Idle Lies. Lian Knight
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stepped back into them, then drew a clean shirt from the dresser opposite and slipped his arms into it.
‘Wait … what?’ Kate pushed herself up on her elbows, swept the dark tangles aside and wiped the sleep from her eyes. ‘Moving out where?’ Her mind seemed to be in a muddle; the memory discs weren’t spinning and nothing made sense.
‘Out. I have a new place,’ he replied, without looking at her. He selected a pair of black socks and settled back on the ruffled sheets to put them on.
Kate sat upright in disbelief, her brown eyes widening. Did she hear this correctly? Her brain was slowly kicking into gear, but it was still four thousand kilometres away in Bali, immersed in the lights and smells they had just left. They were admiring the pristine white sands, reclining on deck chairs under large umbrellas and sipping fruit cocktails. They were walking the mountains, wandering the markets, swimming at the beaches and dining in the restaurants. And then they were relaxing in the villa on the large king-sized bed, gazing out at the glistening water and enjoying their perfect dream holiday.
But something was wrong. Very wrong. What she was hearing didn’t sound like any kind of paradise. What exactly was he saying? Moving out? There hadn’t been a single mention of that. Today was Sunday and they should be unpacking for the start of the working week. Looking over, she could see the two suitcases lying where they had been left the night before, the ticket stubs still attached. No, this couldn’t be right.
‘Moving out where?’ she asked again.
‘I’ve met someone else.’
‘What?’ Her thoughts did a sharp pole vault into reality and jerked her awake.
‘It just happened,’ he said, still with his back to her. ‘I couldn’t help it. She loves me, and we’re moving in together.’ He paused, his head bowed. ‘It’s what I want.’
‘Are you serious?’ Her voice was incredulous. ‘Can you look at me? Who is she?’
He turned slowly to face her, but his eyes were low. She could see the edges of his jaw tighten through a day’s chin stubble.
‘Bridie. Her name is Bridie,’ he said through gritted teeth.
Kate was speechless. Her mouth opened and shut again but no words came out. She took a deep breath and tried to pull herself together.
‘But we … we have just been on a holiday … we just got back …’ she began, her voice trailing.
‘I know. I’m sorry.’
‘But you never mentioned this …’
‘Yeah.’
‘Not one word.’
Kate waited anxiously for an acknowledgment but there was no answer. An agonising pain suddenly gripped her heart.
‘Matt, I don’t understand,’ she said fearfully. ‘We planned this months ago, our first real holiday in years, one you said you were looking forward to, and in all that time you never said anything about … about …’ her words faltered.
‘Yeah, I’m sorry.’ He paused as the sound of a truck approached, its brakes creaking as it slowed. It seemed to be stopping directly outside.
‘I can’t talk now.’ He glanced briefly at her and then rose quickly, collecting items as he moved and stuffing them into a duffle bag.
Kate stared as he turned away. ‘But …’ she choked.
‘I can’t talk now. I’ve gotta load my gear,’ he said, regaining his composure and speaking matter-of-factly. ‘The truck’s here.’ He grabbed his keys from the bedside table and left.
For a moment she sat frozen. It sounded like a cruel joke. Did he really mean what he just said? Was he actually leaving? How could he suddenly spring this out of nowhere when they had just got back?
She threw the covers back and swung her legs over the bed, glancing around her. It felt surreal.
With the exception of the suitcases, the room looked as it did on any other day – the rumpled bed, a book on the bedside table, a few of his clothes on the edge of the wash basket and a pair of casual shoes on the floor. Nothing hinted of a change.
In the walk-in robe she found her dressing gown and wrapped it around herself, tying it as she moved to the living room. The room was quiet and the blinds were closed, but in the morning light she could see the table was undisturbed, still littered with last night’s takeaway dishes they had been too tired to put away. The fireplace was empty, as was usual during summer, and the TV screen was black. Matt was not there.
She shifted to the kitchen, her body feeling semi-detached as if it had seen its opportunity and was making good its escape. This room, too, was empty. The benchtop was bare save for a few grains of leftover rice and two dirty cups that lay on their sides near the sink. Their backpacks, which had been their carry-on luggage, lay sprawled on the kitchen table, next to a single airline ticket. Tears sprang into her eyes. If this was true, from now on, she would be alone.
Her husband was leaving her.
Matt, the man she had loved and lived with for the past eight years. He could be gregarious, playful, spontaneous – loads of fun when he wanted to be. He could also be quiet, insular and detached, at times unapproachable. He could swing from being disengaged and bored to focused and enthused, especially if it was something he wanted. She thought of the new TV, the new DVD player, the new stereo, the new bike – all things he had bought on a whim when the mood or the moment had suddenly taken him. There was no consultation; the prized possession would miraculously appear and he’d mumble a few key words about its critical need or the urgency of the sale and that would be it. That’s how it was. Kate had learned over time not to debate it as it would result in an argument and he would retreat to Paul’s place for a few days until he felt enough time had passed for the discussion to blow over. Life with Matt was, well, mostly all about Matt, but if anything, it was at least predictable. He did what he wanted and if she didn’t fight it, then the bumpy course would soon transpose to a smooth well-trodden path and the matter would be forgotten. But this was something entirely different. Something unimaginable and frightening.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of an engine rumbling in the driveway, eclipsed by the distinctive sound of reversing beepers that pierced the quiet morning air. She moved anxiously to the dining room and peered through the blinds to see the rear of a large white truck. Matt was outside directing the vehicle as it edged its way past the letterbox and down the narrow driveway beside the weatherboard house, scraping the hedge as it went. The driver, wearing a baseball cap on backwards, twisted his neck through the open window and peered over his glasses, turning the wheel left and right as he followed the directions. Kate’s eyes widened. It was really happening.
She rushed to get dressed. Tossing aside her dressing gown she reached for her nearest jeans and a loose top, not worrying about a bra. Barefoot, she ran to the front door, remembering as she turned the handle that it was locked. The voices continued outside and she could hear Matt’s familiar voice giving muffled instructions to the driver. She took the alternative path through the kitchen to the laundry, which led directly to the garage. Opening the door, she prepared to step out but her muscles rebelled. She took a sudden involuntary breath.
The garage was bare, already completely empty of all of its tools, spare household items, bikes and old blankets. Just one small piece of scrappy bubble wrap remained, lying idle in the corner.
2
Sunday, 1 October
‘IT’S DONE,’ MATT SAID triumphantly. He made himself a comfortable spot in the centre of Paul’s couch and adjusted a ragged cushion on either side for his tired elbows before kicking off his shoes and pushing them under the coffee table. The old leather gave way as he rested his sore neck.
‘Finally!’ said Paul. ‘That took you a long time.’ He passed Matt a bowl of potato crisps from a nearby armchair