Page 9 of Life After Me

‘What are you apologising for?’ Matty asked, concern and grief etching new lines on his face as he stared at me over his sister’s head.

‘I don’t know.’ I rubbed my forehead tiredly. ‘I keep wondering and thinking maybe I could have done something different...’

‘Dad this isn’t your fault!’

‘It was my friends we were visiting. If I hadn’t insisted we go, and...’

‘And nothing. It was a horrible accident. There’s nothing you, or anyone else, could have done to change it. You can’t blame yourself.’

‘But I was the one driving!’ I snapped, yelling at them both, and regretting it instantly as Lottie’s face crumpled further and she pulled away. She looked at me strangely, like she barely recognised her own dad.

‘Do you really think you caused her death?’ she said in an incredulous whisper. ‘Please tell me you’re not actually blaming yourself for Mum’s death.’

I couldn’t find the strength to meet her eyes, and I didn’t have the words to answer her.

‘Dad, you didn’t do this. You’ve nothing to feel guilty for,’ Matty whispered forcefully.

‘But I do. Every day. I’m here and she’s not. It’s not fair.’ I hung my head. ‘She should have survived. She should still be here.’ I bit my tongue, not wanting to finish saying the thought aloud.

But Lottie knew me too well. ‘What? You think it should have been you instead? You think we should be going to your funeral tomorrow instead of Mum’s?’

‘Yes. I do.’ I shrugged, unable to take the words back once they’d escaped.

Lottie sighed hugely. ‘Dad, I love you. We both do. But you’re being an idiot. It was an accident. Horrible, and terrible and awful, but still just an accident. They aren’t anyone’s fault, that’s why they’re called accidents.’

‘You weren’t there, you don’t know for sure,’ I tried to argue.

‘No, we weren’t,’ Lottie shot back. ‘But we know you. You’d never do anything to hurt any of us. We’ve all heard what the police said. Accident.’

‘And you know Mum would hate it if she knew what you were putting yourself through,’ Matty added. ‘You can’t torture yourself like this. It isn’t fair.’

‘Nothing about this is fair,’ Lottie agreed. ‘But this isn’t making it any better. We need to pull together to get through this, especially over the next few days. It’s the only way any of us are going to make it out the other side.’

‘Agreed.’ Matty nodded and stood, stretching. ‘You’ve got to stop beating yourself up. This whole thing is hard enough without you making it harder.’

‘All right. I’ll try.’

‘Promise?’

‘Promise.’ I nodded.

‘Good.’ He peered at his watch. ‘I’ve got to get to the airport. Lucy’s getting in at three.’

‘She’s coming?’ Lottie pursed her lips.

‘Yeah. She is my girlfriend, Charlotte. Mum liked her, even if you don’t.’

‘I don’t dislike her,’ Lottie complained. ‘I just don’t get her. Or what you see in her.’

‘Yeah, well I don’t get what you see in half of your boyfriends either,’ Matty challenged, glaring at her. ‘Who was that last guy you dated? No one should have that much metal in their face. I don’t know how he blew his nose.’

‘You mean Dom? Well at least he wasn’t afraid of expressing himself. Better that than looking like corporate Barbie.’

‘Lucy does not look like corporate Barbie!’

‘ Puuhleeese .’ Lottie rolled her eyes. ‘She must get up at the crack of dawn to put on all that make-up and squeeze herself into those miniskirts. And I don’t know how she even walks in those shoes. Her feet must be ninety per cent bunions.’

‘Her feet are just fine,’ Matty snapped back, before turning to look at me in surprise, and I realised I was laughing out loud.

‘Something amusing you, Dad?’

‘I’m sorry,’ I gasped out between guffaws. ‘It’s just... hearing you two squabble like this takes me back about ten years.’

Lottie stared at me, an odd look in her eyes as she tried to fight her own laughter.

She glanced over to Matty, and lost all self-control, collapsing into fits of helpless giggles.

‘Go on.’ She waved at her confused brother.

‘Go pick up your Barbie doll. Make sure her little plastic shoes don’t fall off.

’ She collapsed against me, laughing hysterically.

* * *

Jenn

It’s good to see my family laughing, even if it is because of squabbling.

Lottie’s far too hard on Lucy. She’s really a lovely girl, even if she is a tiny bit tarty, in the nicest possible way.

She’s blonde, slim, big boobed and likes make-up and short skirts.

But beneath all the primping, fluffed hair and preening, she’s got a heart as big as a house.

And it’s solid gold. There’s nothing she wouldn’t do to help someone out, especially someone she cares about.

Besides, I guess maybe that look works in her PR job.

And she loves my son so much. She’s good for him, and she makes him happy.

I’m glad she’s going to be there for him tomorrow.

It’s going to be a long, hard day for them all, so I’m glad he’ll have someone there to support him.

Someone who would do anything to ease his pain and make his life better.

She’ll cry tomorrow, just like the others, but it won’t really be for me, which makes me smile.

Don’t get me wrong, we got on well when we saw each other, but I know half the reason she’ll be crying is for Matty’s pain, not her own, and that makes her incredibly special in my mind.

I don’t think he knows it yet, but I’m pretty sure Matty’s going to spend his life with Lucy.

They’re going to be so, so happy together.

I just wish I’d been around long enough to see him realise that Lucy is his “one”.

I hope Lottie manages to see beneath the push-up bras and hairspray, and realise how sweet and kind Lucy really is.

She’ll make a good big sister for Lottie.

She’s as organised and business-like as Lottie is creative and scatty, and I think they’ll bring out good things in each other.

Eventually. When they stop judging one another and realise how alike they really are.

Still, it’s good to see my children squabbling and laughing like they have done for years, and the glimpse of normality fills me with hope for their futures.

* * *

I slipped into our bedroom as David opened the door that evening, and felt a rush of pleasure as he paused, recognising my presence.

I wandered over to the wardrobes, and fingered the suit already hanging on the door.

The collar on the shirt was crooked, so I tugged at it, trying to smooth it flat and chase away creases with my fingers.

I don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow. It’s the day I’m going to be buried and laid to rest. I don’t know what that means for me as I am now, but I’m scared. I desperately want to be close to David tonight.

I’ve come to the frightening conclusion that maybe there’s no one in the odd grey world I’m inhabiting because they’ve all moved on to.

.. I don’t know where. Anything I used to believe about the afterlife, I’m now questioning.

But I can’t help thinking and feeling that after I’m buried, and the people I love have said their farewells, things might change.

That scares me because I don’t think I’m ready to leave yet.

For now I’m just going to stay here and rest my head beside my husband’s, and try to make sure his sleep is peaceful and healing. He’ll need a good night’s sleep before he can face tomorrow.