Paper Hearts

THEN: Chapter 26

“If there's a thing I've learned in my life it's to not be afraid of the responsibility that comes with caring for other people. What we do for love: those things endure. Even if the people you do them for don't”  - Cassandra Clare

Eden:

Jack tried to call a few times after the party – he even turned up at the door, once, but I never answered any of his feeble attempts. It took him a while to get the picture, but after a couple of months, he stopped trying to contact me. I won’t pretend I missed him.

Also within the first year of my son’s life, I sat my A-level exams, and came out with two As and a B. I was delighted – Ms Hugo even more so – but it didn’t do much to help me find work.

By the time George’s first birthday came around, I still hadn’t found a job, and was getting increasingly desperate. I’d filled in over twenty online applications and handed my CV around to a few places, but luck didn’t seem to be on my side. It didn’t help that I had absolutely no experience in any of the areas I was interested in; come to think of it, I had no experience even in the areas I wasn’t interested in. But I hated living on the goodwill and kindness of my parents and grandparents, and I also wanted my own space, somewhere for just George and I to live.

I couldn’t afford to buy much for George’s birthday, so the  bulk of his gifts came from my family, Ms Hugo and Emma; a fact that I was grateful for, despite the fact that it made me slightly resentful. We had a small birthday gathering – George was excited by all the fuss. He did like to be the centre of attention.

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Geo-rge, happy birthday to you!”

I made him clap his pudgy little hands, leaned over him to blow out the candles that he was eyeing with complete and utter fascination. When they went out, he cried, so we left them lit, the wax dripping onto the icing of the cake in gentle thuds.

“Eddie? Can I talk to you for a second?”

I was leaning up against the wall in our living room, watching my Nan play with George and smiling fondly to myself, trying to hide how worried I was about everything. Because that’s what you do for the people you love, isn’t it? You hide your sadness because you don’t want to hurt them, you don’t want them to suffer through worrying just because you’re suffering. Plus everytime I looked even vaguely upset, George seemed to notice, somehow...Mum said I was talking nonsense, children weren’t that perceptive, not at George’s age, but something made me think differently. How could she explain the way he would tense and turn his big brown eyes on me in a way that made the pain in my chest even worse? The way he would lay his warm hand upon my cheek or bury his head against my breast every time the tears threatened to fall? She couldn’t explain it, and neither could I.

“Ems, you don’t need to ask me if you can talk” I rolled my eyes, turned to her with the same plastered smile, “What’s up?”

“I’ve had a really great idea”

“Oh no. Not another one” it was the sort of comment she usually made about me; I saw the vague twitch of her lips, though she tried to look offended, “I told you before, I don’t want to be set up with anyone”

Emma had suggested us going out clubbing a few times, or setting me up with one of her numerous male cousins – she thought that a new relationship might make me feel better about everything, make me forget Ollie. I knew she whispered with my parents about me behind my back – how when George wasn’t near me I moped and grew silent and sullen, like he was the only thing keeping me afloat. But he was the only thing keeping me sane, of that I was sure, and I certainly didn’t need anyone else in my life.