by Roxie Cooper
But this is different. A level up from that.
I’m sure it’s because I only see her once a year, but I find her truly hypnotic. She isn’t even one of these women who you could describe as being so full of life she’s infectious, or ‘bubbly’ or any shit like that. Her beauty is actually quite dark.
Beautifully melancholic.
There’s so much going on under the surface, simmering away. She’s real and honest and flawed.
Steph wriggles under the covers, so I take the opportunity to cuddle into her. I hope she isn’t freaked out by the naked Jamie in her bed. We were both drunk but very much wanted last night to happen.
‘Morning, you!’ a little voice squeaks out from nowhere.
‘Morning! How’s your head?’
‘A little delicate. Yours?’
‘Same,’ I reply. She’s facing away from me so I can’t guage where things are between us.
‘No regrets though,’ she says, as if reading my mind and pushes back further into me as I wrap my arms tighter around her.
‘Nor me,’ I say, kissing her shoulder. I’d often thought about what having sex with Stephanie would be like. I’d tried convincing myself that perhaps it would help get rid of my ‘ridiculous infatuation’ with her. All rubbish, of course. Because I’m in love with her. If anything, all it’s done is make it harder to leave.
‘I’ll miss you, more than I can ever tell you,’ she says.
‘I know. Me too …’
This is so horrible, I’m almost convinced it’s causing me physical pain.
‘But I know why you’re doing it. Ending it, I mean. Especially now.’
‘There’s no other way,’ I whisper. ‘I care too much for you. It’s better to let you go than get in deeper.’
She doesn’t say anything to that, or move.
‘I guess so,’ she says, reaching over to check the time on her phone. ‘We’ve got three hours before we have to check out. Let’s make the most of it, shall we?’
The car park farewell comes far too quickly.
‘I’m so sorry,’ I say. It doesn’t even brush the surface of what I want to express.
‘I know why you’re doing it. Doesn’t mean I have to like it,’ she replies.
‘You and Matt?’ I ask. ‘You’re OK? You were going to say something about him yesterday, just as I blurted all this out.’
She half smiles and looks away.
‘Don’t you worry about me. I’ll be fine.’
I hug her, briefly: I know the longer this takes the worse it will be. After kissing her one last time, I pull back and look into those big green eyes I adore so much.
‘You take care, Stephanie.’
‘And you, Jamie.’
I turn around, walk away, get in my car and drive away.
At 10.24 p.m. my phone pings and there’s a text from Stephanie.
A YouTube link takes me straight to the video for Robbie Williams’s song, ‘Feel’. I watch the video, which tells the story of a borderline illicit relationship. Stolen moments and fleeting glances are depicted throughout and the lyrics to the song, and the video, are perfect. But they make me want to cry for her, for this woman who I can no longer be near.
Uncharacteristically, she sends another message a few minutes later. It simply says:
Thank you for making me feel. Xx
I put a link into the text message with three kisses and press send. I hope she likes it. It was very carefully selected. The lyrics sum up exactly how I feel about her, right now, and probably how I will forever.
Paul McCartney’s ‘Maybe I’m Amazed’.
I watch the video four times before I start to feel traumatised and slam the laptop shut. I wonder how she feels watching it and hope I haven’t upset her. I suddenly feel vulnerable, as if I’ve shared too much. But it’s over now. She’ll like the gesture. And it’s all true anyway.
CHAPTER 11
Thursday 6 May 2010
Stephanie
‘Wow! Where’s that come from? I only saw you last week!’ I squeal at Ebony, gawping at her rapidly growing baby bump.
I’m delighted at the prospect of another little nephew or niece to cuddle, but the news that Ebony is pregnant again only frustrates Matt even further. She’s thrilled about it, if not a little apprehensive about having a newborn and a toddler, but since she’s abandoned any desire of going back to work in the near future, I don’t think she’s that bothered.
‘Steph, it’ll be absolutely fine,’ she says, reaching for an antiseptic wipe out of her bag and rubbing it all over Jude’s face, which is caked in ‘organic’ crumbs from his healthy bag of some kind of carrot sticks. They just look like orange crisps to me.
‘I mean, it’ll be hard, but apparently it’s better to have them close together – get all the sleep deprivation out the way at once and then they can start playing together and bonding. They really will be the best of friends, you know,’ she announces, sending Jude off to play. It’s lovely here in the park at this time of year, when all the flowers are coming out and the smell of freshly cut grass fills the air. The sound of giggling children is everywhere. I love it.
I look at Ebony as if she’s mad. ‘You remember how much we used to fight, right? Like, all the time?’
‘Well, yes, but once we got past that we were great, weren’t we?’
‘Ebony, let me be clear,’ I say in a stern voice. ‘I have never forgiven you for the Game Boy incident.’
Gasping in a dramatic manner, her mouth drops open as she turns to face me.
I was ten years old, Ebony was seven. She didn’t do it on purpose, but, my God, I hated her for it.
I still believed in Father Christmas and, that year, all I’d wanted was a Nintendo Game Boy. I was the happiest girl on the planet to actually find one waiting for me on Christmas morning. After playing with it non-stop all day, I was horrified to emerge from a bath on Boxing Day to find Ebony playing with it. Being typical siblings, an enormous row ensued: she refused to give it back to me and I chased her around the house. To cut a long story short, it ended up falling in the bath and it never worked again.
I refused to speak to her for three days, after which, Mum intervened. Dragging us into her bedroom, she sat us both on the bed.
‘Listen, you two,’ she said firmly, ‘life is far too short for falling out with people you love. So, you need to end this silly feud right now.’
‘But—’ I interrupted.
‘Nope,’ she said, putting her hand up to stop me. ‘I won’t have it. You two work far better together, not apart. You’re wasting the Christmas holidays not speaking to each other when you could be having fun and making memories.’
Ebony and I glanced at each other sheepishly.
‘Nothing good ever comes from falling out with those who love you,’ she went on. ‘Trust me, I know. It’s a waste of everyone’s time. End this now and let’s go and make some Christmas cookies.’
Mum spread her arms out, inviting us in a group hug, which we accepted.
‘I want you both to promise me,’ she whispered into our hair, ‘you’ll always think twice before falling out with people you love. It will only make you miserable and you will always regret it, always …’
‘Stephanie, that is harsh! It’s been twenty years!’ Ebony squeals.
‘And it will be another twenty,’ I say firmly and then giggle, unpacking the picnic I’ve brought. ‘So, I suppose you want a girl next?’
‘Honestly, I’m not bothered. I would love a brother for Jude, actually. I think same sex siblings have a special relationship,’ she says, casting a lovely little smile my way, which I return. ‘But I can’t deny I’d love a girl too. Would be nice to complete the set.’
‘Perhaps you’ll have twins, one of each!’ I laugh.
‘I hope not! Don’t think even I could handle that!’
I’ve no doubt she could handle it. Ebony might have her funny ways about her, but she is tenacious. She’s my baby sister but s
he’s much stronger than me in many ways. She’s always been so much more with it. I often thought it would hit her at a later time, perhaps even years down the road, but it never has. Well, not as far as I’m aware, anyway. Maybe she’s in denial. Perhaps she’s a mess behind closed doors and I just don’t know about it. I’d like to think she’d tell me if she was.
We sprawl out on the red tartan picnic blanket I brought for the afternoon. I’ve taken a few days off work to spend time with Ebony and Jude and I promised him we could have a teddy bears’ picnic, so the entire thing is child-orientated: ham and cheese sandwiches, crisps, sausage rolls, cookies, and fruit juices with far too much sugar in. I watch Ebony eyeing everything up as I unpack it. She brings her anxious voice out, the one which is about three octaves higher than normal.
‘Oh! Don’t you have any hummus? Or cucumber? He loves cucumber sticks!’ she shrills. I gaze at her, cocking my head to one side.
‘Ebony, I am not bringing my nephew rabbit food on a fun day out. He gets enough of that at home. What’s the point of having a rebellious auntie if she can’t even bring you crisps, for God’s sake?’
‘Well, I suppose one day won’t harm. I just don’t want him getting a taste for it.’
‘Look, if he eats this, he doesn’t have to have the crack cocaine I brought for dessert,’ I say, deadpan. She bursts out laughing, putting her head in her hands.
‘Non-alcoholic wine?’ I ask, shoving a plastic wine glass in her face.
I miss my sister. I don’t see enough of her these days and it’s something she’s obviously picked up on.
‘I was starting to get a complex. Whenever we invite you both round you always have plans,’ she says.
I smile. ‘Oh, don’t be silly. It’s the summer, there’s just so much stuff going on. That’s why I took a few days off, to see you and Jude … just the three of us.’
I don’t tell her that most of the time, we don’t have plans. It’s just Matt not wanting to go. He’s got some kind of issue with Will, Ebony’s husband and Ebony has never really clicked with Matt either, so I’d rather have time with them separately.
Jude runs over and lunges at me, throwing his little arms around my neck. He has long hair for a boy, a mass of dark curls which contrast against his pale white skin. I cuddle him up with all the strength I have and sit him on my knee, giving him a ham sandwich to chomp on.
‘You’re a natural,’ Ebony says, looking on proudly.
I pop a little kiss on the top of Jude’s head, smoothing his hair down afterwards. He really is the cutest thing.
‘I don’t think it’s going to happen for me, Ebs,’ I say without looking up. ‘I’ve been trying to get pregnant for ages.’
‘Do you really want a baby now?’ she asks.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Because your body won’t give you something you’re not ready for, or don’t want yet,’ she says, quite astutely. Since when did my sister become so wise?
‘But it happened so easily for you! All you have to do is stand next to Will and you get pregnant. Matt thinks I should be the same.’
‘He’s not putting pressure on you, is he? Because that certainly won’t help.’ Ebony bristles as she speaks.
‘No, no,’ I respond quickly. ‘It’s just frustrating because it feels like having a baby is the last piece of the puzzle and I can’t get it. I can’t even get that right.’
‘You will. When the time is right,’ Ebony smiles at me. ‘You’re only twenty-nine.’
‘But what kind of wife am I if I can’t even have a kid?’
‘Steph, you’re not defined by your ability to have children,’ she says delicately. ‘You have a million other amazing qualities. I know you’ve had a tough time and we all want you to find yourself in a great place, but you need to find that without children.’
I nod my head with a slightly confused face.
‘You are happy, aren’t you? With everything? Matt, I mean?’
‘Yes, I just want to make him happy, be a wife he’s proud of.’
‘Well, I hope he’s proud of you no matter what,’ she says.
‘Mmm … yeah,’ I shrug.
‘Steph? Are things OK? With Matt? You know you can talk to me.’
‘I don’t know,’ I say, stroking Jude’s little leg as he eats his sandwich. ‘I just feel like we’re not really a team. Like we’re not as tight as we should be, perhaps. I’m sure I’m just being silly.’
‘Have you talked to him about it?’
‘What can I say? It’s not like he mistreats me in any way. I’m sure I’m just being awkward and overanalysing everything. Maybe my expectations are too high. I’ve probably just watched too many romcoms,’ I say, laughing it off. I wish I hadn’t said anything now.
‘Well, we know more than most that life is too short to not make the most of it,’ she says with a delicate smile. ‘Talk to him. Don’t bottle things up.’
We stay at the park until late afternoon, hanging out, chasing Jude about on the grass, laughing, playing, just being sisters. Jude is shattered for the walk home and collapses in his buggy. Naturally, Ebony panics that he’s sleeping far too late in the day which means that he won’t sleep tonight. He slumps in his stroller, limbs hanging out of the sides and mouth wide open. Long black eyelashes rest on his cheeks as he sleeps. His skin looks so soft and white. I always feel so broody when I look at him.
By the time we reach my house after walking home in the late afternoon sun, we’ve had such a great day. Ebony leaves me at the gate. It’s a lovely evening – that kind of bright, sunny, yellow light which bears down on everything at this time of day, but as soon as you get into the shade, the temperature drops dramatically.
As I walk up the path to the house, I text Ebony:
Had a great day with you and Jude. Love you. Xxx
I smile as I put my phone back in my shorts pocket. What a lovely day I’ve had. As I rummage around my handbag for my front door keys, my phone beeps. This is going to turn into a sister slush-fest.
Grabbing my phone out of my pocket, I catch my breath when I see the banner across the middle of the screen. It’s Jamie: why the hell is he messaging me in May? Or at all? Without thinking anything else, I swipe across the screen to open it, exhaling deeply as I do so.
Sebastian Dobson came very quickly – and suddenly! – into the world a month early, this afternoon, 6 May, at 2.03 p.m. Baby and Mum doing really well. Helen was absolutely amazing and I couldn’t love them both more.
‘I couldn’t love them both more.’
I couldn’t love her more.
Too. Much. To. Take. In.
I immediately reach out and grab on to the outdoor porch column to steady myself. I feel sick. Staring at the ground for a few moments, processing what I’ve just read, I take a few deep breaths before looking at it again. I need to approach this with a clear head.
Right.
I knew they were trying for a baby. Was she pregnant when we last met? ‘A month early’? I do all kinds of mental gymnastics trying to work out if it’s possible he would have known in October. At the very least she would have been in very early pregnancy. I have no idea how early you know because I never get to that stage.
Why the hell has he even sent me this?
Thankfully, Matt is at work so I don’t have to hide anywhere in the house and cry about this. I close the message down and put the phone in my bag. But it plays around on loop in my head. I can’t see anything else.
Grabbing a glass of water, I open a window in the lounge. A soft breeze runs in and I sit in the armchair next to it, allowing it to sweep over me. It’s quiet, but for the sound of a lawnmower roaring in the distance somewhere.
The past seven months have been awful. No, not awful.
Crucifying.
There is nothing more torturous than having to get on with your normal, everyday life when you’re dying inside because you know you’ll never see someone you care so much for again. What do you do w
hen they’re all you think about?
And, to make it worse, you can’t tell anybody else about it. No long rants to your friends on the phone, no crying on their shoulder, none of those inspirational chats where they tell you you’re better off without them because they’re a dick, nobody cheering you through the heartache, pain, anger, devastation.
You have to deal with this on your own.
Everyone wonders why you’re so miserable and eventually you run out of excuses. You can only blame hormones, work, life, for so long. Weeks turn into months. It’s no wonder I’m not getting pregnant. People think my recent weight loss (not that I needed to lose weight but it’s definitely noticeable) is because I’m preparing for a baby. It’s actually just grief-induced stress. The only person who came close to guessing something drastic had happened was Jane who asked once, ‘Is there anything you want to tell me?’
I loathe myself for even being in this state. What did I expect when I met him last October? Oh yes, my big plan: tell him I didn’t think I was actually happy with my husband any more so did he want to consider this information in view of his own situation? Did I actually expect him to do anything about it? Oh, the humiliation. Thank God he stopped me before I said anything. It was a blessing in disguise, especially in light of this news.
I torture myself thinking about Jamie and Helen’s perfect birthing experience. The post-birth glow she probably had, him taking photos of the stunning wife and child (which was obviously placed on her perfect breasts immediately), her immaculate make-up, both unable to stop beaming at this perfect creation. All the ‘I love yous’. Eugh. I bet the pictures are all over Facebook already.
As my imagination really starts to run away with me, my phone beeps again.
Stephanie. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to send you that message. I automatically sent it to all the contacts in my phone and only realised after I’d sent it you’d receive it. I’m so sorry X
I think about not replying, pretending I’ve not seen it. But I decide to send this, after composing and then deleting the text about a hundred times:
