Page 7 of Queenslander
Ronnie couldn’t breathe. She must not have heard correctly. “Monday?”
Reg nodded.
The longest Ronnie had ever had her daughter was two nights every other weekend. Two nights out of every fourteen. She struggled to count how many nights there were to Monday. She glanced over at Reg. “What day is it?”
“Wednesday.”
She counted on her fingers, then pressed the back of a trembling hand to her mouth, not wanting to upset Rainbow. The girl was too young to understand.
Rainbow would never have to pretend not to miss her own daughter. To pretend that a schedule was humane and bearable to protect a child from knowing what had been stolen from her. It had been stolen from not just her but from four generations ofher family one grey day ten years ago—a house of cards brought down by a single careless flick of the criminal justice system.
That was one of the lessons she had learned. Never let them know they hurt you. If they know they hurt you, they win.
She took her daughter’s hands. “Did you bring your things?”
A shy smile.
Ronnie grinned. “We are going to have so much fun! We’ll go to the park and ride bikes, swim at Lake Eacham, ride horses over at the farm… You can help me teach girls how to win at soccer! Are you ready?”
“Can I stay here with you and Grandad?”
“Until Monday. Unless the plan changes. I don’t make the schedule. You know that, right?”
Her daughter looked unsure. “Who makes the schedule?”
Ronnie met her dad’s eyes over the girl’s head. “Maude.”
“Oh.” Rainbow looked confused.
She squeezed her daughter’s hands. “We’ve talked about this before, babe. Did you forget?”
“I didn’t forget.”
“Who did you think made the schedule?”
Rainbow shrugged.
Ronnie had heard a story about a man who lived years with a piece of his left humerus missing and his arm in a splint. With the splint, he was able to regain full range of motion in his shoulder and even lift small objects. He lived a normal life. Except, when he took off the splint to shower, his arm hung at an unnatural angle.
This felt like that. She felt the moment something shifted. It wasn’t broken, exactly, but she couldn’t control it. A part of her suddenly separate and foreign, hanging by a string.
She studied the sensation the way the man must have studied his detached arm.
“Oh my god…”
“Steady, she’ll be right,” Reg said.
Reg was talking to Rainbow, shooing the girl out of the guest bedroom, reassuring her in a low voice and promising her favorite show.
Then Blaise was there telling Ronnie to breathe. Ronnie ignored her.
“It’s all right.”
“She thinks I did this… She thinks I did this on purpose…”
“She’ll understand when she’s older.”
“I’m a bad mum…”
