by Lesley Jones
I watch them for a few seconds. The emotions caused by that little moment we just shared threatening to burst out of me in the form of heaving sobs and tears.
I turn my face towards Cam, my eyes meeting his as he studies me warily. Eyebrows drawn down, his lips pressed together, forming a plump pink line amongst the salt-and-pepper whiskers of his beard.
My husband is so fucking hot.
“Kitten?” he questions again. Despite him having to witness me falling apart in some way or another on this date for so many years, I can still hear the concern in his voice.
“I love you.” I know he knows this, but I want and need for him to hear me say it.
“I know. I love the fuck out of you, too.” His wet tongue slips out of his mouth and slides back and forth across his bottom lip.
“What’s going on?”
“Nothing. Come over here.”
His hands go to his hips, settling just over the waistband of a pair of jogging bottoms. His broad top half is covered by a grey hoodie. He again studies me for a long moment, but when I give him my best sad-eyed, pleading look, he relents and cautiously moves towards me.
My big, confident, handsome Tiger is always unsure of what mental state I’m going to be in on these kinds of days. Usually, he stands back, observes, and works out on instinct what I need from him.
Cam sits down heavily in the chair beside me, causing it to swing back and forth. Sliding his arm around my shoulders, he pulls me into him and kisses the top of my head. I slide my own arm across his flat belly and pull myself closer. He then covers us both with the blanket I have on my lap.
“What’s going on?” he eventually asks.
“Nothing much. I came out here to drink my coffee, the girls came out and caught me having a moment, and then the three of us shared another moment. Then you came out, making my morning perfect.”
“Babe, it’s fucking freezing. If you come back inside, I’ll make you nice and warm and show you what a perfect morning’s really all about.”
I rest my cheek against his hard pec and my hand against his hard dick.
“The kids have to get to school. Are the boys up?”
“Don’t know. But if you don’t take your hand off my morning wood, my dick will be up, and I’ll be taking you back to bed and calling them a taxi.”
I slide my hand back up to his belly, this time under his hoodie so I can rest it against his hot skin, saying, “Ya know what would make my day better?”
“Sitting on my face?”
I nudge him with my shoulder as I shake my head.
“The trees are getting delivered today, and Squires are coming to do the outside lights. Can we keep the kids home and just have a family day?”
He leans away so that he can look down at me. “That’s how you wanna spend today?”
Surprise evident in his voice. He’s lived with my usual manic routine on this anniversary for too long not to be shocked that I want to spend it differently this year.
I’ve been selfish. I know I’ve been selfish, but in all honesty, it’s the one day of the year that I’ve always let my grief entirely consume me. If I don’t take this day, I don’t know that I’ll get through the rest of them.
To the rest of the world, it might look like I have this amazing, beautiful life, but I still feel the hurt caused by the events that happened to me seventeen years ago. I have scars, both physical and mental. I don’t see a counsellor anymore, and I’m not on any kind of medication, but that doesn’t mean I’m not still hurting. I just choose to take one day a year to grieve. When the painful memories threaten to consume me, I count the days until the first of December, when I know I can let that happen.
Yeah, it might make me selfish, but I also think it makes me a better wife, mother, person the other three hundred and sixty-four days of the year.
“Yeah,” I tell Cam honestly. “That really is how I’d like to spend the rest of the day. Let’s do the decorations and then go out to eat somewhere nice. All of us, together.”
I’ve rarely seen Cam cry.
That horrible time I found him a drunken mess at his old flat above the wine bar.
When our children were born.
Our wedding day.
He doesn’t cry right now, but his eyes are shining with tears. Mine just roll down my cheeks. Again he runs his tongue over his bottom lip while gazing down at me. He blinks, and a tear catches on his thick dark lashes.
“Then let’s do it, Kitten.”
I give him a wobbly smile. “You boys are not to touch my trees, though.”
He returns my smile with a knicker combusting one of his own and leans forward to rest his forehead on mine. “We wouldn’t dream of it. I think we’re all aware of how anal you are about your decorations.”
“It’s just a small area of my life where I feel like I actually have some kind of control.”
He buries his face into the curve of my neck, his breath deliciously hot against my skin. “You can control me anytime you like, babe.”
“Yeah, I think we both know that that’s a lie. You hated it when I handcuffed you.”
“You wouldn’t do as you were told.”
“That’s kinda the whole point. I was supposed to be in charge, you were supposed to do as I said. That’s what being in control means.”
He bites down on the soft skin behind my ear, and despite the warmth radiating from the patio heater, his body, and being under the blanket, goose bumps assault my skin.
“Yeah, fuck that. I’ve changed my mind. You get your way with most things, but in the bedroom, I’m in charge.”
I shudder. I wouldn’t have it any other way. I love that he takes charge in the bedroom. It gives me a chance to just shut out the world, shut down my brain, and do nothing but enjoy what he does to me.
After knowing each other for over thirty years and being married for fourteen, our sex life is still off the charts. Cam is as insatiable as ever, something I don’t think will ever change. He can’t pass me without touching me in some way—usually in a totally inappropriate way, and I hope that never stops.
The patio door once again opens, and this time it’s George who sticks his messy head out.
“What are you doing?”
“Just talking,” Cam responds.
“It’s freezing. Why are you talking out here?”
“Don’t worry about it,” I tell him. “We’re coming in now. You can go back to bed for a bit if you want. You’re all staying home today.”
I watch as my son’s eyebrows pull down into a frown as he looks between us.
“Why? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong. I just wanna spend the day with you all. We’ll put up the trees and the decorations, and then we’ll go somewhere nice for an early dinner.”
“But it’s . . . that’s what you wanna do today?”
I smile while watching my son’s handsome face screw up in confusion. “Yes, that’s what I wanna do today. Now go inside and tell your brother.”
George’s eyes do one more dance between my and Cam’s faces, and then he heads inside.
“I warned them all last night to give you a bit of space today and reminded them of the date.” I wrap my arm as far around his hip as I can and squeeze us together tightly.
“Thank you.”
“Thank me later. Let’s get inside, I need a coffee.
O
ur boys both turn in our direction as soon as they hear the door.
George, who has had a bit of a growth spurt over the last few months, is now only just a little shorter than Harry. They look more like twins than brothers who were born almost a year apart.
George turns back towards the toast he’s in the middle of buttering, but Harry eyes me warily.
“Morning.”
“Morning,” Cam and I both respond.
“George tell you you’re all staying home today?” I ask.
“Yeah, what’s that all about?”
I shrug
, let out a long sigh and give him a small smile.
“I’ve not finally lost the plot if that’s what you’re worried about. I just want you all close today. I thought we could do the trees and decorations and then go out for an early dinner.
George turns around, and I watch as the boys share a look.
“What? Why you two looking at each other like that?”
“Mum, you go mad if we mess with your Christmas trees or decorations, so I think you’re lying. You’ve definitely, finally lost the plot if you’re gonna let us anywhere near them.”
Cam passes me my coffee, but his eyes don’t meet mine as his lips fight a smile. George is staring at the floor, also, it seems, fighting the need to smile. Harry’s full-on grinning while my eyes dart between the three of them.
Noise travels from the mudroom, and the girls appear, talking and giggling, and then stop dead in their tracks as they take us all in.
“What’s wrong?”
“Bloody hell, if I hear that one more time today . . .”
“Mum reckons we can all have the day off and help her put the trees and the decorations up,” Harry informs his sisters.
“Yeah right,” Tallulah snorts as she talks and laughs at the same time.
“Stop messing with me, what’s really wrong?” Kiki asks.
“He’s serious,” George adds. “Tell them, Mum.”
One pair of blue eyes and four pairs of brown are all on me.
“He’s serious, I thought it’d be nice to have a family day.”
“What, and you’re actually gonna let us touch your trees and decorations?” Lu sounds incredulous as she asks.
I watch Cam roll his top and bottom lips between his teeth, and my hands go to my hips as I start to feel defensive.
“Are you lot all taking the piss outta me?”
They all double up and start laughing, and I feel my nose tingle and eyes burn with tears. I wanna find it funny. I know they’re only joking, but today . . . today, I’m just not in the mood to be laughed at.
“Babe, we’re not taking the piss, we just know full well that there’s no fucking way you’re gonna let any of us near your trees or your decorations.”
“I’m not that bad.”
“Yes you are,” they all state while still laughing.
I am that bad.
“Well, this year’s different, you can all have a go.”
“Why? So you can change it all as soon as we go to bed like you used to when we were little?” Lu asks.
I did use to do that, I didn’t think they’d noticed.
“Yeah, we knew,” Harry tells me. “We always knew.”
Cam slides his hands around my waist and grins down at me. “Please tell me I’m not a terrible mother.”
His brown eyes twinkle, and he leans in and kisses my forehead. “You’re not a terrible mother, you just suffer with what the kids call CDO.”
They all start to laugh again, I don’t.
“I don’t get it, what’s CDO?” I question.
“It’s like OCD, but you’ve got it so bad that the letters have been rearranged in alphabetical order so you don’t have a meltdown of Georgia proportions,” Lu informs me.
I open my mouth a couple of times.
Fucking cheek. I can’t believe they all talk about me behind my back. I continue to stare up at Cam, whose eyes are watering as he attempts to suppress a laugh.
“Where’d you hear that saying? How’d you even know what a meltdown of Georgia proportions is?”
“Coz Nan says it,” George informs me.
“And Marley and Lennon,” Lu adds.
“And Grandad says it to Lu whenever she starts throwing a tantrum—”
“All right, all right. I get it,” I interrupt Harry’s input.
My kids all straighten and look at me with cautious smiles on their faces.
“Am I that bad? Would you all rather go to school?”
I get a chorus of no from everyone, and Cam pulls me into him.
“Right, well you can all stay home and pass me the decorations, if anyone touches anything, you’ll see first-hand what a meltdown of Georgia proportions is really all about.”
***
I end up burning some bacon for breakfast, we all pick at it, and then Cam and the boys go out to the garage and bring in the boxes of tree decorations while I take a shower.
When I get out, I check my phone. I have messages from Jimmie and Ash.
Just a heart from each of them.
No words. Just a simple heart that says so much . . .
They want me to know that they love me and are thinking of me. They want me to know that if I need them, they’ll come running.
With wine.
Vodka, too.
My girls get me. They’ve always gotten me.
I stand for a few long moments in my bedroom. I’m dripping wet, with just a towel wrapped around me, and take a moment to bask in the fact that I’m loved.
I’m not the easiest person to love or even like. I’m aware that I’m selfish, whiny, and self-absorbed. I’ve tried to be better as I’ve gotten older, but traits of thirteen-year-old me still make an appearance every now and then.
Despite this, Jimmie and Ash have always been there for me, loving me like only family can, and their simple text messages have my chest feeling tight, my throat closing up, my eyes and nose stinging, and my lips trembling.
I know that at some stage today I’ll get a call from my brother. Just the thought of someone else, someone that I love, feeling anywhere near the depth of loss and grief over Sean’s death that I do causes a physical ache that radiates from my chest and hurts every part of my body.
Marley calls me on this day every single year without fail. I never answer, but I want this year to be different.
I go back to my bathroom, clean my teeth and moisturise. I won’t bother with makeup until we’re going out later, by then, I’ll probably be in need of another shower.
Once I’m dressed, I sit on the edge of my bed and make the call that I should’ve been making every first of December. I’m not the only one that lost so much on that day.
“Little sister Georgia, what’s goin’ on? You all right?” There’s only a slight pause between each of his questions.
I can’t get my words out.
I don’t know why I thought this was a good idea.
“Marls.” My brother’s name escapes on a shuddered breath.
“I know, Porge, I know.” I hear him draw in a long inhale and let it out slow and shaky.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. Don’t ever be sorry.”
“You at home?”
“Yeah, in bed with a bottle of his favourite bourbon. I was trying to get drunk enough to call ya.”
“I felt brave.”
“Is that right?”
“Yeah, then I heard your voice, and it all went to shit.” I smile through my tears as my brother chuckles.
“So, what’s happening? You’re up and functioning, what’s going on there?”
I let out a weighted sigh. I’ve spoken to Marley before about my dreams and how vivid they are, so I’m not embarrassed to tell him.
“He was here this morning. Told me its been going on for too long. He said that Cam was a dick for being so fucking perfect and that it was time for me to sort my shit out and stop falling apart on this day every year.”
“I think he’s right. Cam puts all of us to shame, and you do need to get your shit together, we both do.”
“Agreed.”
“Wanna get shit faced with me?”
“Absolutely.”
“You coming to me or am I coming to you?”
“I’ve given the kids the day off school . . .” I trail off as I think about why I did that. “I just wanted them around me today, ya know?”
“Yeah, I know.”
“I promised them a late lunch or early dinner once we’ve put the decorations up—”
“We’ve?” he interrupts. “As in you and the kids, or you and the people you get to put up your decs?”
“Well, I did mean the kids and me . . .”
“George . . .”
“Yes, I know. They’ve told me all about my CDO.”
His laughter resonates through the phone and touches every part of me. Hearing that from my brother is exactly what I need right now.
“Anyway, you’ve just given me an idea. Squires are coming today to do the outside lights and decorations, I’m gonna ask them if they can do the inside, too. I cooked the kids breakfast, but they’ll probably be starving again by lunchtime—”
“Wait! What? You cooked the kids breakfast? Are they okay?”
“Fuck off.”
“George, seriously, what were you thinking?”
“I love you dearly, but you are gonna get a kick in the bollocks if you keep on.”
“Oh and there she is. My bitch of a little sister is back.”
“I’m not a bitch,” I whine.
“No, you’re not a bitch, you’re not someone that can cook, either. You need to leave that to Christine and put your family out of their misery.”
“It’s her day off. She doesn’t come in Friday to Sunday.”
“Perhaps you should think about renegotiating her contract.”
“Fuck you.” I smile at his laughter again, even though the jokes on me. I’ve tried to be a good cook; it’s just not a skill I possess.
I look up and see Cam leaning against the frame of our bedroom door, watching me intently.
“So, you take the kids for lunch, feed them something edible, and then all come over to ours. I’ll give Lennon a bell and see what they’re up to, sound like a plan?”
“It does.”
“Right, well I’ll see you then . . . and George?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for the call. You’ve turned my shitty day right around and even managed to make me laugh. I know that picking up the phone couldn’t have been an easy thing to do. Fuck me, I know I have to get drunk every year before I can do it. I love ya.”
I don’t respond to that. Instead, I swallow the ball of emotion caused by his words and say, “Love you, too. I’ll text when we’re on our way.”
I watch as Cam’s eyebrows shoot up and then cast my eyes down at my phone as I end the call. I’ve had a couple more text messages while I was chatting to Marley, and I open them up.
