Marshmallows for Breakfast (46 page)

“Oh, you know …” I replied, cracking open the door and clambering out before he could ask me any more questions.

I marched up the path, the gravel crunching under my shoes, making me unsteady on my feet, but not in my purpose. With every step I was more certain of what I was doing. I could see the confusion on Ashlyn's face as I approached.

“Kendie?” she asked.

“Let's go inside,” I said, sidling around her into the stone brick cottage. “I forgot something.” I didn't want Kyle and the kids to see what happened next. I didn't envisage things getting violent, didn't think she'd be pulling my hair out, nor me taking her down with a rugby tackle, but these things were unpredictable.

She followed me inside, gently pushing the door behind her so it almost shut, but not quite. Light streamed in from the large glass doors at the back of the cottage.

“What did you forget?” she asked cautiously. I was standing in front of her, making no move to search through the chaos and detritus of the kids’ exodus for whatever it was I had left behind.

“To give you a piece of my mind,” I said, trembling slightly behind my stern words. My purpose was right, of that there was no doubt, but I was terrified.

She took a step back. This was good. She didn't step forwards, a snarl on her face, the sinews in her neck standing up, the muscles in her body tensed and poised for attack.

“You, Ashlyn, are the most selfish person I've ever met,” I said, controlling the level of my voice. “I think it's incredible that you've never been called to account for all the things you've done to your family. Maybe I'm out of line, but I don't care, you need to be told.

“How dare you. How dare you do this to them?
How dare you.
I know you're sick, I know alcoholism is a disease, but why do your children have to suffer? OK, you're getting help, but why do you have to do it away from them? There are meetings all over the country, all over the world, why can't you come home?

“You're so lucky you're married to Kyle. ‘Cause if it'd been down to me, I would have called the police on you from the moment you took the kids. I'd have gotten social services onto you. But he had faith in you. He's had faith in you all along. All through the summer he believed you were still sober. He didn't think you'd even contemplate drinking when you'd stolen the children. But then he's in denial about your disease and about you. Because it would never occur to him that you'd lie to him. He doesn't realize that nothing comes before your next drink, not even your children.

“You have to tell him the truth, Ashlyn. He needs to know so that he can get his head out of denial and be honest about
this situation. He needs to see the reality of it. That you're not ‘cured,’ that there is no magical cure, and that you might do this again.”

“I won't,” she said, horrified that I'd even suggest such a thing. That in all the things I could accuse her of, this was the most unjust, the most preposterous.

“How do you know? When I saw you a few months ago you said you weren't that bad. You said you'd stopped drinking, well, what do ya know? You not only start drinking again, you put the kids at risk.”

“I told you all that in confidence, not so you could throw it back in my face.”

“You told me that so you could manipulate me into playing this stupid game of denial that everyone around you participates in. Well, it's not going to work. I'm all for denial unless it hurts two innocent people who love you more than life itself. They'd do anything for you. Do you know how fortunate you are? Do you? There are people out there who'd give anything to have what you have and, yes, you're sick, but that doesn't mean you can't get better around them. Not when it's for selfish reasons.”

The air in the cottage fizzed with my outburst and Ashlyn's resulting shock. No one had done this to her. Kyle had confronted her once, but he'd backed off when he thought she was going to leave him, when he thought she'd gotten help and gotten sober. He didn't understand, didn't know, I suppose, that it wasn't an overnight thing. The drinking could stop, but that wouldn't mean a thing if your reasons for drinking were still there. Despite what Ashlyn thought, she didn't drink because of Kyle, because of not being able to deal with the kids. She drank because she was an alcoholic and that meant she'd find any excuse to drink.

If she wanted help, she could get it, and she could get it with her children. Women did it every day. They dealt with
their alcoholism every day with their kids, with their husbands, with their jobs.

“You had no right to make demands of me, to tell me to decide to stay or to leave when you won't do the same.
And they're your children.
I wish all the time they were mine, but they're yours.”

Ashlyn's fine-boned features paled, her eyes focused on the thick carpet beside my feet; she seemed to have shrunk in the past few minutes. “Are … Are you going to tell Kyle I've been drinking?” she asked, her voice barely breaking a whisper. For a moment I wanted to step forwards, to hug her. To fold her up in my arms and hug her better, just like I did with her daughter.
“I'll be a good girl. I promise. I promise”
rang in my ears.

“No,” I replied, steeling myself from crumbling. If I wasn't careful I'd go back on everything I'd just said. “You have to tell him.”

Slowly, precisely, she shook her head. “I can't.”

I shrugged even though she wasn't looking at me. “OK, don't. Don't tell him, don't come back, do whatever you want, Ashlyn. Just remember, that's part of your disease. Doing whatever you want, always putting yourself first at the cost of everything and everyone else; pleasing yourself first is part of what makes you an addict. By not telling Kyle the truth, every conversation you have with him from here on in will be based upon that lie.”

Moving much slower than I entered, I went towards the door. My hand rested on the cast-iron handle. “Don't forget as well, I might not tell Kyle, but you've got no guarantee that Jaxon won't. Who would you rather he heard it from?”

Every crunch of gravel under foot seemed to grind what I'd said into the surface of my soul. I understood Ashlyn. More than she knew. More than I wanted to. My drug of choice was hatred for myself.

“Phew!” I said as I got back into the car, my fingers trembling as I clicked the seat belt into place. “Good thing I decided to go; didn't realize I needed the loo so badly. Imagine getting halfway up the motorway and discovering how desperate I was.” I was gabbling, I knew, but couldn't help it. I was anxious about what I'd done. This family seemed to constantly push and pull me to the brink of being firm and vocal. I was constantly having to take a stand, get tough.

I so understood Ashlyn. That was why I could say what I did. But I hadn't said I cared about her, I hadn't said it hurt me that she was hurting herself, I hadn't said I'd always love her but I needed her to get help. I didn't say it because it hadn't been true. Every word out of my mouth had been for Jaxon and Summer. It'd been for the two little kids who'd latched onto a virtual stranger because for so long they had a missing mother and a flaky father.

“I thought you said you'd forgotten something,” Kyle replied.

“Oh. Yeah. I did…” I tried to think quickly. “I said I'd forgotten to go to the loo.”

He shook his head. “You didn't. I distinctly remember you saying you'd forgotten something.”

My eyes went to the rearview mirror. Two sets of eyes were focused on me. I curled my lips inwards to moisten them, heat rising from my feet to the top of my head at the speed of light. “Yeah, I forgot to go to the loo.”

Kyle started the car again and as he moved forwards, my heart lurched.

Poor Ashlyn. Poor Ashlyn.

“Stop the car!” I said. Kyle slammed his foot on the brake. Turned to me.

“What's the matter now?”

“I, er, I forgot something else.” I began unclipping my seat belt, pawed at the door until I got it open.

“What else?”

“I'll be back in a minute.”

I stepped out of the car, my footsteps crunching even louder on the gravel as I ran back to the house. Ashlyn was sitting on the sofa, staring at the fireplace, her arms wrapped around herself. She glanced around when I entered the living room. I saw her body tense, bracing herself for another onslaught.

“I'm sorry,” I said. “I meant what I said, but I shouldn't have said it like that.”

She stared at me, glassy-eyed, disconnected. My eyes moved quickly around the room, looking for her bottle, for the booze it looked like she'd been drinking. Nothing. There was nothing to be seen and no smell of alcohol in the air. She shrugged at me desolately. “I deserved it,” she mumbled.

“Ashlyn, I'm sorry. I… I shouldn't have torn into you. Well, no, I should have torn into you because of the hell you've put everyone through, but I should have also said it was brave for you to try to get help again. You deserve a lot of respect for that. I should have also said that you're a good person and I'm pretty sure no one could make you feel worse than you already do, I just…” I went forwards, perched on edge of the sofa. “I love your kids. I'm so close to them, never as close as they'll be to you, obviously, and I'd never try to be a replacement for you, but you not being around hurts them so much and I want to protect them from anything that hurts them. And, you know, I ache for all that you're missing, too.

“I wish you could see how amazing they are. Summer reads these books that are meant for young teenagers and rewrites the endings. She physically sits down and rewrites the endings if she thinks they're lame. And she writes letters of complaint to people. Proper letters about things she doesn't agree with. Like she wrote to the prime minister because
she saw a man who had nowhere to sleep. Jaxon has started to create a city in the playroom. It's incredible. Now he gets Kyle to cut up blocks of wood for him and he paints on windows and doors. There are skyscrapers, and a shopping center and houses. It's the most incredible thing. You're missing all of that and …” I flopped my hand up and down. “Ashlyn, come home. I'll move out of the flat; you can live there if you can't live with Kyle, but come home.”

She shook her head. “If I could come home don't you think I would?”

“I don't know.”

“If I could come home, I would. But I can't.”

I had to ask again. Had to ask another member of the Gadsborough family. “How can you bear it? How can you stand to be away from them?”

“The question you should be asking, Kendie, is how can I stand to live with myself after everything I've done to them? What I still might do. How much more I may hurt them if I come back. I don't want them to see me like that.”

“But it's in the past, it's not who you'll always be.”

“Have you told anyone your deepest, darkest secret?”

I stared at her without expression, thinking,
Of course I haven't. No one can ever know that about me.

“I doubt it. Because you don't want them to see the worst part of you. My kids have spent all their lives seeing the worst part of me. Living with my deepest, darkest secret, I don't want them to do that anymore.”

Nothing I said could convince her to change her mind. To come home and get better. “OK. You know what you're doing. But remember, all your children want from you is you. What they need from you is to set them a good example. The only example they've seen is of you being a drunk and then being a miserable sober person.

“Look, I came back to say I'm sorry. I want you to be OK,
and I'm sorry for how I said what I did to you. I hope you find what you're looking for.” Before I could think about what I was doing and who I was doing it to, I threw my arms around Ashlyn and gave her a hug. Tried to show her that while I didn't understand why she wouldn't come home, didn't condone what she'd done under the influence, I still hoped she was OK.

I leapt up and she stood, too. As I raced out to the car, she moved slowly to the door.

“OK,” I said, settling myself in the front passenger seat. “All done.”

“All done?” Kyle asked. “I thought you'd forgotten something.”

“Yeah, to go to the loo.”

“You just said you went.”

“Did I?”

“Yeah, and you said you'd forgotten something else. You said it like it was an object. You didn't say it like it was a verb, like you were going to do something, but like you were going to pick up something.”

“Are you the grammar police or something?” I asked him. “And what difference does it make? Seriously, Kyle, what difference does it make?”

Kyle scrutinized me, a little too closely, as though I was under a microscope. His dark eyes were exploring my face, trying to read me. I felt myself wilting under his examination. If he asked me a direct question I'd crack, I knew I would. Heat started burning up my skin; my face was probably throbbing with the heat of his intense gaze.

“Something's going on, isn't it?” he asked quietly.

“I forgot something,” Summer piped up. I felt my body relax, each tensed muscle unfurling as she saved me by drawing focus away from me.

In unison, Kyle and I turned in our seats to look at her.

“I forgot something, too,” Jaxon said.

“We are
never
going to leave at this rate,” Kyle said, his hand reaching for his seat belt clip.

“I forgot it on purpose,” Summer continued.

“Me, too,” Jaxon added.

“I forgot Hoppy,” Summer said. “I left her behind on purpose. She's gonna look after Mumma. I've got Dad and Jaxon and Kendie to look after me. Mumma hasn't got anybody.” Summer nodded at us, certain of what she was saying. “Hoppy will look after Mumma. She can give her hugs when we can't.”

“I left Garvo,” Jaxon said. “He's gonna look after Mumma, too.”

I redirected my gaze to Kyle and our eyes collided. I could almost see his heart throbbing fast in his chest, matching the fast beating of my heart. I did the right thing, Ashlyn needed to be told.

“All right, what are we listening to on the way back?” Kyle asked as he settled himself forwards in his seat.

“Jaxon wants Itsy Bitsy Spider CD,” Summer said.

“Summer wants Harry Potter book,” he replied.