Turning One More Time

Published online at Emerge Literary Journal, January 2021

The wind squalls, turning me like spinifex. When the cans and papers stop rolling down the street, I can hear my thoughts. Only then my heartbeat is louder than our rattling gate.

He leaves for work at 4am, his Ute stuffed with sharp tools. Three, four, five times a day he blusters back in; I make sure I’m home. Serve him lunch. Cold drinks. Coffee. I don’t smile much, just enough. Told my friends not to call.

He pulls up outside, a hurricane whips my blood. The dog whimpers. The three-year-old pats her and my five-year-old folds around them. I hand my husband tea, biscuits, domestic words. My chest is compressed like someone is standing on it. He leaves his mug smeared with dirty fingerprints.

The rubbish bins outside crash over in the wind, nappies spew out and wrappers swirl. He demands I clear it up now, as he thuds down the gravel path. 

Our wedding photo is on the kitchen bench. Yellow floral dress. Lipstick. Toothy smile. Standing straight as a streetlight. Where have I gone? I take the photo to the rubbish. Glass glistens in shards; I rip the picture in half.

Through the rattling gate before storms fling me back. Hoping, this time, I won’t lose my path. That he won’t track my scent. Three cookbooks, two children, the dog lead and the dog. Half a photo in my handbag. One day, I won’t need it to remember who I am.