Beyond Angel Avenue

by Sarah Michelle Lynch

  “Ah god, Jules, I love you.”

  I stare at my wife and watch as behind her, an elderly lady watches us. She stares with a knowing look and I understand it. We have real love. I just wish Jules and I weren’t both so scarred inside that we both find it so difficult to believe anything good might happen for us.

  Jules takes my hands between hers, drawing in a deep breath to say, “Restraining orders don’t last forever and what about when they reinstate her at work and she thinks she’s forgiven and it’s all forgotten. I know her sort, Rick. She’ll come back for more. You have to lay the law down with her.”

  I chew the insides of my cheeks. “I have done, Jules. I have done. I don’t know what else I can do. I’ve apologised to her so many times, it’s like sorry has become the word for everything, you know? I’ve tried to make her see she needs to move on, I’ve tried to explain how she deserves happiness but just not with me and I’ve even sat her down hundreds of times, just to try and explain what it is that makes me love you and not her. She doesn’t get it. She doesn’t see me as an obstacle. You’re the only obstacle as far as she is concerned. She doesn’t think I have a mind of my own, she’s a fucking bully and a sick, twisted, bitter little woman whose son even hates her.”

  Jules nods. “I get all that. I also get she’s a bitch who won’t be reasoned with. If we have to, then, we’ll move away.”

  I don’t want to move away! I suppress my immediate distaste of the idea and tell her, “I’ve lived here my whole life Jules.”

  “She needs a psychiatrist.” Jules chews on her tongue, trying to restrain the swear words on the tip of it.

  “I know.”

  “The world’s a big place. You don’t know how getting away can make you feel. Yes, it’s scary, but ultimately it could be the break away you’ve always needed.”

  I blow out a deep breath, counting the crumbs on the table in front of me. “Where would we go?”

  “How am I supposed to know!” she returns, half-laughing.

  My chin in my hand, I mutter, “You must know some places that are good, after all your travelling?”

  She has a wicked glint in her eye and tells me, “One place springs to mind.”

  “Go on then.”

  She nervously bites her thumb. “Australia.”

  “Hmm.” I sound unimpressed. She knows that’s too far for me to even contemplate. I have my dad to think about and my son, too. Dad’s not getting any younger and Joe’s so wrapped up in training to be a footballer.

  “It’s far, I know, but you haven’t been there… I have.” She sounds giddy even contemplating it. “It’s not that I don’t love this place, Warrick, I do… but it holds so many memories. For the first few weeks I was back here, it felt like I was being suffocated by memories in fact.”

  “What like? I mean, what memories?” I start shredding a napkin in my hands, tearing it into strips.

  “Me, waiting on corners. Me, feeling so lonely I was numb. Me, struggling through university and teacher training. Then Laurie and what he did to me. I love this place but sometimes, a place gets so deep in your marrow, it stops you from moving on to be who you were meant to be. I have this place to thank for so much good that’s come about in my life, but god Warrick, think about it… warmth and beaches, the job opportunities, better healthcare and more time spent outdoors, just living. It’s so different I can’t explain it to you. You’d have to see for yourself.”

  I want to tell her I hate hot weather and I hate sand in my pants. I’m never sick and I like the Yorkshire outdoors. Mud’s never bothered me a bit.

  “Sure you’re not just thinking like this because you want to escape further away than she could possibly follow us?” I wait for Jules’ reaction and she shakes her head, no.

  Okay, so she clearly really liked Australia. She wants us to move. Maybe we could meet halfway?

  “Let’s have the babies first and then see how we feel?”

  She cocks her head and thinks about it. “Okay. But remember, if she comes near me whether I am spewing or whatever, I will lamp her one. If I have to go to jail pregnant, don’t forget I warned you!”

  The mood’s more light-hearted as we leave the café behind to head back for the car. Before we escape down the corridor however, Jules spots a toilet and covers her mouth, eyes signalling she needs to puke. I wait patiently for her to come back out and remember a time when Anna punished me for my silences…

  It had been a really long day at work and Anna wasn’t aware at the time, but I was undercover. Nobody knew about the job I was given because it was highly classified. Jobs like mine always were.

  “You come home and you just sit there, with your paper and your sports results, and that’s it. Am I meant to be happy I married for this?” She didn’t know what I’d done; didn’t know I’d already strayed even though it was part of the job. Maybe if I loved her, I never would have told her… but I later did tell her.

  For years after our divorce, I made excuses for her because throughout the undercover work (when I’d been difficult to live with) she had stayed with me, kept our house neat and tidy and our kid in clothes and shoes. I felt such guilt, I didn’t see she was in part a cause for the breakdown of our marriage, too. I couldn’t tell her what work I was doing but it wasn’t just the work – me playing a pimp – it was our marriage, too. I had no idea why I’d become so disinterested in her.

  It was around six months after Joe was born that a huge cluster-fuck of unhappiness first hit me and I found solace in my work. When he was two, it seemed she’d finally got tired of what I had become. I didn’t know if it was me still mourning Mum or me mourning my childhood, or what. We married so young.

  Some days, I didn’t know how to express what I was feeling. I was buried in a hell I didn’t even understand, yet.

  “Anna, I’m just tired. They keep giving me overtime and I don’t know what I’m meant to do when we’re short-staffed enough as it is already. I can’t turn them down.”

  She gritted her teeth, her small, pretty face scrunched in anger. “You could decline, if you wanted to. It’s just that we’re not enough anymore, are we? Me and Joe, no, we’re not enough, not anymore.”

  She stormed upstairs and I heard her crying in the nursery, probably clutching Joe tight to her chest because he was the only comfort she had.

  I wasn’t sure if I loved her anymore. I didn’t know anything.

  She came back down eventually and challenged me, “What if I just went out tonight and got a man, hmm? Asked him to fuck me because my husband won’t.”

  I knew it wasn’t just me who was in the wrong. She was aggressive in her approach, rather than sitting down to gently ask me what was wrong. She was hurt, I got it. I was just… in a mess.

  I shook my head at her. Without looking her in the eye, I said, “I’m going to bed, coming?”

  She bit her lip and followed me upstairs. To shut her up, I just fucked her and she was salved, for the time being anyway. Fucking was never followed by talking or kissing or cuddling, just me pretending to fall straight to sleep.

  My punishment was being made to screw a woman I no longer loved, no longer understood, no longer even fancied. Everything was eating away at me. I was nothing.

  I was so buried in some sort of morose mood, I didn’t know how to start to explain to this unfeeling woman how I felt about the world around me. I didn’t think she cared enough to sit and listen. I despaired of the world, despaired of it all. I didn’t know until Jules came along how close two people could be – should be.

  Still waiting in the corridor for Jules, I think back to when I first made love to her – back in that old flat of hers. It was so special. I was in love with her and thought she was ravishing but it was more than that. Jules was the first passionate woman I was ever with. She did things with me no other woman had done, like touch herself, like try new positions. Anna only ever enjoyed missionary. From the word go, Jules allowed me to run riot with my imagination, to be who
I was without shame. Back then, Jules and I were just so unexpectedly happy, burying ourselves in each other. It was just all so right and when you meet that one person, and everything makes sense, you just know it’s meant to be. I was so desolate until her and I didn’t know how to explain about my previous marriage because I was ashamed and wanted to forget about it all. I loved her more than anything and didn’t want to ruin what we had. Maybe I let her go abroad because I thought I deserved unhappiness. After all, Anna tried to rape me – so I thought I was worth nothing. Jules was perfect and I didn’t want to ruin her life, too by bringing her into the volcanic mess of my former marriage.

  She emerges red-faced and sweaty from the toilets, her guts having emptied again. I guide her to the car and help belt her in, stroke her hair and kiss her forehead.

  Driving us home, I realise it’s expectation that ruins everything and it’s just a human trait we’d all be better off without.

  Chapter Ten

  Jules

  Christmas Eve

  It’s exactly a year since I came back home. Our twins, Harry and Charlie, are finally asleep in their Moses baskets, and we have them stationed one on either side of our bed. I seem to be the only one able to comfort Harry and Warrick seems to be the only one able to comfort Charlie. We’re all so exhausted, Joe included. He helps out where he can. They came early in September and to say they were premature twins and now only three months old, they have lungs on them, and appetites. They’re catching up already.

  I was sick for most – if not all – of my pregnancy but I did love being pregnant; having Warrick’s babies inside of me and feeling so womanly. He did more for me than most men would, like clean up my sick and lie awake with me even when he was dog tired and just wanted to sleep. He shaved my legs for me, painted my toe nails, brushed my hair, washed me, made dinner, cuddled me when I was crying for no reason really other than I was so tired, I couldn’t think straight.

  We now live in a suburb of the city. While I was laid in my sickbed so to speak, I held my iPad in my hands, searching for bigger houses. Our old one had a poky spare room not really big enough for Joe and a study piled high with books and paperwork. We had to move. Suddenly this one came on the market and it was perfect. Warrick had a lot of savings so we managed to get ourselves a Grade II listed character home on three floors, with five bedrooms. Warrick never spends any money so we had all this money lying around and I put in an offer, which was accepted. Sometimes I have to pinch myself when I wake up every morning. Joe now has a huge bedroom on the second floor with en suite and he has room for his gym equipment up there too.

  Warrick and I have the babies in with us still but we had the big bedroom next door to ours kitted out in a Thomas the Tank Engine style nursery before they were born.

  Warrick comes in from our en suite, in his boxers, hair still damp from a shower. He’s tiptoeing, trying not to wake the kids. I almost burst out laughing watching him. Sleep is so precious to us these days.

  It’s Christmas Eve but instead of going out, we’re already in bed by ten, as is Joe. He’s shattered from school parties, football parties, his mock exams and the stress of his mother still playing up. She doesn’t know her son’s new address with us and for good reason – she started harassing Warrick when she realised she couldn’t get to me. We don’t live on the Avenue anymore which is a shame but in a way, better, because now she can’t chase any of us anymore. We went x-directory and Joe is in no rush to let his mum have our address. Besides, my restraining order still stands and Joe’s told his school counsellors he wants to live with us – and nobody can deny he’s happier with us. Yes, I feel uneasy about him being away from his mother but at the same time, she needs time to get her act together.

  “I’m so grateful for the internet,” I groan in his ear, as he joins me in bed, my iPad on my lap. I’ve used this thing to buy a house, order all the Christmas presents (already wrapped), and all the groceries too. I don’t know how I would make it to the shops and back without falling asleep at some point.

  “It’s wonderful to have a house full, isn’t it?” he says with a smile.

  His father and Wendy almost collapsed when I showed them to their room for the holidays, complete with chocolates on their pillow and special toiletries so they feel like they’re in a hotel. They also have use of the master bathroom right across the hall from them which has a Jacuzzi tub.

  “Does it weird you out they’re rooming in our house?” I chuckle, while tapping away on the iPad, sending a Facebook message to Ruby to wish her and Vernon a happy Christmas. She’s just fallen pregnant and is having the sickness too. I would console her but it never got better for me.

  “Nah, it’s been a long time since my mother passed. If Wendy makes him happy, that makes me happy.”

  “Hmm. So, you’re sure the turkey will be defrosted by morning?”

  He pulls the covers up tight around his arms and looks about ready to sleep. “Yeah, don’t worry. I got it all sorted. I can cook, you know?”

  I sigh. He’s doing Christmas dinner tomorrow and I’m just a little bit more than worried about it! “I just don’t like not having control.”

  “Believe me, if I had breasts, I would try to help.”

  I snicker and slide over, pulling back the covers to rest on him. He looks astonished.

  “It’s been so long,” he murmurs, and I cover his body with mine. We have our first laid-down hug in months. If there hasn’t been a bump between us, there has been a set of very sore breasts but now I’m beginning to wean the twins off, they don’t hurt so much. “Oh god, I missed your cuddles sweetness. Hmmmmmm,” he groans like a bear, “love you so much.”

  I burrow into his chest and sigh, pulling on his arms so we’re tightly embraced. “Love you, Big Daddy.” (My new nickname for him.)

  He smells so good, feels even better, and more than that – I’m besotted with this man and our life. He’s an amazing father who consoles me when there’s no consoling the twins. He taught me how to put a nappy on, how to burp and wind the twins, how to get them to sleep by rocking them.

  “I feel like I put on you too much. I feel like… I ask too much,” I say, feeling contemplative.

  “No, Jules. I absolutely love that you need me. I love it.”

  I mmm and aah. “Yeah but, you have a full-time job.”

  “Which is pretty boring, you know? I sit at a desk for most of the day. I love that I can come home and help you with everything, play with the kids while you wash the sick out of your hair.”

  I giggle into his chest and shift a bit. My boobs are hurting now, but I don’t want to stop this cuddle. As I shift, I realise he is hard.

  “Warrick,” I giggle in his ear, nipping his lobe, “what is this?”

  “Ahem,” he says, biting his lip, which I just have to bite too. “Something.”

  “Something, hmm?”

  He snickers. “You’re my wife and you currently have shitting big breasts. How am I not meant to be hard in your presence, that’s a better question.”

  I lean up and kiss him. Pulling back, I see he has anguished lust in his eyes. We both know I’m not ready for sex yet, but I want to do something for him, to show him how much I love and appreciate him.

  I slide off his body and gently help him ease his boxer shorts down. I take his erection in my hand and gently stroke him. His eyes flicker and he asks, “But can’t I touch you?”

  “Not yet. Just let me give you this. I love you.”

  I lean down and suck his nipple into my mouth, fighting with his chest hair to lick the smooth flesh of his pecs. His hands in my hair, he murmurs, “Baby, that’s it. It’s so good.”

  I massage the base of his cock and he pushes his erection back between my fist, letting me know he’s close. His balls are so high and solid, I wonder if he’s not the sort of man who offloads in the shower.

  “Warrick, you want to come in my hand don’t you?”

  His eyes shoot open and he nods fast. “Yeah.�
��

  “Want to explode, don’t you? You’d love to explode on my breasts, dripping, licking it all off afterwards–”

  His eyes squeeze shut and his grip in my hair tightens as he moans. I watch as he covers his belly, thick reams spreading out across his skin. He needed that, I can tell.

  I grab some tissues and clean him, letting my fingertips touch his softening length, enjoying the tender silkiness of his manhood. I’m not aroused; I’m just not in that headspace at the minute, but I still think he’s beautiful and I like doing naughty things for him.

  Cleaned up, I toss the tissue across the room and it lands in the bin. He pulls his shorts back up and I lie back in his arms. “I was so ready for that, I didn’t realise how ready.”

  “Hmm. I knew it. I know you.”

  He tips my chin and kisses my mouth. “I’m so tired!”

  I laugh, delirious myself. “I know.”

  “I’d just love a scratch though, Julie.”

  I snicker. “A special, Christmas scratch?”

  “Umm-hmm.”

  He sits up and I sit behind him, my legs wrapped around his front. We used to do this for each other a lot but haven’t in so long. I scratch my nails along his back and watch as his muscles shake out. I scratch into his hair and his head tips back. He grunts and meows, it’s so funny.

  We swap positions and he does the same for me. We just need to be close, all the time. I can’t live without his affection, not at times like this when I’m feeling vulnerable, tired and drawn. He peppers kisses in my hair and draws me down into bed with him, covering us both with the duvet.

  His arms around my body, tucked around me from behind, he whispers, “Happy Christmas. You’ve made me the happiest man alive.”

  I reach back and he kisses me. Pushing my tongue against his, we share a fierce, passionate kiss.

  “I’m sorry this didn’t happen sooner.”