Free Where Have You Been? by Wendy James Page A

Derek and the boys working late most afternoons, though he is not being noticeably inefficient or slapdash, he knows that for the past month or so (since his mother-in-law’s death, that shocking will) he has been functioning way below his optimum level, that he is lacking the spark, the taken-for-granted creative impulse that usually drives him. That he is on automatic pilot, so to speak.
    These last few days he has left work early. Usually he likes to spend an hour or two in the office every afternoon. Finalising designs, conferring with Derek on the next day’s check-measures, double-checking the production plans. But these last few days he has driven straight to Manly, parked the car under what remains of the Norfolk pines and spent an hour or so just watching the surf. He should, he knows, go home: spend the extra time with his children, with his family. But he’s not up to that. He needs this time alone, meditating, contemplating. Wondering.
    ***
    â€˜Listen to this, Suse.’
    They are lying in their first shared bed, in their first shared home – a rented flat in Dee Why. It is past lunchtime and outside it is probably a glorious summer’s day, but theyhave only been married for three weeks, and are determinedly keeping the curtains drawn, the telephone unplugged.
    â€˜What?’ Susan is lying on her side, tracing dreamy patterns on Ed’s back. Ed is reading. Ed is always reading.
    â€˜Listen,’ he says. He reads aloud. ‘Often trauma experienced in childhood is never resolved. Adults, in a well-intentioned effort to shield the child from what they see as unnecessary pain, frequently fail to properly discuss those issues that can have a serious and deleterious effect on the child. Issues such as death, divorce, family dissension. These may be repressed by the child – who has no way to make sense of them – only to resurface in adulthood as depression or unspecified anger or violence.’ He turns around to face her. Keeps reading.
    â€˜But it is never too late to begin remedial treatment. Talking through such issues, even in adulthood, can help to alleviate symptoms of depression.’
    Ed marks the page with his finger. ‘You see, Susy. We really ought to talk about it. If you don’t, it could come back one day – resurface – take over your life.’
    Susan prises the book out of his hand, drops it over the side of the bed.
    â€˜Susy! I was reading that.’
    She pushes him back against the pillows.
    â€˜Ed,’ she says. ‘I know all about that stuff. I’ve read all that psychobabble. Had to read it. I’m a nurse, remember.’
    â€˜I know you know, but I really can’t understand why you won’t talk about it. It isn’t right. It isn’t healthy.’
    She straddles him, pins his arms above his head.
    â€˜Unhealthy, eh? Let’s play doctors, then.’
    â€˜Susy,’ he says, ‘why won’t you be serious? I really think you need to, to confront ... to confront this ... the ... past.’ He’s grinning now and his breath’s coming fast and shallow.
    â€˜Oh, I am serious Ed. You know I am. But first I think we need to confront your pain.’ She lowers her haunches,tightens her grip on his wrists. ‘You just tell her where it hurts, Ed, and Sister Sue’ll fix it for you.’
    ***
    He doesn’t spend much time out in the factory these days. Years ago, when he was at high school and needed the cash, his father had given him a part-time job: three afternoons a week and on Saturday mornings he’d worked in the factory as a general dogsbody. His elder brother Derek had already left school and was part way through his apprenticeship. At first Ed had just been given tasks like sweeping and tidying the benches, or had been sent out to bring back the men’s smoko orders – bacon and egg rolls, custard tarts, bottles of Coke, cigarettes. It hadn’t taken too