This time she laughed. “You’ve been good company today.”
It struck me then. I didn’t feel as empty. Maybe it was the island or the sea, or just the simpler pace and way of life that revolved so much around the elements. Or her.
Because she and I had something in common.
We both had to be survivors.
Anya
Kim looked and waddled like a penguin that had eaten far too much Sunday lunch and was struggling with digestion issues. I found her watching her son outside, telling him to be careful as he tore around the gardens, pretending he was Superman and hunting down some imaginary enemy. At some point he would be demanding that I joined in with his games too, as he had at Christmas, but I wasn’t sure that I was able to play with a five-year-old at the moment. Some things were still hard.
“Morning, An.” Kim tore her eyes away from her son as I sat down next to her. “What plans do you have for today?”
“Maybe help Gabe out some more on the summerhouse.” I’d enjoyed it yesterday, the feeling of being active and busy, and outside. I had missed the fresh air more than I’d thought I would, and I hadn’t realised just how much until coming home.
Kim nodded and cast me a sly look. “He’s all kinds of gorgeous.”
“Don’t let your husband hear you saying such things.” There was no point protesting about Gabe’s good looks. Every female and some of the men would be aware of those biceps, no argument. Plus, Kim had always had an eye for man candy.
“He knows there’s no way I’d be doing anything more than looking. I’m not capable of doing anything more than looking for the next three weeks. Probably more than three weeks, because this little bugger is going to end up being late, I can tell.” She pressed both hands to her stomach.
“You chose to have another.”
Kim shook her head. “Nope. We didn’t. We were stupid and drunk. The one time I’d had more than a bottle of wine and we had a night to ourselves. And no condoms.”
I laughed. “I have no sympathy. You have a degree in biology. You know how these things work.”
Her hands became full of Superman Junior who was worried about the bee he’d just found. The boy had a bit of phobia of things that buzzed since he’d been stung at Easter and still got a little freaked when something that looked stingy came by.
“The bee won’t sting you unless it thinks you’re going to bother it. So, guess what? Don’t bother it! Go play superman away from its flowers.” Kim gave him a light tap on his butt.
“Can we go to the beach later?”
“Maybe. If I’m not too tired. Or maybe Aunty Anya can take you.” She looked at me pleadingly.
I bit my bottom lip. Calen had been the same age; part of my class for a year. Seeing my nephew running about the beach made me think of what he should be doing now, if his father hadn’t lost his mind somewhere between parents’ evening and his ex’s house then Calen might’ve been looking forward to playing on the beach too.
It smarted. Every lesson I’d taught for the past few months, every trip I’d taken the group on, every time I’d written out certificates for good work, I’d missed him and wondered why the hell I hadn’t spotted anything that night when his separated parents sat down in front of me while I talked them through the progress their son had made and how well he was doing.
They were taking him for pizza as a treat with his two-year-old sister and he was so happy that Mummy and Daddy were there together, and not apart as they had been for the last three months.
That was the last time I saw any of them. The phone call from my headteacher was the worst I’ve even taken.
“I’m not sure.” My voice was low and quiet, not wanting my nephew to hear my reluctance to take him.
“I get it.” Kim said, quietly, as he took off again, away from the flowers. “But at some point you have to stop punishing yourself for something you had absolutely no power over. It isn’t fair to everyone else.”
I’d heard it before. I didn’t disagree, but I wasn’t ready. I’d pushed myself too much in the last few weeks, trying to bury my anxieties and my grief about Marcy and it resulted in my bed being my safe haven. My headteacher came round, my colleagues having gone to her to tell her that I was in bed by six every night and refusing to speak to anyone, sleeping, not eating, all the signs of depression. I’d have recognised it in someone else, but I didn’t see it in my own reflection at the time.
“I know. And I get that everyone wants me to move on and be happy again and I will. Just not overnight. It’s a longer process than that. I’d like to say I’ll be able to look after him when the baby comes, but I’m not sure I will be able to. I still have moments, you know, when I don’t really know where I am.” They were fewer in number and were never as long as they had been when I’d first been told to take medical leave from school.
Kim shook her head. “I get it. I just want you back to how you were. Why not hand in your notice and move back here? I miss my sister.”
I didn’t respond, staring instead at the endless sea. It wasn’t the first time she’d said this since I’d moved away and like before, I wasn’t certain what her motivations were.
“Anya, you have family and friends here who miss you and want you to be here. Think about us and how much living here would mean.” She stood up, one hand going to the small of her back which probably hurt from the pressure of being pregnant.
If it had been last summer, when I was hearing the same patter from her then, I’d have turned and walked away. I didn’t have the energy right now, despite having slept well, despite having enjoyed myself yesterday.
