One More Thing

by Lilliana Anderson

  “I’ve had a wonderful evening,” Cherie said, holding her glass in the air after we’d all sung happy birthday. “Thank you all for coming to celebrate with me. It’s so nice spending time with family and new friends.” She paused to hiccup and giggle. I smiled, seeing more youth in her than the numbers we were celebrating suggested. “And I couldn’t ask for nicer ones. So, that’s all,” she said, tilting her glass. “Bottoms up and let’s eat cake.”

  “Yeah!” Ty cheered, picking up his fork to dive into the rich chocolate birthday cake.

  Cherie finished her glass then picked up a remote that controlled her stereo. Whitney Houston’s greatest hits filled the air. I laughed as she insisted that Jude needed to dance with her, and enjoyed watching them as they swayed to the lyrics of ‘Where Do Broken Hearts Go’.

  “Does this happen a lot?” I asked Marissa, who was also smiling.

  “More often than you’d expect,” she replied. “Give mum a glass of wine and she’s the queen of the dance floor. Jude has always been her favourite dance partner. He’s always done anything to make her happy.”

  “He has that kind of personality.”

  “He does. We’re happy he found you. Seems you make him the happy one.”

  “Oh no,” I replied. “That’s all him. He makes me happy.”

  Nudging me lightly with her elbow, she chuckled. “I think the feeling is mutual.” Then she turned to Ty. “Want to be my dance partner, little man?”

  With chocolate on his mouth, he grinned and nodded, taking Marissa’s hands and jumping up and down to the beat of the music. I took out my phone and snapped a few photos, grinning as I flipped through them. You’d never know it from the smiling faces in the room, but this family had struggled with terrible pain and devastation, yet they’d been determined. Their spirit had not been conquered. Being here, though, there was always a feeling that somebody was missing. I hoped that when Rigby was released, it would go a long way to healing the cracks in their joy. While he’d done something terrible, he’d also ended a reign of tyranny that they’d all felt powerless to stop. I’d grown up with so much love in my life that I honestly struggled to imagine how horrible growing up had been for them. No one wanted to say it, but I think they were all secretly grateful to Rigby.

  “My lady,” Jude said, snapping me out of my thoughts while holding his hand out for me to take. Cherie had moved over to Ty and Marissa and they were all swaying from side to side, singing along to the next track ‘All The Man That I Need’. Once again, I smiled at the happy scene.

  Taking Jude’s hand, I felt my stomach lift a little as he spun me around, tucking me close to his body. “Well, this is very romantic,” I said, smiling up at him. “You should dance with me more often.”

  “While we do dishes together?” He twirled me around then pulled me close again.

  I laughed. “It would certainly make it more fun.”

  When the track changed again, it was more upbeat and we all danced around together, jumping in the lounge room and just being generally silly.

  “Oh, I need a rest,” Cherie said, fanning herself with one hand and reaching for me with the other. “Come with me, Sarah, I need your help with something.”

  We left the others dancing and she led me down the hall to a bedroom obviously used more for storage than as somebody’s room. There were two single beds with striped blue duvets on them, and lots and lots of plastic tubs with white labels taped to them.

  “These are Jude and Rigby’s things.” She waved her hand about the room. “I left everything packed when we left the old house. I have no idea what Rigby will want to keep once he gets home. But I’ve kept it all in case either of them decide they want it.”

  “Would you like Jude to collect all of his things?”

  She picked up a folder and started flipping through pages, searching for something. “What? Oh, no. These can stay here forever if that’s what suits them. No, I want to give you something in particular. I’ve tried to give it to Jude several times, but he won’t talk about his mother to anyone so I couldn’t even bring the topic up.” She found what she was looking for then pointed out a tub that we needed to pull from the stack.

  “I’m hoping that he’ll let you show it to him. I really think it will help him heal somewhat.”

  “In what way?”

  “I’m sure he’s told you about his father. I mean, he wouldn’t let you around us without a warning if he hadn’t. So that means you know about the song.”

  “The one his father played before…”

  She nodded. “Yes.” Taking the lid off the tub, she dug through it until she found what she was after. A USB stick. “I found this in his father’s things after he died. It was on cassette but I had it transferred to this so Jude could have it and it wouldn’t get ruined.”

  “What is it, exactly?”

  “It’s his mother. She’s singing the song in a band or something. I know very little about her, but I think she was really close to a recording deal at one stage. There are some other songs on there too—covers mostly. But there are a couple of original songs. I think he should have it. He should hear that song again and think about his mum instead of the monster his father turned out to be.”

  “Did you know?” The question fell from my mouth before the words touched my mind. It was something I’d desperately wanted to know the answer to, but I regretted my slip immediately. “I’m so sorry. You don’t have to answer that.”

  She held up a hand. “It’s OK. I understand you asking. The simple truth is no, I didn’t know what he was doing to them. Steven was a chameleon. He had different guises for different people. Sometimes I hate myself for being so blind.” Pausing, she lifted the USB then handed it to me. “Promise me you’ll get him to listen to it.”

  Appreciating her brief but candid words, I nodded, looking at the strip of plastic in my hand. “The last time he heard that song things didn’t go so well. But, I promise I’ll try. I’d like him to think of his mum when he hears ‘Hey Jude’ too.”

  “Might help chase those demons away,” she said, patting me kindly on the arm.

  I smiled. “I hope so.”

  Before we reached the doorway, I stopped and turned. “Can I ask you something, Cherie?”

  “Of course.”

  “Rigby. Does he really blame Jude for what happened?”

  She let out a sigh, her lips curving downward. “Rigby is a complicated man. He knows it wasn’t Jude’s fault. He’s just angry at his brother for getting out when he did. But I can’t blame Jude—can’t blame either of them really. That man did make those boys’ lives a living hell. Jude wanted freedom and so did Rigby. They just went about it in very different ways. My biggest regret is not paying closer attention. Despite his masks, I knew Steven was a harsh man, but I didn’t realise how harsh. Then it was too late to save them.”

  Reaching out, I placed a hand on her shoulder. “Jude loves you, Cherie. He doesn’t blame you at all. The only blame he has is toward himself.”

  “Then make him understand that none of it was on him. Everything that happened was his father’s doing. Not one of us can change that now, so it’s best we move forward and remember the good things; like that song you have in your hand. Promise me you’ll give it to him, Sarah,” she asked again.

  “I promise,” I assured her with conviction in my voice.

  “Thank you, pet. I can see how much love he has for you and that little boy of yours. If anyone can help him forgive himself, I know it will be you.”

  The USB stick sat like a heavy burden on the bottom of my bag. I agreed with Cherie that Jude should hear the voice of his mother singing that song to him. But after the massive blow-up we had when we heard it on the radio, I was concerned about bringing it up with him.

  “Is everything OK?” he asked after I’d put Ty to bed and told him his favourite bedtime story about a golden boy who went on wild adventures. “You’ve been quiet since Cherie took you aside. Did she say someth
ing to upset you?” He stood in the kitchen making coffee, watching me with cautious eyes.

  “No,” I responded quickly. “She was lovely. We talked a little, that’s all. And she gave me something.”

  “She gave you something?”

  “Well, not me. It’s something for you.”

  The cautious look shifted to curiosity as he tilted his head a little. “She gave you something to give me on her birthday?”

  A slight chuckle bounced my shoulders. “Yeah.” I went to my bag to retrieve it, telling myself to just rip off the Band-Aid and deal with whatever may come of this afterward. “I think it’s kind of a big deal too. So I just want you to stay calm, OK?”

  Instantly, he stood up straighter. “Why?” He elongated the word.

  Wrapping my hand around the USB stick, I pulled it out and walked to the desk and picked up my laptop, bringing it to the kitchen to place in front of him.

  “Sarah, what is this?”

  “Are you calm?”

  “Not really.”

  “I need you to trust me. This is important.” I put the USB stick in the side of the computer and opened the folder. The moment he saw the name on it, he started shaking his head.

  “Sarah, no.”

  I grabbed his hand and brought it to my chest. “Before you freak out, I just want you to listen to it. Please. I think you need to reclaim it as the way it was intended when your mother gave you your name.” I could feel his tension, see the fear in his eyes. “Can you trust me?”

  The Adam’s apple bobbed in this throat as his breathing deepened. Beads of sweat formed on his brow that was knitted tight.

  “Please, Jude.”

  “OK,” he whispered.

  Reaching out, I hit play and waited. Soon, a female voice floated out of the speakers; sweet, soft and filled with love.

  His eyes widened, his lips parted. “That’s…”

  I nodded. “It’s your mum.”

  He pointed at the screen. “Where did this come from?”

  “She said that she found it a long time ago, but you wouldn’t talk to her about anything to do with your mum. So she gave it to me, hoping you’d listen.”

  His eyes filled with emotion and he pressed his lips together, nodding and swallowing and doing everything he could to keep the dam in place, but when the song reached its crescendo, the façade slipped and his arms shot out, bringing me to him, crying into the side of my neck.

  “Thank you,” he whispered when the song finished and he was able to regain his calm. He lifted his head and wiped his eyes. “That was…” He blew out a breath. “Amazing. It has been so long since I heard her sing it, I thought I’d forgotten what she sounded like. But the moment I heard it, I remembered—her smile, her laugh.” He grinned then pressed his lips together. “I don’t know that I’ll ever hear another version of this song and be OK with it, but I’m grateful to have this one. I really needed it. Thank you.”

  “Cherie wanted you to have your mother’s love back. And she wanted me to make sure you understood that none of it was your fault. I don’t know how much of a difference that makes to you, but she made me promise to tell you. I do hope you’ll take it on board.”

  “I’ll try,” he said, reaching out to take the USB stick from the computer. He held it between his fingers, twisting it around, studying it before lifting it slightly and meeting my eyes. “Sarah, meet my mum. She was beautiful and loved to sing to me.”

  I smiled as he slipped it into his pocket before he looked at the two coffee cups he had set out. “I think I need something a little stronger than that. Got anything to Irish those up?”

  “I think I have some Baileys in the fridge. Why don’t you go sit down? I’ll sort these out.”

  Leaning down, he pressed a kiss against my lips. “You’re the best thing about my life, Sarah. I hope you know that.”

  I placed my hand on the side of his face. “I do now,” I murmured. Then I kissed him back and we quickly forgot all about the coffee.

  32

  Thursday, 18th May, 2017

  “WHERE DO YOU want this stack of boxes?” Alex asked, wheeling a trolley loaded with heavy books.

  “In the front room,” I told him. He and Janesa were helping us move Jude’s belongings into my apartment. He’d sold his, and we were keeping mine so Ty had the option to use it if he wanted to go to university in the future. Until then, we were going to rent it out for the extra income.

  “This one?” he asked, pointing toward the door of the room that was once Tyler’s.

  “It’s empty,” I assured him, understanding his hesitation. The last time he was in there, Tyler was dying and it was filled with medical equipment.

  Nodding, he pushed the door open then took a breath before pushing the trolley into the room and unloading the books. “What did you do with his stuff?” he asked when he exited.

  “It’s stored at Susan’s.”

  Nodding, he looked relieved at that information.

  “I haven’t erased him, Alex. I’m just living my life, exactly how he wanted me to.”

  “I know that, Sarah. This is just a little weird for me. I mean, Jude’s a great guy. I like him a lot. I just wish it was Tyler. I miss him, you know?”

  “Yeah. I know. I miss him too. And if there’s anything of his that you wanted, I can call Susan and—”

  He held up his hand to stop me. “I just want my best mate back, Sarah.”

  “I get it. We’d all change the past if we could. But this is our reality now. And I’m happy, Alex. I’m really happy. I hope you can understand that.”

  Gripping the handle of the trolley, he gave me a half smile and nodded his understanding. “Well, I’d better get back up there.”

  I nodded, smiling a little back. I’d always liked Alex but ever since Tyler died, we’d struggled to communicate with each other. I suppose we just reminded each other too much of the fun we used to have and in turn, what we’d lost. Now, Alex had slipped into the role of my best friend’s husband. I missed what we’d once had.

  The day continued in a revolving door of shifting boxes and furniture, changing things around in my living room to fit everything that wouldn’t fit into the front room.

  “That’s the last of it.” Janesa sighed, flopping down onto the couch next to Alex. “Remind me of this day if I ever suggest moving, OK?” she said to him before waving her hand in front of her nose and complaining about his stink.

  Alex just hugged her and made her smell him more, causing her to squeal with laughter.

  “So mean,” she said when he released her.

  “We should go,” he replied, tapping her on the thigh. “I’m beat and I obviously need a shower. I’m sure you guys need to go get Ty from his grandmother’s.”

  I looked at the time and nodded. Susan had picked up Ty from preschool like she did on any other day when I worked. But we did need to pick him up before dinner so he wasn’t too tired to eat with us.

  “Thank you so much for your help,” Jude said, holding out his hand for Alex to shake.

  “And don’t worry, we’re getting removalists for the big move,” I assured him.

  He laughed and waved a hand. “It’s all good. We were happy to help.”

  “Just make sure you set some time aside to spend with us before your big move,” Janesa said, giving me a hug. “Moama is too far for our weekend runs. I’m going to miss you.”

  “I promise,” I told her, hugging her back. I was going to miss her as well. She’d been a big part of my life for almost a decade. It was going to be strange not seeing her most weekends, but we had promised to FaceTime and holiday together whenever possible.

  After seeing them to the door, Jude and I returned to the living area, flopping down on the closest seat, which was his couch. “We have too much stuff,” he said, putting his arm around my shoulders.

  “This couch is going to have to go.”

  “This couch is amazingly comfortable.”

  “But it
doesn’t match my couch and my couch matches the new house.”

  “My couch matches just fine.”

  “It’s old and brown,” I argued.

  “Yours is white,” he argued back. “It’s hardly practical.”

  I sat up shifting away from him, feeling defensive, because I had this vision of what the interior of our house would look like and wasn’t expecting an argument over it. “What’s so wrong with that?”

  “It has no character. White isn’t even a colour, it’s a shade.”

  Now I stood, my agitation forcing me to my feet. “So we just take your ugly brown couch instead because it has character? It isn’t even big enough for more than two people to sit on. It’s a bachelor couch, Jude. It isn’t a family couch.”

  He stood too, his hands moving about to punctuate his words. “How is a white couch a family couch? I suppose you’re going to tell me that my bed is going too?”

  I folded my arms across my chest. “It can go in the guest room.”

  His mouth gaped then closed. “You’ve just made all these decisions about my stuff without consulting me?”

  “Of course I have. If I left it up to you, our house would look like a library—an ugly brown library.”

  “Every bookworm in the world just felt those words like a knife in their heart.”

  I had been expecting a different kind of retort, something that would escalate our conflict further, but the comment stopped me in my tracks. Suddenly, I was laughing at the absurdity of it all. We were tired from moving and splitting hairs over things that didn’t matter.

  “So now you’re laughing at the book community. I thought you loved reading, Sarah.” He shook his head, folding his arms across his chest, but I could see the light dancing in his eyes.

  “I would love to live in a library. Just not a brown one,” I added calmly, moving until I was standing directly in front of him.

  “Then I have a suggestion for you.”

  “I’m listening.”