Page 39 of Marley
“They’re my Mife Larls—Fuck. My life. You know what I mean. I’m a bit drunk.” She blinks as she looks up at me and all I see is the little girl she used to be. Her big blue eyes are wide with tears hanging from her lashes. I swallow down the lump in my throat before I even attempt to speak.
“You’re drunk, George? I’d never have guessed that one, babe.” My sarcasm goes right over her inebriated head.
“Yeah, yeah I am. Just a bit,” she says in all seriousness, and I can’t help but kiss her temple.
“They’re my world, Marls. My kids and Cam are what keep me going, but there’s always this piece of my heart ... this piece, this big fucking piece ...” she lets out another heaving sob that shakes her whole body as she punches herself in the chest, her heart. I respond by pulling her in tighter to my chest. I have nothing else to offer, no words that will ever be able to make this better for her.
“This piece,” she says again, this time slapping her palm flat over her chest. “It will always be his, always be theirs, but I do, I do, do, do love Cam, I truly do. He’s my rock. My Tiger.”
“I know, George. You don’t have to explain, you really don’t.” I try to reassure her.
“Do you still feel it Marls? Do you still miss him?” She tries to focus and look me in the eyes when she asks.
I take in air and try to free my lungs and chest of the sensation of being crushed.
“More than I could ever put into words. I miss him so much.”
“I get scared, Marls. So, so scared. What happens when we’re gone? Whose gonna remember him? Whose gonna talk about him and miss and love him like we do?” She starts to cry again.
“There’ll always be the music, George. He’s one of the best songwriters this country has ever produced. The music will outlive us all. Elvis has been dead for nearly forty years. I bet all of our kids know who he is though.”
“I s’pose.”
“I hope so, Marls, I really fucking hope so. He has no babies. They’re the only things left of him, his songs. Our babies died, Marls, they fucking died.” Her crying is agonising, the pain palpable.
“Why? Why, why, why did I have to lose it all, every part of him? I get so angry. Oh god, I get so angry. Why couldn’t it have been me that died? I’m no one, nothing. He was special, so special and talented, and people all—all around the world love his words and music and his voice, and I’m just no one, nothing.”
I try and be the strong one when George has these breakdowns. When it’s my turn, we both tend to cry together, but when it’s her, I try and stay strong, but tonight’s different. I hate hearing her say this about herself. It breaks my heart that she feels that she’s so worthless.
“Fuck, G, don’t ever think for a minute that you’re not important. If you had died that day, then there’d now be no George, Kiks, or Lula. Harry would have no mum. Without you, those little people wouldn’t exist today. Would you deny them the right to life George?”
I feel her shoulders shake as she silently cries, but she manages to shake her head no.
“If you had died that day,” I continue, “Maca would never have survived. He could never live without you in this world.”
“He would. He would’ve come to terms with it. Event-eventually, just like I’ve had to.”
“You came to terms with it because you’ve had Cam to hold your hand and help guide you through. He’s been there. He lost his wife, unborn baby, and his dad under horrible circumstances,” I tell her. “I’ll be totally honest here and tell ya, George. I don’t think you would’ve made it without Cam. I’m not religious, I don’t believe in fate, destiny, or that things happen for a reason. Life is what it is. Shit happens to good people because that’s just the way that life is. You and Cam, you really are just perfect for each other, and what happened in both of your pasts made it that way. There’s no one else on this planet that could’ve put you back together the way he did, George, and I mean no one. It goes against everything that I believe in, but it’s almost like you two were destined to be together.” I tell her from my heart.
“I love him. He’s my Tiger.” She explains matter-of-factly.
I smile at her because I can see the smile in her eyes as she talks about the man that saved and rebuilt her the best that he could. We never got the old Georgia back, how could we? None of us were the same after Maca’s death and the loss of Beau. Our whole family was, and will be, changed forever because of those events. but Cameron King gave us back a version of Georgia that we never thought we’d see again. Step by step, day by day, I got my beautiful, funny, mouthy, diva of a sister back and I’ll never be able to thank him enough for that.
Jimmie appears in the doorway, a full champagne flute in hand.
“I told you no more drink.”
“And we told you to fuck off.” Jimmie replies.
“Actually, you didn’t. It was your two mouthy mates that did that.” I remind her.
“Yeah, I did. I just said it in my head, so that counts double.” She smiles at me and gives her eyebrows a little raise, as if to say ‘so there.’
“How fucking old are you?” I ask.
“Old enough to know when I want another drink.” She narrows her eyes and smiles.
I give in. It’s three against one until the boys arrive. Which reminds me, I need to ring Cam. I slide Georgia off my lap and stand to get my phone out of my pocket.
