Page 56 of The Suitcase Swap

Tom grinned. ‘I guess Marisa goes first.’

Marisa put one hand on her hip as she caught her breath. ‘Okay, Sophie’s up. What’s your flavour? Office machinery? Dishes? I think I saw an old phone in the box.’ Marisa’s grin widened. ‘Or, you could go for door number three.’

She sauntered over to the wall where a paper bag rested next to the door. Marisa had brought it with her but had refused to show it to anyone until now. She pulled out a framed picture of Andrew with the words ‘Mr Wicker Man’ written across the bottom of the picture with a blue marker.

‘Did you just have that lying around?’ Mike asked.

Marisa shook her head. ‘I printed it out, but Ididhave the cheap plastic frame. I checked with Kim before I brought it in. There’s no glass, so we’re more than welcome to destroy it along with the stuff they’ve provided.’

Sophie hefted her bat. ‘I think I’d like to work up to that. How about we start small with a plate?’

Mike grabbed one of the plates. ‘Do you want to throw it against the wall or smash it with the bat?’

Sophie licked her lips. ‘Both?’

Mike snatched another plate. ‘As my lady wishes.’

He placed the first plate on the floor and stood back.

Sophie brought the bat down hard, the plate shattering with a ceramic shriek. Elation sizzled along her skin. Sophiehad broken lots of things in her life, but never on purpose. Never forfun.It felt delicious. Freeing. And she wanted more of it. She brought the tip of the bat down against the larger pieces of the plate, smashing each bit with a satisfyingcrunch. When the plate was nothing but shards, she held out her hand. Mike carefully placed the next plate into it and once again stepped back.

Sophie drew back her arm, moving her whole body until its shape revealed its new true purpose – to hurl crockery with force. She took a long, deep breath. Then she snapped her arm forward, the plate whizzing through the air. It exploded when it hit the wall, shattering into fragments and splinters of its former self. Sophie straightened, her breathing a little wobbly. She felt so . . . free. So good. It was like she was drunk on destruction. Who knew that breaking things could feel so wonderful? She felt like she could leap over buildings.

Tom went next, choosing a computer keyboard for his object. Sophie thought it was pretty satisfying, watching the keys fly every which way as he demolished the keyboard. When he was done, it was hardly recognizable. It always amazed her how much effort it took to make something, how difficult it was to create, but how easy it was to destroy. A factory somewhere had made that keyboard, the machines humming under the watchful eye of an employee. It took parts, labour, skill and time to build. But all it took to destroy it was an angry young man and a few seconds with a baseball bat.

Mike took on what she was pretty sure was a fax machine – although to be honest, she didn’t think it mattered what it started out as. The important thing was that by the time Mike had finished hitting it, all that was left was rubbish. Sophie wasn’t sure what it said about her that she enjoyed watching Mike bring the cricket bat down with such force,his teeth bared, but there was poetry in his motions. The smooth way his arms swung. The way his back arched on the follow-through to the floor. The satisfying grunt he made when the wood connected with the plastic and metal was almost sexual.

Was that weird? It probably was weird, but she couldn’t bring herself to give a single fuck about it.

Watching Mike wasfun.Maybe it was because he was normally such a careful and controlled man. Maybe it was because he usually moved so gently through the world, quietly righting things one hug and homemade meal at a time. She wasn’t sure what it was, but watching him let some of that careful control slip was heady to behold.

The next twenty minutes was an orgy of destruction. More smashed plates, crushed technology, and a truly disturbing amount of giggling.

They saved the picture frame till last.

When Mike put it in the centre of the room, they all waited a moment, like this was a wake and Mike was about to deliver a eulogy. Maybe it kind of was, in a way. Her old life, her old relationship, was officially dead. She never had to see Andrew again if she didn’t want to. Never had to make his dinner, pick up his socks that somehow ended up under the sofa all the time, or watch tennis with him on the telly.

As Sophie looked at her son’s face, she thought it might be the same for him, too. She’d never have asked that from him, though. Children shouldn’t have to pick sides, even if those children were adults. She felt a little guilty about the fact that Tom had, for the most part, lost his father.

The guilt was a nebulous thing, however, and not attached to anything she’d actually done. Just her wishing that she’d chosen better, that he’d had what he needed from a father. Everything else was on Andrew, and if she was being honest,it had been on him for a long time. He was the one that had opted out of time with his son. Who’d left the phone calls, texts and communication to her. He was the one who had stepped out of his former life like it was a suit that no longer fitted, leaving it in a heap on the floor.

Well, she could step into a new life, too. Onlyshewould take Tom and Marisa with her.

‘I think I should have brought more than one,’ Marisa said, eyeing the photograph. ‘Because I think we all want to hit it.’

‘What if you all hit it at the same time?’ Mike asked. ‘Or is that asking for a head injury?’

Sophie looked around the room, at the warped pieces of plastic, metal and crockery that littered the floor. She looked at the photo. And the truly astounding thing was, she didn’t care about it. Oh, she was angry on Tom’s behalf and annoyed at herself for putting up with Andrew for so long, but there wasn’t enough hate and fury left in her to swing the bat one more time. She’d expended her rage for now, and her lying shit-weasel of an ex-husband wasn’t worth any more of her energy.

‘I’ll leave it to you two, actually,’ Sophie said.

Tom eyed her carefully. ‘Are you sure?’

Sophie nodded, stepping back. She felt the palm of Mike’s hand come to rest on the small of her back, support offered if she needed it. That gesture, though not large or extravagant, warmed her more than he could possibly know.

Marisa nodded, swapping her crowbar for a baseball bat. She stood next to Tom, expression resolute.

Tom leaned down and kissed her cheek. ‘You ready?’

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