He is on the telephone again, his voice slow and thick with his misery. It will be the same conversation -- how he’s lost his wife, how his children are turning away from him.

She looks around her office, hoping people won’t notice the emotion creeping into her voice. She props the phone against her shoulder, attempting to continue to work while he speaks.

He blames his wife. He doesn’t understand his wife’s anger. But she can. What he doesn’t know is that she is aware of his accusations against his wife. She knows what sparked his wife’s final ultimatum. He has never chosen to divulge to her that he raided his wife’s mail on a suspicion. His wife had told a friend she had a crush on a man. He had opened the letter and thrown this slip of the pen in her face. Considering his history of infidelities, the irony is anything but sweet.

She glances at the clock while he continues on. She can’t raise what she knows without betraying who told her. So she keeps it to herself.

She feels for the children. Two teenage boys and a younger girl caught between the pettiness of their parents. She entreats him to consider them, to leave his anger and focus on them. Their mother, his wife, has made an art of hostility. He should do whatever makes this awful situation easier for his children, to make sure they feel his support. But he isn’t listening. He is off on his monologue, the list of wrongs done him, by his own family.

She sighs, wondering why he calls. Of course, she knows. She is the only one left who will listen.

She reminds herself that he is not well. He is on stress leave from work. A policeman, his gun was taken from him after an incident in the work locker room. They fear he would self-harm, and arrange for him to seek help. He doesn’t like what he is told by the counsellor and doesn’t return. He is crumbling and she worries when, or if, he will find his way back to solid ground.

His tone has changed from anger to the more familiar self-pity. His once strong voice has developed a whine. She wants to console him, but the children’s faces flash in her mind. She fears their pain will be longer lasting than his, and it angers her that he doesn’t seem to be able to see beyond his own feelings to acknowledge his responsibility to theirs. He is over 50. When will he grow up?

She types out a few more words. He has been talking for nearly an hour and she feels exhausted, the weight of his emotional neediness saps her. She occasionally tries to offer a different perspective to how he is dealing with his marriage breakdown, but he doesn’t want to hear. This has become a familiar vent for him, with a rhythm he finds comfortable. He doesn’t want introspection if it might mean change.

His mood shifts again. He misses his wife. He loves her. He wants her back so much. And then he says something she has never heard before.

"Everything in my life before my wife was a mistake."

He continues on, but she doesn’t hear. Her heart has frozen.

She is back in her old house. She’s 10 years old, walking in the front door, her school-case in her hand. As has become habit, she makes her way to her parents’ bedroom. Each afternoon she peeks into the wardrobe to see if her father’s clothes are still there.

Only today her mother is standing in the room, ironing. "Don’t bother looking. His clothes are gone." Her mother is stony-faced, staring down at the ironing board, at the shirt she is ironing. Her mother makes no mention of the white envelope sitting there, the only communication that her husband has finally abandoned the marriage.

It has struck her like a cold jolt in the guts. She looks up around the office again. It is mostly empty, people away from their desks for their lunch break. She is glad as she can feel the tears welling up. She is still the 10 year old girl trying to make everything ok, to make it as easy as possible for her father to want her, to be good so he will love her.

Until now.

With one sentence, one final disowning of her, of her beloved mother, of her sister, with those words "Everything in my life before was a mistake," she feels the 10 year old daughter finally let go, finally give up the battle.

She gives up hoping her father will ever be the man she hoped he was.
She realises she doesn’t love the man he is.

She hangs up the phone. Her father seems to sound more upbeat having unleashed his feelings. She can’t describe how she feels. It is so raw, so sad. She goes to the toilets and locks herself in a cubicle. And cries. In her heart, her father is dead.