I watch Joe, all the time. He doesn't know, but I do it secretly. Usually when he is working, and sweating away. He gets the most serious look on his face, like he is thinking really hard, and I wonder what he thinks about. I watch him when he sits out the back, having a smoke. He has always smoked the same brand. Champion Ruby. Sometimes, it is strange to watch him, and think he is the person I am most intimate with. He is the person who kisses my breasts, he is the person who strokes my body, he is the person who breaths on my neck when we fuck, sending shivers down my spine. I know him and he knows me, more than anyone else in the whole world, but sometimes, when I watch him from a distance, shovelling dirt or taking a drag from his rolly, I wonder if I know him at all.

I know he has a had a horrible childhood, full of abuse and pain. Some of his experiences have been like mine, and some have been much worse. I wonder if he remembers the pain he felt. I wonder if he thinks about PD, or his aunt. Does he feel angry? Ashamed?

Maybe he thinks about our baby. Maybe he remembers the first time he kissed me, on his bunkbed, or he dwells on an argument we've had.

He is a mystery, really. I love him so much it hurts. I don't know what I'd do if he went walkabout. Sometimes I have dreams that I wake up and he is gone. His mind is that way. He can leave his life behind. . I suppose he learnt to do that, as a child, to deal with his own trauma. I know he loves me, and would miss me, but I don't know if he could stay forever. He might get tired of family life. He might get tired of me. He's the type of person who would walk for days, just to avoid coming home. The type of person who hates confrontation and screaming. He never shouts. He never screams. He just walks away. Out the door. What if he never came back again? Would I hate him? I couldn't bear to hate him.