Teach Me Dirty

“Wishing a beautiful Christmas to my beautiful wife, wherever you may be, Anna.”

I lit up a cigarette and looked to the sky as the orange glow of day broke the horizon.

“I’ve been meaning to come awhile. I just…” I sighed to myself, to her, to whatever. “I’ve got so many things to say to you, and I wish I could say them and know that you’ll hear them. I miss your love every single day, but as time goes on I think it’s your friendship that I miss the most, Anna. I’d love to hear your voice again. I’d love to know your thoughts. Even if they were bad. Especially if they were bad.”

I took a long drag.

“I’ve met someone…”

And another drag.

“…And I didn’t think I would. I didn’t think it was possible. I didn’t think the pain of losing you would ever ease up enough to find love again. Real love I mean. I wasn’t looking for it, and I certainly wasn’t looking for it where I found it.”

The lump in my throat made it hard to swallow and I wiped away a tear.

“But I did find it. I found it, and it’s beautiful.” My fingers traced the holly leaves on her Christmas wreath. “It’s not like we were, Anna. It’s not a replacement, insomuch as a whole new love, all of its own design. It’s not like us, but it’s strong, and pure, and deep, just like we were. It’s the kind of love that makes me smile again, that makes me want to know life again, makes me want to hold someone close to my heart and never let them go again. And it’s scary, and it’s reckless, and it’s crazy, but my God, Anna, I do love her.”

I choked back my sadness.

“I’ve fallen in love with a beautiful, spirited, gifted, kind young woman called Helen Palmer. She was persistent, and tenacious, and she made it impossible for me not to love her. You’d have loved her, too. You’d have laughed with her, and smiled at her kindness and her vision and her pure little heart. You’d have really loved her, Anna. And I hope if you’d have known you couldn’t stay, you would have picked her in your stead to hold my hand and make me smile again.”

I looked at the sky.

“My God, Anna, I needed to smile again. I’d forgotten what it felt like. I missed you so much I couldn’t even breathe.”

I took a breath.

“Helen’s my student.”

And another.

“She’s my eighteen year old sixth form student.”

I closed my eyes.

“And I know it was wrong. I hated myself for wanting it, hated myself for not being strong enough to walk away. Part of me still does.”

I lit up another cigarette.

“Maybe you’d call me a fool. Maybe you’d even be disgusted. But I know you’d hear me out, and I’d say to you that my love for Helen grew from the most unacceptable of circumstances, but it’s true, and it’s real, and it’s everything. She’s filled up my empty soul and made me whole again.”

I pressed my palms to Anna’s headstone and took a steadying breath.

“I know she’s young, and fragile and delicate, and I’ll take care of her. Hell, Anna, all I want to do is love her. I’ll never hurt her, never judge her, or push her into something she wouldn’t want to do. I’ll do right by her, I promise, I just hope I get this one tiny chance at happiness again. Please, God, let this last, because I don’t know if I’m strong enough to hurt again like I hurt when I lost you, Anna.”

Another breath. I wiped away the tears.

“I just wanted to tell you. I just wanted to feel close to you this one last time on Christmas morning, because as much as you’re still in my heart, I’ve got to let you go.

“I want to make new memories, with Helen. I want to wake up with her on Christmas Day and hold her tight and know she’s mine and I’m hers. I hope you’d want that for me, too.

“I know you’d want that for me, too.”

I let a tear fall, let my cigarette drop to the frosty grass and I gripped that headstone and I sobbed.

“Sleep well, my beautiful wife. I love you.”

I went home, and it was quiet and empty.

I wrapped up Anna’s artwork and I boxed it up in the attic.

I took her clothes out of the spare bedroom wardrobe and packed them away for storage.

I saved our private photographs to a flash drive and removed them from my laptop.

I took down her photo from the mantelpiece.

And finally, after nine years of grief, I let my beautiful Anna sleep soundly.

Helen

“You’re different.” Mum was busy preparing cranberry sauce but her eyes were fixed on me.

I carefully tipped the tray in my hands, spooning fat over the sizzling roast potatoes like I’d done it a hundred times before. “I learned to cook a little.”