Teach Me Dirty(102)

I choked back my sadness.

“I’ve fallen in love with a beautiful, spirited, gifted, kind young woman called Helen Palmer. She was persistent, and tenacious, and she made it impossible for me not to love her. You’d have loved her, too. You’d have laughed with her, and smiled at her kindness and her vision and her pure little heart. You’d have really loved her, Anna. And I hope if you’d have known you couldn’t stay, you would have picked her in your stead to hold my hand and make me smile again.”

I looked at the sky.

“My God, Anna, I needed to smile again. I’d forgotten what it felt like. I missed you so much I couldn’t even breathe.”

I took a breath.

“Helen’s my student.”

And another.

“She’s my eighteen year old sixth form student.”

I closed my eyes.

“And I know it was wrong. I hated myself for wanting it, hated myself for not being strong enough to walk away. Part of me still does.”

I lit up another cigarette.

“Maybe you’d call me a fool. Maybe you’d even be disgusted. But I know you’d hear me out, and I’d say to you that my love for Helen grew from the most unacceptable of circumstances, but it’s true, and it’s real, and it’s everything. She’s filled up my empty soul and made me whole again.”

I pressed my palms to Anna’s headstone and took a steadying breath.

“I know she’s young, and fragile and delicate, and I’ll take care of her. Hell, Anna, all I want to do is love her. I’ll never hurt her, never judge her, or push her into something she wouldn’t want to do. I’ll do right by her, I promise, I just hope I get this one tiny chance at happiness again. Please, God, let this last, because I don’t know if I’m strong enough to hurt again like I hurt when I lost you, Anna.”

Another breath. I wiped away the tears.

“I just wanted to tell you. I just wanted to feel close to you this one last time on Christmas morning, because as much as you’re still in my heart, I’ve got to let you go.

“I want to make new memories, with Helen. I want to wake up with her on Christmas Day and hold her tight and know she’s mine and I’m hers. I hope you’d want that for me, too.

“I know you’d want that for me, too.”

I let a tear fall, let my cigarette drop to the frosty grass and I gripped that headstone and I sobbed.

“Sleep well, my beautiful wife. I love you.”



I went home, and it was quiet and empty.

I wrapped up Anna’s artwork and I boxed it up in the attic.

I took her clothes out of the spare bedroom wardrobe and packed them away for storage.

I saved our private photographs to a flash drive and removed them from my laptop.

I took down her photo from the mantelpiece.



And finally, after nine years of grief, I let my beautiful Anna sleep soundly.





Helen



“You’re different.” Mum was busy preparing cranberry sauce but her eyes were fixed on me.

I carefully tipped the tray in my hands, spooning fat over the sizzling roast potatoes like I’d done it a hundred times before. “I learned to cook a little.”

She laughed. “I can see that, love. But that’s not what I meant.” She smiled at me. “You’re different. You.”

I smiled back, and I felt it. I felt so different back here, as though I’d been gone for years. “I’m just happy.”

“Happy, yes. Happy and glowing, and all grown up, Helen.” She sighed and I realised she was looking at me like I’d been gone for years, too. “When did that happen, hey? When did my little girl become such a beautiful young woman?”

These past few weeks, Mum. In Mark Roberts’ arms, and in his bed, and his heart. In the sparkle of his eyes in the morning, and his goodnight kisses. In his voice, when he spoke to me like I was somebody, somebody who knows her own mind, and her own heart.

“I guess it happens, I dunno.” I shrugged. “Just as well, hey? Can’t have me shipping off to university without being able to complete basic life essentials.” I slipped the roasters back in the oven. “I can cook croissants, too. And I know how to clean an iron skillet.”

“Harry taught you all that, did he?!” She raised her eyebrows. “He sounds quite an impressive young man indeed.”

I stirred the carrots, and my heart wanted to burst its banks and spill all. But I couldn’t. I knew I couldn’t. “I’m so happy, Mum.”

“Oh, love. That’s all we want. If you’re happy, then we’re happy, too.”



Christmas was different this year. It felt lighter, and more magical, like my soul was covered in fairy dust. We had Christmas songs, and after a couple of cans Dad sang along while Katie danced for us. I shared a bottle of wine with Mum while we finished up dinner, until we were pink-cheeked and giggling and laughing about silly old memories, and we all ate together, and pulled crackers and wore the stupid hats and read the stupid jokes.

It was nice. Good old fun like the earlier years, when I’d still believed in Santa Claus and flying reindeer. But I missed Mark. It tingled and pained amongst the happiness.

Dad fell asleep after too much dinner, snoring in the chair, and Katie was busy upstairs on her new karaoke machine. Mum sat and watched It’s a Wonderful Life while I stared out of the window towards Deerton Heath, wondering what he was doing and if he was missing me half as much as I was missing him.