Kitten.
She’s lying flat on the floor in a pair of shorts and an old Carnage T-shirt. Her hair is piled on top of her head, and she has her pink Beats covering her ears.
She has a piece of paper pressed against her chest, and she’s crying. She makes no sound, there are no facial expressions, just tears. They track from the corners of her eyes, into her ears, around her neck, and into her hairline.
I fight the urge to go to her, to sweep her up and hold her tightly in my arms. To rock her and tell her to hush, that everything will be all right, because it won’t.
She’s crying for him. Her lost love.
She’s crying for them. Her lost babies.
And there’s nothing I can do or say to make it better.
There was a time when I would have gladly taken their places. When I would’ve given my life for theirs just to bring the light back into her eyes, but not now. Now, I’m a dad. Sacrificing myself for them would mean my, our children, wouldn’t exist. So, now I say nothing when she has her bad days. I just reassure her that she’s not a bad person.
Does it hurt? Of course it fucking does. I’m only human.
I’m always aware of when Georgia is having her bad days. I know that there’s a part of her that will forever mourn Sean and the babies they lost. I know my girl, though, and I know without a shadow of a doubt that even when she cries for them, she loves me with everything she has.
I’d be a fucking liar if I say I don’t feel just a little stab of jealousy when she has her meltdown moments and cries for the loss of another man—a man she loved with all her heart until she met me and gave me a piece of it too. A man she left me for and went on to marry. A man she cheated on with me when she let me fuck her senseless against my office door. A man she refused to leave so we could be together. I learnt a long time ago that being jealous of a dead bloke is futile and a complete waste of energy.
I know Georgia struggles with her guilt, and I understood that. Yet, neither of us could change the tragic events that afflict our pasts; twisted, bent, and moulded our futures; and then ultimately led us back to each other. What I can do is hold her when she cries and reassure her it is okay to let the tears flow. She loved him for most of her life and it is okay to still love him now to cry for her loss.
I knew when I married her there would always be a piece of her heart I could never mend. A piece that will always belong to them, but it’s part of what makes her Georgia, and I wouldn’t change her for the world. We both had to kick, bite, and claw our ways from the deepest depths of hell to find what we have now. It was hard, but we did it—against the odds, we fucking did it.
My wife turns onto her side and pulls her knees up to her chest as she gives out a sob. I don’t know what she’s listening to, as the music is being Bluetoothed from her laptop to her ear phones, but I would bet my arse it’s either one of his songs or something that reminds her of him.
I contemplate just leaving her to it and not interrupting what should have been a private moment. She’s not expecting me until tomorrow lunch time and will be mortified to know I saw her like this.
I hear a door creek upstairs and turn my attention towards it. The last thing I want is for one of the kids to come down and find her in this state. I take the stairs two at a time and see Kiki heading into my room.
“Kiks?” I call her name quietly, not wanting to wake the other three.
She turns and looks at me over her shoulder and her face lights up.
“You all right, Treacle?” I ask her as she steps into my open arms.
“I thought you weren’t coming home till tomorrow? We missed you,” she tells me, whilst wrapping her arms around my waist.
I breathe in the scent of her hair, long and deep. She smells like home. I kiss the top of her head and then tilt it so she’s looking at me.
“What you doing up?”
“I had a bad dream,” she tells me, not meeting my eyes.
“The same one?”
She nods her head.