Page 38 of Marley
“You said digger biva not bigger diva.” Ash laughs and gasps at the same time.
All three of them are now cackling like witches, and as much as they’re annoying the shit outta me right now, it’s an absolute joy to watch my sister like this.
“I’m Queen Diva. Paige is only Princess Diva and anyway, I’m more fame... shit, famouser,” George declares.
“But she’s a model.” Ashley says in a stupid voice, which appears to be so funny that I worry for a moment that they’ve all stopped breathing as their amusement takes their breath away.
“Ohmagod,” Jimmie pants. “I need another drink.”
“Yessss.” The other two agree.
“Yeah, not happening ladies. I think you’ve had enough.”
“Fuck off, Marls,” George and Ash say together and yeah, apparently that’s funny too.
I walk over to my desk, retrieve my phone and call my brother.
“Little brother Marley.”
“Got summit of yours here, mate. It’s currently flat on its back in my office, pissed as a fart and cackling like a deranged hen.”
“For fuck’s sake.” Yeah, it’s still one of Len’s favourites. “Wife or daughter?”
“Wife, although I would be tracking your daughter down right now as I can’t get any sense out of these three as to where Paige is.”
“She’s a model, don’t cha know?” Ash shouts out in her best Little Britain, ‘I’m a lady’ voice, reducing the three of them to sound again like a small pack of hyenas that have now mixed their meth with crack.
“What the fuck’s all the noise?” Len asks.
“That, mate, is the sound of The Priory’s next three detox patients.”
“I’ll be over in a bit. You eaten?”
“Nah, I need to ring Cam. I’ll call you back and let you know what to pick up. We’ll need to double the order if the big man’s coming.”
“All right, I’ll call Paige. Try and get some water into those three.”
“Will do,” I assure him.
I end the call and realise the room is quiet. When I turn around, I see that Jimmie and Ash are gone and there’s just me and George left, still lying on her back. I follow her gaze to a photo of me and Maca on the wall. It’s from some awards ceremony or other. We’re both in suits, but it’s obviously the end of the night as our ties are missing and top buttons are undone. Maca has a bottle of champagne in his hand. We look young and cocky, probably because we were.
I stand in front of my sister, blocking her view of the picture and hold my hand out to her. She takes it and I pull her up to a standing position. She’s kicked off her shoes and stands barefoot in front of me, swaying slightly.
I know what’s coming. I mentally square my shoulders in anticipation for it. She’s strong most of the time, I’d say ninety percent these days, but she carries her losses with her on a daily basis. I see that ten percent of sorrow that never leaves her eyes, and I think Jimmie, Ash, and Len do too. I’m not sure if Cam sees and accepts it, or if he decides to remain oblivious.
I notice her breathing change and I know that she’s fighting not to cry. Crying for her dead husband and their children overwhelms her with guilt because she’s now happily married to Cam and they have four babies of their own. That, in turn, makes her feel guilty about Maca, Beau, and Baby M. I don’t think any of us will ever truly understand her struggles and the demons she fights every single day of her life.
I see her sway, watch her legs start to buckle and pull her into me. The sound that tears from her insides and escapes is primal and can only be described as grief in its most basic form—raw and gut wrenchingly painful.
I hold her to me as I move us both to the sofa. I sit her down in my lap and let her cry into my chest, the way that I’ve done so many times before. She’s my sister, I love her, and I hate with a passion that there’s nothing that I can, or will ever be able to do, to take away this pain.
“Why, why Marley? Whythem? Whymyhusband? Whymybabies? Oh god, Marley. It hurts so much, so fucking much. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts” She chants, almost choking on her words, she’s crying so hard.
“I miss him every day.” She sobs and that, combined with the way she slurs her words, I have to listen hard to what she’s saying, but I already know the gist of it. It’s what happens every time Georgia drinks and old memories are stirred up. Her guilt and self-doubt about the life that she’s gone on to lead are never far from the surface and when she drinks, everything goes to shit when there’s a trigger.
“With every, every breath and every heartbeat, Marley. Every fucking beat of my heart, I miss him. Does that make me bad, Marls? Does that make me a bad wife to Cam, a bad mummu to my babies?”
I remain silent. I’ve heard her ask these questions so many times and I really have no answers. Some would say yeah, it’s terrible that you still mourn your dead husband when you’re married and have children with another. But others, probably those that have been through or witnessed someone else going through what she has, they would totally get the concept that Georgia missing Maca and their children in no way detracts from what she haswithand feelsforCam and their children.
