Chapter 11
I don’t remember my walk from the chemist to my car. I don’t remember the drive from Hammersmith to Lusso. I vaguely recall texting Kate to ask if Ava’s there, just to make sure. I got a thumbs up. Nothing more. I can’t blame her for giving me the cold shoulder and, really, she didn’t even owe me that thumbs up.
I watch my feet as I stride through the foyer to the elevator, hearing the new kid greet me. I think I hear him ask me where my wife is. I don’t answer. I get in and stare at the reflection in the mirror, but not the reflection of myself. I stare at the empty space next to me. Where she usually is. Beside me.
The doors open, I find my key, and let myself in. Cathy’s getting her coat on when I enter, her face a picture of happiness.
And then... not.
“Boy?” she says, a million questions in her voice as I close the door and wander past, going straight to the stairs.
“See you tomorrow, Cathy,” I murmur to thin air in front of me.
“I made a lasagna,” she calls.
“Thank you.” My body feels so heavy. So slow. Shutting down.
“Where’s Ava, boy?”
I don’t answer. Can’t. Entering the bedroom, I slowly cast my eyes around the vast space as I kick my shoes off. Empty. I leave my clothes on and collapse on the bed, grabbing her pillow and snuggling into it. Lonely.
I probably shouldn’t be alone, but the thought of facing anyone? Besides, loneliness isn’t measured by how busy your life is with people. It’s measured by love. I never quite understood how someone can be surrounded by others but feel so incredibly lonely. Their head full of noise, but their life still so empty. And solitude is only heightened when you’ve experienced something that’s enriched your life. Something that makes you smile. Gives you purpose and feel your heart beat strongly.
But it can be taken away.
Gone.
And it doesn’t matter what people say, what they do, what you do yourself to conquer it, there’s only one thing that will.
Peace.
Contentment.
Ava is those things for me, and she knows it.
And yet, she left me after less than one day of marriage.
I know I look terrible—my skin sallow, my eyes dull, my body heavy. I don’t need John to tell me. I’m empty.
Three funerals in two weeks. Carmichael first—a massive affair, the church packed—but I was the only member of his family there. The rest of the congregation? Friends, lovers, members. All of them admired him. Respected him. It wasn’t a funeral. It was a celebration of life. My parents couldn’t even bring themselves to be there for me.
Rebecca’s was next.
Now Rosie. My girl’s funeral isn’t a celebration of life because she barely had a life.
As I stand at the front of the church staring at my daughter’s little coffin, all I can hear past the sobbing and the priest talking is my own voice constantly asking... why?
Why, why, why, why, why?
I feel Sarah’s hand rest on my bicep and swallow, subtly shrugging it off. “Don’t,” I say flatly, knowing Lauren is nearby. Knowing she’ll be focused on me, not on the coffin that has our dead little girl inside.
“Just trying to be here for you,” Sarah says quietly.
I don’t counter, there’s little point. The priest’s stopped talking, and it takes me a moment to realize there’s someone else up in front of the congregation now. Our eyes meet as she pulls out a piece of paper. Hers turning onto Sarah beside me. Crazy eyes. Sarah shouldn’t have come. I told her not to come. She’s a red flag.
I look down at my feet and close my eyes. “My husband and I would like to thank you for coming,” Lauren says. Her husband. It takes me a moment to remember that was me. The divorce completed months ago.
Sarah breathes out her disbelief.
“We feel so blessed for the time we had with our little girl,” Lauren goes on. “She will never be replaced, but one day the pain of losing her will be soothed by another child.”
I jolt.
“Oh my God,” Sarah whispers.
Lauren’s eyes fall onto me. “I know her father feels the same, and I know this loss will only bring us closer together.”
I hear John clear his throat, and I notice Lauren’s parents out of the corner of my eye. Alan looks at me, refusing to show his concern. I shake my head mildly, making sure he knows she’s not speaking for me.
“You need to be careful,” John says quietly as Lauren rambles on, telling the few people here how we’ve got through these first few difficult weeks because of each other. I’ve hugged her, of course, I’m not a fucking monster, but she must have felt my reluctance. She must have noticed the lack of warmth.
John’s right. I need to be careful.
“I love my husband,” Lauren goes on, putting emphasis on that one word. Husband. I’m barely a man. We’re twenty-one years old. Lauren’s talking like we’ve been happily married for years—close, tight, madly in love. A family. “Only he can ease my pain.” She looks at me, her eyes burning my skin.
I can’t listen to this. See this. I step out of the row and go to Rosie’s coffin, placing both palms on the glossy wood, staring at the plaque.
ROSIE AMALIE WARD
1993 – 1996
My heart turns in my chest, my throat clogs. Lauren’s stopped talking, stopped trying to convince the world that we’re solid, in love... together. At least, she’s stopped talking. She’ll never stop trying to convince everyone. Scary thing is, I think she’s convinced herself. I swallow as I dip, pushing my lips to the wood. “Goodnight, my baby girl,” I whisper, pushing off and walking out of the church, roughly wiping at my eyes. I see my parents in the back row.
I don’t stop.
Despite hearing my mum calling me.
I’m done with this life.
The hurt, pain, regret, guilt.
Done.
Ring, ring, ring.
I blink my eyes open and stare at the ceiling for a few moments, trying to come round. Trying to push the dreams away. “Fucking hell,” I whisper, swiping a palm down my rough cheek as I lift my arse off the bed. I reach into my pocket and pull out my phone, grimacing at the dozens of missed calls. John, Sam, Drew. Four voicemails. I listen to John asking where the hell I am. I listen to Sam ask me why the fuck Ava’s at Kate’s. I listen to Drew demand I call him.
And then my sister’s voice comes down the line, catching me off guard. “Hey,” she says tentatively, as every muscle I possess hardens. “I hope you listen to this.” My mind demands I cut the message off. I don’t. “We’re leaving for Seville at the end of the week,” she goes on. “I’d so love it if you would come. Dad’s not been great lately, and I worry you’ll regret it if you don’t make amends. They’re getting old, Jesse. Just... think about it. I love you.”
I push myself up and sit on the edge of the bed, staring down at my phone, my thumbs moving instinctively.
I love you too. I’m sorry I can’t be there, but send me pictures, okay?
I drop my mobile on the sheets without clicking send, burying my head in my hands. I can’t go to a place where people are waiting to remind me of all my wrongs. I’m too busy trying to fix the fuck-ups in my present. Amalie is stuck in the middle. She didn’t ask for any of this. She’s lost two brothers, and through my own misery and self-loathing, I somehow missed that along the way. So, for the first time in years, I show Amalie the love she absolutely deserves.
I snatch my phone up and click send while holding my breath, exhaling as I rise, feeling hot. I shrug out of my shirt and head downstairs, hovering over Ava’s name, ready to dial her. But I refrain, typing out a message.
Good night. I miss you.
But I don’t send it. I said I’ll do anything. So space it is.
I sigh, rounding the corner into the kitchen.
And walk right into something. I jump back on a crash of my heart. “Fuck!”
John pulls his shades down his nose and looks over them at me, his eyes traveling up and down my half-naked body. “Evening.”
“What are you doing here?” I snap defensively.
“Cathy was worried.”
“I’m fine.”
“Where’s Ava?”
“In bed.”
“Liar,” Sam says, appearing behind him. “I just drove past Kate’s and saw her letting herself in. What’s going on?”
“And I thought I was the stalker around here,” I grumble, pushing past them. “Driving past Kate’s?”
Sam tosses me a dark look as I flick the coffee machine on, then off again when I register the time. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“There you are,” Drew says, stopping at the door and taking in the kitchen. “Where’s Ava?”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” I look to the heavens for help, knowing I’m asking in vain. They’re all here, they know Ava’s not—thanks, Sam—and I know I’ve got some explaining to do. “She left me, okay?” I throw the words out and watch as each and every one of them step back, alarmed. “She walked out on me, and I don’t know if I can convince her to come back.” I go to the fridge and yank it open, snatching a jar of Sun-Pat off the shelf. I turn and try to unscrew the lid, gritting my teeth, straining to move it. “And where the fuck did you disappear to on Saturday?” I bark at Drew.
“Home.”
“Sorry, wasn’t my wedding day exciting enough for you?” I strain harder, feeling the veins in my temple bulging. Give me my peanut butter!
Drew rolls his eyes, coming at me. “Shut up bitching.” He takes the jar and pops it open with ease, handing it over on a sarcastic smile.
I snarl and swipe it back, tossing the lid on the counter and ramming a finger in. “Now you all know I’m alive, you can fuck off.” I shove my finger in my mouth, thinking John looks like he wants to take this jar and put it somewhere painful. Sideways.
“Sit down,” he grunts, taking off his shades.
“Oh, you’re in for it now.” Drew takes a front-row seat and joins his hands on the marble. “I’ve sacrificed a night of pleasure and pain for this, big man, so make it messy.”
“It’s a big enough mess without anyone else’s help,” I say, dropping to a stool and casting my vice aside. It didn’t even take the edge off my anxiety. Can’t stomach Cathy’s lasagna. “I’ve fucked up.” I drop my head in my hands.
“Has she found out?” Sam asks. “About Jake. About?—”
“No.” I can’t believe I’m sharing this. “I did something stupid.” I give the room my face so they can see my remorse.
“What?” John asks, taking a seat, along with Sam. “What the hell have you done now?”
“I took Ava’s pills.” I say it quickly before I can bottle it and watch as every man at the table slowly leans back on their stools. Silence. It’s fucking awful.
“You tried to get her pregnant?” Drew asks, while John and Sam stare at me, obviously wondering if when I say pills, I mean what they think I mean.
“I thought it would cement our relationship,” I mumble pathetically. “Stop her worrying about my devotion when she saw how happy I’d be.”
Sam coughs, Drew shakes his head, and John just carries on with his staring. His silence is the worst.
“I just wanted Ava to?—”
“Have no say in the matter?” Sam asks. “Fuck me, Jesse, are you hearing yourself?”
“Yeah, Jesse, I’ve got to say, this is leaping the line.” Drew blows out his cheeks. He’s not a man easily shocked, so I’m achieving something. “What the hell were you thinking?”
“That’s the point,” I grate. “I clearly wasn’t really fucking thinking, was I? All I know is she made me feel incredible and I desperately needed to keep that going.”
“You don’t feel so incredible now, do you?” Drew asks, laughing, but it’s a laugh of disbelief. “Fucking hell.”
“So she found out?” Sam asks. “How?”
“Because she’s not stupid, unlike me.” I look at John again. He’s still staring, still quiet. “Will you please talk?”
He stands, pulling in his suit jacket, and then he walks right out of my kitchen without a word, all three of us watching him go.
“John,” I call, getting up and going after him. “John, wait.”
I’ll take a punch, a mouthful, anything, but his silence is unbearable. I make it to the door as he’s walking out of it. “John, come on.”
He turns, and I back up, seeing the threat in his eyes, but the man can move fast when he wants to, and he wants to now. I’m naked from the waist up, so he has nothing to grab and use to thrust me up against the wall, so he resorts to a good old, very effective, shove in my chest, sending me crashing back against the plaster. The back of my head bounces off it, making me grit my teeth and ride the pain. I can’t go back at him. He’s up in my face, savage, and I’m seriously regretting wishing for something more than his unbearable silence. His nostrils flare, his eyes wide and crazy. “You took away a woman’s right to be safe. To choose.” He’s physically shaking, and I know it’s to hold back the punch that I thoroughly deserve. “It’s fucking despicable. I’m done with you, you motherfucking bastard.” Turning, he leaves, slamming the door.
And I stare at the wood, frozen, my heart cracking some more.
Shocked.
Done with me? What, for today? Or forever?
“He’ll calm down,” Drew says quietly, coming to me, doing something very unlike Drew, placing a hand on my shoulder and massaging. “This crazy has got to stop, Jesse.”
“I know.” I peel my back from the wall and go to the couch. “It already stopped. I know I was fucking stupid and selfish.” I look at my two mates and smile mildly. “You don’t have to hang around. I’m not going to make a grab for the vodka.”
Sam laughs, going to the TV cabinet and collecting the remote control before dropping to the other end of the couch. “I’ve got nowhere to be.” He clicks the button to reveal the TV and turns it on.
“Me neither.” Drew takes his suit jacket off and drapes it neatly over the back of the couch before he puts himself in the middle of us.
“I thought you’d be heading to The Manor.”
“Changed my mind. Wanna watch a film?”
“Notting Hill?” Sam asks, flicking through the channels.
“No.” Drew grimaces. “Something less lovey-dovey. I don’t want you two girls crying on me.”
“Fatal Attraction?” Sam offers.
Drew snorts, and as inappropriate as it is, I find myself laughing lightly. In all the years I’ve known these two, we have never sat down and just watched a movie together. This is... weird. But I’ll take it. Better than wallowing and torturing myself alone. “Go on,” I say. “It might make me feel better about myself.”
Sam chuckles and puts the movie on, and we settle in, but my mind doesn’t stray far from Ava and how I can fix things, as well as how I can fix things with John.
IfI can.