Page 25 of A Different Kind Of December
We both observe our wives in silence. They’re side by side, heads together, deep in animated conversation.
“Looks like Jim is getting a blow-by-blow account of whatever you two have been up to for the past twenty minutes.”
Cam turns his head towards me with his dark eyebrows raised, but before he can say a word, I point my finger at him. “Don’t. I donotwant to know. She might be turning fifty, but she’s still my baby sister.”
He throws his head back and gives one of his big booming laughs.
“As if I was gonna tell you I’ve just fucked your sister in our laundry anyway.”
I shake my head and walk away.
“Where’d you get the water from, Porge?” I ask my sister, using her old childhood nickname.
“Don’t call me that. In the fridge in the laundry.”
“Is it safe to go in there? Do I need to watch out for sticky tissues?” I joke.
“Nah, you’re good. I used a tea towel out the drawer and did a thorough clean up.”
“Classy, Porge, classy.” I once again shake my head and walk away. My family seriously have no issues with sharing. Everything.
“Get us a bottle for Meebs please, Len?” Reed calls after me. No clue why he calls his wife Meebs, her name’s Nina.
“I don’t need water, there’s more champagne in the fridge,” Nina protests as I head off to fetch water. When I return, Jimmie’s not where I left her.
George and Marley are belting out a stellar version of The Pogues’ “Fairy Tale Of New York.”
Cam and Reed are sitting on the edge of the sofa, watching them, and Ash and Nina have moved the coffee table out of the centre of the room and look like they’re attempting to waltz around together in the space.
“Where’s Jim?” I ask Cam.
“Went looking for you.” He gestures towards the hallway I just came from.
I retrace my steps and notice a glow coming from under the door of Georgia’s office and open it.
Jimmie’s inside, standing by a shelf with a photo frame in her hand. She turns her head and looks at me. Tears fill her eyes and spill down her cheeks.
“Babe?” But I already know what it is she’s looking at. She holds out the frame so that I can see it. It’s a picture of Maca and Marley together. They look so young, but then, it was a long time ago. They’re both wearing tuxedos, their shirts and ties both undone. Maca is swigging a champagne bottle, his eyes laughing into the camera. Marley has a big grin on his face and a cigarette hanging from his lips as he holds on to his bottle.
“I took this photo,” I say quietly, placing it carefully back in its place on my sister’s bookshelf.
“I know. I remember the night. They won best everything, didn’t they? Song, album, video?”
“Yeah,” I say, letting out a long sigh.
“Happy days.”
“They were.”
“We’re so lucky, Len,” Jimmie throws her arms around my neck, and I pull her in close to me.
“Theywerelucky, babe. For as little time it was, they had each other, and they were in love. When he died, Maca was the happiest I’d ever known him.”
I don’t wanna stand here getting choked up right now, and if we keep reminiscing about the past, it’ll end with the both of us crying.
Things have been tense at home. Our eldest daughter, Paige, has barely spoken to either of us in weeks, and because Georgia refused to extend the invitation to Paige’s boyfriend and his mum, she’d refused to spend Christmas here with us.
I can’t even believe Paige would ask that of my sister. She knows the story, we’ve explained the connection between Georgia, Sean, Marley, and her boyfriend’s parents. Yet, she still asked my sister to extend the invitation to include RJ’s mum, the woman that tried to frame my brother for rape.
