he did.

"I'm assuming she won't care, well not much anyway, but the fact that I'm kicking it off will probably come as a shock to her. Twelve months.... The perfect amount of time," I laughed, but it was hollow, broken.

"Perfect time for what?" Kent asked, raising an eyebrow curiously.

"Divorce requires twelve months of separation, and with no hope of reconciliation. Well, it's been twelve months thanks to Cooma, and with Nerida about to pop out another dickhead's brat in the next month or so, there's no getting the band back together. I wish her well, I do. But I'm not getting back on that ride, even if she wanted me."

I started to sob as my next thoughts swirled within my mind. I knew it was coming, and had tried to harden myself against the realisation, the inevitability, but truth be told, it was never something that I could accept then or now.

"I'm going to miss my kids though."

Kent was stunned. "You're still going to see them, aren't you? Those two adore you mate, and they need you."

I clasped him into a hug as the tears began to fall even more.

"I don't intend to give them up, if I can help it. But let's be honest. I'm now unemployed, and I've got a conviction for serious criminal activity, and the time to go with it. I don't have a chance in hell at custody. I'll barely be able to see them at all, though I'll try. I'm sure Nerida and whoever her new man is will do their best to keep me from them. Hell, I wouldn't blame her. I'm a screw up, Kent. I fucked everything up for a few shiny baubles."

Kent held me. It seemed like he wouldn't let me go. He just held me and held me, letting my tears flow without any recrimination, any judgement. Finally, he released me, and patted me gently on the shoulder.

"Don't drink all the booze in one go. Don't do anything stupid." Then he handed me a new phone that he had picked up for me, one that nobody but he, Harry and my divorce lawyer, knew the number for.

"Get some rest, Paul. I'll see you tomorrow."

[ -- ]

I don't know how they did it, but they managed to track me down. I hadn't left Kelly's house for four days and I had only made a few phone calls and answered maybe twice as many, mostly about my legal representation. Yet, still they found me.

The knock on the front door was loud, and energetic. It seemed to me as if it was a battering ram of old, attempting to breach the gates to my castle. I assumed it was someone trying to hawk goods door to door, a kid selling raffle tickets, or some God botherers trying to preach about Jesus, but I was stunned when I opened the door to see Bianca and my mother standing there.

The look on their faces was infuriatingly contemptuous. Even though I was taller than both by at least a full head and shoulders, they looked down their noses at me.

"How dare you, you sanctimonious bastard!" Bianca got her shot in early. "Running away, leaving your family AGAIN! You little pissant. Who do you think you are?"

My mother tried to slow Bianca's rage, but gained no traction, unable to halt the withering assault.

"Well hello Bianca, mother." I stood behind the security door, which I was thankfulI I had kept locked as my sister's hand grasped the handle and tried to turn it.

"Your wife and children need you, and you fucking run and hide, sending her divorce papers instead. You are lower than a snake. That woman loves you, and this is how you treat her." Bianca was still on a roll, and finally it dawned on me to close the door, which I did with a thud.

The knocking continued, endlessly, with choice invectives thrown into the mix as well. An hour passed and they still hadn't left, my sister leading the charge by bashing at the door and berating me and calling my manhood into question. Eventually, I saw my father's hilux pull up, and both he and Blake exited and approached the front lines.

It was a full on Doherty family reunion. Just like old times, only now they were an invading force, a group of savage miscreants trying to break into my refuge, trying to get me to return to a woman who was having another man's baby.

"Just go, all of you. You all need to accept it, Nerida needs to accept it, just as I had to accept it."

There was silence for a moment, before I heard the hushed whispering on the other side of the door. "He knows." It was Blake, my brother.

My mother finally took over, as the matriarch of the family, she carried a good amount of sway, and though her wrath was slow to rise, when it did, everyone else gave way to her.

"Paul Doherty, you are not abandoning that woman without at least speaking to her. We raised you better than that. At the least, your children need you. Do you remember them? The little ones that you left behind? Your boys Samuel and Nathan? Don't you dare abandon them. They were so excited to see you when you got out, they made a cake and decorations for your return, they had planned a big surprise party for you. But instead, you left them again. They cried all night and most of the next day when you didn't come home, when you ran away. Don't you dare turn your back on them again."

"Mum," I began, but how could I argue with those words of wisdom, even when they were delivered with a mother's vitriol and disillusionment at her own son's actions. As I said, I had fucked up. No pile of money was ever going to be worth the price that I had now paid, and in the end I had missed out on the money, and still had to pay the piper.

I opened the door once more, tears streaming down my face.

"I'm sorry, mum. I am. I know I'm a screw up, but I....." I couldn't finish it. My face burned hot with shame, my stomach turned and my palms were clammy. She looked at me with the love and forgiveness that only a mother can manage. I crumbled. "I'll come by this afternoon, I promise."

"Son, I understand that you're upset, but you have to man up and face her." It was my father, he was usually pretty diplomatic, always wanting to keep the peace, but this time, the strain in his voice gave away his anger. "She loves you, and then you pulled that divorce stunt on her, without even coming to see her. That's weak."