A Different Kind Of December: A Carnage Short Story

by Lesley Jones

  Marley’s front door is unlocked, and hand in hand, Cam and I walk right through to the open-plan kitchen and family room.

  Somehow, despite my husband being perfect and saying the exact things I’d needed to hear out in the car, I’d managed not to cry. As I make my way into my brother’s house and am greeted by the wide-eyed stares of my family, though, I feel myself wobble.

  Marley has a glazed look in his eyes, and I’m not sure if it’s the effects of being drunk, stoned, or because he’s just sad.

  The conversation falls silent as my brother walks towards me. Cam releases his grip on my hand as Marley wraps his arms around my shoulders and pulls me into his chest.

  “Little sister Georgia, it’s so very good to see your face.”

  “Big brother Marley, you have no idea.”

  “Oh, I think I do.”

  He leans around me and holds his hand out to shake Cam’s. “Big man. Good to see ya.”

  “Likewise.” Cam holds up a bottle of Pappy Van Winkles bourbon, and Marley’s eyes widen.

  “Well, fuck me, even better to see ya.”

  As Marley moves from me to Cam, Lennon steps into my personal space and pulls me in for an even tighter squeeze.

  “Porge.”

  “Len.”

  He kisses the top of my head and then quickly shifts his attention to Cam, Marley, and the fifteen hundred quid bottle of drink they are admiring.

  Then my girls are in front of me. Without a word, Ash reaches out and squeezes my boob.

  “What the fuck!” I slap her hand away as I speak.

  “Yeah, it’s really her.” She looks over her shoulder and informs Jimmie. Jim and I roll our eyes as Ash grabs me and kisses both my cheeks noisily. “Damn good to see ya, slutster. You still have such great tits by the way. No wonder TDH can’t keep his hands off them.”

  “He loves me for more than my tits, I’ll have you know.”

  “I do, her blow jobs are pretty fucking epic, too,” Cam calls out.

  “Dude . . . that’s my sister,” Marley objects.

  Jim and I again roll our eyes.

  “Long time coming, Georgia Rae, but seeing you like this today makes my heart happy.”

  “Happy to be the cause of your happiness, Jamie Louise, and I’m only here thanks to the love, support, and patience of all of you lot. Now, get me a drink, I’ve been sober far too long today.”

  Surrounded by the people that knew Sean best, I drank, I talked, I smoked a little weed, I danced, I sang, and eventually . . . I cried.

  When there was no more drinking, singing, talking, dancing, smoking, and crying to be done, my husband carried me out to a taxi and took me home.

  Thanks to the people that had always been unwavering in their love for me, I’d had the happiest, saddest day of my life.

  A

  couple of weeks later, I’m sitting at Jimmie’s breakfast bar, drinking a cup of tea.

  I’ve had a stand up argument—well, a full-on screaming match actually—with Tallulah this morning, and it left me shaken.

  She couldn’t find her school shirt. She has six school shirts, but she wanted to wear this particular school shirt. I’ve a feeling it’s because the shirt she was looking for is a size too small and makes her boobs look like they’re going to burst right out of it.

  When I told her I’d sent it with a bag of other stuff to the clothes bank over the weekend, she hit the fucking roof and told me I was a control freak who needed help and that she was moving out and going to live with my mother.

  Yeah, good luck with that.

  Good luck to both of them.

  Before I inflicted physical harm on my daughter, I got in my car and drove to Jimmie’s, leaving Cam to deal with the school run.

  “I don’t know why you let her get to you. Dealing with her is like arguing with yourself, and you should know by now you never listen to anyone.”

  I stare down into my tea, chewing on my lip.

  “Am I that bad?” I eventually look up and ask.

  Jimmie gives a small shrug. “You’re a lot better now than you used to be, but when you were younger, once that red mist came down, it was always better to walk away until you’d calmed down. Lu’s the same.”

  “Do you never row with your girls?”

  “Of course I do. Harley’s pretty easy going, but Paige, she’s more like you, especially lately.”

  I watch as Jimmie reflects my actions from earlier and stares into her teacup.

  It makes me feel like a shitty friend. Things haven’t been great between Jimmie and Paige for a little while, and I know that it’s partly my fault.

  Paige is, once again, back with her on-again-off-again boyfriend of the past eighteen months.

  What are the odds that Lennon and Jimmie’s daughter would end up dating the son of Rocco Taylor and Haley White? Considering who his parents are, RJ is actually a really nice bloke, or at least he seems to be.

  I’ve not been around him that often, I think Jim deliberately tries to keep us apart, which I’m thankful for. I may not have issues with him, but I won’t lie and say it’s easy to be around him. He looks a lot like his dad, and I’ll never forgive or forget what that man did to my family, what he took from Sean and me, and the way his actions changed my life irrevocably.

  I know that my own stubborn pigheadedness is to blame for the years Sean and I spent apart, but it all started with him—Rocco Taylor.

  And as for her, his mother, Haley White? It doesn’t matter that she’s seriously ill with sclerosis of the liver and has apparently been dying for the past eighteen months, I would happily punch the head in of that excuse for a human and enjoy it just as much as I did the last time.

  Forgiveness is not part of my vocabulary where those two are concerned.

  “How are things between the two of you?”

  Jimmies eyes slice to mine, and her chest heaves as she lets out a sigh and shakes her head.

  “Something’s not right, George. She came back here Sunday with a broken wrist and a cut over her eye, she—”

  “What the fuck, Jim?” I interrupt. “What happened, why didn’t you tell me?”

  “She reckons that she had too much to drink on Saturday night and fell down some steps.” I watch as she rolls her lips together, her voice quieter, she adds, “We’ve been that drunk, George, we’ve bruised our knees and scraped our palms, but she didn’t have any of those things, just a cut over her eye and a broken wrist.”

  I feel sick. My heart smacks against my chest like it’s trying to escape.

  “Where is she now? What did Len say? You think he’s hitting her?”

  She nods, and my blood feels like ice as it pumps through my veins. I can’t get my breath.

  Domestic violence is not something I’ve ever experienced, and the thought of somebody deliberately hurting my niece—or any other member of my family—sends my head into a spin. My first thought is to react with violence. I want to hunt that fucker down and feed him his own bollocks until he chokes, fucking him up the arse with his own dick in the process.

  “Oh my god, Jim, I don’t know what to say.”

  “Len went out looking for him Sunday night, but apparently, he flew back to L.A. Sunday morning with the band. She’s still denying that he had anything to do with it and reckons that he wasn’t even there, but I went online and found pictures of them out together on Saturday night.”

  Jimmie’s face crumbles, and I move around the breakfast bar to where my beautiful friend is falling apart and wrap her in my arms.

  “She’s my little girl, George, the thought of someone hurting her, him especially. That fucking family have put us through enough.”

  “I know, I know, Jim. I can’t believe this is happening.”

  “Can’t believe what’s happening?”

  I turn my head to see Paige standing in the middle of the kitchen staring at us. She looks terrible. There’s a cut and a bruise over her left eye, a slight bruise on her right cheek,
and her wrist is in a plastic cast. But it’s not just that; she’s so unbelievably thin. She’s always been thin, she’s a model for crying out loud, being thin goes with the territory, but she’s at least a stone lighter than when I saw her last, which was only about six weeks ago.

  I watch as she slowly licks her lips and asks slowly, “What did you tell her?”

  I pull away from Jimmie so that she can wipe her eyes on the cuff of her sweatshirt sleeves.

  “She told me that she’s worried about you. How’d you cut your eye and break your wrist, Paige, and don’t even attempt to bullshit me.”

  “None of your fucking business,” she snaps back at me. I’m shocked, but try not to show it.

  We’ve always been close, and she’s never spoken to me like this before.

  “You’re my niece, that’s my best friend, your dad’s my brother. I’m making it my fucking business.”

  She flinches at the harshness of my tone, and alarm bells instantly start to ring. Paige has always been confident and feisty. The girl standing in front of me now appears to be anything but those things.

  “I tripped up a couple of concrete steps when I came out of the club Saturday night. I put my hand out to stop my fall and landed awkwardly on my wrist, kept going forward and hit my face and brow. I was drunk, it was my own fault.”

  I don’t believe a word she’s saying, but that’s probably because not only does this involve a member of my family, but also involves the son of Rocco Taylor and Haley White. As much as I’d like to consider myself a fair person and give RJ the benefit of the doubt, in reality, I don’t. In my head, I’m already on the phone to Cam, telling him to track RJ down—wherever he might be in the world—and deliver a message that he’s to stay the fuck away from my niece and every other member of my family.

  With that message, I’d also like a little warning sent, a clue or a hint given as to what the consequences might be if he doesn’t comply. Just a small one . . . nothing that hurts too much.

  “Sit down,” I order. “You want a tea or a coffee? You need to eat, too, you look like you’re about to snap.”

  “Says my aunt who has less fat on her than a lettuce leaf.”

  “Sit down and shut up before I slap your skinny arse,” I again order.

  “I’ll make some eggs,” Jimmie says while moving towards the fridge.

  “I’ll do it,” I suggest.

  “No!” They actually both shout the word out at the same time. I hold my hands up in surrender.

  “Okay, chill the fuck out. I’ll put the kettle on, is that all right?”

  “Can you burn water?” Paige directs her question at Jimmie, and we all laugh.

  “Georgia could burn the sun,” she responds, and for a little while, we drink tea, eat scrambled eggs on toast, and talk shit. Paige continues to deny that RJ had anything to do with her injuries, and Jim and I continue not believing her.

  Eventually, I bring up the subject of Christmas.

  “Nina, Conner, and the kids are coming to ours for Christmas this year.”

  I watch as Jimmie’s eyes slide to Paige, and I know I’ve said something wrong.

  “Really? Why’s that? I thought they usually spent it with his family.”

  Jimmie plasters on a smile as she speaks, but it’s as fake as a politician’s promise.

  “Yeah, they do, but his dad’s going on a cruise and one of his brothers is doing something or another, so they all just decided to do their own thing this year. Ash mentioned that they were coming to ours, then asked me if they could come, so I called her and invited them.”

  Paige puts her fork down, her food unfinished. Jimmie does the same.

  “What you doing, d’ya know yet?” I aim my question at Paige. When I asked her last, she said she didn’t know if she would be in the country due to work commitments. Because she’s just told me that she’s had to cancel all of her work for the next six weeks, I’m assuming that’s no longer the case.

  “Can I bring RJ and his mum?” The tone she uses to ask the question tells me she already knows what I’ll say, but I almost choke as I answer.

  “No.” I don’t hesitate with my response. I feel like I’ve been stabbed in the heart. “Absolutely not. Never in a million years would I have that oxygen thief in my home or around my family. I can’t believe you’d even ask me.”

  She shrugs.

  She fucking shrugs as if what she just asked for is another cup of tea or for me to pass her a pen.

  “Don’t ask, don’t get.”

  “But you must’ve known what my answer would be. Have you any concept of what that woman did to me?”

  “Its ancient history and she’s dying.”

  “Well, she best hurry the fuck up and get dead. The world’ll be a much better place when she does.”

  “She’s a human being, Georgia, one that happens to be my boyfriend’s mum.”

  “She also happens to be the cunt who falsified a rape claim against my husband and brother and then stole four years of my life.”

  I stand and push back the stool I’ve been sitting on. I don’t know where I’m going or what I’m doing. I can’t fucking think straight.

  “Well, then the answers no, I won’t be there.”

  I nod. I’m wounded to the core and can’t believe she’d choose her over me. I feel an ache of betrayal bloom in my belly and the burn of tears in my eyes.

  “I need to go Jim. I can’t be around her right now.”

  Jimmie follows me as I head towards the front door.

  “Now do you see what I’m dealing with, George? I stayed quiet so you could see. I don’t know my own daughter.”

  I stop at the front door and turn and face my best friend, my sister.

  “I love you, Jim. I love all of you, and I totally understand if you want to have Christmas here so that you can spend it with Paige, but there is absolutely no fucking way I’m having that woman anywhere near me and mine.”

  Jimmie shakes her head. “I’m not generally a violent person, but you’ve no idea how hard it was in there not to slap my own kid. I don’t want him or his mother here, and right now, I don’t want to be around Paige, either.” I pull her in for a cuddle. “I’m so sorry,” she says into my ear.

  “Don’t be, none of this is your fault.”

  “Yeah, I keep trying to remind myself of that. Dry your eyes, I don’t want you driving like that. You won’t be able to see properly.”

  I give a small smile and kiss her cheek.

  “Yes, Mum, I promise to drive careful. I love you.”

  “Love you, too,” she responds as I head out to my car.

  I feel like my head’s about to explode.

  What a morning.

  First Tallulah and now Paige.

  Perhaps it’s not them. Perhaps it’s me who’s the total bitch.

  I call Cam.

  “Kitten. You calmed the fuck down?”

  I both smile and cry at the sound of his voice. Where would I be without this man and the way that he loves me?

  “Barely. Did they all make it to school all right?”

  “Yep, now I’m home all alone, sitting in my office answering emails.”

  “I’m five minutes away, what d’ya wanna do?”

  “You in every orifice.”

  “I’ll allow you inside two and neither will be my bum.”

  “You’re no fucking fun.”

  “Take it or leave it.”

  “Oh, I’ll take it one of these days. Drive careful, but get home quick. I love ya.”

  “Love you, too.”

  I end the call with a smile on my face. My shitty morning made better by the man who constantly rocks my world.

  Cam

  M

  arley looks up from his gift and directly at my wife, unshed tears shining in his eyes as he smiles.

  “It’s perfect,” he says quietly.

  Georgia shrugs. “I thought maybe it was time for a new one.”

  “Abso-fuc
kin’-lutely it is.” He stares down at the black leather guitar strap she’d had made for him and runs it between his finger and thumb.

  Georgia had explained to me that she used to buy both Sean and Marley a new one every year as a gift. She would use her dressmaking contacts and have them stitched with the band’s logo. Marley’s would also have the initials BBM—Big Brother Marley—stitched into it, and Sean’s would have G&S TWIMTB—Georgia And Sean. The Way It’s Meant To Be. When she lost Sean, she stopped the tradition, but this year, for some reason, has seen a massive turning point in the way she’s dealt with the loss, and she’s gifted her brother something that obviously means a lot to him.

  “Ohhh, leather. You gonna tie me up or whip me with it later?” Ash leans over Marley’s shoulder and asks.

  His eyes dart up, and he scans the room, making sure none of the kids or his parents have heard her remark.

  “Gag you with it if you don’t shut up.”

  “Oh, Rock Star, that works, too. Can’t wait.”

  “You’re giving me a boner in front of my parents, baby.”

  “I got under the dinner table and gave you a bl—”

  “Ash,” I snap. “Little ears.” I gesture towards Conner and Nina’s boys, who are playing with the action figures they’ve just unwrapped.

  While Conner is laughing, Nina, who’s a lot quieter than Ash, Jimmie, and Georgia, is staring wide-eyed.

  “Sorry,” Ash calls out to anyone that wants to listen.

  It’s the end of another Christmas day.

  Our home has been filled with noise and chaos for almost forty-eight hours now, but things are starting to wind down.

  The girls just need to get the message.

  Georgia’s parents have gone off to bed and so have Bailey, Sam, their kids and Conner and Nina’s boys. The younger adults and teenagers are scattered around the house doing fuck knows what, but it’s Christmas, 3.20am boxing day morning to be precise, and I’m past caring.

  “If I hear this song one more time, I might just shoot someone,” Lennon states as I top up his glass.

  “Don’t let Georgia hear you say that. She’s had this shit playing nonstop for the past three weeks.”