The Secret World of Maya Alexander

Chapter 13

The crowd of silver birches over-looking the office car park had transformed into a leafy green mass of shade and light by mid June. Maya made a point of noticing them as she turned off the engine and took a moment for herself before beginning her working day.

It was summer solstice and the turn of Stephen's birthday. The timely combination of events always helped to punctuate the passing of time and announce to Maya that it was a day she should stop and notice nature's rhythms. The tiny egg shaped buds on the familiar branches had been replaced with an abundance of green leaves. If you looked carefully you could see a hue of crimson bobbing beneath the fattened female capsicums, ready to feed the summer birds.

Maya recognised a high pitched call ending with a trill reaching from one of the trees long before her eyes found its origin. A little brown dumpy wren perched on a branch with its beak wide open and its tail thrust into the air. Its tuneful out-pourings suddenly transformed into a scornful chack chack alarm, summoning Maya's eyes to explore. Maya spotted a cat sitting still, watching the bird. Waiting. The feline was unperturbed by the changing sounds in the tree above. He watched. Waiting to see whether the bird would take flight before considering his next move.

Maya had never been fond of cats. She was uneasy around them. Never sure of their intentions or what their next move might be. Outside of work, she mostly felt this way about her interactions with people. It was a strange dichotomy. Sometimes she wondered whether it was just the difference between her instincts about people and the illusion people created to help them exist amongst others. People tended to be able to be more honest within the safety of the therapeutic alliance, so Maya found the people she supported in her work usually made a lot more sense than those she encountered in everyday life.

In life, most people keep some parts hidden. It was the disguises that made Maya feel uncomfortable. Over the years, her husband Stephen had become the biggest source of this anxious uncomfortable feeling. Whenever she tried to explore what she thought she knew about him, he would snap and scorn at her. 'You're not with one of your clients now! You don't need to psycho-analyse me!' She no longer responded with soothing words about how all wives just wanted to help and understand their husbands. It was easier if she responded with nods and silence. She wondered whether her silence was her own disguise and whether this ever made other people feel uneasy. Did Stephen notice her silence? Did he prefer it?

The longest day of the year coincided with Maya's last appointment at the Oasis Counselling Service. She had developed a warm relationship with her counsellor Emily, with whom she was able to dance around some pertinent issues, including her marriage, with some occasional honesty. Even Stephen had praised Maya's calmer and more settled demeanour since going to the sessions.

Despite the praise Stephen bestowed upon the counselling sessions, he still felt annoyed that Maya had agreed to an appointment on his birthday, which would interfere with their evening schedule. 'I bet you made the appointment on purpose just to avoid time with me!' He had snapped over breakfast as he threw the eggs and toast she had made him into the bin.

Maya could no longer excuse Stephen's angry words as his only way of communicating his disappointment. 'Perhaps I needed to feel listened to before embarking on an evening with a man who refuses to hear anything but his own distorted thoughts!' She spat back, mirroring his anger.

Droplets of hot coffee rained from above. She heard the cup smash into pieces against the white kitchen wall. Stephen's shouting voice commenced with an onslaught of all the things wrong with her. But her brain refused to process his noise. She stood up and left the kitchen. He did not stop her. She changed her blouse, got into the car and drove to work. Leaving behind her angry husband. Angry at her cruel words. Angry at the coffee stains and the broken mug. Angry at himself.