by Amy Daws
Dad smiles a sad smile as tears fill his eyes.
“As for you, Mum”—Vi looks up at the sky—“I’ve decided that being sad about your passing would be living only a little, and I want to live a whole hell of a lot. So, thank you for sharing your name, your birthday, and your love of cooking with me. And thank you for these four brothers of mine. No one can say you didn’t live a lot, Mummy. No one.”
With a tearful smile, Vi walks over to Dad with her piece of paper and hands it to him. He carefully rolls the sheet up and bends to pick up a corked, green glass bottle from the sand. He pops out the cork and slides the sheet inside before wrapping Vi in a long, tight hug. We all watch the emotional display of Vi crying on Dad’s shoulder, none of us able to hold back our own tears any longer.
Sloan’s small hand in mine feels like a tugboat rescuing a giant ship from the sea. How she’s able to comfort me with her gentle calmness at such a difficult time doesn’t seem possible. She rests her head on my shoulder and gently runs her hand up and down my arm in smooth strokes. I’m glad she’s here. Standing here alone would have been ten times harder as I look at my brothers comforting their partners.
Everyone has someone now. Even me.
Vi finally pulls back from Dad and swipes at the tears on her face. “Who wants to go next?”
Booker instantly steps forward, his hand leaving Poppy’s as he moves to take Vi’s place. Vi gives him an encouraging rub on his shoulder as he clears his throat and unfolds his paper.
“I didn’t know Mum as well as most of you did. I was only one when she passed and, sadly, my memories don’t go back that far. So I never knew her face or how she smelled. I don’t recall anything other than what you guys have told me and what I’ve seen in photos. But the thing I do share with our mum is an understanding of how incredibly hard it would be to feel poorly when you have a baby to care for. My son is still tucked safely away, but I already feel a tremendous sense of responsibility for him. And I can’t wait for the day I get to meet him. See him. Hold him. Smell him. Knowing that Mum had that time taken away from her is awful to think about. But I’ve seen the way Poppy’s eyes light up when our son kicks inside her stomach, or when he gets the hiccups and does what babies do in the womb. She’s so in love with him and she hasn’t even laid eyes on him yet. So I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m grateful Mum and I at least had those moments together because, from what I can tell, they are very special indeed.”
Booker tugs on his earlobe awkwardly before handing his message off to Dad to deposit inside the bottle. He pauses and pulls a small black and white photo out of his back pocket and hands it over to Dad. “This is one of our first ultrasound photos. I’d like it in there as well.”
Dad smiles a wobbly smile and wraps the photo inside Booker’s note. He hugs Booker quickly and before Booker passes me by, I pull him in to a hug as well. His shoulders tremble beneath my embrace and he pulls back to look at me, his eyes red-rimmed and glossy. His voice is quiet enough for only me to hear when he says, “Truthfully, Gareth, the best memories of my childhood all include you. I hope you know that.”
His dark eyes are round and wary, obviously still thinking about everything that was said last night and unaware that Dad and I have talked.
“I know that, Booker. I know.” I pull him into another hug and clap his back a few more times. “Thank you for saying that, though.”
He nods and looks down as he steps away from me to resume his position next to Poppy.
Camden and Tanner are up next. They look at each other awkwardly before walking up to speak together as Belle sidles up next to Indie to watch their husbands give their eulogies.
Tanner points to Camden for him to begin, so Cam unrolls his piece of paper and says, “I’m not sure if I started reading a lot because I’m like Mum or because I wanted to be like Mum. Either way, I love that I share this hobby with her. She used to make notes in the margins of her books like I do now. I like to think that every time I write a thought in a novel, she can see it from wherever she may be, like I’m having my own personal conversation with her about my current read. So, cheers, Mum, to many more books we can enjoy together.”
Camden hands his paper off to Dad, who makes quick work of slipping it into the bottle while Tanner prepares to speak next. Tan tucks some loose hairs behind his ears and says, “To be honest, I don’t have a lot to say. I’m just grateful to Mum for giving us this family. I may be the obnoxious sod of the lot and I know that most of you want to thump me daily, but I hope none of you doubt how much this family means to me. How much I value seeing all of you most Sundays and being involved in each other’s lives so much. We play football and we play it well, but there’s nothing we do better than family. We always have and I hope we always will. So, cheers, Mum, for bringing us all together.”
Tanner looks out at the ocean as he hands his paper off to Dad. Camden wraps an arm around his shoulder, comforting Tanner in another one of his rare moments of solemnness. Once Dad has both their notes inside, he wraps the two of them in a hug that Tanner manages not to make a lewd joke about. Then Vi looks at me with bright, blue eyes.
Sloan gives my hand a tight squeeze, and I look down at her for a minute before taking my spot in the middle. With a deep breath, I unravel my paper and stare down at the words I prepared before Dad and I spoke this morning; before I blew up on my entire family; and before Sloan opened me up in ways I never imagined I could open up. I return the paper to my pocket and look at all the faces of my family members.
“I don’t want to be distant anymore. I want to…be here. I don’t want to fight or be angry at you anymore, Dad. I don’t want to hold back memories of Mum because I’m resentful of what happened in the past. Being angry doesn’t make any of our lives better. I just want to love you for who you are and stop begrudging you for what you were not.
“I think what I’ve learned over the past few years is that we all did the best we could. I wasn’t perfect. Hell, I know that. And I don’t hate the life I lived with all of you. I hope you all know that. Hate wasn’t what pushed me to sign with Man U. Being a part of raising all of you was never a burden. Not once. It was an honour. And even though it might seem like I’m a moody arsehole, I hope none of you ever doubt how much I cherish our family.”
Vi breaks out into a sob and hands Rocky off to Hayden. She hustles straight toward me and yanks me down into a tight hug. Her voice is soft in my ear when she croaks, “I love you so much, Gareth.”
“I love you, too, Vi,” I reply through clenched teeth and pull back to look at her tear-stained face. The two of us have been through a lot together, and our bond is something that will never break. She turns and goes back to Hayden, hugging him firmly before turning to look back at me.
“And now, to our mum,” I start and inhale a deep breath as a large knot forms in my throat. I look down at the sand, unable to look my siblings in the face as I speak my next words. “I remember the day you died, you told me that it would bring you great joy when my heart became louder than my head. Well, I hope you’re smiling from wherever you are because I don’t think my heart could get any louder than it is right now, in this moment.”
I sniff loudly, my feelings overwhelming me as I wipe away the tear that’s slipped down my face. “I love you, Mummy. Thank you for this family, and thank you for being the best friend I ever had.”
A heavy breath blows out from between my lips and, in one quick shot, my dad has me wrapped in a hug. A tight, fierce, overpowering embrace that I accept whole-heartedly because it feels genuine and true and exactly what I need.
When Dad releases me, I dig out the eulogy I didn’t read and hand it over to him. He tucks it inside the bottle as I move back to where Sloan is standing, tears flowing freely down her face and her golden eyes alight with wonder. I wipe at her cheeks as she wraps her arm around my waist. I drop a soft kiss on her forehead, then turn to look back at my father.
He rolls the bottle around in his han
ds over and over as he says, “Love isn’t supposed to be cute and easy. It’s supposed to be raw and break you down until you find your true self. It’s supposed to be so potent and wonderful that you don’t want to remember the person you were before you experienced its greatness. That’s the kind of passion you search for your entire life. And that’s the kind of passion I found with your mother.
“I loved Vilma so fiercely that I felt the loss of her before she even died. I suffered the stages of grief while she was still here because I couldn’t stop myself from mourning the impending loss of her. And because of my choices, I missed most of your childhoods, and you all deserved better than that.
“But I am awake now and I refuse to miss any more. I am done grieving. This isn’t a day to dredge up old pain. It’s a day to release it out into the sea and say goodbye to it forever. I want things to be better from here on out. I’m going to be there for Rocky’s first steps and the birth of Booker and Poppy’s son. I’m going to visit Manchester as often as Gareth will have me. Whatever any of you need, I’ll be there. Even if what you need from me is space, that’s fine, too. I’m going to make our family my priority the way I should have when Vilma died.
“That’s why I think this will be my final season with Bethnal Green Football Club.”
A collective gasp from the entire group has Dad’s face turning a deep shade of red, but he shakes his head and adds, “Football isn’t my passion anymore. I see now that it just helped me forget. It helped me feel human. It helped me by giving me a way to connect with you kids. I don’t need that anymore. I’m back and I’m here, and I want to spend my twilight years enjoying the family your mother and I created together.”
He pauses for a minute to look up at the sky, tears running out of the corners of his eyes as he says, “Vilma, my darling, that is my vow to you. From Heaven, you can watch me grow old with our grandchildren and tell them stories about how wonderful you are. Your spirit will be the life of our family, even in your death.”
Dad looks back at all of us and adds, “The bad got me to the good. And when I look at all of you, I only see good. Thank you all for being the second greatest loves of my life.” He takes a deep breath and turns to the ocean. “Now, let’s set this bottle out to sea, shall we?”
As a group, we move out toward the water and watch Dad launch the bottle with all of our eulogies inside. The words for our mother, about our mother, and, above all, about our family.
…What this day is truly about.
“SLOAN, YOU LOOK HOT!” VI peals as I walk up the staircase and enter the VIP section of the disco bar that’s attached to our hotel. This is where the girls told me to meet them for our Tequila Sunrise bachelorette party, but I’m shocked to find the club is completely empty. The lights are swirling and the music is thumping loudly down below, but there’s not a person in sight other than our group of girls who are all seated on several black leather sofas.
I smooth down my nude-coloured, knee-length dress that’s decorated with a cool, metallic shimmer and a T-strap back. It’s a fabulous dress I bought for a client who asked me to send it back because it wasn’t a well-known designer. I was bummed because it was a unicorn of a find, so I had to keep it for myself.
“You are the one who looks hot,” I reply, eyeing Vi’s trumpet-shaped, floor-length, red dress. Wide straps crisscross on the back, revealing more than a smidge of her tanned skin. “Aren’t brides supposed to wear virginal white?” I ask with a smile as she pulls me into a hug.
She waves me off. “Red is my colour! And it drives Hayden mad.” She giggles and turns to face the group with me on her arm. “Okay, so you know Poppy, Indie, and Belle, but you haven’t met Hayden’s sister, Daphney, yet. Daphney, this is my brother Gareth’s girlfriend, Sloan.”
A younger-looking blonde waves from her spot on the other side of the coffee table as I say, “Nice to meet you.”
“And this is Hayden’s brother’s wife, Leslie!” Vi adds, turning me toward a girl with auburn hair who’s wearing a fabulously flamboyant dress. “She was my co-worker at Nikon first, though!”
“And if it wasn’t for me, you never would have ended up with Hayden!” Leslie exclaims, hopping up from the end of the couch and rushing over to shake my hand. “Hey there! You’re Sloan the American, right?”
I chuckle at the label. “That I am. You sound a bit American, too. Am I right?”
“I’m a born, bred, and cattle-fed Missourian! Where are you from?”
“Chicago!” I exclaim, tickled to have met a fellow Midwesterner.
“How crazy that we are meeting in West Africa!” she exclaims with wide eyes as she sucks through the straw of her drink.
Belle suddenly holds a glass out in front of me and says, “Drink up. Tequila Sunrise cocktails are the recipe to all that is good in life. You’ll thank me later.”
I accept it with a shrug and take a fortifying sip of the refreshing drink. “So you guys just arrived today, right?” I ask Leslie as Vi gets pulled into another conversation.
Leslie nods. “Yes. My two-year-old daughter, Marisa, cried almost the entire flight. It was awful. Luckily, my husband’s parents are on babysitting duty tonight, so Mama gets to party!” She swivels her hips and takes another drink.
“Oh, that’s so nice!” I reply with a smile. “My daughter, Sophia, is seven now, but she was three when we moved to England. I’m pretty sure that flight is where these came from.”
I point to the fine lines by the corners of my eyes, and Leslie bats my hand away with a scoff. “Please, I don’t see lines at all! You’re gorgeous.”
“And you’re sweet,” I reply with a laugh. Her accent reminds me of Sophia a bit because sometimes her words don’t sound fully American. She’s clearly been living in England longer than I have. “What brought you to England? Was it Hayden’s brother?”
“No. He was just a lucky bonus!” She smiles a Cheshire Cat sort of grin. “I work for Nikon with Vilma…Sorry, I know the rest of you call her Vi. We’re both camera bag designers and their headquarters are in London, so that’s kind of how I ended up over here.”
“Oh, how cool!” I exclaim. “I haven’t really had a chance to talk to Vi much about her job. I’m, well…I’m technically just a stylist, but I love designing and sewing when I have time.”
“OMG, me too! What do you make?” Leslie asks, her green eyes wide and excited.
“I make a bit of everything, but I really love designing menswear surprisingly. Tailored suits mostly.”
“Shut up! That is so cool. My favourite is dresses. I made this actually,” she states and twirls in her yellow floral-print, fifties-style, flare dress.
“Shut up yourself!” I repeat her sentiment because it’s fitting. “It’s amazing! It’s so fun and flirty.”
We sit down on a nearby couch so I can take a closer look at the stitching on Leslie’s dress. I’m pretty sure we lose over an hour of the night talking about fashion. She has dreams of opening her own boutique in East London, but the kind of capital and contacts she needs for such an endeavour is far more than she can handle.
I understand the struggle completely. The high fashion industry is a very niche market. If it weren’t for Callum’s connections with the affluent residents of Manchester, I never would have acquired the type of A-list clients I currently have.
Leslie also opens up to me about how she knows a startup business would be a huge commitment. Her husband, Theo, owns a successful custom furniture store even though he had a rough start. The difference is that he opened his business when he was single and unattached. The thought of missing out on time with Theo and Marisa weighs heavily on Leslie’s mind.
The conversation opens the door for me to talk about the struggles I face being away from Sophia since the divorce. I don’t know if it’s the Tequila Sunrise talking or what, but I even open up about Sophia’s cancer battle and how overly cautious I am about her health and schedule.
Leslie has an incredible way of just li
stening, too. She doesn’t judge or offer any words of advice. Rather, she simply nods or agrees at all the right times. It’s a moment of genuine connection between two mothers that I’ve not had with anyone since I moved to England. My mother and sisters came to visit before the divorce was finalised, but their advice was to do whatever I could to work things out with Callum. That definitely strained my relationship with them when my marriage still ended in divorce.
But something about Leslie listening and giving me the opportunity to express my feelings out loud is incredibly uplifting. I don’t know if it’s because we’re both American or if it’s because of our similar interests, but I connect with her on a very different level. It feels like we were best friends in another life or something. It makes me sad that she lives in London and I live in Manchester.
It’s almost eleven when I hear Belle screech loudly from her spot on the couch. “You’ve got to be joking!” she exclaims to the female waitress, who shrugs her shoulders sheepishly and hands her a drink.
Belle turns her wide eyes to all of us, fresh cocktail in hand. “You guys, guess what she just told me?”
“What?” Vi asks, leaning in to take a sip through her straw, clearly feeling no pain.
“Tanner and Camden booked out this nightclub for the evening.”
“What does that mean?” Indie asks, adjusting the gold-framed glasses on her face.
Belle’s dark eyes turn menacing. “It means they booked it out for the entire night because those wankers didn’t want any strangers dancing with us. They paid off the hotel to keep us away from other men all night long.”
“No!” Vi exclaims with her jaw dropped. “Did Hayden have any part of that?”
“Oh my God, I’m sure they all chipped in like the insane freaks they are,” Belle all but growls. “If I didn’t find Tanner’s jealousy kind of hot, I would be really angry right now instead of slightly turned on.”
“Ew!” Vi cries, plugging her ears and rocking herself back and forth. “Please tell me it’s 11:11 so I can make a wish to go back in time and make that comment disappear from my mind.”