Rose sat staring at the phone, now in her lap, she was exhausted. She was exhausted before the call, and now the last bit of her energy had been sucked out of her. She sat on her couch, like a piece of dried-up fruit, all the moisture sucked out, crumpled and folded on itself. Now bereft of all the things that once made it, it.
The afternoon sun tried hopelessly to bring warmth to the room, instead achieving only to make the dust that had settled all over the room stand out, begging someone to run a duster and vacuum around the place and reminding Rose that she had not cleaned in a while. Great, another thing to feel guilty about.
Rose’s gaze turned back to the phone; her sister was back in the hospital again. She’d only been out two weeks this time. Her mum had been in tears on the call, each of the sobs had worked their way down the phone lines, hitting Rose like a fresh stab wound. Her mum was begging for answers, asking Rose to fly home and fix it all. Swoop in and make it better. Rose had done that very thing three weeks ago, running to the airport, skipping out on work, leaving her husband John at home, sitting in the ED for nine hours, finally getting her sister admitted to the mental health ward at 9.30pm.
Rose didn’t know what to do. Just as she’d not known what to say to her mother. Her heart broke for her sister, for her mother, but also for herself. It was too much for them all and had been going on way too long. Chasing on the heels of the sadness was the familiar sense of resentment. Would this never end? She’d been dealing with this all her life. Her sister had always needed more, demanded more. In the family, Rose’s needs always came last. She was the stable one, the dependable one, the one who took up less space, who fixed things. The weight of responsibility had grown over the years. It pressed on her now, like a silent but insidious creature, that had feed on everyone’s demands, getting bigger, heavier, pushing the air out of her lungs.
Now with her mother alone and ageing, the demands had doubled. Rose didn’t know how much more of this she could take. She looked at her watch, John would be home soon, she hadn’t even thought about dinner. Her to-do list for work was still so long it didn’t fit on one page. She’d have to log back on to finish the urgent tasks later tonight.
She was so behind with her work she couldn’t afford to let things slip even more. The constant threat of someone younger, eager to prove themselves and let’s be honest, with more energy to shmooze the right people, was held over the more senior staff, making sure they all knew they were replaceable. Keeping them all on edge, and wary of each other. But right now, even the thought of getting up off the couch was too much. How was she possibly going to do anything tonight?
Rose sat, she tried to empty her mind and centre herself, follow the advice her hippy dippy yoga instructor used to give to the class, back when she had the time and motivation to go. It was no use, the thoughts swirled around her brain. Dancing like drunks in a night club, loud, big and totally uncoordinated. Giving up, she decided to change tack and try and catch at least one. Maybe if she could work out what to do with just one thought, the rest would fall in line and life will make sense again. Again, she failed, holding onto even just one thing was beyond her.
Stef’s mental health had been getting steadily worse over the past five or so years. She’d had to give up work about that long ago. Her sick leave had run out, she’d taken a leave of absence for a year. After only six months back at work, it was clear to everyone she wasn’t coping. The last month she’d been off more than she’d managed to get to work. Her employer had been wonderful, not that Stef could see that. Rose had gone to a number of meetings with Stef’s boss over the years, he was a kind man, and was trying his hardest to support Stef, but also take into account the needs of his other staff. Stef was not an easy person, Rose could only imagine what her colleagues had to deal with on a daily basis.
He was clearly relieved when everyone finally agreed Stef needed to resign. Since then, Stef’s world had got smaller, her behaviour more difficult. She’d lost all her friends, which was not a surprise, they’d stuck by her longer than anyone thought possible. She felt such loss for Stef, she’d once been her best friend. They’d lived together when they were both at uni. Back then, Stef was the responsible one. Making sure the bills got paid, the shopping done, and they didn’t rely on the local takeaway to meet all their nutritional needs. She’d also been smart, talented and really fun, inviting Rose to cool parties with all her creative friends. She could hold a room enthralled with her stories and quick wit, coupled with her amazing sense of style, she was amazing.
They had shared everything, done everything, together. Rose had looked up to her, wanting to emulate her big sister and feeling proud that she could bask in the light Stef cast. Some time in the last 15 years that had changed. Stef had flip-flopped between depression, anxiety and mania. She drank too much, calling at all hours, full of crazy ideas, drunken jabbering or worse, abuse, for a whole range of past or present imagined slights that Rose was apparently guilty of. It was hard to balance and be understanding of Stef’s illness in the face of it all. It was hard to be her sister and to remember her good and kind parts.
If she was honest, Rose was angry, angry at them all. Her mother constantly put pressure on her, for Adelaide, everything was urgent, every task needed to be actioned instantly. If Rose didn’t answer her phone, she’d just call John, wondering what Rose could possibly be doing she didn’t have time for her mother. She asked her daughter constantly why she didn’t have children, making her feel guilty for depriving Adelaide of being a grandparent. Clearly an essential part of life that Rose had failed to take into account, even though Adelaide knew Rose and John had tried and failed time and again to have children. Every time Adelaide threw these little barbs out there, Rose tried her hardest to ignore her, but no matter what she did, they hit and hit hard. Each time she felt the pain she’d felt every single month she’d been disappointed, every time she’d locked herself into the bathroom and cried, sitting on the toilet, seeing the familiar red that meant failure, yet again. Crying ugly, horrible, deep guttural tears, until she was empty inside. As always, she’d tried to hide her pain from her family, and as always, they hadn’t given her feelings a second thought. She gave up so much of herself to them and not only did no-one acknowledge it, but they spent so much time criticising her for the choices she’d made and the life she’d curated that allowed her to be there for them both.
As her anger grew, she felt it change shape and start to shift focus to other parts of her life. She knew John would come charging in soon and not notice her crumpled on the couch, think to check on her before making his demands. He would not think that as Rose always had dinner started when he got home, something must be wrong. She doubted he was even aware that she’d always planned the meal in advance during the day, used her lunch break to dash to the shops and pick up everything they needed and then rushed home from work to make sure she had dinner on the go by the time he walked in.
He seemed oblivious to all the things she did that made their lives continue smoothly. How did he think the house stayed clean, food appeared in the fridge and wine in the cupboard? Every time they went out, it was Rose who booked the table and coordinated with their friends, while John just turned up. Why was it her responsibility to keep things running all the time?
Rose’s mind shifted to work, and her anger morphed and expanded again. What was wrong with everyone? Why did they all look to her to fix everything all the time, she wasn’t a bloody miracle worker. There also weren’t 100 hours in the day for her to deal with it all. Rather than criticise her for not having achieved their priority task, it would be nice if the team sometimes offered to help, or even just left her alone for five minutes so she could get work done. That would be one way they could all help her have time to read their bloody email, do the thing they demanded from her. She never got the time to focus on the projects she really wanted to. Heaven forbid she actually had some hours to herself ever, got to have a proper lunch break or leave early. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been able to leave in time to get to her yoga class or the gym.
After sitting and stewing for a while, Rose felt her breathing start to settle. The energy needed to keep feeling all the hurt, pain and anger was drying up. She was left with a headache and a sense of emptiness. She imagined herself like the little dead bird she’d found on the farm as a girl. It still had all its feathers, and its skin was wrapped like crepe paper around its fragile little body. It was horrible and yet beautiful at the same time. Rose noticed now that the colour had left the room, seeping slowing out the patio doors, leaving darkness behind. She glanced at her watch, it was 7.30, she’d been sitting here for almost two hours.
The sound of a key in the front door broke the silence. John came around the corner into the living room, seeing her sitting in the semi-dark gave him a start. He gently put his bags down and came over to the couch, taking a seat quietly beside her.
“Are you ok, honey?” he asked gently. She looked at him, concern all over his face, a softness she hadn’t noticed in him for a while. Looking at John and feeling his worry for her pulled a few bricks from the wall Rose had been constructing around her own feelings and needs.
She burst into tears, “No, not really,” she managed to blurt out between heaving sobs. John wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into his chest. Rose felt his warmth run through her. He kissed her still-sobbing head and whispered quietly. “I love you, I’m worried about you, please let me help carry some of the load, you don’t need to look after everything alone.” Had she been so intent on managing everything by herself, being capable of it all, that she’d missed that her husband did want to help, did see her struggle and was there to support her?
Rose felt her tears slow and a small chink of light start to grow inside her.
Author: Amelia Howard
Amelia now calls Melbourne home, having grown up in Hobart and lived in many places around Australia and overseas. Amelia has only recently started pursuing creative writing, alongside other new hobbies including gardening and knitting. As strong a sign of middle age as menopause. A career in health and the public sector has kept her gainfully employed, but finding the time to pursue other pleasures is now becoming more of a priority. A keen runner and practitioner of yoga, her enjoyment of eating and drinking with her husband and friends keeps the rest of life fun and busy.
