Two Turtle Doves
By Lena Mysko
Copyright 2013 Lena Mysko
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The body was slumped in the hole at her feet, with one arm mashed beneath it; the other twisted grotesquely back. With legs askew, all comfort and dignity were abandoned. Standing over the hole, it occurred to her that she may still be the one worse off.
The body’s face was streaked with blood and mud and she sensed perhaps a hint of a smile down there. But the beauty was gone; something else that was never coming back.
In broken frames of conscious thought, she took a moment to cast about for why her life had taken this path. Had it veered off course suddenly tonight, smashing through all her good intentions? Or was it years ago, at the intersection of good and evil that she had chosen this route, speeding along a lonely road towards spite and desperation, and a purposeful life had ended.
Jade heard Dan close the back door quietly, followed a few moments later by the distant click of the back gate shutting. It was the slightest of sounds, because as usual, he was careful.
She scurried across to her bedroom window, leaving the light off and the room dark. From behind the curtain she looked out over her front yard to the dusky street, the smell of him around her; a smell like sweet, salted popcorn.
In a few minutes, he appeared again, coming around the corner, illuminated by the glow of the streetlights as he strolled towards home. She watched him closely as he stopped at the house opposite hers to check his letterbox box, and she noticed he was careful not to glance her way. Instead, balancing his work bag under his arm, he retrieved his key, opened the front door and was gone.
Jade maintained her lookout a few minutes more, until her bare white legs prickled with goose bumps. She watched as a car turned the corner and kept on going; another neighbour returning to the fold at the end of the working week.
How Jade loved her little street, pretty and tranquil in the Adelaide hills. Since she was a child, on the rare occasion her mother treated them to a weekend drive, she had envied those who lived in such an idyllic setting. Little stories starring Jade as the happiest girl in the world would form in her mind. She promised herself one day she would have a pretty home in a leafy lane tucked snugly away in a village overlooking the city. She’d spend her weekends tending to her beautiful young family and baking fragrant food, with all of the windows thrown open and sunlight streaming in, knowing her husband was out in the garden pottering happily, waiting for his cup of tea.
Now, at 39, she had her pretty little house in the hills. As for the rest of it, she was anxious but hopeful.
Jade showered, revelling in the memory of Dan and his promises, and she wondered what he and Daisy were having for dinner across the road. But, as always, she fondled the lovely recollection too long and it quickly hollowed out to become a bitter sense of uncertainty, so she had to push those thoughts away. In a while, she would open a bottle of wine and scrounge up some dinner, maybe watch a show.
Or she might succumb to the guilty pleasure of eating at her bedroom window so she could watch his house. And she would pretend not to notice when she drank the whole bottle, and she would listen.
It was several hours later when Jade was roused from sleep, woken by the distant sound of raised voices across the road. Dan and Daisy were at it again. She couldn’t hear much but certain phrases blew in to her on the cool night breeze.
‘sick of your sarcasm!’
‘so bloody dramatic’
‘You worm, you coward’
‘That’s the last time’
Dizzy with wine, Jade strained to hear, willing each word to validate her, to finally prune back the incessant vines of self doubt that grew around her; leaving only the perfectly blameless, beautiful flower she knew her relationship could be.
Dan had been telling her the truth! His marriage was over. Obviously Daisy was clinging to him, like a missed tissue in a load of washing, fouling up the end result. But their marriage was rotten and would need to be binned.
A few minutes later, Jade watched a distraught Daisy run out to her car and peel away down the street. It was the predictable outcome, the usual routine.
And Jade was ready. Checking her hair and breath, she scurried across to Dan’s, letting herself in through the back door.
Dan sat hunched on the sofa with his mobile phone in his hand. He looked up as Jade entered, his face red.
‘You heard?’
‘It was loud.’
Dan sighed and shook his head. ‘She’s ridiculous. She lost it because I said the curry was too hot.’
‘She’s always like this Dan. She’s mentally unwell.’
‘I can’t stand it. Every five seconds, I’ve ruined her life. Yesterday she wanted to plan a cruise for us. Tonight she’s going to kill herself!’
They sat in silence for a minute, listening to the sounds of the summer night. Then Dan said, ‘Sometimes I wish she’d just do it. I really wish she would.’
Jade let a shiver slide up her back but she said nothing. Sitting quite still, she allowed herself to sip on the sweetness of his words, and she was filled with anticipation.
But they knew Daisy was still out there and could return any minute, pulling into the driveway with pathetic, tearful remorse. So Jade kissed Dan goodnight then flitted home to her spot by the window, where she sat and drank and listened to the sounds of the night.
The next day Jade woke early and looked out at the bright blue sky. Never before could she remember such a perfect Christmas Eve.
She set straight to work in her little kitchen. Jade had made rumballs at Christmas many times before. It was a tradition in her family; the fragrant recipe passed down through generations and slightly improved with each passing year.
This year, Jade intended to improve it once more, adding a special new ingredient just for Daisy; something that would improve things a lot for everyone.
Putting the lid back on the drain cleaner, Jade worked the sweet mixture carefully through gloved hands. Then she rolled the little brown balls in coconut and sat at the table to write Daisy’s suicide note. Making sure it was dramatic and accusatory, just like Daisy, she was also careful to keep it brief. Then she put the note aside with the crisply wrapped treats and continued on with her busy day.
At six o’clock, Jade dressed for the neighbourhood Christmas party. Kerry and John at number 14 hosted it every year. Jade secretly resented their colourful decorations, their raucous, happy kids and their smug, festive smiles.
And she hoped to be just like them very soon.
On arrival, Jade dropped off the cheese platter and mingled nervously with the others for awhile. She had a glass of bubbly then went inside to use the bathroom, and slipped out of the party unseen.
She knew Dan would still be golfing, his Saturday obsession, so she had a bit of time up her sleeve. By her estimation, Daisy would be curled up on the couch sulking about golf, or sitting in her bedroom crying about life in general.
Armed with rumballs, Jade let herself in around the side and poked her head through Daisy’s back door.
‘Yoo-hoo, Daisy! It’s only me. I’ve got a little Christmas pressie for you.’
Silence.
‘Hello! I was wondering if you were going up to the party for a quick drink.’
Still nothing.
Jade tiptoed into the kitchen and placed her bundle on the counter. ‘Daisy?’ she called out again.
Where was the stupid litt
le cow?
Now she had set the ball in motion, she was anxious to see it through.
Then she heard the shower running. Damn her, Jade thought. Shall I stand here waiting or retreat and come back in?
The sudden trill of a text message jolted her like a heart starter. She had to steady herself with deep breathing, her profound anxiety threatening to immobilise and leave her exposed. She located the offending device on the counter behind the fruit bowl, and Jade’s heart skipped a beat.
It was Dan’s mobile phone. Dan was home.
A few moments later, when Dan turned off the shower and padded out into the lounge room, he found Jade sitting on the couch with a bundle of rumballs in her lap.
‘What are you doing here? I thought you were at the party.’
‘I was. I came by to drop off a gift. Where’s Daisy?’
‘We had a big fight. I hurt her feelings again. I think she went to her mother’s.’
‘How convenient.’ Jade put the rumballs down and looked at her hands.
‘Yes it is rather,’ Dan said. ‘So, are you going back to the party?’
‘No. I’m going to sit here while you tell me who Rebecca is.’
There was an icy silence as they both held their breath, the blood rushing to Dan’s cheeks as it drained from Jade’s.
‘I know a Rebecca at work,’ Dan said, annoyed. ‘Why?’
‘Well, I was just wondering why she’s texting kisses to you on Christmas Eve, calling you Boo Bear and making disgusting suggestions on your mobile phone?’
Another long silence; as Jade’s thoughts floated past the back of her eyeballs slowly, as if her brain was filling with water, drowning her.
‘You checked my phone? What the hell?’
‘Yes, I checked your phone.’
‘Who does that? What are you doing here anyway, stalking me while I’m in the shower? Get the hell out! I’ve got one crazy bitch in my life already. I don’t need another!’
And then suddenly the lounge room became the kitchen as the hate rose up to the surface, the way pools of fat float to the top of chicken soup.
All of the resentment spilled over and out, the little slights and the crushing humiliations. Out they flowed as a heavy based frypan smashed repeatedly across Dan’s head, until his face resembled the inside of a rich Christmas pudding.
A little later, Jade looked down at Dan’s body in the hole; a hole dug by tradesmen in preparation for a pool, and Jade remembered how she had planned to swim in that pool someday, with Dan. Instead, she would leave him there to rot, as she had been left to rot, a lonely bag of something no one ever buys, occasionally squeezed and fingered and then passed over, becoming dustier and less palatable to buyers with each passing squeeze.
Jade turned and left, crossing the darkened street to her car. The awful sound of Christmas carols drifted to her from Kerry and John’s, along with the distinctive aroma of sizzling late night sausages and onion.
Where had it all gone wrong? Was it possible to stab the finger of blame at any one point in her life, one moment, one golden opportunity missed? She had been personable, successful, giving, clever. Why wasn’t that good enough? Why wasn’t it enough for her?
Now everything was ruined, shredded and grotesque. With trembling hands, Jade started her car and set a course for the beach. She had always loved the freshness and freedom of the beach at night. There, she would find a quiet spot on the cool sand to wail and kick, to curse and to hate.
And then she would walk out into the waves, let them crash over her and tear at her hot, humiliated face, and fill her mouth and cover her despair.
But first, as it was Christmas, Jade would eat her rumballs.