Resolution (Saviour)

by Lesley Jones

I manage a very weak smile as Jo looks at me. My brain is far too exhausted to think of a witty reply; instead I kiss her cheek and tell her that I love her. I look at Sam and Jen.

  “I'm sorry about all of that; you two know more than me how much Gabe loves his brothers. It's just the piss talking, but I am sorry anyway.”

  They both look tearful. Making me feel terrible. Sam comes around the bench, giving me a cuddle.

  “What's happening in there?”

  She asks, nodding her head towards the bedroom.

  “Well Gabe’s out cold and I think the boys are about to tell Stella about her brothers past relationship with Cruella. How do you think she will handle that?”

  Jens hand covers her mouth as she shakes her head, Sam finishes her glass of wine and lets out a big sigh.

  “Stell will be okay. Pissed off but she can handle it. Those boys treat her like a princess but I think she's harder than all of them. She never knew her Mum, I think that has got to have had an effect on her, growing up with just her brothers, Charlie wasn’t there for her much, not once he met Jackie, and she certainly was never there for her. Jen and I have had more input in raising that girl, she has never liked Jackie. Not from day dot. The only thing I am worried about is that she might go straight to Charlie's and rip Jackie’s head off her shoulders. She is very protective of her Dad and even more so of Gabe, I think she has known for a long while that something bad happened to hurt him and make him the way he has always been with women but I think she just assumed it was because of their Mum dying. She'll be right, you wait and see.”

  We move outside for a cigarette and talk amongst ourselves about the days, weekends, weeks and past months events and even though it is me that it has all happened to. I still can’t believe it all to be true. My life has turned into Eastenders, Real Housewives of wherever and Revenge all rolled into one, as Sam said, you couldn’t make this shit up.

  The boys come out of the bedroom first, looking tired and teary. A lone tear instantly rolls down my cheek as I think about how I felt when I first found out about what Jackie had done to Gabe. They each go straight into the arms of their waiting wives and I feel an instant pang of jealousy and loneliness. I've missed Gabe today and can't wait to slide into bed with him. After I've punched his fucking lights out that is. I could kill him for what he has said and done today, but then we have both been guilty of saying things we didn’t mean. Love, it brings out the best and the very worst in people, and Gabe, he brings out feelings that I never knew I had in me. I’m a grown woman, I have raised two children, run a home and a successful business and yet around him, around Gabe, I turn into one of those teenage girls you see on telly who cry and go to pieces when they meet their idols, I ache for him when he’s not around. Everywhere, even right now, despite all the drama, I want nothing more than to feel him inside me. Is this normal, is this how it should always have been and I’ve been missing out or do I really need to get a grip on reality. After all, he is not my idol, he is my equal and despite me saying some spiteful things. Tonight he fucked up royally and I need to process that and decide how we move on.

  Stella joins us outside; there are yet more tears and cuddles.

  When she follows me back into the bedroom and sits on the side of the bed, I hold her hand and just ask if she's okay. I don’t really know what else I can say and I’m fairly drained of emotion right now.

  “Not really, but if he can deal with it, then so will I, for his sake, but I am going to make sure that bitch knows I know, if it weren't for my Dad I would fucking kill her. I don't know how you didn't lose your shit on Saturday Loz, I really don't. Who does that? He was a child.”

  I smile as she says my abbreviated name so easily, as if we have been friends for ever.

  “It’s wrong Stell. Very wrong, the worse kind of betrayal, but like you say, there's Charlie to consider. Don't do anything silly Stell, Gabe wouldn't want that.”

  “Yeah, I know, and I would never hurt my Dad anyway or him.”

  She motions her head towards Gabe and kisses his hair, then my cheek. Gabe fidgets and Mumbles something about angels and wings and we both smile down at him.

  Just after midnight, everyone finally leaves. I thank them all and arrange for Stella and Sam to join Jo, myself and the rest of the girls on our night out Friday. Jen has a singing gig at a local winery and can’t make it but Sam and Stella are up for it. Which will make things even more interesting than usual I think.

  I lock up and finally crawl into bed with my hot, sexy, tosser of a what? Boyfriend, lover, partner, soul mate???

  I leave a lamp on and lay and watch him for a while, running my fingers over his cheeks, his lips, along his jaw and through his hair. It is ridiculous how much I already love him, I laugh out loud when he lets out a little moan when I kiss him on the mouth. I close my eyes and must instantly nod off to sleep, but years of parenthood make me wake up the instant I hear Gabe gagging. I sit up and shout out his name, trying to get him to fully wake up. His eyes open but he doesn't seem to be aware of where he is or able to focus. As I look across at the clock I realise I have only been asleep for an hour. He heaves again, and again I shout his name and jump off the bed and try to pull him up by his shoulders, that’s when I notice he has blood on the back of his shirt, but before I have a chance to think too much about it he is pushing himself up off the bed. His eyes are unfocused and looking all over the place.

  “Gabe, get up, let's get you in the bathroom.”

  “Lauren – I'm gonna vomit.”

  “Get up Gabe. Move.”

  I help him up and stagger with him to the en suite and lift the toilet seat up just as he starts to spew. He assumes the crouching position as he noisily heaves and I heave a couple of times along with him. I have a very weak stomach and have always heaved along with the kids when they have been sick. Even my toothbrush too far down my throat makes me gag. It's one of the reasons I have always avoided blow jobs – until now!

  I get a flannel from the shelf and run it under the cold tap and kneel next to him, cooling the back of his neck with it. He finally stops throwing up and sits back against the wall. There's not a lot of room in the toilet, so I sit on his lap and wipe around his face and mouth with the face cloth. His eyes are closed and his head is leaning to one side. Even in this state he's beautiful and my stomach churns when I recall the fact that he wants to marry me. Me? Why? Why me? I push his hair back off his face and kiss his forehead and his nose. He lifts his arm and runs his hand over my head and across my cheek, I start to smile when he suddenly grabs my chin quite hard and opens his eyes and try's to focus on mine.

  “You don't want me do you? Why are you here? I thought you would be gone, I thought you would go and leave me. Why are you still here?”

  What? What is he talking about? I only said I wouldn't marry him. I never said anything about leaving him. I can't reply as he is still holding my jaw, I uncurl his fingers from my chin but keep hold of his hand.

  “What are talking about Gabe? I'm going nowhere. You're stuck with me forever. Even though you are a fucking dick head sometimes.”

  His eyes are closed again and he just laughs a little. His shoulders shaking up and down as he does.

  “You sound so English when you’re angry Lauren, all Essex and gangsta.”

  “I was never gangsta Gabe, we were long gone before kids started talking like that round our way. I’m just plain ol’ common.”

  “Nothing common about you baby, nothing at all.”

  “Thank you, but you’re very drunk right now. Would you like some water?” I ask him and he nods. I go out to the kitchen and fill a tall glass with crushed ice and filtered water from the fridge, as I head back to the bedroom, I can hear him throwing up again.

  Shit, this is going be a long night, I pick the face cloth up from the edge of the sink where I left it and once again run it under the cold tap. I wait for him to stop retching before I re-join him in the toilet. He's leaning back against the wall, his ey
es still closed, his dark eyelashes fanning out across the tops of his cheeks. Even looking pale and grey, I can't help but want him, I reach out and run my fingertips over the stubble on his jaw and chin. My eyes close and my cheeks burn as I think about the places I felt this over me. I open my eyes and he's staring at me.

  “You came back.”

  “Of course I came back, I only went to get you some water, you div,” I say with a smile.

  “Here, drink this.”

  “You say the funniest words sometimes. What’s a div?”

  “It means I love you. Drink your water” It so doesn’t mean that, but he won’t even remember this conversation in the morning so I think I’m safe.

  I lift his hand and wrap it around the glass and watch as he drinks the lot down, I take the glass from him and wash his face with the cold flannel again, pushing his hair back off his face once more as I do. His hand comes up around the back of my head and he pulls me to him.

  “I'm sorry Lauren. I'm so, so sorry, I just, I just love you, I tried not to because I knew I would fuck it all up, but I can't help it, I can't not love you but I’m sorry for being so shit at it, I’m sorry for not being what you deserve.”

  He starts to cry, and I hate it, hate that I have caused this; because of me he went and got himself in this state. The alcohol is obviously still having an effect on his emotions, so I hold him and sooth him as best I can as I sit on his lap, as he sits on the floor of the toilet. I only move when he needs to be sick, or needs more water, or to run the flannel under the tap. Other than that we just sit there, drifting in and out of sleep until the birds start singing. And as I stir, I realise he hasn't been sick for at least a couple of hours, so taking a chance he won’t vomit again, I get him up and back into bed. I switch both our phones to silent. And draw the blinds so the room is in almost complete darkness and climb up onto the bed with him. My head on his chest and my arm on his belly and drift off into a much needed sleep.

  CHAPTER 2

  I wake far too warm as usual. I'm lying on my side, pulled in tight to Gabriel's chest, his legs between mine, one arm under my head, the other over and around me, his hand cupped around my boob, I can't help but smile as I look down at the way he's holding me. It suddenly occurs to me that it's the house phone ringing that's woken me up. There's not one in the bedroom and it will probably ring off before I can get to it, besides, despite the warmth, I'm comfy here in my Gabriel cocoon and I don't want to disturb him. The longer I let him sleep, the longer I can stop him feeling the effects of the hangover he's likely to have and despite how much he pissed me off yesterday. I don't want him to suffer for it, much.

  I lay and go over events of the past few weeks in my head. Some of the happiest and saddest of my life, packed into a very short space of time. The image of Gabe with another woman’s lipstick smeared across his face pops into my head and I swallow down my anger. Perhaps I do want him to have the hangover from hell, perhaps he should suffer, just a little. How could he have let her kiss him? Before I can dwell on these thoughts for too long, I feel Gabe tighten his grip around me and gently kiss the top of my head.

  “Lauren. Awww fuck, fuck.” I smile, just a little bit. Think perhaps he's feeling less than great right now. Oh well.

  “Lauren,” he whispers very quietly.

  His voice is all rough and raspy and as hot as fucking hell. I get that curling sensation in the lowest part of my belly. And it makes me so angry with myself, that he can have this effect on me. He came home with another woman in tow last night, covered in her lipstick.

  “I know you're awake Lauren... Please talk to me.”

  My hair moves as he whispers into it and that is enough to send goose bumps down my spine. I turn around to face him. I want to look him in the eye and find out the truth about the blonde slut he came home with last night but as I turn, he pulls in a deep breath, almost like a sob, and pulls me into his chest tightly. He's still wearing his shirt but I managed to get his converse and jeans off him last night and however much of a hangover he might be suffering, I am absolutely sure this has had no effect on his ability to achieve an erection. The evidence of that fact is poking me in the belly right now. And I can't help but smile, just a little, is there nothing that would prevent this man getting an erection? One hand is stroking my hair; the other is making small circular movements on my bare flesh that’s exposed between the top of my shorts and the bottom of my vest.

  “I'm sorry.... I'm sorry for being such a prick yesterday.”

  He kisses the top of my head again. I want to be nice to him, I do, but I can’t help myself, he came home with another woman, was she an ex fuck? And as bad as I feel for the way he is now suffering, I can’t just let him off.

  “Do you have a headache baby?”

  “Yes. It's fucking killing me.”

  “Do you feel sick too?

  “A bit. Why?”

  “Would you like a berroca and some panadol?”

  “Yes please. And I would kill for a glass of iced water. And some loving would be good too.”

  I bet it would. “Yeah?”

  He kisses my hair again as he rubs the pad of his thumb over my nipple and grinds his hard on into my belly.

  “Yeah baby, I missed you so bad yesterday.”

  “Really?”

  “Of course baby.”

  “Well you know what Gabe?”

  “What baby? Tell me.”

  “There's water in the tap and Panadol in the box on the top shelf of the pantry. Get them your fucking self! And if it’s loving you want, I suggest you call the lanky blonde slut you bought home with you last night, perhaps she’ll be up for it, because I most definitely ain’t!”

  His eyes open. “What? Awww fuck.” His hands go to his head.

  I pull myself off the bed and stomp out to the kitchen. I'll give him water and some loving. Dickhead. His sexperting skills won't work with me this morning. I might be as horny as, but I haven't forgotten that he came home smothered in lipstick and with some lanky blonde bint in tow last night, and I'm really not likely to, not for a while, the image is burned into my brain. Despite his brothers jumping to his defence, I want to hear from him who she was and exactly what he was doing with her. I wish I could be one hundred percent sure that he is totally innocent, but I can’t.

  I make myself a coffee and go back into the bedroom to collect my phone. He doesn't, or can't open his eyes. I know it's wrong but I pick up his phone along with mine. I head back out and go and sit on the sofa, pulling the throw over me, it's grey, wet and windy outside and really quite dark. I turn on both the phones and as they come back to life I realise why it's looking so dark. It’s already past four O’clock. Shit, we've slept a bloody long time. Living your life in a soap opera is obviously very tiring.

  I check my missed calls and messages. Jo, Sam and Stella have all called and left messages. Mainly concerned with how Gabe is pulling up today. Yeah thanks girls. I'm doing great too!!!

  I sit and look at Gabe’s phone for a couple of minutes. Then decide to go for it, I know it's wrong, I know it's highly likely that I will find out things that I really don't want to know. But I look regardless. There are lots of missed calls from his brothers, sister, and sisters in law, me and then a couple from late last night. There’s just a number, no name, at least she was a complete random, not someone whose number he has stored. I listen to the voicemails:

  “Fuck you Gabe. Fuck you!”

  Followed by... “I won't fucking forget this you fucking prick!”

  “That's your lot. Don't you ever talk to me again, you bastard.”

  Okay... Nothing too incriminating.

  Now let’s read the texts.

  Gabe, are you really sure you want to send me home? There's still so much more I want to do to you ;) Alyssa x

  Okay, not so good. So that was Alyssa, an ex, he walked out on me and hooked up with an ex, he hasn’t got her number stored, he must know it, off by heart. I feel sick, now I have to kn
ow.

  Gabe pick up your phone. I can sneak back over if you want. Remember, you owe me an orgasm

  I feel hot. But I’m cold, my mouth is dry, my heart pounding so hard I can hear my blood rushing through my ears. I know this is going to hurt, I just know. I read the last one. Sent at two am this morning:

  That’s the last fucking blow job you will ever get from me you BASTARD!!!'

  I throw his phone down on the sofa like its burning me. No, Gabe. No, what did you do?

  CHAPTER 3

  She gave him a blow job. He probably won't even remember but that's not really the point is it? I sit still for a couple of minutes and try and think clearly. My brain is trying to ignore the panic unfurling in my stomach and clawing at my chest. I stare at the phone, as if it’s going to come up with the answers to all the questions I may or may not want answered. I try to process all that has happened.

  We argued, he went out and left me here on my own just a day after I was assaulted by my estranged husband. He left me here and went out and got drunk and hooked up with an old girlfriend and she gave him a blow job. He then brought her back here and would have probably let her do a whole lot more to him, if he hadn't had the welcoming party from hell waiting for him.

  My mind is whirring but at the same time, I’m strangely calm, I think, deep down, I always knew it would come to this, I always knew I wouldn’t be enough for him, not young enough, not slim or pretty enough, not adventurous enough in bed; I just didn’t think it would be over so soon, I thought we would have a bit of time to work through our lust before he got bored of me, I always knew, deep down, that he would eventually get bored and want to move on, I knew he would, in the end, break my heart, it’s just happened so much sooner than I was ready for and just at a point when I had stupidly began to think that there might be some hope for us to make it, as a couple. How stupid am I? I am approaching middle age, whatever possessed me to make me think there could ever be a future for us? I have this horrible sensation in my chest, like weights have been tied to my heart, it feels heavy, like it’s being pulled down to the pit of my stomach; I gasp in some air, as apparently I forgot to breathe for a bit there and the sound I make as I breathe back out is more like a sob and I clamp my hand over my mouth, I need to get out, get away from him, from all the hope this house represents, the hope, my stupidity, his betrayal, how could he?