CLEO
Cleo was making Friday night dinner, nothing fancy, just tacos, when her phone rang. The smell of spiced ground beef filled the kitchen.
Jacob had the kids in the game room, so the house was unusually quiet. She could hear her thoughts and she didn’t like them.
Her phone rang. She glanced at the screen. Unknown number. She let it ring. She wasn’t in the mood for spam tonight. This week had already been…a lot. She and Jacob were on uncertain ground.
She wasn’t giving him the silent treatment (she hated that), but she certainly wasn’t going out of her way to talk to him. Their conversations had shrunk to the essentials: meals, kids, chores. The only time she really spoke to him was when they had sex, which had happened, oddly enough, more in the past week than in the past few months.
She didn’t know why she couldn’t say no to him, why she reached back for him when he touched her. She hated herself every time she gave in, but also, he was her husband and she was still incredibly attracted to him.
Was she a hypocrite if she said she found him more attractive now than ever?
What kind of woman did that make her?
Jacob never protested when she came to him. Even when she was rougher than usual, when she wanted control, when she expected him to call her out, he said nothing. He just let her take what she wanted.
She hated that.
“Are you going to ever forgive me?” he’d asked one night after she’d had her way with him, his voice soft against her ear. His breath had sent a warm shiver across her skin.
“I hope so,” she said. She wanted to. Needed to. He was her husband, he was her forever. She still loved him, still wanted him, couldn’t imagine her life without him.
But he had betrayed her.
He had kissed another woman!
And for some reason, that kiss, the image of it, the idea of it, shattered something inside her. Maybe because kissing was sacred.
In her younger days, when she didn’t quite fancy a guy, she didn’t kiss him on the lips. Kissing meant something.
Jacob was a phenomenal kisser. She used to love kissing him. The thought that someone else had tasted that, that something intimate had been shared with someone else made her stomach churn.
“Should we…should we see someone? A therapist?” Jacob asked.
“Maybe. I don’t know.”
“Do you think we can work through this on our own?”
“I don’t know, Jacob,” she’d said, turning away. “It took you months to tell me. Why do you think it’ll take me just a few days to forgive?”
“I’m not asking you to get over it,” he said, voice tight. “I just want you back. I miss you. I miss us.”
She’d said nothing. She wasn’t ready.
The phone was still ringing. She sprinkled garlic powder into the pan and finally picked up, pressing the green button. She didn’t say anything. She’d learned not to speak first with unknown numbers.
“Um, hello, is this…Cleo?” it was a man’s clipped Canadian accent.
“Hi, yes, this is she. Who is this, please?”
“Uh, my name is Jem. I’m…uh…Tara’s partner?”
“Oh hi Jem. Is everything okay?”
“Not really.” His voice cracked slightly. “Tara went out for a run about two hours ago, and she’s not home yet. I was just wondering if… did she…?”
Cleo felt her chest tighten. Her mind flicked to the accidental voice note Tara had sent. The pain in her voice.
“No, she’s not here,” Cleo said quickly. Tara didn’t even know where she lived. They weren’t close. Not like that. Not yet.
“Oh okay, thank you. Um…do you have any idea…I’m just, sorry, I’m worried.I can’t really go looking because I’ve got the girls…”
“Did you two fight?”
“Not really. She’s just been…it’s been hard on her. I don’t know what to do. Do you… should I call the cops?”
He sounded scared and Cleo felt sorry for him.
“How long did you say she’s been gone?”
“About two hours. It’s not…she doesn’t run. This is out of character.”
Cleo wondered if Tara’s disappearance had anything to do with the voice note. She hoped not.
“I think it’s too early to call 911,” she said. “Maybe give her a little more time. Can you call any close friends or family?”
“No. She…doesn’t talk to her mum anymore. And anyway, they’re in Nigeria. I thought…I thought you were a close friend. I found your number in her messages.”
Cleo blinked, “Wait, she doesn’t have her phone with her?”
“No, that’s what I’m saying. She left her phone behind.”
“Oh my God.”
This was worse than Cleo had thought. This wasn’t just a run. Tara had run away. Or was running away from something.
Cleo’s heart ached, not just for Tara but for herself, for every mum out there that thought they had a community but were still fighting their battles alone. She was no different from Tara. Would anyone even call if Cleo vanished? Certainly not her old friends that Cleo had drifted from, and that was the problem. She had let go of her circle and hadn’t replaced them. Instead she was comfortable with surface level relationships with the women she met occasionally –at the gym, at the pool for Axel’s swim lessons, at the park where she took the kids to play. These relationships were shallow, not rooted.
Cleo felt the weight of loneliness sit on her shoulders and she wondered how Tara must feel, where she was. She should have asked Tara more questions that day at the grocery store. Should’ve invited her over. She should’ve cared more, should have gotten to know her better so that at least she would have an idea where she might have gone to tonight.
“I’m sorry I can’t help,” she said quietly. “But please keep me posted. If she’s not back by morning, then yes, maybe call the cops.”
“Yeah, okay, thanks.”
As he hung up, Cleo tapped Esther’s name on her screen.
“Cleo, everything okay?” Esther sounded out of breath.
“Yeah, um…actually, I don’t think so. It’s Tara.”
“Oh yeah, the voice note? That was really hard to hear, right?”
Esther’s voice had an odd edge. Almost… pleased? Maybe Cleo imagined it.Had it been a good idea to call Esther considering that she and Tara did not see eye to eye sometimes? Hadn’t the Mother's Day brunch changed that?
“Yeah, but that’s not it. She’s…she’s disappeared.”
“What?” If there had been any trace of smugness before, it had vanished.
“I got a call from her husband, Jem? He said she went for a run hours ago and hasn’t come back.”
“A run? I didn’t think Tara was a runner.”
“Exactly. She’s not.”
“Oh my God…ssshh baby, it’s okay. Um…sorry, what…do we know where she might be? Do you need me to do anything? I mean, what can we do?”
“I don’t know. I just thought you should know. Has she ever been to yours? Just in case she comes there?”
“Oh no, no, we’ve never exchanged addresses. Oh God, I hope she’s okay.”
Cleo shut her eyes. She was beginning to get a headache. Of course, she wasn’t good in a crisis.
“I hope so too. Okay, gotta go. Bye.” Cleo hung up quickly. She’d just seen Jacob and the kids walk into the kitchen..
“Mummy! I found a surprise!” Axel ran to her, bouncing with excitement.
“You did? What is it?” she asked, crouching beside him.
“I gived it to Daddy.”
Cleo looked up.
“What is it?” she asked.
“This.” Jacob held up the pack of Huggies wipes that didn’t hold wipes anymore.
Cleo felt her stomach drop.
“Baby,” she said to Axel, brushing a kiss over his curls, “go watch Bluey, okay? One episode, then tacos.”
He ran off, humming.
“What is this Cleo? I thought this had stopped.”
When they were dating, one night, Jacob had been stressed about work. His jaw had been tense, his shoulders drawn up as he paced her apartment. Cleo, curled into her velvet armchair with a glass of wine in hand, had offered him a pill from her stash.
He’d looked at it, then at her, brow furrowed.
“I don’t take anything not prescribed by a doctor.”
In a way, she’d been glad he rejected it. It meant she could count on him to be sober and level-headed, her grounding force. It was one more thing she loved about him.
He’d asked her then, voice low and curious, “How often do you take these?”
“I’m not an addict or anything,” she said, swirling her glass. “I just keep them in case life gets stressful.”
“And what’s your definition of stress?” he asked with a teasing smirk.
She’d looked at him sheepishly, shrugged. “Anything that threatens to make me lose my shine.”
Jacob had crossed the room, knelt beside her, and kissed her gently. “As long as I’m with you, you will never lose your shine.”
It was cheesy. Foolish, even. Because there were so many things beyond his control, things Cleo faced daily that had nothing to do with him.
He never asked her to stop or toss the pills, until the day her uncle passed. Her mum’s brother, who had lived with them when they first moved to Canada. At the funeral, she hadn’t shed a single tear. Her face was serene, almost detached. She greeted mourners, made polite conversation, even smiled.
Later, in the car on the way back to their hotel, Jacob glanced at her and asked, quietly but firmly, “Are you…high?”
“Don’t be dramatic,” she said, brushing him off with a flick of her hand.
“You took something, didn’t you?”
“Just one,” she admitted. “I needed it.”
“I thought you’d stopped.”
“Why? Because we got married? Was that part of the deal?”
She had taken something. And it had made her feel calm, suspended in a soft, hazy bubble. Her grief, complex and tangled, had no sharp edges.
“I didn’t think you needed a ‘just in case’ stash anymore,” he said.
“Fine. I’ll stop,” she said. “I’ll throw them out.”
“I can help you do that.”
“Stop it. I’m not an addict. I’m perfectly capable of throwing them out.”
And she had. It had been hard, though. She didn’t use them that often to be addicted, but she liked knowing she had them in case something happened.
She hadn’t needed them for a long time, not really. When life got rough, she turned to distractions instead. Mostly sex. But then she had Axel, and everything shifted. Their sex life took a nosedive, and Cleo found herself reaching for something else to anchor her.
Since then, she’d been careful. Responsible, even. A pill only when she absolutely needed it. Never more than one at a time.
Still, the jig was up.
Well, she guessed, the jig was up. She’d hidden the last batch in Mandy’s empty wipes container, she’d intended to move it but had somehow forgotten.
She didn’t answer right away. Her hands trembled. She took Mandy from his arms and kissed her warm cheek.
“Can we talk about this later?” she said, quietly.