An Imperfect Circle

by R. J. Sable

  We’ve made some progress, because during one of the nights he lay with me until I fell asleep, I mustered the courage to take my bra off.

  It wasn’t for his benefit. The stupid thing was driving me insane. It felt like a three-inch thick wall separating me from him.

  I physically heard him gulp when I removed it but he didn’t even sneak a peek until I gave him permission.

  To be honest, I had to give him permission because I think he almost snapped his neck trying not to look.

  Even with it being progress, I know it’s far less than most men would expect. But Karl has never pressured me, never given me any inkling that he needs more. He always seems happy with whatever I can offer and that’s what gave me the confidence to make that move.

  It’s also why I move away from him and his slightly swollen predicament and return to the notion of my wet socks.

  “Of course my socks are wet,” I reply sarcastically. “We’re having a water fight.”

  “You could take them off you know,” he retorts.

  “Never,” I stage whisper back.

  It’s a bit of a running joke. He gave me a pair of socks for my seventeenth birthday. I maintain my standpoint that it was a rubbish present but he said it was because I’d rocked his socks off.

  I refuse to admit that my feet have been metaphorically sock-free since I was six because he doesn’t need to know that he’s the reason.

  “I have no reason to,” I shrug nonchalantly because I know it will drive him crazy.

  “Really?” He prompts with mock frustration.

  “Really.” I nod defiantly.

  He knows I’m joking but he still raises an eyebrow at me and his eyes twinkle with mischief.

  I’m about to question it when he lifts his arms and I’m drenched in ice-cold water.

  I shriek and slap his chest with a rather satisfying whollop but it doesn’t make up for the fact that I am absolutely soaked to the bone.

  Matt guffaws with laughter and I glare at him too because he was the one who handed Karl the bucket.

  Donkey nuts, the both of them.

  “I love you,” Karl grins, pulling me into him and wrapping his arms around me.

  I only let him because I’m freezing and I need warming up.

  “You poured water over me,” I accuse through my chattering teeth.

  “I did,” he agrees. He’s still smirking.

  “I demand payback,” I sulk, tightening my grasp around him because he’s so chuffing warm and I need his body heat.

  “Anything,” he chuckles, already brandishing a Wagon Wheel from his pocket because he knows me so well.

  “I love you too,” I announce because I’ve already forgiven him.

  “Me or the Wagon Wheel?” He laughs.

  “Both,” I admit. “But I love one of you a lot more than other.”

  “Which one?” Karl asks and I glare at him because he doesn’t need to ask but I know he likes his ego stroked.

  “The one who makes my skin tingle,” I admit because I don’t mind stroking his ego once in a while.

  “Wagon Wheels affect you that strongly?” He fakes surprise and I squeeze him a little tighter as punishment.

  Admittedly, it’s not a very tight squeeze because I’m still trying to rip my Wagon Wheel open.

  He chuckles at my pathetic attempts and opens the packet before returning it to me.

  I grin happily because at least he didn’t eat it this time and he’s in my good books because, honestly, it is warm out so I don’t mind the water too much. He’s also, as I mentioned, scrummy and mostly naked. And he’s given me a Wagon Wheel.

  I think he might be perfect.

  “I love you so much,” I sigh in an unusually complimentary fashion.

  Karl obviously agrees that this is abnormal because his eyebrows rise in a unified display of shock. His expression quickly softens when he realises that I’m talking to him and not the Wagon Wheel and his face breaks out into that grin that makes me warm on the inside.

  “I love you too, Elise.”

  “I know,” I nod because it’s almost like I can feel his love radiating through every atom of my being whenever he’s close.

  It only seems to get stronger with time and I know that I’m a better person for having him in my life and in my heart. My goal was to be perfect but now, thanks to Karl, I know that’s not what I need to be.

  He loves me as I am. He’s not asking me to change. He’s asking me to love myself as much as he does.

  I smile as I let that thought sink in.

  My smile drops when I see Grandma Carter making her way into the garden through the back door. A woman with a formal military uniform follows and my stomach churns uneasily at the expression on her face.

  Something is wrong.

  “Peter, this lady must be here to help look after the kids,” Grandma says, smiling at her husband.

  Peter glances at the officer before closing his eyes for a second. He takes his wife in his arms and whispers something in her ear.

  Karl and Ian have stopped what they were doing too. Our eyes are all on the officer who stands primly at the edge of the patio whilst introductions are made, just out of earshot.

  “We don't need a babysitter today,” Danny laughs, checking out the woman in passing as he comes closer to load up on water balloons.

  I exchange a look with Karl and I can see the deeply furrowed lines on his brow and the worry in his eyes. Ian is harder to read but it's obvious they’re both relieved the others haven't twigged yet.

  Whilst the woman talks to Granddad and Uncle Eric, Ian sets his jaw and starts gathering up his siblings. His voice is calm and, if it wasn't for the set of his shoulders, I'd never know he was anything other than his usual bossy self. He orders them into the house and tells them to get dried off and into their pyjamas before coming back downstairs to the den.

  I squeeze Karl's hand because he's not said a word since the woman arrived and I can see his mind is running overtime trying to work things out.

  I tug gently because, whatever's happening, he needs to get inside and get dried off before we find out. We climb the stairs in silence and Karl barely looks at me as he drags his wet shorts off and hangs them on the radiator to dry.

  Now isn't the time to admire his body, not when he's obviously scared stiff inside. I don't know that much about the military but I know that when somebody shows up in uniform, out of the blue, with that expression on their face, the news won't be good.

  I hand him a dry t-shirt, the softest one I can find because I suspect comfort is something we might both need. I help him tug it on and I feel the slight tremble in his muscles.

  I can feel his fear as my own. I'm terrified too. This might be the first time I haven't wanted to hear the truth.

  I wrap my arms around him from behind in a silent embrace. No matter what this is, we'll get through it. Together. I know he can feel my love as I hold him and I just hope it's enough for him to hold it together.

  “I can't do this,” he whispers, turning around so he can return my embrace.

  I'd tell him that it might not be something bad but we both know that wouldn't be true so I just stand there as we hold each other and press gentle kisses all over his chest.

  He buries his face in my neck and kisses me. I know he wouldn't have done it if he was thinking straight so I don't blame him.

  It makes me slightly uncomfortable but I know he didn't mean it to and I let him stay there without pushing him away.

  He needs me to be stronger than that right now.

  He lets out a long breath and gives me one last squeeze before releasing me. I quickly pull on some dry clothes and follow him down the stairs. Hand-in-hand.

  The atmosphere in the den is choking. It’s clawing at my throat and tearing at my insides. Even the youngest children seem to feel that something is wrong, even if they don’t yet fully understand it.

  The military officer sits carefully on the edge of the a
rmchair in the corner whilst Granddad Carter stands front and centre. Uncle Eric took Grandma and the cousins to his house. It’s probably for the best. Whatever’s coming, Grandma Carter’s health and memory aren’t in the best shape.

  Ian has Jake on his knee whilst Matt has Jamie-Lea on his. Matt’s face is grim whilst Ian’s is completely blank. I’m fairly sure he’s switched off and I sort of wish I could do the same.

  Granddad clears his throat once we’re all assembled. “There’s no easy way to say this,” his deep, gravelly voice is pained as he meets each of his grandchildren’s eyes.

  My palms grow sweaty but I stay clinging on to Karl because I’m scared. For both of us.

  “Your father was killed in the line of duty.”

  He continues speaking but I’m not hearing a single word out of his mouth.

  Andrew is dead.

  The Carters have lost their father. Bile rises in my throat but I force it down. Andrew wasn’t my dad and this is impossibly hard for me to hear. I almost can’t bring myself to look at Karl but I force myself to.

  I see the way his soul is being crushed like an empty can. It folds in on itself to a barely recognisable mess. I see all the hope fade away from his eyes and the agonising pain that distorts his features.

  His gaze drifts around the room, from sibling to sibling. I know what he’s thinking because I’m thinking the same.

  Orphans. Every single one of them.

  I sort of wish I believed in a god so I could blame them. What sort of world takes both parents from their children? Jamie never even got a chance to meet her mother and now she’s lost her father at just six years old.

  At the risk of further heartbreak, I chance a look at the small girl. She looks fragile, small, breakable. She also looks confused and her full attention is on hugging Matt as trembles rock through his body.

  I can see the way he’s shaking from where I’m sitting and I’d comfort him if I could but there’s nothing I can do. I’m frozen to the spot wishing there was something, anything, I could do to take their pain away.

  But there’s nothing.

  Realisation dawns for eight-year old Jake. He was previously chanting “no” over and over again, shaking his head but he’s now starting to understand that this isn’t some sick joke and the bawling commences. My own tears are flowing freely but it’s heart-wrenching to see and hear the tears of a child.

  Karl takes a deep, juddering breath and wipes his eyes on the back of his hand before scooping Jake up from where he’s slipped onto the floor at Ian’s feet.

  He proceeds to hold his youngest brother as he cries for the father he’ll never see again.

  Ian has barely moved. I can almost see his brain working overtime, thinking over every single way in which their lives have just changed.

  He’s ignoring his own pain to concentrate on the small things. Who will pay the bills now? Who will keep the family together? Who will do the laundry? Who will lead them? Who will be there to walk Jamie-Lea down the aisle?

  I watch as the weight of responsibility falls upon his shoulders and it should be backbreaking. I can’t even begin to think of the consequences. What if the family gets split up? What if some of them end up in care? What if they never recover from this?

  I shake my head because I need to focus. This isn’t my loss, it’s theirs. I’m almost intruding on a private family moment but these guys are my family too and I need to be there for them.

  There’s nothing I can do but share their pain and try to be here in whatever way I can.

  I listen to Karl telling Jake that Andrew is in heaven with Helen now and I swallow when I hear Jake asking why.

  Why?

  There’s no good answer to that. At least not one I can think off.

  “Because Daddy missed Mummy every day. He loved her with all his heart,” he looks up at me briefly as he speaks and I know that he fully believes his words. I know they’re true as well because I remember the way they loved each other.

  “He had to go back to her because being without her was too hard for him. Just remember that Dad loved you. We’ll get through this, Jakey. All of us together. We’ll make Dad proud.”

  Peter squeezes Karl’s shoulder and nods in a show of solidarity. The twins are literally holding each other up and it’s painful to see them without their usual cheeky smiles and lust for life.

  They gather round with the youngest three in the middle and hold each other, the whole family. I squeeze in between Karl and Matt and hold their hands. One of theirs in each of mine.

  We’re quiet as we hold each other. A silent promise hangs in the air. This family will make it through the period of darkness. They’ve survived one loss, they can survive another.

  They’ll get through this and bear the massive weight of pain as a unit of solidarity. It would be near-impossible for an individual but they’ll share it because they’re a family and that’s what families do.

  Chapter 32

  I get my wish but I guess that's proof you should be careful what you wish for.

  Karl and I get to spend the night together in his bed.

  We aren't alone; Jake's asleep in the room with us because he fell asleep in Karl's arms and we didn't want to move him too far in case he woke up and started crying again.

  I think it was a relief to all of us when the smallest members of the family finally drifted off.

  Karl, on the other hand, is definitely not sleeping. He's holding me against his chest and I can feel his slow breathing and the rise and fall of his chest against mine. I know he's awake because every now and then his body will shake gently and he'll pull me closer.

  I don't know what's going through his brain but I can imagine and it’s not pretty. It's probably about a gazillion times worse than what's going through mine and that hurts enough as it is.

  I can almost feel the way he alternates between determined resolve and utter hopelessness and I wish there was something - anything - I could do to help him.

  I try and stay awake in case he needs me but exhaustion wins out and I drift off a few times. Every time I wake up, there’s that blissful second where my brain hasn’t had a chance to remember what’s happened before the pain all rushes back in and I have to relive it all over again.

  Maybe it’s for the best that Karl hasn’t managed to sleep because I wouldn’t wish that on him.

  I know something’s changed by the look in his eyes when he finally rolls up to sitting at six the following morning. I guess the six o’ clock rising is programmed into their blood because I can hear Ian up and about as well.

  I study his face furiously, desperate for a glimpse of anything that will explain the expression on his face. It’s a kind of bitter resolve and I almost shiver with the intensity of it.

  It singes my skin in a way that’s nearly painful and I have to force myself not to look away as he meets my gaze. The exchange is only a split second long before Karl turns away and rakes his hands over his face, kneading his knuckles against his tired eyeballs.

  It’s the same gesture he does when he’s at the end of his tether with reading but I know this is far, far worse.

  I go to put my hand on his shoulder but he’s on his feet before I get a chance.

  “Karl-” I start, my voice half broken from tears shed and sleep missed.

  “Kids need breakfast,” he grunts with little to no emotion in his voice. That’s not my Karl.

  I repress my scowl considering the circumstances and follow him down the stairs to help make breakfast.

  “Jamie has raisins in hers,” Karl snaps, grabbing the bowl out of my hand before I can finish making her breakfast.

  I know that and I was just about to put them in if he’d given me half a chance. I bite back an acid retort because I’m well aware that I’m upset about Andrew and I’d probably overreact if I spoke.

  I also know that’s what he’s doing.

  “She’s only trying to help, Karl,” Ian levels a glare at his brother. I ca
n’t tell if he sounds sympathetic or threatening but Karl obviously doesn’t care because he doesn’t respond.

  Matt doesn’t even eat breakfast. He shoulders his way out the door without so much as a glance at us and I watch him disappear down the driveway with a football under his arm, wearing just some shorts and his trainers. I know he’s going to the nearest football pitch to lose himself in the game and I’m glad he’s got something that will help him work through this pain.

  “Let’s eat,” Peter manages a weak smile, scooping up Jake and placing him in his usual place at the table.

  When Ian goes to sit in his seat, Peter stops him.

  “That’s not where you should be sitting, son.”

  We all understand what he means when his eyes rest on the seat where Andrew normally sits.

  I see Ian’s eyes widen fractionally and if I didn’t know better, I’d say he looked horrified at the idea.

  Ian shakes his head adamantly, his fists clenched at his sides.

  “I’m not suggesting you replace your father, boy,” Peter’s gravelly voice deepens an octave. “Nobody can ever replace him. I’m saying that he would want you sat there. At the head of this family. You’ve been doing a damn fine job of it over the past few years, you might as well make it official.”

  “That’s dad’s chair,” Ian shakes his head again, albeit less firmly than before.

  “Dad wouldn’t have wanted it going empty,” Karl answers decisively and I know he believes his words.

  “It’s what Andrew what have wanted,” Peter confirms with a barely audible crack in his voice.

  Ian just nods once and looks round at the rest of his family sat around the table. My gaze follows his and catches on the twins and their matching looks of despair. It’s obvious they need somebody to step up and Ian is the natural choice.

  I know Karl and I know that right now he’s feeling an immense sense of relief that Ian is there to fill the role. He’d have done it without complaint but I know that the idea terrifies him, even if he won’t admit it.

  I also know that he hates himself for thinking that and he’s comparing himself to Ian again and thinks he’s coming up short.