Between Before and After Read online

  “Watch your step,” he warned, heading down the few wooden steps built into the side of the jetty, leading into the water.

  The steps were slippery at the best of times, and she took them slowly, following him. He reached for the bowl and she handed it to him as he began to collect the mussels that had attached themselves to the pylons, dropping them into the bowl. It wasn’t a two-person job, so she sat down on the step, smoothing her skirt down over her thighs. She searched for something safe to talk about.

  “So, how’s Kelly?” she ventured, keeping her tone casual.

  He stopped what he was doing and sat back on his heels. “We broke up.”

  “What? When?”

  ”About a month ago? Something like that.”

  Today was February fifteenth. Six weeks after what happened between them at New Years. Was he trying to tell her something?

  “I’m so sorry – I didn’t know. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.”

  She got the feeling he might have been waiting for the right moment to tell her. Did the others know? If they did, they hadn’t mentioned it. Had he asked them not to? Was she reading too much into this? Her head spun.

  “It was a mutual thing,” he continued. “It just wasn’t working. She wanted the whole deal – big wedding, couple of kids, white picket fence.”

  “And you didn’t?”

  He stared at the mussels he had piled in the bowl at his feet. “That’s the thing,” he said, “I did want all that – I mean, I do want all that. Just not with her.”

  The pregnant silence between them was almost as deafening as the cicadas.

  “I’m sorry,” she said again. And she meant it. They weren’t exactly close, but she liked Kelly. If she had met her at a different time, when she wasn’t grieving, then maybe they would have hit it off better. As it was, by the time she and Finn had begun dating, she didn’t have the energy to nurture new relationships. She had had enough trouble retaining the ones she already had.

  He sighed, rubbing his hand over his short brown hair, as if trying to physically massage the problem away.

  “Hey, its fine – like I said, it was mutual,” he smiled up at her. “We’re still friends – sort of.”

  “Well, that’s something.”

  He nodded, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer. When he turned his attention back to the mussels, she was grateful. Another few moments and things may have become awkward. As it was, she tried to give the outer impression that everything was fine. On the inside however, it was a very different story.

  Chapter Six

  Three years earlier

  Max hated leaving her alone. She looked so forlorn, so fragile – as if he would come home from the supermarket to find she had withered away to nothing, disappearing into the atmosphere without a trace. He glanced at his watch. He had been gone half an hour already. He should get back.

  Making his way through the checkout and out to the car with the essentials in a plastic bag, he hoped he had gotten everything they needed. He had no idea what would happen when he had run out of annual leave days and had to go back to work. Leaving Kate alone for an entire day gave him chills. He started formulating a back-up plan. Maybe he could take a leave of absence for a month or so? Or maybe he could work something else out?

  The traffic seemed to crawl on his way back to the villa, and he tapped his fingers impatiently against the steering wheel. Pulling up outside the house, he grabbed the bag of groceries and headed inside. Every time he went through that front door, he wanted to vomit. The memories were brutal.

  He pushed the door closed with his foot and stopped. He was greeted with silence. Taking the bag of groceries into the kitchen, he unloaded the milk into the fridge. He purposely avoided looking at that corner of the living room. The carpet had been ripped up and the wallpaper had been stripped prior to Kate coming back home after the funeral, but neither hid the stain from his memory.

  He crept up the hallway and listened at her bedroom door for a moment. Hearing nothing, he followed it up with a soft knock on the door. When she didn’t respond, he carefully opened the door and peeked in. She was curled up in the foetal position in the centre of the bed, her back to him. She looked like a child, small and lost. She was still wearing Danny’s All Blacks jersey, having refused to take it off since she came home from the funeral. The room smelt of misery. She needed to shower but she refused to. She refused to do anything but lie here, on their bed, wearing Danny’s jersey. He crept over to the window and cracked it open slightly, hoping the fresh air would help with the smell.

  He turned back to her. She was sleeping, but she didn’t look peaceful. Even in sleep, she was frowning. Her cheeks were damp and her hair matted. In the past three days, she had barely said two words. He was starting to wonder if she would ever speak again. Looking closer, he realised she was clutching something to her chest. Danny’s cellphone. He stood up straight again, although it felt like he had been kicked in the stomach. He had heard her last night, through the thin walls of the old villa, replaying the voicemail message on Danny’s cellphone over and over until he had to fight the urge to run in here, rip it out of her hands and smash it against the wall.

  Sighing deeply, he made himself turn around and leave the room, closing the door quietly behind him. He managed to take three steps before he sank to the floor, his back against the wall. He closed his eyes to try and block out the reality of the situation. Thundering in to fill the vacuum were memories of that day, barely two weeks earlier.

  Blood, so much blood – and the smell. He wrestled with the urge to vomit even as bile rose up from his stomach.

  He opened his eyes and tried to breathe through it, deep and slow. Turning his head slowly to the side, he caught a glimpse of that corner of the living room, where the horror had unfolded, where his nightmares began. His pulse raced and he closed his eyes again, slamming his head back against the wall viciously. Pain rocketed down his neck and throughout his body. He had to get a grip. Kate needed him. He couldn’t leave, even if he wanted to. As much as he wanted her to snap out of it, he was grateful for something to do. He would take care of her, even if it was here, in this hall of mirrors, this house of horrors. He owed it to Danny.

  And once she was well again, he would leave this house and never come back.

  Max’s appetite had deserted him, and it had nothing to do with the beautiful meal Lacey had prepared. He stared down at his plate, almost untouched in front of him. His head said it looked amazing, his stomach said otherwise. He was used to the see-sawing emotions that seemed so much more obvious over these anniversary weekends. From extreme highs to extreme lows, it seemed to be all part and parcel of the experience. He kept telling himself that each year would be easier, but he was still waiting. It was exhausting, navigating the see-saw. The constant up and down made him queasy.

  As they sat around the large, rustic dining table, soaking up the one hundred and eighty degree view of the sunset-drenched bay, he could feel the encroaching uneasiness. The conversation died. He stared at the empty place Kate had set at the table. It was a tradition she had started that first year, and it had seemed to make her happy. He could see the sense then, knowing how much she was suffering. But now, it was a reminder he could do without. He sculled the last of his beer and, pushing his chair back noisily, made a beeline for the beer fridge outside. As long as he kept the beer coming, he would sleep alright tonight. After a long day like this, with a couple more ahead of him, he needed all the sleep he could get. The nightmares always seemed so much worse here.

  He breathed in the fresh sea air, pulling open the fridge door and peering inside. He sure as hell couldn’t handle any of this sober, and he wasn’t going to unburden himself anytime soon, either. The drunker he was, the more soundly he slept. It was simple, really. Somewhere deep inside, alarm bells rang but he ignored them. His options had dwindled to sober or drunk. He chose drunk. He was making
the best of a bad situation. He was handling it.

  He reached in to grab three beers, slamming the fridge door shut with more force than he intended. Taking a moment to compose himself, he headed back along the wooden deck in the gathering dusk.

  “Here,” he said lightly, handing beers to Finn and Gavin before taking a seat himself. He pulled the tab open and leaned back in his chair, taking a big gulp.

  The air prickled around him. Kate sat with her chin resting on her knee, watching him.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. I was just saying that he would have loved this – us all being here, together again.”

  Max took another swig of beer.

  “Sort of feels like he’s here with us, doesn’t it?” she said, her gaze falling on the empty chair opposite her.

  It had been at least three months since Max had last seen her. He couldn’t bring himself to turn up at New Years. The thought of being in that house again, of seeing the exact place Danny had died, of being that close to the memories, was too much. Instead, he had chickened out. He had told them he was coming, then he hadn’t. He couldn’t. He had spent two days ignoring his phone, finally sending an apologetic text. The remorse he felt at letting them down, at lying to her, was better than the horror of being in that house again. Last time had been bad enough. He wasn’t keen to repeat the experience. He wished to hell she’d move out of that place. He was running out of excuses as to why he couldn’t stay there.

  Finn watched as Max tucked into yet another can of beer. How many was that? Even when he had arrived, Max had had a beer in his hand and clearly, that wasn’t his first of the day. He hadn’t noticed it until now, but Max hadn’t been without a beer all day. They all drank, but this was going beyond normal behaviour. It was almost as if he was on a mission of some sort. Worse still, the more he drank, the more withdrawn he became.

  He tried to get Gavin’s attention to see if he had noticed it, but he was deep in conversation with Kate. Finn had been watching her, too. He had seen her glance furtively at the empty setting at the table – Danny’s chair – a couple of times, her expression unreadable.

  After what happened between them at New Years, he didn’t know what to think. He had purposely waited to tell her about Kelly face to face, to see her reaction for himself. He had hoped she would give him some clues so he could figure out if what had happened between them was real or not. It had certainly seemed real, no matter how drunk they both were.

  He reached for his beer. He knew Danny was a big part of this equation, for both of them. It was tough, being here. There was a massive hole, and he knew he wasn’t the only one who felt it. He supposed it might not have been as bad if they had chosen to meet up somewhere other than here, but that felt disloyal, somehow. These few days had always been about honouring Danny’s memory – and where better to do it than here, where evidence of his life was everywhere.

  It still rubbed at him. The wound was still raw, even after all this time. Danny wasn’t himself in the weeks before his death. They thought it was just a mood, that it would pass. But it didn’t pass. There had been no cry for help. He had wanted to die. Reasonably, he knew this. Unreasonably, he argued against it until his heart ached.

  Two words haunted him. If only. Those two words had the power to change the past, or the future. They also had the power to drive you half mad mulling over the possibilities.

  They didn’t talk about that day as much now. Part of him was grateful. Instead of focusing on what Danny did, they tried to focus on the person he was. Finn knew now that the two were very different. Danny had ripped apart the very threads of their friendship and brutally discarded them. He had excluded him from the biggest decision of his life. He had betrayed him. His actions had made Finn question everything he knew and put every relationship he had, or ever would have, under the microscope. Nothing would ever be the same and somehow, he had to find a way to live with that. They were like the pieces of a kaleidoscope. All the same pieces were there but they were altered, different somehow. They didn’t seem to fit together in quite the same way. With just a simple twist of fate – a tear in the fabric of destiny – all of their lives could have been very different.

  Gavin and Lacey got up from the table and began to clear the plates away as Max muttered something about taking a walk. He glanced over at Kate, her attention fixed firmly on Max as he made his way out the door.

  “Is he okay?” she asked worriedly, turning to Finn. “Did I say something wrong?”

  “I don’t know – I don’t think so?”

  Gavin took the plate from in front of her and stacked it with the others, heading over to put them on the breakfast bar that separated the kitchen from the dining area.

  “Lace, you shouldn’t be doing that.” Kate stood up and followed her into the kitchen. “The cook doesn’t have to do the dishes, remember?”

  Lacey waved her off. “It’s fine, I don’t mind.”

  “I’ve got a better idea – why don’t you just chill for a while? Take advantage, for God’s sake,” Kate insisted.

  “I like that plan.” Lacey smiled as Gavin leaned over to give her a quick hug from behind.

  “Good idea – stretch out on the sofa,” he said, kissing the top of her head.

  Gavin and Finn headed through to the kitchen and stacked the plates, while Kate hunted around under the sink for a clean dishcloth.

  “Max looks like shit,” Gavin said simply.

  “Yeah,” Finn agreed, sighing heavily. “I thought so to.”

  “He seems to be drinking a hell of a lot more than usual,” Gavin said. “How many beers has he had since you got here?”

  “Too many,” Kate said. “We’ll be all out by tomorrow, the rate he’s going. What was he like when you arrived?”

  “I don’t know,” Finn frowned. “It’s hard to tell with him. He seemed okay, but I’ve noticed he seems pretty attached to the booze. He looks tired, too.”

  “I think we should talk to him.” Kate put the plug in and ran the water. “See if we can find out what’s going on.”

  “It’s worth a shot.”

  Finn picked up a tea towel and stood leaning back against the kitchen counter as Kate filled the sink. The knot in the pit of his stomach refused to go away.

  Suddenly, Lacey’s pasta wasn’t sitting so well.

  Chapter Seven

  Max walked along the sand slowly, can of beer in his hand. He thought he could do this, he really did. He thought that being here would be manageable, that being around everyone would make it easier, not harder. He took a swig of beer, as if it would wash away the uncertainty. He had over-estimated the simplicity of it. He had walked right into this and now he was stuck. He couldn’t just make a flimsy excuse and disappear now, no matter how miserable he felt – and he felt pretty damn miserable.

  Everyone seemed to be moving on from Danny’s death except him. Why was he so stuck in the past? Why couldn’t he get over this like they had? What the hell was stopping him? He felt the frustration building up inside him until he wanted to scream.

  Telling stories about Danny’s past escapades had been okay – fun, even. He liked to think of Danny like that, the way he was. It helped to drive away the images in his head of Danny lying on the floor, covered in blood and worse. He thought that if he concentrated on the good times, he would be able to get through these few days. How wrong he had been.

  First it had been Finn driving the Monaro. That flashback had been bad enough. Then it was fishing off the jetty, something Danny had loved and been good at. The fact that they didn’t catch anything was a sign, as far as he was concerned. What had capped it all off was Kate setting that extra place at the table. Why did she have to do that? Why did she need another sign that he was missing? Didn’t she feel it keenly enough already? He could tell just by the look on her face as she stared at the empty chair that she did. Why did she do that to herself? Maybe she thought they all needed a reminder?

  He huffed out a frust
rated breath and paused in front of the rickety wooden boat shed. Taking another swig of beer, he pulled the wooden cross-bar off its mounting and dropped it on the sand. The doors swung open immediately, the damp, musty smell rushing out at him. He pushed one of the doors open wider, peering inside in the failing light. The old dinghy stared back at him, a further reminder of days gone by. His eyes slowly grew accustomed to the darkness. A selection of beach toys hung out quietly at the back of the shed, just as always. It was as if they were waiting for something. Or someone.

  He sat down on the edge of the dinghy, taking another long sip from the can in his hand. He was alive, but he felt like he was bleeding to death. He could feel the life leaking out of him, one drop, one day, at a time. He didn’t know how to stop it. What would happen when the last drop, the last day, was gone? What would he be then? Was there something between alive and dead, between before and after?

  “Cards!” Finn announced triumphantly about an hour later. “Last Card - I’m feeling lucky.”

  “Strip Poker.”

  “Max!”

  “What?” he belched. “You said we should play a game.”

  “What are you, twelve?” Lacey laughed.

  “Where’s the deck?” Gavin hunted around in the bookshelf in the living room, pushing Monopoly, Cluedo and Yahtzee aside.

  “I’m not playing Strip Poker with you bunch of reprobates,” Lacey said, getting up off the couch and giving Gavin’s bum a gentle slap on her way to the kitchen. “And I’m sure Kate agrees.”

  “I’m with you, sister from another mister.” Kate held her glass aloft, winking.

  “More wine?” Lacey grabbed the bottle from the fridge and brought it back with her.

  “Now that you’ve made a super special effort to bring the bottle with you? Okay.”

  “Okay to Strip Poker?”

  Kate rolled her eyes at Max. “Okay to wine. No-bloody-way to Strip Poker.”