Page 39 of The Story of Me
“Nooo,” I say on a sob. “Nooo, why did I say that? Why would I say that?” My dad’s old joke about de Nile pops into my head, and Princess Georgia is back; she’s stamping her feet and doesn’t want to talk anymore. It’s what I do. If things don’t go my way, I stamp my feet, fold my arms across my chest and refuse to talk about it.
“Did you fuck Cam while you were married to Sean, Georgia? Did you cheat on your husband?” I fly at him. My anger is really with myself but it’s Roman who I launch at.
“Fuck you. Fuck you! You shagged my cousin and never told me, so don’t you dare talk about my husband. I loved him. I still love him. How dare you question that?” He holds onto my arms and pins me down on the bed, his tall body covering mine. I shout and I scream and kick until I have nothing left in me, and then I cry and sob and try to unload some of the fucking awful guilt I’ve carried around with me, quite possibly since the night I fell back into Sean’s arms. I thought the guilt I’m feeling was a recent thing, something that had only been weighing me down since I did what I did with Cam in his office. It’s only just now dawning on me that, in fact, I’ve felt a certain level of guilt for the past twelve years. It’s my feelings for Cam and how I left things that’s caused it. All the while, I contemplate and process all of this, Roman remains silent and just holds me while I cry.
* * *
I must fall asleep because the next thing I know, I’m at a river. There’s a grassy bank and the river is rushing by; the bank that leads down to it is steep. Sean and Cam are both in the river and calling my name, but I have four children with me. Two dark-haired boys are holding on around my legs and watching what’s happening in the water. Their faces are tear-stained but they’re not crying. I also have two dark-haired little girls, one on each hip, and I know if I put them down, they will crawl to the bank and be swept away. Sean and Cam are both shouting at me to get away, to save the children and get away from the river, but I desperately want to help them. I feel so torn; the pain I feel at being helpless is physical, and I wake myself up shouting and calling out that I’m sorry.
Roman is holding me, stroking my hair and my back, trying to calm me down. I’m shaking so badly that I can’t control my jaw. Brooke must be in the room because I can hear her whispering to Roman that she’s going to make me some tea. I open my eyes and look up at him.
“You okay? That sounded bad.” I take in gulps of air before I answer him.
“It was horrible. I dreamt of Sean, my dreams of Sean are usually beautiful. I normally look forward to them, but this one was horrible.” My face stings with the salt from all my tears, and I wipe them away on my vest.
“You wanna tell me about it?” I shake my head.
“No, no, I don’t. Why areyou being nice to me? I was a complete bitch earlier.” I feel his breath on my hair as he breathes out.
“You were. You behaved like a total bitch.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” I am sorry. The guilt I’ve carried with me for so long is what made me lash out: guilt at leaving Cam for Sean; guilt for the way I treated Cam; guilt for always knowing, deep down, that I loved Cam; and guilt for fucking Cam. Guilt. Everything I do, every way I turn, everything I’ve ever done with my life, something’s always made me feel guilty. I’m so sick of it. I even feel guilty that I’m alive and Sean, Beau and Baby M aren’t. “Years of guilt eating away at you, well, it eventually turns you into a bitch. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lashed out at you.” He’s quiet for a while, and I think he’s debating whether to ask me to tell him what I feel guilty about. In the end, though, he doesn’t ask and I don’t offer.
“You gonna tell me what happened when I dropped you off Sunday morning?” I tilt my head and stare up at the ceiling.
“I took a couple of Valium to try and stop my heart from racing. I made a few phone calls to my family and drank a couple of glasses of wine while I was doing it.”
“Georgia, what the fuck were you thinking?” he interrupts.
“Well, obviously, I wasn’t thinking, was I? Somebody fed me drugs and then left me here on my own, still off my face and alone.”
I shouldn’t pass the blame onto Roman. I’m a grown woman, for fuck’s sake, and responsible for my own choices.
“No wonder Jackson wanted to punch my lights out.”
I huff. Why is admitting you’re wrong, so fucking hard?
“Rome, look, I went with you willingly Saturday night, and nothing that happened was your fault. I chose to do everything I did. I drank the drink. I took the drugs and I let Skye do whatever. Me, no one else, just me. They were my choices and as much as I’d like to blame everything on everyone else, the buck stops with me.
“I shouldn’t have left you. I’m sorry,” he says quietly.
“You’re forgiven; it was my fault not yours. But you should’ve told me about Jodie; that, I am still pissed off about.”
“Well, I’m sorry for that, as well then.” We both sit silently until Brooke comes in with three mugs of tea and a packet of biscuits. We sit on my bed, chat shit, until eventually Roman leaves.
I shower before I phone and arrange for a courier to come in the morning and collect all of my stuff to send back to England, including my crate of Sean memorabilia. I keep some clothes to get me through the next few days, a nice dress and shoes for Saturday night and two of my favourite Juicy Couture tracksuits to travel home in. Home. I’m going home. I have maybe five days and around twelve-thousand miles to get my head in a place where I am ready to deal with everything that will be waiting for me in England. I think I’m ready to face it all. I just wish this guilt and thoughts of Cameron fucking King would leave my brain for a little while.
Chapter Twelve
I spend the rest of the day getting my stuff packed, and I get a text from Lennon telling me he has booked me a car to the airport for six am Sunday; I just need to let them know where I want to be picked up from. We usually stay at Jodie’s place, but rather than disturb everyone with my early departure, I book us all rooms at the Marriott in Sydney. Since we are flying down on Friday, Thursday will be my last night in Byron, so I book a table at the local Chinese restaurant for Wednesday for my aunt, uncle, Brooke, Jax and myself. I know they own a bar, but they won’t switch off and relax if they eat there; plus, they love the Chinese place, and we’ve eaten there a few times. Emily is away for the week, so it will just be family. I actually thought about asking Roman but then I remembered he was playing at Worldies Wednesday and Thursday, so I just left it at family.
I’d told him Monday that I was leaving Friday and as expected, he was fine with it; finally, a relationship I didn’t feel any guilt about. We had come to a mutual understanding over the Jodie thing; he didn’t see it as a big deal, I did, and nothing was going to change either of our opinions, so we left it at that.
I go down to the bar quite late on Thursday. I spent the whole day at the beach. I surfed with Jackson early, worked on my tan all day and then had another surf this evening. By the time I shower and get downstairs, it’s almost nine and the place is packed. Roman’s belting out Matchbox Twenty’s “If You’re Gone” as I walk in. I stand and listen and his eyes almost immediately meet mine. He doesn’t smile, just nods slightly and carries on singing.
Brooke must have already spotted me as she comes over with a large glass of wine and a beer for herself. She’s working tonight but takes a few minutes to chat and drink her beer. Roman ends his song, takes a few swigs from his own drink and then leans into his mic.
“This is a bit of an oldie but it’s special to me. It reminds me of someone I think I may just be a little in love with.” My stomach flips; so much for not feeling any guilt over this one. I know as soon as Rome starts playing the harmonica that he’s pulled from his back pocket what the song is, and it’s actually one of my favourites; well, it was. He starts playing his guitar, then sings the first verse of Bob Dylan’s “Just Like A Woman” and he doesn’t take his eyes from mine the whole time.
