THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 21
MY LAST MEMORY
“Five more minutes,” I remember saying, kissing him lazily on the shoulder.
“I have to get up,” Marc said with a groan.
My fingers brushed his belly, tickling their way toward elastic.
“I’m sorry,” he said. He wriggled away, turning to plant a loving but firm kiss upon my pouting lips. “Tonight? I promise.”
I rolled over and faced the dressing table as Marc pulled himself out of bed and padded toward the bathroom. I bit my bottom lip to keep from crying, lay there as the clock ticked over, knowing soon I’d need to wake the girls, start our routine, but unable to leave these sheets, this bed. Unwilling to accept the day’s arrival.
Marc had no idea as he crept back into the room to pull on yesterday’s jeans and a crumpled striped shirt over his freshly showered skin that he wouldn’t be able keep that promise. Would he have been so keen to hurry down to the office and get stuck into a second year’s thoughts on Keats if he’d known that was our last chance?
He found me standing by the sink, rinsing his preferred coffee mug. The girls chewed cereal, still in pajamas.
“Morning, Daddy,” Charlotte said with her mouth full, then giggled as milk dribbled down her chin.
He kissed each of our daughters’ foreheads, then stepped in my direction, wrapping his arms around me from behind. I felt the warmth of his fingers through my robe, the chill of the tip of his nose as he nuzzled my neck. I clutched the edge of the sink, worried my knees might buckle.
I exhaled a long, silent breath, then turned around. “Don’t forget they have swimming tonight,” I said, pointing to the calendar on the fridge.
“Uhg, do I have to go?” Lizzie said.
“Yes,” said both Marc and I, then caught each other’s eye with a smile.
“But they’re going to make us do butterfly again. I get water up my nose.”
“Can we go to Center Parcs in the holidays?” Charlotte said.
“That’d be cool,” Lizzie said, sitting up. “I’m tall enough for the rapids now.”
“I like the roller-skating,” Charlotte said. “And the pancakes.”
Marc laughed and looked at me. “Maybe we could?” he said, raising his eyebrows. I suppressed a sudden urge to kiss both those eyebrows, to taste his skin. “We could get a chalet and see if everyone wants to go,” he said.
“Can Thomas come?” Charlotte said.
“You luuurve him,” Lizzie said.
“I do not!”
“You do! He’s your boyfriend!”
“He’s not!” Charlotte said, close to tears. “Mum, tell her not to be mean.”
Lizzie rolled her eyes. “I’m not being mean. Why are you getting so upset? You’re such a baby.”
“I’m not a baby.”
“Are too.”
“Girls!” I said. “Come on, time to get ready.”
“I’ll go,” Marc said.
I stood in the kitchen and listened to Marc usher them upstairs as Charlotte told Lizzie she was not the Messiah but a very naughty boy. I opened and closed my palms. “Come on,” I said aloud. I grabbed my mug and marched to the top of the house. I undressed and ran the shower until the water was almost too hot to bear. Bracing myself against the tiles, I let the water cascade over my body, opened my mouth so it would trickle to my tongue. I tasted salt and raised my head into the stream.
I dressed in dark jeans and the worn houndstooth jumper Ruth had given me a couple of Christmases ago, then crept down to the first-floor landing. Charlotte’s door was ajar. I put my ear to the crack. Marc was in there, searching for a discarded uniform, no doubt.
“What are you doing?” I heard him ask.
“Mr. Panda and Mr. Potato are getting married and having a baby,” our youngest replied matter-of-factly.
“Give me that Sharpie,” my husband said. “Now put this on.”
I passed Lizzie’s closed and silent door and felt a pang of something, but carried on down to the hall. I laced my shoes then yelled up the stairs that it was almost time to leave.
Waiting for my family now, I turned to the mirror above the key shelf. I studied my reflection, tried to find something familiar there. I ran my finger beneath my left eye, pulling the slackening skin taut.
“Now you’re older and I look at your face,” Marc sang as he descended the stairs, still buttoning his shirt. He stepped up behind me and kissed my shoulder. “Every wrinkle is so easy to place, and I only write them down just in case…”
“I should die!” I finished, sticking my tongue out at his reflection. I plucked a hair grip from the shelf and fixed it in my hair, then turned to the girls. “Right, are we ready?” I leant to finish tying a shoelace, wrapped a scarf around a neck.
Marc opened the door, kissed each of the girls on the cheek. “Have a good day at school.”
“Bye, Daddy!” they said as I sought their palms. Lizzie shook mine off and walked a couple of steps ahead while Charlotte told me what classes she’d have that day.
“Hey, Liz, wait for us,” I said as she neared the traffic lights.
She looked back and waited for us to catch up before pressing the button. We stood looking at the red man.
“You know you guys always have each other, right?” I felt both pairs of eyes turn to me. “That’s what makes sisters special. Promise me you’ll always look after each other. Whatever happens.”
“What’s going to happen?” Charlotte said.
“Nothing,” Lizzie said. The lights changed and we started to cross. “Mum’s just telling us not to fight.”
“I don’t want to fight,” Charlotte said. “You always start it.”
I hugged each of them outside the school gate, pressing them to me as they fought to escape my grip. “I love you,” I called after them. Charlotte turned around to wave. Lizzie sank her shoulders into her coat.
Back at home I found Marc sitting at his desk, still murmuring. “Take a look at these crows’ feet…just sitting on the prettiest eyes…”
“We need to take in that form about camp next week,” I said.
“Mmmhmm,” he said, eyes on the essay in front of him.
“Looks like it might rain, so I think I’ll cycle in now, try to beat it.” I stepped over to rub his shoulders.
He looked up. “You’re welcome to a lift, you know?”
We both smiled.
“Okay.” He sighed as my fingers probed his neck. “Have a good day.”
I reached around his shoulder. We kissed, awkwardly but passionately.
“What was that for?” he said, eyes squinted in arousal.
“For being you,” I said. I pressed my lips to his once more. “Bye, I love you.”
“Love you too.”
He turned back to his desk and I disappeared down the stairs. He’d have heard the back door close, the latch of the side gate click back into place as I let myself out.