Free Secret Confessions: Down & Dusty — Kelly by Fiona Lowe

Episode 3—Kelly
    Red dust laughed in the face of window and door seals. Hell, it gave the bird to houses in general, and when the west wind blew over the drought-ravaged district, clouds of it moved in and took over every surface with easy familiarity. Kelly Wilkins knew it was pointless getting upset by the layer of vivid orange outback dirt that now graced the floor—the floor she’d mopped this morning immediately after dropping the kids off at school and before heading to her job at the Milpinyani Springs medical centre. But knowing that wasn’t enough to stop frustration crawling through her.
    And it wasn’t only frustration at the dust. Part of her wished it were, because that would be an easy fix—a quick swish of the mop, job done—but there was no easy fix to the problem that was her marriage. It was like the ever-present and pervasive dust that spun around her, blocking her nose, clogging her throat and increasing in amount and intensity with every passing day.
    She heard the sound of her eight-year-old’s feet pounding against the floorboards and heading fast toward the back door. ‘Max! Come back, please, and empty your school bag.’
    ‘Aww, Mum.’ The pounding slowed to a slow stomp.
    ‘Aww, nothing. You know the deal. It’s spelling and times tables first, then the trampoline.’
    A flash of pink appeared, twirling in her peripheral vision. ‘Mummy, it’s not fair. How can I be a ballerina if you won’t let me learn?’
    Kelly felt the muscles in her neck, which had been tight all day, ratchet up a notch. As much as she loved being the more hands-on parent, she bore the brunt of the kids’ theatrics and Ruby had a degree in drama. Kelly swallowed a sigh. ‘Ruby, honey, it’s not that I don’t want you to learn, it’s just the closest dance school is a three-hour drive away. Besides, I’m teaching you the basics.’
    ‘But it’s not fair,’ Ruby pouted. ‘Daddy flies to Longreach all the time. Why can’t I go with him?’
    Kelly put cheese and biscuits on a plate for their post-school snack. ‘Because the Flying Doctors’ planes are for sick people.’
    ‘I wish Daddy had his own plane,’ her daughter said glumly, ‘and then he’d take me to ballet.’
    Kelly wished Grant had a plane too and that they could fly away together for one night. Hell, she’d take one hour.
    Her SAT phone beeped with an incoming text. When they’d lived in Brisbane and then Longreach, she’d had a smart phone and she’d assigned different sounds to different people but her glossy phone was useless out here. Her mother and sister called her on the landline and the only person who ever texted her was Grant. She didn’t want to read it, because it was rare for Grant to text her with news she wanted to hear.
    Patient with #femur. Delayed out of Windorah. Sorry. Will miss games night.
    Disappointment tried to half-heartedly unfurl its banner inside her, but after a decade of being married to a doctor, Kelly knew there was no point—it was a wasted emotion. Instead, familiar resignation slid in to take its place. As much as she wanted Grant to be here with them, she knew patients came first. It was just lately she felt like she was sharing her dedicated husband with the kids, Milpinyani Springs, the Barcoo Shire and most of central western Queensland, and everyone else was getting the greater share of him.
    During the infrequent times they were both actually at home together she’d tried different things to spark up their almost non-existent sex life. The striptease had worked, the whipped cream had just been messy and he’d fallen asleep during the massage. It had been too long since Grant had done more than kiss her on the forehead before rolling over and instantly falling asleep. Forget sexual fantasies like being handcuffed with a man between her legs; right now she’d settle for plain old missionary position if it meant she and Grant got to have sex.
    ***
    ‘Max!’ Kelly yelled over the