Chapter 35
35
C ally needed a blackcurrant. Hot Blackcurrant. Possibly, with four hundred measures of gin sloshed in the top. A time machine might go down well, too. Meaning that she could hop in, flick a few switches, and transport herself and the rest of the Henry-Hicks family back to Scotland and stop Alastair and Octavia from going on their travels. Which in turn would mean that Alastair would still be alive. That would then mean that Logan would not be wading around in the depths of grief and trying to counteract it by consuming copious amounts of white wine. Unfortunately, there weren’t any time machines at our Cally’s disposal. Nor was it a good idea for her to join him in the numbing qualities of alcohol by drinking too much gin. It would not be good for her to get hammered. One of them needed to keep their wits about them.
It had been a long day. Cally had started the day dealing with complaints on the chatbot where she was doing her last few shifts, spent the middle of the day cleaning the cottage and the end of the day wondering what she could suggest to Logan that might, firstly, take his mind off Alastair, and secondly, stop him from sitting on either her or his sofa and working his way down a bottle of wine or two.
Logan had been with her all day. It was as if he was stuck to her side. Whilst beside her, he didn’t do or say much at all. He’d followed her out of bed when she’d got up for the chatbot shift, silently made them both a cup of tea and sat more or less as close as he could get to her without sitting on her laptop as she’d worked. He’d done the same when they’d gone to the cottage, shadowing her while cleaning. It felt more than weird to Cally that she was the one in the lead. Ever since she’d met Logan, he’d been dynamic, buzzy, full-on, and had very much played the alpha role. Now, he was in the depths of zeta mode. Cally didn’t like how it felt at all.
Despite being stuck to her like glue all day, Logan had said all of seventeen words to her. Want a coffee from the deli? Done with the chatbot? And her favourite: What did you do with the bleach?
Now, they were back at the flat and Cally had suggested all sorts of things to get them out. She’d even included going bowling as an idea. That was a new low. Not that she really wanted to go out, and certainly not bowling. Before the accident, she’d been more than happy to snuggle up on the sofa, tucked in and intertwined with Logan, and have a few drinks. Now, with him in his current state, not so much.
Whilst Logan was in the bath, she slid her laptop over and did a search on “tips for when someone is going through grief”. She felt as if, with her own experience, she should know. However, oddly, she felt the opposite and had no idea. Even weirder and really nasty she'd felt a couple of times like telling him to suck it up. That in itself horrified her. She read the first article and nodded. The first tip spoke of precisely what had happened in her day. It said to be present and that simply being there for someone, even in silence, could be comforting. As she read further, she agreed that grief was isolating. She knew how that felt for sure.
The article’s second point was to listen actively and let the person talk about their feelings, memories, or thoughts without interrupting or trying to fix their emotions. Cally made a funny face. So far, there hadn’t been much chance of talking in Logan’s case. His lack of conversation all day had been tantamount to that. All week, in fact. He was hardly saying much at all. Cally read down the article and took on board that she needed to avoid clichés such as “they’re in a better place”. She was supposed to offer practical help, be patient because grief didn’t have a timeline. The person may have ups and downs, and it was important to understand that emotions change frequently in the world of grief.
Cally nodded in agreement as she read that everyone grieved differently and took on board that some people may want to talk about their feelings, while others might need space or prefer distractions. The article said to follow the lead of the person grieving. She continued to read, tried to take the suggestions on board, and finished by rereading a few times that
compassion, patience, and understanding were key. Grief was deeply personal, and support could make a difference just by being present and available. Cally shook her head that there was no “suck it up and get on with it” option and resolved to be patient and present.
She rapped on the door of the bathroom. ‘Is everything okay in there?’
‘Yes.’
‘Need anything?’
‘No.’
As they had been all day, Logan’s responses were short and sweet. He, again, didn’t appear to be in the mood to chat. Cally thought about the advice in the article and left it. She was present; that would, hopefully, be enough.
Leaving him to it, she bustled around the kitchen, checking on the pork she’d put in a low oven that morning. Inhaling an amazing smell of caramelised onions, apples, herbs, and pork, she pulled open the oven door and checked on the meat. That morning, before she’d wondered if going out was a good idea, she’d thought Logan might do well with a home–cooked meal. She’d put a loin of pork on a bed of onions, apples, and herbs, sloshed in a bath of wine, and left it to do its thing. She’d stopped in the bakery for tiger bread and bought some olives from the deli as a little starter. Now, taking baby rocket, spinach, and chard out of the fridge, she tumbled it onto a plate, finely sliced pear and fennel, squeezed on lemon juice, tossed it all together then added grated pecorino and a smattering of walnuts. She envisioned that a nice meal might do things to help a grieving partner but didn’t hold out much hope. Pottering around, she put an old cutwork tablecloth that had been her grandma’s on the table, snipped some lavender from the bush she had growing in a pot on the balcony, popped it in a jam jar, and added it to the centre of the table.
As she heard the bathroom door handle go, she swallowed as Logan came out the bathroom with a towel slung around his waist. He might be sad but other things about him had not changed. Wowzas. He just about managed a smile as he went into the bedroom and came out a few minutes later in soft blue shorts and a white polo shirt. Cally closed her eyes for a second as he went straight to the fridge, took out a bottle of wine, pulled two oversized glasses out of the cupboard and filled his almost to the brim.
Cally was more than concerned that the night would plunge into him drinking too much, but didn’t let it show. 'Dinner's almost ready.’
Logan looked up, his eyes slightly unfocused. 'Oh, yeah. Sure,' he mumbled and looked at the salad on the table. ‘Thanks.’
‘No worries.’ Cally bit her lip as Logan gulped a big mouthful of wine. ‘Can you grab the cutlery?'
Logan nodded as he fumbled slightly with the cutlery drawer and gestured around the kitchen. 'Sorry. You’ve done all this. I should have helped. I'm a bit…’
'Don’t be silly. It's been a tough week.' Grabbing a pair of oven gloves, Cally opened the oven door and pulled out the tray of pork. Steamy, fragrant air billowed around the small kitchen. She transferred the pork and onions onto a serving dish, popped the pan on the hob and stood making the gravy.
Logan reached for the bottle of wine and topped up his glass. Cally was concerned but unsure about whether or not to broach the subject of how much he’d been drinking.
'This looks great, Cal. Thanks for taking care of me.'
‘You don’t need to thank me. How are you feeling?'
Logan shrugged, taking another large gulp of wine. 'Fine, I guess. As fine as I can be, considering what happened. I don’t know, it just doesn’t seem real. I don’t know what to do.' He trailed off, and gazed out the window.
Cally tried to keep the article she’d just read in mind. 'It's okay not to be fine. What you're going through is difficult.'
Logan nodded. ‘I know you’ve been through this. I just keep thinking about him, you know? I wish I’d been nicer . Hindsight is a wonderful thing, eh?’
Cally wrinkled up her nose. ‘Try not to think that.’
‘Easier said than done.’
‘Yup.’ Cally poured the gravy into a little white jug, put the serving dish on the table, and sat down. Logan got up to get another bottle of wine out of the fridge. Cally couldn’t not say anything. ‘Umm, do you think you should slow down a bit with the wine?'
Logan looked up, a flash of anger in his eyes. 'I'm fine,' he said, his tone sharper than usual. 'It helps to take the edge off.'
‘I'm a bit worried about you. This isn't like you. I don’t think it’s a good idea. Sorry, but I’m calling it. I can’t just sit here and let you drink too much again. I don’t think it will help in the long run. The opposite, in fact.'
Logan sighed and put the bottle back. 'I know. I'm sorry. I don't know how else to deal with this.’
Cally felt her heart ache. At least Logan was sharing how he felt. She’d take that as a plus. ‘I wish I could make it better.'
‘It's not fair . He had so much life left to live.'
‘Nope. It's not fair at all.'
'Sorry. I know it should be me being the one who looks after you .’
Cally shook her head. 'What? Where did that come from? Not at all. Where does it say that you have to look after me? Don't apologise. You're allowed to grieve, Logan. You don't have to be strong all the time. I was just pointing out that getting sozzled isn’t going to help matters…'
Logan pushed his chair out, opened the fridge, and grabbed a can of lemonade. ‘You’re right. I’m going to dilute this.’
Cally smiled. ‘I’m not telling you not to drink. I just think getting plastered might make you feel worse in the long run. I really don’t think it helps.’
‘Yeah, I hear you.’ Logan gestured to the table. ‘You’ve made this gorgeous meal. I’m not going to ruin it. I think I just need to, you know, hibernate for a bit. I don’t really want to do anything.’
‘I’ve noticed.’
‘Are you okay with that?’
‘Of course!’ Cally nodded. ‘Of course, I'm okay with it. You take all the time you need. There's no rulebook for grief.'
Logan took a bite of the pork. 'This is good. Thanks.'
'I thought a home-cooked meal might be nice.'
‘I keep thinking about things I did with Alastair. Nothing could keep him down for long. He was sort of annoying at the same time, too, which is making me feel really guilty.’
‘I get it.’ Cally let out a ginormous sigh. ‘I’ve been there. You just have to work through it.’
'He loved you, Cal. He always said I needed someone to keep me on my toes, and you certainly do that.'
Cally begged to differ. However, there was no way she was going to say that she’d never really warmed to Alastair and that he had, on more than one occasion, totally rubbed her up the wrong way. She thought about her own experiences with grief, wondering if there was anything she could say that might help. ‘When my grandma died, I found it really hard because I was relieved. Then, when I actually just admitted that to myself, it actually helped.'
‘Right. I see. It just doesn’t feel real, you know?’
‘It does get easier…’
Logan was quiet for a moment. 'It's just going to take time, I think, or I just suck it up and get on with it. I just feel like I should be handling this better,' Logan admitted. 'I mean, look at you for instance. From what you told me you had so much crap going on after your grandma passed away and you got on with it.’
Cally shook her head. She’d had little choice but to get on with it. Yet another difference with the Henry-Hicks lot and especially Logan. He’d never been in this situation before and he was floundering around wondering what in the name of goodness was going on. In her case, she’d had no choice but to deal with it. 'You can't compare grief. Some people just put on a brave face.'
‘Is that what you did?’
‘Hmm. I guess so. It was different, though – she was old, and I’d had a lot of time to get used to it. Part of why you’re feeling like this is perhaps because of the shock. I mean no one ever wants to get news like that.’
‘I feel so useless . Like I should be doing something, but I don't know what. There’s nothing to do.'
'You're not useless. It's okay to take time for yourself, to feel what you're feeling.'
'I keep thinking about when I spoke to Alastair. He was so excited about his trip with Octavia, talking about all the places they were going to see. I remember thinking he was being a bit over the top, you know? Like, it's just a holiday, mate, calm down,' Logan continued, his voice catching slightly. 'Now I wish I'd been more enthusiastic and asked more questions. If I'd known it was the last time I'd speak to him...'
'You couldn't have known.'
‘No.’
‘All your feelings are valid.'
Logan nodded. ‘I don't know what I'd do without you. I love you, you know that?'
'I love you too.’
Cally sighed as she took a sip of her drink. She hoped that loving Logan was going to be enough.