The Story of Me (Carnage #2)(9)
Despite the fact it is only early November and still out of season, the bar is pretty busy and all of this means I am fairly exhausted by the time I fall into bed at night. I am staying in the apartment above the bar with Brooke, so on the weekends when she goes down to Sydney to stay with her sister, my other cousin, Jodie, I have the place to myself and I love it.
Jodie is thirty-three, just a year older than me, and works for a big promotions company. She is currently heading the setup of a new mega-club in Sydney; on completion, it will be the biggest in the Southern Hemisphere. She had flown up to see me the first weekend after I arrived and we had talked, laughed and cried together. Sean and I had stayed with her in Sydney when we took our year out. Jackson was living with her then and we had really gotten along well, but I I’m just not ready to go back there yet, maybe not ever. She told me all about the project she is working on. The club is laid out over four levels and will house a venue for live bands, an ice bar, and three different nightclubs, all catering to different types of music. The fourth floor is a nightclub, VIP area and restaurant, all with a rooftop terrace and infinity pool, from where there are panoramic views across Sydney, the harbour and bridge with just a glimpse of the roof of the opera house. It is due to open on December the first, and I promised her I will travel down for the opening. She hasn’t realised the significance of the date, and I really don’t want to be the one to bring up the fact that the first of December was the day life dealt me the worst kind of blow; one from which I will never fully recover.
I haven’t decided when I will return to England yet, but it won’t be any time soon. Most of the stories about Sean and his supposed infidelities had been disproved, but there are still a few floating about. I don’t think they are true; I want to believe I knew my husband well enough to be sure of the fact he would never father a child and not tell me about it. But there is one thing stopping me from being totally convinced and that is my guilty conscience caused by my own infidelity. If I could do it, then why couldn’t he?
Chapter Four
I sit on my bed in the apartment above the bar and stare at the crate that was delivered by courier on Thursday; it’s now Sunday morning. I’ve gotten as far as undoing the top and that is it. I’ve approached it a total of eleven times these last two days, but I still can’t bring myself to look at the contents. I know what is in there; I’ve known what is in there for years. The contents had moved with us from Sean’s loft in Docklands to the house in Hampstead, to the farmhouse, then to my parents when the farm was packed up and sold, and never at any time have I had the courage to look at anything inside. Sean had told me many times to look; he wanted me to read the letters, cards, poems and songs. He wanted me to watch the videos. He wanted me to understand what he was going through when we were apart, but I never felt the need to open up old wounds. Now, with him gone, I want to know everything I can, every thought, every feeling. I had the box crated up and flown over from England, containing not only the letters and videos from our four years apart, but also Sean’s diaries come notebooks that he kept with him constantly. They weren’t diaries as such; they were where Sean wrote down thoughts, feelings, phrases, anything he thought he might use as part of his song writing. There were dozens of them and they were all sitting in the large crate, staring me in the face right now.
Getting up, I make myself a coffee and bring it back into the bedroom with me. I sit on the floor and stare some more, sipping on my coffee.
“What shall I do, baby? Can you tell me? D’ya want me to read them?” I say aloud. I know I sound like a weirdo, but I know he can hear me; don’t ask me how or why, it’s impossible to explain, much like the love that we shared. I couldn’t put the reasons into words. I just knew.
I sip on my coffee, wait for some divine intervention and nearly throw the contents of my mug over myself when my phone rings, blasting out Sean’s voice as he sings “With You”.
“Morning, Jim.”
“Hey, G, how’s it going, babe?”
“Yeah, I’m doing okay. Just woke up and made a coffee. I have the whole day and night off.”
“Is that a good thing? Are you not better off keeping busy?”
“I will be busy; the crate arrived Thursday, and I’ve done nothing but sit and stare at it since.”
“Are you sure about this, G? You don’t think reading all that stuff is gonna set you back?” Jimmie had been the one to organise the shipping of the crate over, but she hadn’t been entirely convinced it was a good idea. I told her that now I was away from England, I felt stronger and more able to deal with the crate’s contents. It wasn’t entirely true and I don’t think she entirely believed me, but she sent it anyway.
“I think they will help me move on, Jim. I’m looking forward to reading his thoughts; it’ll be a new part of him, a part I’ve never had before.” My stomach churned just at the thought of reading Sean’s words, and I’m not sure if it is due to excitement, fear or the fact that I am lying to myself.
“How’s everyone there?” I ask, wanting to change the subject.
“Yeah, okay. I’m missing you. It’s freezing cold. The kids are getting hyper about Christmas and blah, blah, blah, same ol’ same ol’.” This isn’t like Jim at all; she is always an upbeat girl and she sounds a little off.