The Marriage Act(41)
‘You know I’m not.’ She scrolled through her notes. ‘Perhaps, it would be a positive influence on our relationship if you found the time for us to spend together as a family unit.’
‘I already take Sundays off like you asked.’
‘Sometimes even when we take time off, we aren’t always as present as we think we might be.’
‘We? You mean me?’
‘No, no,’ but he knew that she meant yes.
Jada was bringing to the surface all Anthony didn’t want to admit. He wanted to spend time with his son and prove to them both that he had it in him to be a good father. But a day taken off here or a weekend there would have a knock-on effect with the rest of his workload and he’d forever be playing catch-up. It was easier to throw himself into his project and keep an eye on the goal – an early retirement and a better life for them all thousands of miles away in the Caribbean sea.
‘So if you think I’m present, I don’t know what the problem is,’ he said and clambered to his feet. ‘Don’t wait up for me; I’ll see you in the morning.’
Without looking her in the eye, Anthony took his wine glass and returned to the office, locking the doors behind him. He would shower and change into fresh clothes later, when Jada was asleep and he wouldn’t have to see her again. For now, he slumped back in his chair, a dim lamp barely illuminating the room, hating himself for using technology as an excuse to silence his wife.
One of the differences between him and Jada and almost every other couple who had Upmarried was that they were free to say anything at all to one another. Because the sensitive nature of his career ensured their conversations were exempt from being monitored or recorded by their Audite.
And it was a fact he had chosen to keep from his wife.
31
Roxi
Roxi was mulling over a script for her next Vlog when an Audite positioned beneath the television pinged. She gritted her teeth.
“Couples shouldn’t just get along,” came the first of today’s Push notifications. “They should always be assisting their partner’s dreams and ambitions so that, together, they can accomplish their goals and bask in achieving each other’s objectives. How can you help your partner to achieve their goal?”
‘By trading myself in for a more complicit model,’ she muttered. Roxi didn’t have the time or inclination to put any thought into what her husband’s goals were. A new hockey stick or an upgrade to his car, most likely. His dreams were provincial while hers were aspirational. And lately it finally felt as if she was making headway in achieving them. She couldn’t let this Level One lunacy distract her. Besides, it was just a warning, she reasoned, a gentle nudge to remind them to be a little more thoughtful in the way they spoke to each other. If they could hold their tongues for the next few weeks and throw in some affirmations and mutual praise for the machine to pick up on, the intrusion would soon blow over.
In the short term, however, it wouldn’t stop the notifications from grating on her. They arrived at random times of the day and often when Roxi least expected them. Once one appeared so swiftly and with the Audite’s volume on high as she was on the toilet, that it quite literally scared the crap out of her.
Today’s script wasn’t flowing as effortlessly as it should, so Roxi diverted her attention towards her social media comments. The positives far outweighed the negatives. And after weeks of television appearances, podcasts and video chats, it was like water off a duck’s back to read threats of rape, arson, driving her car off the road and the kidnap and murder of her children.
But there was one exception. @JustSayingBabe. Roxi was allowing that troll to make a home under her skin. Their increasingly frequent attacks felt more personal than those sent by others. Today’s comment was posted under an Instagram image of Roxi’s tanned legs. The stem of a cocktail glass brushed against one of them, an infinity pool and setting sun on the horizon surrounded her.
‘Longing to go back to #BoraBora again,’ Roxi had written. ‘Best #holiday ever,’ followed by the maximum allowance of hashtags.
‘You’ve never been there, you #virtualfuckingtourist!’ @JustSayingBabe had written, followed by a dozen crying laughter emojis. ‘U have no shadow & a stock background image. Can’t unsee the photoshop. Spend time keeping your marriage together not photoshopping fake holidays! #Level1 #BeHonestBeBetter.’
Red-faced, she pressed her tongue against her bottom front teeth as she deleted her post. She wouldn’t be able to get away with throwaway boastaposts like this now that she was on her way to becoming a public figure. Judgemental fingers were always poised and ready to point at the slightest provocation. But what was with the comment regarding her marriage? And how did her troll know that she and Owen had been placed on Level One? All Roxi’s acquaintances were virtual and she didn’t confide personal matters in them. Phoebe had been her only real friend since their time in foster care together. But following Phoebe’s murder, Roxi hadn’t attempted to create a connection with anyone else for fear they too would disappear from her life. So the leak must have come from Owen’s side.
She clicked on the troll’s profile but, as before, it contained no information. A thought flashed through her head – was her daughter Darcy responsible? Had she discovered Roxi was responsible for having all her social media accounts deleted? It couldn’t be ruled out.