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.
