“I’m so sorry it was you. I went there so that it wouldn’t be.” I pulled her closer and kissed the top of her head, just holding her.
I didn’t know or care what the nurses thought when they came in later. I wasn’t leaving, so I turned her back around and slept with my wife held safely in my arms.
I would have liked to believe that things went straight back to normal after that, but this wasn’t a fairy tale, and they didn’t.
I was assessed by a psychiatrist and a psychologist and was allowed to go home two days later. Three meetings a week were set up to see the psychologist, one for me on my own, one for Liam on his own, and one for the two of us together. He found it hard at first to open up and talk to a stranger, whereas I had verbal diarrhoea.
I found talking things through extremely therapeutic, and eventually Liam got on board with it, too. After a few weeks, we both got a lot out of the sessions.
We both learned to communicate better, and found out that one of our issues apparently was that we were so in sync and in love that we just assumed that the other one knew what we were thinking, and that was just not the way life went.
But we were getting there and had our last session a couple of weeks ago.
It took three months to find an anti-depressant that didn’t leave me pinging off the walls or comatose, and once the doctors got my newly discovered anaemia under control, I had more energy. I had been taking my “happy” pills, along with some anti-anxiety medication for four months and I felt great.
Neither of us stuck to our agreement not to bring shit up, and we had some almost divorce causing arguments, but those in and of themselves had been cathartic. We aired things that we needed to get off our chests.
Liam was so angry. It took a lot to convince him that what I did wasn’t about what I felt for him, it was about me and my issues. He struggled a little bit at the beginning with trust, panicking if I didn’t pick up my phone or if I was late getting home from somewhere, always calling to check where I was, what I was doing, if I was okay. It made him sound like a perfect husband, but it wore thin very quickly. He eventually realised it was becoming a problem and let up a bit.
We did make good on our plans to move, and in August, the house was sold, our belongings packed and shipped, and were on their way to Australia. I would miss England, but Nan was happy in her little house and had a new “friend” Harry, who was fourteen years her junior.
Luke was coming out to join us for Christmas and had promised to make the journey at least once a year. I figured he just didn’t want us coming to crash at his house and invading his space.
Sasha flew straight over when I came out of hospital, but she could only stay for two weeks. She said she needed to see for herself that I was doing okay and to deliver the bollocking of a lifetime. I planned to check in with her when I got settled in Australia. Something was going on with her, but I had no clue what. She wasn’t happy, though, despite her telling me to the contrary, I just knew it.
I messaged Will via Facebook and told him of our plans, and he wished us luck. I wasn’t surprised that was all I got. I’d not seen him for years, and I couldn’t remember the last time he called. Though, I did see a photo of him in a magazine with some young model on his arm, and I couldn’t be happier for him.
Lori was a massive help, too. She’d stayed with us for four months, helping me get back on my feet, with the kids, and with all of the organisation it took to move.
Dan joined her a few weeks after she arrived, and they finally came clean about being together. Apparently, they had been on and off again since the wedding. Liam had a minor conniption when he walked in on them having sex one morning. He’d taken the day off work, I was doing the school run, and they thought they had the place to themselves. They didn’t.
And that was us. Our chaotic lives all packed up and ready to start our next adventure.
PRESENT
I swing on to our driveway and have to hit my brakes. A skate ramp has been constructed in the middle of my route to the garage and two bikes, two skateboards, and a scooter surround it.
I reverse and pull up on the nature strip, smiling to myself as I exit the car, taking a moment to admire my boys’ work.
Opening the front door, I take a deep breath, inhaling all the smells of home and letting the stress drop away. The house is quiet, but I can hear shouts, screams, splashes, and music coming from the pool area. Throwing my keys down on to the bench top, I grab a beer from the fridge and make my way towards the bi-fold doors.
Leaning in the doorway, I watch the reasons for my existence from where I stand.
Carter is on the edge of the pool, trying to bend Archie into the perfect shape for a dive. Flynn, who is as fearless as ever, runs to the pool edge, jumps, and summersaults into the water.