I am sitting here watching Simon Gittany’s new girlfriend find out how long her partner will spend in jail. I am experiencing the pangs of guilt I have lived with since a Blondie concert a year or so ago.
I had a sense of foreboding just a few weeks earlier when I saw that the supporting act were a group called The Smiths. A tiny glimmer of my past life flashed through my mind when I heard that news. My ex-husband had mentioned this band, I thought. Maybe…
I love seeing bands with my new partner and was so looking forward to grooving out to Debbie Harry. Melbourne’s Myer Music Bowl slowly filled and we sat on an embankment next to the bar, laughing at some of the drunk patrons walking through the rope guides like animals to the slaughter. They were obviously reliving the days when they could sneakily smoke some grass and down a few UDLs. It took me back to the 80s.
But in two seconds I was taken back to the 2000s. My partner touched me gently and said “Isn’t that Peter?”
Walking toward the bar – and essentially us – was my ex-husband.
I felt the chemistry of my body change. He recognised me the second I saw him and my blood honestly felt like it was running cold. My legs turned to jelly. I could barely speak and the adrenalin rushed through me as if I needed to fight for my life. Again.
I ran to the toilets… I remember the cold, grey concrete and sitting there talking to myself. I texted my daughter, whom I knew would understand. Unfortunately she’d had to experience everything alongside me. I sat and sat. She offered to come and get me – and because I felt so diminished at that moment – I almost forgot that I was the mother in this situation.