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‘Before the age of ten, not really. He used to fly in and out from time to time. Take us on ridiculously expensive holidays—always with a nanny, who we’d spend a lot more time with than him—then bring us back to Mum where we’d never have quite enough to eat.’ He shakes his head with clear disapproval. ‘He was a selfish asshole. At least, he was where she was concerned.’
My voice is a little husky when I say, ‘Families are complicated.’
His eyes meet mine in the camera. My heart flips. ‘Yeah.’
‘You can love someone and still disapprove of their actions.’
He grimaces. ‘When he got married, we suddenly took on a new value for him. Chao-Xing couldn’t have children and really wanted to be a mother so he brought us over to Singapore to live with them. I thought it was us he wanted. I thought that for years but it was never about us, just what he could give his new wife.’
I can’t help my indignant intake of breath. ‘You’re kidding?’
He shakes his head slowly.
‘And your mum?’
‘She stayed in Sydney, consoling herself that at least now we could have the things we needed. I’m ashamed to say I didn’t realise—for a long time—how much she sacrificed so that we could live a better life.’
‘Oh, my God, Zach.’ Tears fill my eyes and I am not someone who cries easily or often at all. I stare at him, momentarily lost for words.
His laugh is deep but I hear the bitterness to it. I hear the pain he’s trying to cover. And he does a good job but somehow, for some reason, I just know him better than that. I see inside his soul and my heart aches for the ten-year-old boy he’d been then.
‘It was fine, Jessica. We were spoiled. We were happy. It was all good.’
I see it’s important for him that I believe that, but I shake my head, wishing I could reach through the screen and touch him, wrap my arms around him, cup his cheek, draw him close and kiss him gently.
‘We went home and saw her a few times a year.’
My throat thickens at that. I can’t imagine how hard that must have been for his mum. As Zach said, perhaps the thought that at least her children were happy was enough to dull that pain. But I doubt it—and I’m not even remotely maternal.
‘And now?’
‘She still lives in Sydney. I split my time between there and here. She comes over often. It’s different.’
‘You must feel—’
He flashes me a smile, but I see behind it. ‘What must I feel, Jessica Johnson?’
‘A thousand things.’
‘I don’t.’ He drinks his Scotch, then moves closer to the camera. ‘I’m a pretty simple guy, really.’
I believed that about him. I really did. But now I don’t. I feel as though the veil has been lifted and there’s no stopping it now. What would that experience do to a person? Being pulled away from your mum and the only home you’ve ever known at that age, thrust into a world of unimaginable wealth only to know your mum was still struggling to pay the bills? I shake my head in silent condemnation.
‘I’ll never forget that first year though.’ His voice is serious; his eyes are focussed beyond the phone, as if he’s both talking to me and not. ‘It was right before Christmas that we came here. Mum sent the presents she’d bought for us in our suitcases. They were already wrapped in this cheap, thin wrapping paper she used to get. It got holes punched in it during the trip.’ His voice is deep and rumbled, but quiet too. ‘We forgot all about them because of the deluge of presents that were under the tree when we arrived. We didn’t even thank her for them. At ten, I knew enough to feel guilty.’
Tears thicken the back of my throat.
‘She sounds like a great mum.’
‘Yeah.’ His smile is tight. ‘I wondered about how she spent that first Christmas. If she still went to church, spoke to her parents. She must have hated it.’
I nod in agreement. What can I say?
‘The thing is, Dad never cared about Mum. He never really cared about us.’ His voice is thick.
‘He must have, Zach, to bring you to live with him.’
‘Nah, that was all for his new wife.’ He shakes his head and, before I can ask him to clarify, continues, ‘He never saw Mum as a person of worth and it took me a long time to realise that—to understand what that must have been like for her.’ He compresses his lips and the veil lifts further because I see the anger contained in that small gesture.
