Page 47 of The Story of Me
I’m confused. “About what?”
He takes a sip of his drink. “When your family first found out we were seeing each other, I had a visit from all of them, except your dad.”
“My brothers came to see you, about us?” This is news to me.
“And your mum,” he adds.
My head spins. If he tells me now Mum said anything to him to try to keep us apart, I will never speak to her again; not after what she did to Sean and me.
He must notice the look on my face.
“At least she didn’t threaten me; she just told me to look after you and to love you the way you deserved to be loved.”
My hands fall to my side. “My mum said that?”
He nods. “Your brothers, on the other hand, all threatened a slow and painful death if I ever even breathed on you too heavily.” I’m actually surprised at this; Bailey and my dad, I would expect it from, but not Len and Marls.
“Even Lennon and Marley?” He nods his head slowly.
“Bailey was direct; told me he’d take great pleasure in pulling me apart, limb from limb, then watching me drown in the Thames.” I watch as he rubs his hand over the stubble on his jaw. “Lennon was all business-like, even called me Mr King and then continued along the lines of ‘You do anything to upset my sister, I will first fuck you, then choke you with your own dick’; then he just walked out of my office.” Is it wrong that I feel a little stab of pride at my family’s protectiveness? “Marley on the other hand,” he pauses and takes a deep breath.Oh, shit, what did Marley do?“Marley simply said, ‘She cries, even once, even happy tears, you’re dead’.” Oh, well, that’s not too bad.
“I’m their little sister, and I’d been a mess for so long, they were just looking out for me.” My phone rings, and I expect it to be Jackson again but it’s Marley’s name on the screen. I smile; finally, my brother has gotten in touch.
“Speak of the devil,” I say to Cam as I answer the call. I don’t get a chance to speak as the sound of Marley’s sob breaks my heart.
“I miss him so much, George. I miss him! It fucking hurts, and I don’t know what to do.” I’m stunned into silence; tears are rolling down my cheeks instantly, but I don’t make a sound. “How’d you do it, George; how’d you carry on? I miss you; you’re so fucking strong. I’m your big brother, and I want to fix this. I want to make it all better for you, spit on it, rub it better and make it all go away, like I did when we were little. D’ya remember that, Porge; remember when I used to do that?” I nod and a choking sob escapes my chest.
“Yes, yes, I remember. Even when I fell off the monkey bars and broke my collarbone, you spat on it and said I’d be fine.”
I’m not sure if he’s laughing or crying as he says, “Yeah, and coz you believed me, you didn’t tell anyone how much it hurt and walked round with a broken collarbone for three days until you passed out with the pain, see… see what I mean about how brave you are? You’re the bravest person I know, George, I miss ya so much. I want you home. You should be here, with all of us, not thousands of miles away trying to fix yourself. That’s our job; we should be helping you mend.” I’ve walked back into the bedroom as he talks.
“What you gonna do? You all gonna spit on me and try to make it better?” I hear him laugh and I miss him so badly in that moment. God, I really miss him.
“That’s fucked, George. You know how wrong that sounds? Gross, really gross.”
We’re both silent for a few seconds.
“I have something I need to tell ya, George.”
“The band have split up.” It’s a statement not a question, and he doesn’t say anything. “It’s sad but inevitable, Marls. You all just need to do what you need to do to get through this, same as I have.” I hear him sniff.
“I can’t do it, George; I can’t be up on the stage with the boys without him. It’s not right, and there’s no way I wanna be up there as his replacement. I’d rather just be up there on my own, just do my own thing.” I’m nodding, despite being fully-aware of the fact that he can’t see me.
“I get it. I totally get it.”
“That way,” he says, and I know his voice is breaking into another sob, “that way, I can just pretend. I can get up there and pretend I’m up there doing my thing and he’s off somewhere doing his. Happy, writing his shitty love songs about you, loving you, being your husband and Beau’s dad. When I’m up there, that’s what I can pretend, George, coz that’s how it should be.” I can’t speak, because I can’t control the sobs. I almost vomit with the force that they’re leaving my body. “It’s not fair, George. Why him? Why the fuck was it him and Beau?”
We both sob into the phone as we contemplate the unfairness of life.
“Ahh, fuck, I’m sorry for laying all this shit on ya, George. I’m your big brother. I should be the one making it better for you.”
“We’re family, Marls, we help each other.”
“Well, I’ve never been much help to you, have I? All I’ve ever done is cause you shit. It was my fault you were apart all those years. If that hadn’t happened, things would probably be different now.” I don’t know what to say to this. It’s something that’s crossed my mind so many times, not that Marley was to blame. Sean and I made our own choices at that time, and we both chose not to sort our shit out and speak. Our continued separation was our fault, with a bit of help from Mum and Whorely.
“If you hadn’t split up, you would have had babies a long time ago, and you wouldn’t have been there, outside that shop that day. The accident would never have happened,” he continues.
“You don’t know that. You can’t say that for sure, Marls.” I wipe my eyes on the sleeve of my tracksuit, and as I do, I notice Cam is walking towards me. He hands me a tissue and steers me back out to the living area and over toward the sofa, where I sit down. He goes back to the table, tops up my glass of water and brings that over to me. I take a sip as I watch him go back and top up his own drink.How hard must this be for him? He’s sat here silently, offering nothing but comfort while I cry over the death of my husband, the man I chose over him. I don’t deserve his comfort. I don’t even deserve his company, but it’s welcome. Once again, I’m overcome by guilt: guilt at feeling what I do for Cam, guilt about how I treated him in the past, and there, always there, clawing away at my insides and my heart is the fact that this is the man I cheated on my now-dead-husband with. My eyes fill with tears as I watch him walk back towards the small, two-seater sofa. He slides his arm along the back as he sits down, and he pulls me in and kisses the top of my head. It’s a simple act, but it touches me deeply; my eyes meet his and the tears spill over again. I hate thinking that my brother is feeling the guilt that I do.
