*Set in the summer of 2008*
Tony had said that grief, achingly antagonising grief, would sometimes sneak up on a person, months or years after their death. He'd recalled his father dying and I sat there, my thumb stroking the palm of his hand as he poured his heart into my vacant arms. I felt as though I should cry with him, as though we could share our grief like we share our bed, but alas, all I could do was listen and nod my head and pretend I was there.
I was angry when Paul died; furious and indignant over his betrayal and then how his family blamed me. I cried with Liam, Michelle and Ryan but I'm afraid to say it wasn't because I had lost him, but because I had grown smaller and smaller again. I should've died; I had no one to lose but him; he deserved this pain. In the following weeks it would hit me – that gut-churning loneliness, and so long as the Connor's continued to remember Paul with light-hearted anecdotes, I further sank into the shadows of The Rover's Return. Grief seemed to love them and leave them after some time had passed. For me it was like a tidal wave, drawing out into the distance and then forcefully thrashing against my lungs, metamorphosing me into the black widow once more. It never stopped. The pain, the clam. It was in the monotony of life when his absence would sting, until Tony saves me.
"Carla, are you okay?" I hear his voice from behind me, I hadn't even noticed he was there, on our balcony, with me. I look to the world below as if I could allow myself to drop, but his hand is firm on my shoulder. He pulls me away.
"It's a year today since Paul died." I tell him, "Twelve months!"
He looks at me; his disposition berating himself for not realising; his heart berating me for not telling him. "Oh sweetheart, come here," I hold on tight to him; if only he knew how he had rescued me.
"I don't love him, Tony" I cry; I need him to know that Paul is nothing to me anymore. He tightens his arms, kisses my neck; all is calm in the world.