Rachel Weeping by Brett Michael Innes

Author:Brett Michael Innes
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Jonathan Ball Publishers
Published: 2015-04-20T16:00:00+00:00

Chris walked across the driveway to the back courtyard where the refuse bins were, the heavy trashbag swinging in his hands. Michelle was becoming needier by the day and, even though she had been right about taking the trash out, her controlling nature was beginning to get to him. He lifted the lid of the nearest bin and tossed the black bag inside. The smell of food beginning to rot came up at him and made him slightly nauseous.

He stood for a minute in the courtyard, mentally preparing himself for the meal with Michelle. He was about to walk back to the house when he noticed Rachel sitting on the laundry room steps with her face buried in her arms. The sight of her pain was like a blow to his heart. For a moment he considered going across to comfort her but he stopped himself. He was probably one of the last people Rachel would want to see her grief. His eyes welled up with emotion and he waited quietly for a couple of minutes more before moving quickly across the driveway and back into the house.

Michelle had just placed the chicken on the table when she heard Chris’s footsteps. He must have come in from the front door. She closed the door to the garden, shooing Hugo back outside, then busied herself with rearranging the portions on the serving dish, separating dark meat from white. She didn’t turn around when she heard her husband walk into the kitchen and go across to the sink, where he opened the cupboard beneath it to retrieve the roll of bin liners.

Chris ripped a fresh trashcan liner from the roll with one fierce motion of his hand and shook it out with sharp impatient slaps, rubbing his thumb and forefinger together against the thin plastic to find the opening. Then he put it in the trashcan and closed the lid.

‘Don’t forget to clean the bin before you put in a new bag,’ Michelle called out, her attention still on the table and arranging their meal.

There was silence from behind her. Then she heard the cupboard door opening again and slamming hard, followed by the distinctive hiss from the nozzle of the disinfectant spray. It was prolonged and aggressive, and she could have sworn she heard Chris kick the plastic bin.

‘What’s wrong?’ Michelle asked, finally turning round.

‘Nothing,’ Chris replied.

Michelle watched him trying to find the elusive opening to the bin liner, his fingers slithering impatiently, and resisted the impulse to take it from his hands and do it herself. There was a knack to it that Chris had never mastered.

‘Don’t tell me you’re upset because I asked you to take out the trash?’ she said. She picked a piece of cucumber out of the salad and brought it halfway to her lips. ‘Chris?’

‘I said it was nothing.’

‘It doesn’t look like nothing,’ she retorted. She popped the cucumber into her mouth, watching him.

Chris ignored the comment and continued to struggle with the black plastic bag, the elusive opening amplifying his frustration.

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