The Story of Me (Carnage #2)(58)
“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 f*cking 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 f*cking 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 f*cked, 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 f*ck was it him and Beau?”
We both sob into the phone as we contemplate the unfairness of life.
“Ahh, f*ck, 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.
“Big brother Marley?”
“Little sister Georgia?”
“D’ya know how much I love you? D’ya know how much Sean loved you? D’ya know how much he would hate for you to be feeling like this? Life goes on, Marls. Whether we like it or not, whether we want it to or not, we have no say in that fact. Sean’s dead. Beau’s dead, something else we can’t change, and nobody knows that more than me, Marls. But what we do have a say in is the way we go on living. Do we live half a life, grieving, mourning, and feeling guilty for every breath we get to take and Sean and Beau don’t? Or do we make every day count?” He doesn’t say a word, but I can hear the occasional sniff and my heart aches so badly to be near him. “I’ve spent the past year doing that, Marls, and it’s achieved absolutely nothing. I’ve almost ripped our family apart with my selfish actions and behaviour, and I’ve run away from life and reality once again. I’ve moved all the way to the other side of the world to try and outrun my past, the pain and the guilt. It doesn’t work, and it catches up with me wherever I am. I’m just finally coming to terms with that. I left all of you behind, trying to pick up the pieces and it’s achieved nothing, got me nowhere.” I wipe my tears away on the tissues Cam passed to me, and I take a sip of my water. “If I’m ever gonna live again, Marls, then I need you to do the same. I can’t go on living if you’re not. How guilty d’ya think I would feel if you were to curl up in a ball and give up while I try and put my life back together? I need to grow up, stop behaving like the princess you all treat me like, and I need to start giving back to all of you. I need all of you to move on with me. I need you to hold my hand and show me the way. I can’t do it without you, Marls.” I don’t know where the words are coming from. I just know they need to be said and I know they need to be acted upon.