Chapter Six

Two weeks had passed since Jack had moved in with Macca and they were getting along fine. In fact a nice little routine had been established. Soccer on Mondays, followed by the pub. Tuesdays Jack would cook and on Wednesdays they'd see Mattie and Ric. Thursday, Friday and Saturday were party nights for whoever was in the mood. Which was always Macca. He sure did know how to go hard. On more than one occasion there'd been a third person of the female variety accompanying the two of them home. Sunday was chill out day where they'd do nothing and order pizza. Jack had to admit it – he loved this new life. It was a life he felt had been ripped away from him just as he was settling into it. One minute he'd been house-sharing with a bunch of guys and throwing parties that lasted until five and the next moment he was engaged, married, divorced and settled down with a new woman and her ready made family. Of course that was not to say he didn't miss Sam and Rory. But he didn't want to go home. Not yet. And as fun as his new-found bachelor lifestyle was that wasn't the reason. It was because she wasn't awake. And he didn't know how to say goodbye.

This afternoon being a Tuesday he'd come home from the hospital and was about to get started on dinner. Looking out from behind the kitchen counter he could see the door to her room. Two weeks and he hadn't been in there again. He wanted to. Badly. He wanted to search through her belongings and see the person she was; the person she'd become. But most of all he wanted to see if there was any sign, any memory she'd kept, any notion of a hint that she hadn't forgotten him.

Glancing guiltily around the room, almost to make sure no one was there to bear witness to his crime, Jack slowly made his way across the floor. The door was closed and with continued trepidation he cautiously opened it. Standing on the threshold he listened intently for any noise – holding his breath to ensure complete silence. Hearing nothing he let out a slow, silent sigh and stepped inside her room.

He noted again the poster and the Winnie the Pooh print and allowed himself to smile at the knowledge she had kept it. He thought back to that Christmas. Foolishly he hadn't enclosed the card in an envelope even though he knew his father – who always sat nearest the tree doling out presents as though they were awards – took great pleasure in reading the entire contents of cards aloud for everyone present to hear. When he had begun on Jack's card to Martha – "Who's Winnie…" Jack turned crimson and lunged at his father, ripping the card from his hands. "Don't you dare," he'd said, and – thoroughly embarrassed, all eyes on him – handed the card shyly to Martha. "Here," he'd mumbled and smiling, she'd taken it from him. After reading it silently and opening the present she glanced up at him and grinned, kissing him quickly as all eyes continued to enquire. She'd loved that present – it was his big success story. Once he'd tried to repeat it by buying her a Tigger stuffed toy but she'd firmly informed him that this was Disney Pooh and Disney Pooh didn't count. Now as he stared at the picture he wondered if she'd kept anything else he'd given her. If there were other reminders of his existence – their marriage. Or were there other men in her life now – he guessed not since no one had mentioned a boyfriend and none came to visit her at the hospital. He couldn't help but feel pleased, however shallow and petty that made him. He begun to open her drawers, looking for photo albums but he could find none and the only picture was that one of Macca on her desk. All he could find was random possessions that all people collected – CDs, books, papers, statements, bills, clothes, jewellery. The wedding album wasn't here – even though he knew she'd taken it when they'd split. He wondered if she'd binned it – trying to erase any memories of that day or if the explanation was more innocent. Perhaps she'd just put it in storage somewhere – moving to the city as she had done. Finally he did find an album. It was a recent one and as he turned the pages he was intrigued to see a Martha with a life that he had no part in. He recognised faces – Cassie, Matilida, Ric and Macca but there were friends that he didn't know. She was hugging people he'd never met. He found one where a group of four unknowns and Martha were standing in front of Ayres Rock. He smiled at her face with its huge grin. Then he laughed out loud at one at a party with Martha screaming at the camera holding a beer bottle while a guy with dark hair grabbed her waist. She looked happy. Maybe she never regretted anything. Maybe she wouldn't have even wanted him here.

Later that night as Macca and Jack ate dinner the thought continued to weigh on Jack's mind. That maybe he played no part in her life – not even her thoughts – and he should just pack his bags and leave. He knew what he had to do, however foolish it may seem.

"Macca. Did Martha ever talk about me?"

Macca glanced up from his curry and didn't seem surprised by the question.

"I was wondering when you were finally going to ask."

"What do you mean?"

"You've been here for two weeks Jack, we've hung out a lot, you've been to the hospital every day, but the one thing we've never talked about, the one thing you've never asked about: is Martha."

"Was she happy?"

"I think so. She found a job she loved and she was just beginning to be the person she wanted to be I reckon. And no, she never talked about you."

"Maybe I shouldn't be here."

"She didn't talk about you for the same reason you didn't ask me about her. Why didn't you ask me about her Jack?"

Jack thought. He didn't know what to ask, or more precisely, he couldn't ask the things he wanted to ask. Jack looked at Macca and said nothing.

Macca collected their empty plates and stood up from the table.

"She'd want you here Jack," he stated simply, before he walked to the kitchen.