not only that she’s gone but that I’ve got to face another day missing her. Then I spend the whole day waiting for her to come back, expecting her to be late.”
The medieval monks started chanting more incessantly, the same Latin words, over and over. “Ollie, bereavement is a process.” Shewished desperately that she could offer less trite words of comfort. “It’s not always going to feel like this.”
He snorted. “You believe that, do you?”
“Yes, yes, I do. I have to.” It just hadn’t happened yet. And in a weird way, part of her didn’t want it to happen. Her grief was all she had left of Sophie. She wondered if Ollie felt the same. Or were there different types of grief, Jenny wondered, different strains and hybrids? So that the grief a mother who lost a child suffered was fundamentally different from the pain of losing a friend or wife? Or was everyone stuck in the same long, dark tunnel, maybe just in different places, some closer to the light than others?
Ollie rolled himself a cigarette, licking the paper with the efficiency of someone who did it all the time, rather than someone who had supposedly stopped smoking when Sophie was pregnant with Freddie. The blue-gray smoke curled out of his mouth, over his beard, into the room like a Scooby-Doo spirit. “I woke up yesterday and I swear I couldn’t remember what she looked like. The past is fading, Jen.”
Jenny bit her lip, trying not to cry. Hopeless. She’d come here to comfort Ollie. She didn’t want him comforting her. She had to be strong. Strong and organized and helpful.
“No one else was there, you see. It was our world, the two of us. She was the witness. Now it’s gone. All fucking gone.”
I
was there, thought Jenny. I saw it. I saw you two fall in love. I saw how happy you made Sophie. You two were the yardstick by which I measured every relationship,
my
relationship. You two were the real deal. She saw them dancing again, dancers on their private stage, the look in Ollie’s eyes as he gazed at Sophie, a gaze of wonderment and ball-busting lust.
Freddie barreled into the room. “Hungry.”
“Are you? Um…” Ollie scratched his head, as if trying to make sense of the meaning of the word. “Fancy some toast?”
“We had that already today. Daddy, you have something in your beard. Euch.” He picked out the Coco Pop that Jenny had been longing to pick out and flicked it to the floor.
Ollie walked over to the fridge and surveyed it blankly. The open fridge door released a stale cheesy waft into the kitchen.
“I’ll pop out to the deli,” she said. Now this
was
something practical she could do. Something maternal. “You’ve got a nice one, haven’t you, up on the high street?”
“Can you get some chocolate cake?” Freddie asked.
“Sure. Whatever you fancy.” She winked at Ollie. “Chocolate cake for breakfast, lunch and dinner.”
Freddie pulled on Ollie’s hand. “Can I watch
Deadly 60
?”
Ollie shook his head. “Too much telly already, Fred.”
“
Strictly Come Dancing
?”
Jenny smiled. “You like
Strictly
, Freddie?”
“Freddie
loves
Strictly
.” Ollie grinned. “Soph got him into it. She had it all ramped up on the Sky Plus.” He looked down at the floor. “It’s still there. He watches it over and over.”
“I wish I was allowed to watch
Strictly
. Sam won’t let me,” she whispered to Freddie. “You and I must have a secret
Strictly
sesh together, Freddie.”
A smile lit up Freddie’s face. “Now?”
“Not right now, Fred,” said Ollie quickly. “I’m talking to Jenny.”
“Daddy…”
“Oh, okay,
Deadly 60
.” Freddie ran out of the room before Ollie had a chance to change his mind. Ollie rolled his eyes. “Can’t refuse him anything.”
“Totally understandable.”
“He’s my little warrior. He doesn’t deserve this shit.” Ollie took one more pull on his cigarette and stubbed it out, half smoked. He looked out the window. A cream puff of snow was
The medieval monks started chanting more incessantly, the same Latin words, over and over. “Ollie, bereavement is a process.” Shewished desperately that she could offer less trite words of comfort. “It’s not always going to feel like this.”
He snorted. “You believe that, do you?”
“Yes, yes, I do. I have to.” It just hadn’t happened yet. And in a weird way, part of her didn’t want it to happen. Her grief was all she had left of Sophie. She wondered if Ollie felt the same. Or were there different types of grief, Jenny wondered, different strains and hybrids? So that the grief a mother who lost a child suffered was fundamentally different from the pain of losing a friend or wife? Or was everyone stuck in the same long, dark tunnel, maybe just in different places, some closer to the light than others?
Ollie rolled himself a cigarette, licking the paper with the efficiency of someone who did it all the time, rather than someone who had supposedly stopped smoking when Sophie was pregnant with Freddie. The blue-gray smoke curled out of his mouth, over his beard, into the room like a Scooby-Doo spirit. “I woke up yesterday and I swear I couldn’t remember what she looked like. The past is fading, Jen.”
Jenny bit her lip, trying not to cry. Hopeless. She’d come here to comfort Ollie. She didn’t want him comforting her. She had to be strong. Strong and organized and helpful.
“No one else was there, you see. It was our world, the two of us. She was the witness. Now it’s gone. All fucking gone.”
I
was there, thought Jenny. I saw it. I saw you two fall in love. I saw how happy you made Sophie. You two were the yardstick by which I measured every relationship,
my
relationship. You two were the real deal. She saw them dancing again, dancers on their private stage, the look in Ollie’s eyes as he gazed at Sophie, a gaze of wonderment and ball-busting lust.
Freddie barreled into the room. “Hungry.”
“Are you? Um…” Ollie scratched his head, as if trying to make sense of the meaning of the word. “Fancy some toast?”
“We had that already today. Daddy, you have something in your beard. Euch.” He picked out the Coco Pop that Jenny had been longing to pick out and flicked it to the floor.
Ollie walked over to the fridge and surveyed it blankly. The open fridge door released a stale cheesy waft into the kitchen.
“I’ll pop out to the deli,” she said. Now this
was
something practical she could do. Something maternal. “You’ve got a nice one, haven’t you, up on the high street?”
“Can you get some chocolate cake?” Freddie asked.
“Sure. Whatever you fancy.” She winked at Ollie. “Chocolate cake for breakfast, lunch and dinner.”
Freddie pulled on Ollie’s hand. “Can I watch
Deadly 60
?”
Ollie shook his head. “Too much telly already, Fred.”
“
Strictly Come Dancing
?”
Jenny smiled. “You like
Strictly
, Freddie?”
“Freddie
loves
Strictly
.” Ollie grinned. “Soph got him into it. She had it all ramped up on the Sky Plus.” He looked down at the floor. “It’s still there. He watches it over and over.”
“I wish I was allowed to watch
Strictly
. Sam won’t let me,” she whispered to Freddie. “You and I must have a secret
Strictly
sesh together, Freddie.”
A smile lit up Freddie’s face. “Now?”
“Not right now, Fred,” said Ollie quickly. “I’m talking to Jenny.”
“Daddy…”
“Oh, okay,
Deadly 60
.” Freddie ran out of the room before Ollie had a chance to change his mind. Ollie rolled his eyes. “Can’t refuse him anything.”
“Totally understandable.”
“He’s my little warrior. He doesn’t deserve this shit.” Ollie took one more pull on his cigarette and stubbed it out, half smoked. He looked out the window. A cream puff of snow was
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