Lisa Heidke by Lucy (mobi) (rosie project .TXT) 📕

Life tomorrow,’ Gloria assures me. ‘I’ve got you the gig. You’ll love it.’

‘I can’t wait.’

Day 25

‘What the bloody hell’s going on?’ I confront Patch when he finally shows up. ‘I’m living in gyprock hell.’

‘Nice to see you too, Lucy.’

‘There are at least eight guys here but I can’t figure out what work’s being done, except that my hydrangea is dead from urea poisoning. You need to buy me a new plant.’

‘I think you’ll find that the hydrangea died from rootrot caused by too much water,’ he counters. ‘Also, hate to be the bearer of bad news, but the high rainfall has caused the soil in the backyard to become so saturated that the inner walls of the newly constructed family room have buckled and need to be redone. To stop this happening again, extensive regrading of the backyard is required.’

‘Excellent. And what’s happening with the bathroom? Has the marble turned black, requiring replacement?’ I say sarcastically.

‘We’re waiting on the massage showerheads, tiles, basins . . . there’s a delay with the frameless glass shower screen -’

‘Okay, okay. And the kitchen?’

There are several men standing in a circle staring at me, clearly thinking I’m insane - and they may be right.

‘About the bi-fold doors we ordered,’ says Patch, changing the subject. ‘French doors were dropped off instead. They were meant for number seven down the road.’

‘So my doors are at number seven?’

‘No. No one seems to know where your doors are.’

It gets worse. Patch tells me that to save money he elected to use a local cabinet-maker, who seems to have absconded with the money he was paid, leaving me with half-finished wall units for the family room. Just what I need: a healthy dose of financial ruin.

When I arrive at the Modern Life audition, my heart’s not in it. I know I should be grateful to get a look-in, but when I see who I’m up against - bald-headed Summer, giraffe woman and several skeletal twenty-somethings - I can’t get interested enough to try. And attempting to chat to my fellow actors doesn’t make it any better.

‘I have doorknobs at home with more personality than these guys,’ I tell the producer as I’m going through the motions.

I don’t get the impression my honesty’s going to help win me the part.

As I’m leaving, I run into Rock, the handsome man-boy presenter with the great bod from the Actors’ Studio party.

‘How’s things?’ he says, looking expectantly at me.

‘Not bad,’ I lie.

‘Coffee?’ he asks.

He looks disappointed when I tell him I have to rush off to pick up the kids from school, but he smiles anyway, revealing his perfectly white, perfectly shaped teeth.

Late that afternoon, Nadia pops in to ask how I’m getting along. I’m outside, bouncing an old tennis ball against a brick wall, and I have no idea how long I’ve been doing it. Minutes? Maybe an hour.

‘Still in shock,’ I tell her, bouncing away. ‘I’ve been to see Trish, but it still doesn’t seem real. How can I ever show my face again at school?’

‘You can and you will. It’s no one else’s business. And if someone wants to discuss it and you don’t, walk away.’

‘Is that what you did?’

‘Yeah, and I cried, threw things, but bit by bit I picked myself up, got a killer haircut, joined a gym, upgraded my vibrator and said “fuck you” to the world. I guess you have to decide whether this situation is a blip you and Max can work through or whether there’s no turning back.’

‘I don’t know. It’s impossible when I can’t even get hold of him to speak to. How did you know your marriage was definitely over?’

‘Well, let’s see. Brad had an affair with this whore at his work and I found out when I accidentally overheard a phone conversation between them. He ended it with her, but then the whore - Jacqui - rang and told me everything, because I “needed to know the kind of man I was married to”. She listed all the presents he’d bought her, the secret trips they’d been on. Then, to top it off, she sent letters to our neighbours sharing explicit details of their affair. Talk about not wanting to show your face again!’

‘So you separated?’

‘Nah, we limped on for another two years - and hey, I celebrated what would have been our twelfth wedding anniversary this year by taking the kids to Disneyland. I’m still paying it off, but let me tell you, it was worth it. I’m free. My new life’s turning out better than the old one.’

I’m not convinced.

Day 26

After a particularly bad night’s sleep, I take myself off to Lina, my doctor, and blubber that Max has left me, my builders never turn up when they say they will and I want to run away to a happy place where no one will ever find me.

She nods sympathetically and offers me antidepressants.

‘No, thank you,’ I tell her in my most indignant tone.

‘How’s your hand?’ she asks, poking it and examining where the stitches have dissolved.

‘Much better.’

‘No more accidents with knives?’

‘No, of course not.’

After a physical check-up and a bit more chat, Lina asks again if I’d like antidepressants. ‘Just until you’re feeling better.’

This time I say yes.

When the kids get home, Bella has a serious freak-out about the dust, and I can’t blame her. It’s horrific. I wonder if the builders sprinkle it everywhere to see how far they can push us before we all have a breakdown.

I’m relieved to put the kids to bed so I can have some time alone. I’m feeling so depressed, I wonder if I really am on the verge of a nervous breakdown. I’ve been trying so hard to stay strong and in control for the children, to avoid falling into a heap every other day. There seems to be a sort of unwritten rule between the three of us that we don’t mention Max. He’s become the big fat elephant in the room who nobody talks