Just My Luck

by Andrea Bramhall

“I know that. But the least I can do is not make her the target for more abuse.”

  “Don’t you think that’s a bit strong?”

  “You think? Then what would you call it?”

  “People being idiots?”

  “Don’t you think that’s a bit weak?”

  “Maybe. But I can live with that.”

  “Well I can’t.” I drag my fingers through my hair to stop myself from touching her. “Damn it, Genna, Rosie has Down’s. That’s something she got from birth. Something I already gave her to deal with. I won’t add anymore to her burden—”

  “Abi, she didn’t get Down’s from you.”

  “Really? Well, it wasn’t caused by my age, and Kev’s had more than a few other chances to show that he’s unlikely to be the cause of it. It’s caused by faulty genes, Genna. Kev’s are fine. Who does that leave?”

  “Abi, it could just have been any number of factors. You know this. Just because age is unlikely to be the cause, it is just as likely that the reason for the extra chromosomal material is down to Kev, despite him having other kids without Down’s. It could even be that mosaic thing, which is like random or something and not either of your faults. You have nothing to feel guilty about—”

  “I don’t feel guilty. I am guilty! She is my child, and this is the right decision for her.” Damn it, don’t make this so hard, Genna. I don’t want to hurt you.

  “No it isn’t—”

  “I can’t be with you, Genna.” The look in her eyes tells me everything I will ever need to know about how she feels. About me. About Rosie. The love in there is so deep I know that the only way I can make her leave is to convince her that it’s been a mistake from the start. I know that right now, I’m not only giving up the lover I’ve wanted for years, I’m throwing away the friend that I need too, the one who’s held my hand when I needed support and who’s been the shoulder I could cry on. The friend with whom I’ve laughed, got drunk, and shared more about myself with than anyone in my life. Ever. I know that if I do this, I have to do it all the way. I won’t be able to hold on to a part of her, no matter how much I want to. If I do this, I have to push her all the way away. I have to set her free of me.

  “Yes, you can.” Her voice is barely a whisper, and I can see that she’s teetering between believing me and not.

  This is my last chance to pull back. To put it all down to nerves and let her reassure me that we can work through it all and that we will be okay. Last opportunity to give in to what I want, to let the chips fall where they may, right?

  “No. This,” I say and wave my hand between us, “is just a holiday fling.”

  She shakes her head. “No. You said you’ve wanted me for ages. Years. You said that.”

  “I was mistaken.”

  “What?”

  “It was just lust, Genna.”

  “But…but you said you wanted to be with me.”

  The pain in her eyes is unbearable, but I know I have to do more. She needs to break away from me completely. She needs to be totally away from me if she’s going to move on and be happy. And the one problem is that the only way I can think of to do that is to break her heart, to shatter it into little pieces. Just like I’m doing to my own. I hope one day you can understand, Genna. I love you.

  “It was just an experiment for me. Thank you for letting me fulfil a fantasy. Now that it’s out of my system, I can find a man to settle down with and give Rosie the father she needs.”

  I want to rip out my own lying tongue and take back every word as the tears run down her cheeks like rivers. I want to wrap my arms around her and tell her I’m lying. That I’m an idiot, and that I love her, just her, for the rest of my life. But I’m not right for her. I’m too old. I’ve got too much baggage.

  “But you said that you wanted to be together. That we were an ‘us’.”

  “Heat of the moment. I didn’t mean it.” I hope she can’t see the truth in my eyes, because this is killing me, pretending that she doesn’t mean the world to me.

  “I thought—”

  “I just wanted to fuck you, Genna. You were happy enough to do that. You were a good lay. Very good. Now it’s out of my system. It’s that simple.”

  So simple that Genna runs out of the room. I can hear her sobbing in the lounge. Then the outer door slams shut behind her.

  “I’m so sorry, Genna. I love you so much.” The tears run down my own cheeks now. She’ll get over it. She’ll find someone so much better for her. Someone her own age, baggage-free, and who can give her everything she needs. Someone who doesn’t have more lines around her eyes every single morning. Someone who doesn’t have more grey hairs than she can count. Someone she can grow old with instead of someone who’s already old. Someone who isn’t a coward and deserves her. More than that. Someone who’s proud to be seen with her, not scared of a few hurtful words.

  I’m pathetic.

  CHAPTER 27

  GENNA

  I’ve got sunburn on my lips. My lips. And the tip of my left ear. Don’t know how I managed that one, but it could have something to do with the fact that I got slightly inebriated after I left the cabin and I haven’t been back since. That was two days ago, and I’ve been sleeping on the deck. In a lounge chair. On the deck.

  I know that I need to go back. I need to change my clothes because I really stink. I haven’t eaten, and I really need some sun cream or maybe I’ll go straight for skin grafting to repair the damage. Not that it matters, really. Well, not to me. I don’t care anymore. I thought she actually cared about me. I thought we were building something special. I thought she was the woman of my dreams. Fuck that, she still is the woman of my dreams. Still. I’m just not hers. And it hurts.

  Fuck, it hurts. This is nothing like Ruth. With her, I was angry. I felt betrayed and I felt like punching her. Now, all I want to do was crawl under a rock and never come out. I feel like there’s this hole in my chest and I can’t breathe. She ripped out my heart.

  I should have known it was too good to be true. I mean, she’s amazing. Why the fuck would she ever want to be with someone like me? Ginger. Fat. Freckled. I should have known she was winding me up when she said she loved my freckles. But it felt real. It felt right. Fuck, she kissed every damn freckle she could find. Even the one on my boob that looks like another nipple and the one on my back that she said looks like a heart.

  It was all fake?

  Just what she needed to say to get me into bed. She obviously wasn’t listening very well. She didn’t need to fake anything, if that was all she wanted. I would have gone like a heifer being led by the nose. I didn’t stand a chance. Never did, did I?

  I need to pee.

  I open the door and stagger down a flight of stairs until I find the right door and stumble into a stall. That’s when it happens, when my knickers are around my ankles and I’m hovering over the toilet seat trying not to sit down. I hate sitting down on public toilets. That’s the moment the horn blares.

  Then the lights go out and everything goes quiet.

  I wipe, pull up my pants, and try to flush. Not working. I try to wash my hands in the paltry light filtering through the porthole, but the taps don’t work either. Great. I head out of the bathroom—sorry, head—and hold the door open behind me to try and see down the corridors. The acrid smell of smoke is wafting up from the belly of the ship.

  No, no, no, no, no. This cannot be happening. Cannot. Okay, maybe it can, but it shouldn’t. Shouldn’t be happening. Okay, Genna, think. Think. Where am I in relation to the cabin? Two floors up and on the other side of the ship. Fuck. Easiest way back is to go from the outside. At least that way I can see where the hell I’m going. I have got to get to Abi and Rosie. I don’t care if she doesn’t want me, I can’t let anything happen to them.

  What if they aren’t in the cabin?

  Thank you, fucking annoying little voice in my head. Thank you so much. I can’t think about that right now. I can only deal with one thing at a time. So I run for the stair
s and back out into the sun. Other people are starting to filter out onto the decks. Fear, shock, and disbelief are clear on every face I see. People are crying, shouting. Demanding to know what the hell is going on. I run past one of the lifeboats as I climb up two decks and see an elderly woman sitting inside. Life vest fastened tight and her knitting needles flying as she sings “When the Saints Go Marching In” at the top of her lungs.

  There is so much going through my head. Like the fact that boats do actually sink. That it’s not just for films so that Kate and Leo can do their thing. They actually really sink. People die. Real people. And Abi and Rosie are somewhere inside this ship, and I brought them here. I brought them on holiday with me because I didn’t want to be alone, because I wanted Abi to be with me. In any way. Any way. And now my selfishness is going to get them killed. We are hundreds of miles from land, in shark-infested waters. With pirates out there. Not Rosie’s fictional Pirates of the Caribbean pirates. These are real, modern-day pirates, with machine guns, speedboats, and hostages.

  Focus, Collins. Don’t think about how good being held hostage would be for the diet. It is not a safe method of shedding pounds. Focus.

  I yank open the door into the labyrinth of corridors inside the ship, and a man runs straight into me.

  “Get out of my fucking way. I’m not getting stuck in here.”

  He runs off. I shake my head and try again. The smoke’s thicker now, and hot. It’s burning the back of my throat. I picture the corridor where our cabin is, trying to count the number of doors down before I step into the burning belly of the beast.

  Then I hold my breath and run. And pray.

  CHAPTER 28

  ABI

  “Mum, I’m scared.”

  “I know, sweetie. Come here.” I sit her on my knee and cuddle her, then gently wipe the tears from her eyes. At least with the patio windows, we have plenty of light coming into the room. I keep the door closed so the smoke isn’t coming in, but the temperature is already climbing now that the air conditioning doesn’t work.

  “Where’s my Genna?”

  “I don’t know, sweetie.”

  “I want my Genna.”

  “I know, sweetie.”

  “Doesn’t she love us anymore?”

  “Oh, sweetie. Genna will always love you.”

  “Doesn’t she love you anymore?”

  “I don’t know, sweetie. Probably not.”

  “Don’t you love her anymore?”

  “I do.”

  “Then you have to make her love you again.”

  “Rosie, why are you saying all this?”

  “I love Genna. I want her to stay with us all the time. I like it when you smile, and you smile at Genna all the time.”

  Could it really be that simple? Am I overthinking everything? Rosie’s my number-one priority. Genna vanishing from her life is not in Rosie’s best interest. Rosie loves her as much as she loves me. She’s practically her mum anyway, and Rosie doesn’t care. Right now, all I want is for Genna to walk through that door and hold me and tell me that she loves and forgives me. And then I’ll tell her how much I love her. And kiss her. I need her.

  “Rosie, I need to ask you something.”

  “What?”

  “You know that all your friends at school have a mum and a dad, right?”

  “Yes. Except Sally. She has two dads.”

  “She does?”

  “Yes. Her dads ’dopted her when she was a baby.”

  “And she’s your friend?”

  “Yes. Sally’s really nice. I like her a lot. Can she come for tea when we get home?”

  “Of course she can, baby. Does she get upset that she has two dads?”

  “No. Why?”

  “So she doesn’t get picked on or anything?”

  “No. She’s really nice, and her tall dad comes to school to help with the music lessons.”

  “Rosie, would you mind if you had two mums?”

  “’Pends.”

  “What does it depend on?”

  “Will you still be my mum?”

  “Yes.”

  “Who’s the other mum?”

  “Well, would you like it to be Genna?”

  “Yes. When can I tell her she’s my spare mum?”

  As simple as that. Why didn’t I think before I opened my big mouth? Why didn’t I talk to her, ask her? What the bloody hell was I thinking? That’s a laugh. I wasn’t thinking. I was panicking. Because I’m the mum, and Rosie has to come first, right? Right. So why didn’t I think of that before? Because there is no doubt in my mind that on a day-to-day basis, Rosie would be happier with Genna there. She always has been. Why would that change? What on earth possessed me to think that this would be bad for Rosie? Having more people in her life who love her unconditionally can only be a good thing.

  So what if some people won’t like it? So what if there’s an age difference? Genna doesn’t care that I’m getting old and grey and that the lines around my eyes are definitely wrinkles and not laugh lines anymore. Genna loves me. I saw it. It was right there. She loves me and I love her. Rosie loves her. She loves Rosie.

  Fuck. I’ve got to talk to her. I’ve got to tell her I made a mistake.

  “When, Mum?”

  “As soon as we see her, but let me talk to her first.”

  “Okay. Where is she?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I’m hot.”

  “I know, baby.”

  “I want to go outside.”

  The banging on the door startles us both.

  “Abi, please open the door.”

  “Genna.”

  I don’t know who reaches the door first, me or Rosie, but we open it together and drag her inside. She trips over the step and falls in rather than walks. Rosie piles on top of her.

  “I want you to be my spare mum, Genna. Will you? Please?”

  She wraps her arms around Rosie and eases herself and Rosie into a sitting position. “Sweetie, we need to talk about this later. Right now, we need to get out of here and onto the deck. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “Grab your backpack, sweetie.”

  Rosie runs off to her room. Genna opens the minifridge and empties out the contents into her bag. She doesn’t look at me the whole time. “That was low, even for you.”

  “Genna—”

  “You made yourself clear, Abi. We don’t need to replay it.”

  “I wasn’t clear. I need to explain—”

  “No, you don’t. We don’t have time for this. There’s a fire on this ship, and we need to get out of here.”

  “Genna, please let me talk to you.”

  “Didn’t you talk enough the other day? Didn’t you say everything that you needed to?”

  I actually did it. I really did break her heart. My heart catches in my chest, and all the breath leaves my lungs.

  “Genna, I’m ready,” Rosie says, holding her backpack.

  “Good girl. Come on, we need to go.” Genna slings her backpack over her shoulders and picks up Rosie. She’s at the door before I even move. “Abi, we need to go together. Are you coming?”

  I can’t talk. All I can do is follow her. I follow her out of our room and down the corridor. It’s filled with smoke. I can’t see two feet in front of me, so I put my hand on her shoulder. She stiffens beneath my touch, and it’s all I can do not to cry as she continues to lead us out onto the deck. I squint at the brightness of the sun and pull a deep breath into my lungs. She puts Rosie down and holds her hand but continues to lead us along the deck towards one of the lifeboats.

  “You think it’s that serious?” I ask.

  “I don’t know, but I’m not taking any chances. If we need to get on that thing,” she says and points to the lifeboat. “We don’t have to go looking for one.”

  “How far are we from land?”

  “Not sure. Based on when we were due to make our next port and when we left, probably a couple of hundred kilometres.”

&nb
sp; “Shit.”

  “Mum, that’s a bad word.”

  “I’m sorry, sweetie.”

  I watch Genna sit and lean against the bulkhead. Her face is badly sunburned, her clothes are a mess, and it’s obvious that she hasn’t been eating or sleeping properly. Rosie sits down next to her and cuddles into her body.

  “I missed you,” Rosie says.

  Genna is struggling to hold back her tears. I can see it. I watch her swallow as she kisses Rosie’s head and whispers to her. “I missed you too, baby girl.”

  “Where’ve you been?”

  “Just around. I needed some time to think.”

  “About what?”

  “Just some grown-up stuff.”

  The reality of the situation finally hits me. We are more than a hundred miles from land, and there is a fire on the ship. We obviously have no power. At best, we’re adrift. At worst, we’re going to sink. The woman I love is sitting ten feet away, holding my child like she is her own after running into a burning ship to rescue us.

  Hello, my name is Abi, and I am a fucking idiot.

  “Genna, can I talk to you, please?”

  “Not now.”

  Time isn’t a luxury I have right now. Who knows how much time we’ve got? The boat could be sinking, for all I know. I mean, I’ve seen Titanic. That went down in what? Four hours? Less? No, waiting is not an option. I’ve spent far too much time waiting, to waste any more of it. Now I need to make this right. To tell her everything and let the chips fall where they may. If this is the last chance I get to tell her anything, I’m damn well going to tell her the truth about how I feel.

  “No, now.” I kneel down by her knees.

  “I don’t want to talk now.”

  “Then don’t. Just listen.”

  She doesn’t say anything. She still doesn’t look at me. But she doesn’t get up and walk away either. I’m taking that as a good sign. “Eight years ago, I met this wonderful girl, and I grew to love her. Despite the fact that she was fourteen years younger than me, she became my best friend. I relied on her. Trusted her. I learnt that it was okay to need her, because she was always there for me. And I loved her.

  “Three years ago, she met someone and started a relationship. Up till then, I knew I loved her but it was platonic. It was innocent. I’d watched her grow from a cute teenager to a beautiful young woman, but I didn’t see her as a sexual person then. Not until she started a relationship with someone else and I started to feel something whenever I saw them together. I was jealous. I didn’t want to see her with someone else. I wanted her to just be with me. At first, I thought I just was jealous because I thought I was losing my friend. But she was amazing about that. She didn’t forget about me or my little girl. She spent time with us still, and I realised that this wasn’t why I was jealous. I wanted her. I wanted her to be with me, not this other woman. But I convinced myself that I wasn’t the right person for her. I was so much older than her. The fact that her girlfriend was only a few years younger than me didn’t register in my head. I have a child. She was with someone else. And I had every reason to believe that she was in love with this other woman. There were so many other reasons that I convinced myself of in order to keep my feelings in check. Feelings that I realised were love. I didn’t just love her, I was in love with her—totally, completely, head-over-heels in love with her.