His Heart

Chapter twenty-five: Charlie

I blinked awake and looked at the calender by the bed. 20th June. Jasmine's birthday. Rolling over, I hid under the covers like I did every year and cried for another year she would never see.

The kids were really quiet and I knew if she were awake, Maddie was going to stay in bed until at least noon. I still let the kids skip school on the 20th and we visited Jasmine, watched home videos and spent the day together. Dealing with our grief as a family rather than alone.

I peeked out from the covers and checked the clock. Half nine. Leo would be up soon. He would go downstairs and watch TV or play with his toys by himself for an hour and then he would come and give me a cuddle. I would make waffles for lunch, I decided. Jasmine used to love making waffles for lunch.

Come on, get up, cariño. Jasmine chided. Life goes on. It's a lovely warm day outside. You can call Lizzie and have a picnic in the gardens.

For once, I ignored her.

Let me wallow for once. I thought.

I lay under the bed and imagined that the covers were Jasmine giving me a loving embrace the way she used to. I lay there, tears starting to fall, allowing her memories to overwhelm my control for one day. 

I heard Leo go downstairs to play by himself quietly like he did every year. I savoured the quiet whilst it lasted and turned to the empty half of the bed, pretending Jasmine was there to talk to.

"Happy birthday, cariño." I whispered.

I pretended she was smiling at me, reaching a hand to touch my cheek the way she did every morning.

I thought about her past birthdays when she wasn't here to celebrate. Days when I had crumbled and watched home videos over and over with a glass of whiskey next to me. Letting myself cry for things I had told myself weren't worth crying over.

She lived. That was the most important thing. It was better to have been loved by her for a short while than to have been loved for a lifetime by anyone else.

My phone buzzed, probably a message from Sebastian or possibly Lizzie. I didn't answer it. For one day a year, I ignored my responsibilities and hid under the covers with the ghost of my wife.

Was that so bad?

I closed my eyes and I swear I could hear her singing. She loved singing. She sang to me on our first anniversary. She used to sing to the kids every night when she tucked them into bed.

I missed her voice.

Maybe if I listened carefully, she would tell me what to do next.

~*~

"Papá?" A little voice made me peek out of the covers.

"Hey, cariño." I said, pulling the covers out so he could crawl in next to me.

I wrapped my arms around his warm little body and kissed his forehead.

"Is your sister awake yet?" I asked, stroking his hair.

He shook his head. "Are we visiting Mamá today?"

"Later." I promised. "I'll make breakfast first. Did you have some cereal?"

He nodded and rested his head on my chest. I listened to him breathe for a few minutes, savouring the silence and my son's warm smell of milk.

I looked up at my boy. He was so much like me. He had my eyes. My blackish hair. And, according to Maddie, my expressions. But he was his mother's child. Through and through.

The best parts about him, he got from his mamá. He always knew just what to say and had a ready smile when I was feeling low. He knew how to hold me so tight that all my problems melted away.