I thought about last night, the knowledge that I might’ve got her pregnant. And this morning when we’d done something more along the lines of making love rather than fucking, again without protection. If we weren’t actively trying to conceive, we were being foolish.
“I think we will. We haven’t spoken about it at length.” I looked at Rebecca. “We haven’t been together that long.”
She shrugged. “Worst case scenario, it doesn’t work and you bring up your child on your own. We both know you can manage that.”
I shook my head and laughed. “You need to give yourself some credit.”
“I love Lauren. I think she loves me and overall our relationship is strong. But I’m not cut out to be a mother. Luckily she got you as a dad and you made up for my shortcomings.”
“You’ve been more than…”
“Shush, Jack. I’m fully aware that I’m not terrible, don’t get me wrong. But I’m definitely not conventional. Has Lauren been to any more colleges? Is she set completely on dance?”
That was the end of the conversation. Done. Trust Rebecca to keep it simple.
* * *
The day wasovercast and grey. Puffs of white cloud occasionally spewed across the otherwise unmoving sky. Lauren was crying, my father consoling her, his own grief contained in a box he’d now take with him to the grave.
I stood at the end of the grave, fresh soil still in a pile next to it, waiting to be placed on top of the casket that had been lowered into the ground. The rest of the mourners – and there were many – were moving away, some to the cars that would take them to where we were having a gathering, others back to wherever they felt safe.
The homeless community that knew Robert had congregated, packing the chapel because I knew he’d have haunted me for life if I’d used a church, and then lingering around the grave. Two of them had read eulogies. One of his colleagues in the army had also spoken and I had, with a voice that trembled, read his life story, one that had now ended.
This would be the place I’d walk to now when I needed to think, a quiet spot with an oak tree that overlooked the grave. In a few weeks, there would be a stone that simply read his name and dates, nothing more. Seasons would pass here, but he would remain.
Finally at peace.
A warm hand pushed into mine. Simone hadn’t worn black. Instead she’d dressed in blue, the colour of the skies on a sunny day. Her head was still bruised, sore. She still needed to be careful.
“It’s a good spot.”
“It’s somewhere to sit. Remember him.”
“Lauren likes it.”
I managed a smile. “How is she?”
“Sad. It’s her first funeral. Your dad is being a rock.”
“He’s a good man.” My father was. I’d spent more time with him than normal these last few days, weeks even. The loss of Robert and the attack on Simone had made me rely on them more and I’d realised that they needed me to be their family. Whatever rifts had naturally occurred through time were closing.
And they loved Simone.
“Rebecca spoke to me before.”
I raised an eyebrow, anticipating what she was going to say.
“She made it very clear that she wasn’t interested in pursuing any relationship with you, other than as co-parents. She also told me that she hoped Lauren would have a half-sibling in the near future. Then there was something about evolution and gene pools and I lost track.”
“Probably for the best.”
“I figured as much. Let’s go. We should celebrate Robert’s life. There’s a lot of people here whose lives he touched. They want to remember him.”
We walked through the graveyard, the light wind rustling the trees and the sound of birdsong breaking the silence. There was comfort in sound.
There was a pub not too far from the cemetery that had a room for us and a buffet of pub food. Simple sandwiches and nibbles, a few hot slices of quiche and bowls of crisps. My dad put cash behind the bar and encouraged everyone to get a drink, something to toast Robert. Someone – probably my mum – passed Lauren a glass of wine and I smiled as I saw her nearly gag at the taste, no palette yet for the slightly acidic taste.
People blurred, their condolences sincere, their memories a comfort. I wondered what Robert would’ve thought if he could see what was going on, whether he’d have found any comfort in the number of lives he’d touched or whether he’d have caused us allsilly buggersand pissed off to do something infinitely more important like saving a life.
