Chapters take ages to write due to the flashbacks but they're really fun. Also, The Reality Stunt will be updated by Sunday latest and there is a little one-shot story in the works due to be uploaded on Saturday.
Warning: Dementia talks and insinuation of drug dependency.
"I think, my mum's sick..."
Mary turns to her husband in the darkness of their bedroom. He never really has a reason to talk most of the times and his discomfort and grief is always public so for him to keep quiet for this long and let her in on his worries is welcoming. With Christmas around the corner, he needs her now more than ever.
"Like how?"
"I've been talking to Dominic over the months," he reveals. "She gets confused... Forgets things. Has these episodes... She won't see a doctor but that's why she agreed to marry Dominic, as companionship for her. He has access to good doctors, she doesn't know that but he's hoping he'd be able to encourage her to see one."
Mary sits up. "I've dealt with family members of people who have dementia," she tells him.
"Mum doesn't have dementia-"
"You've said she has some symptoms of it," Mary retorts gently. "It's scary, I know-"
"You don't understand," Francis cuts her off, getting out of their bed. His mother can't have it, he won't allow it. He's lost one parent, he doesn't need to lose the other.
He heads downstairs, thinking about what he'll do if she couldn't remember who he or his siblings are. He goes into the kitchen, switches the light on and goes to retrieve the already opened wine bottle from the fridge. Not bothering with a glass, he sticks with the bottle and takes a sip. And then another.
First Bash won't do anything.
Now Mary's assuming the worst.
"Francis," Mary calls him and he turns to see his wife with her arms crossed. "I have lost a father and mother, you can't tell me that I don't understand." She's pissed off, rightfully so and Francis swallows hard. "I've told you about how I spent years looking after my mother. No carers, no nurses except the ones the hospital sent every now and then when she wasn't able to make appointments. And what I'm about to say next is going to sound so horrible and shitty but I was relieved when she died. I could finally start living. If she hadn't died, I wouldn't have taken the jump to study in France and meet you. We wouldn't be here, I wouldn't be working my dream job or married to you with three children. No one wants to see their parents or children suffer, it goes two-ways. So you can say anything but never say that I don't understand because I'm the one with no parents, not you."
She turns and heads back upstairs as Francis screws the lid of the bottle back on. He returns the bottle back in the fridge before he leaves the kitchen, switching the lights off. Heading upstairs, he hears a soft voice coming from Rose's bedroom and he enters the bedroom and leans against the wall to watch his wife coo their youngest back to sleep.
"Nightmare," she explains when Rose is settled.
Francis gestures for them to head back to bed and when they're in their bedroom, the door closed, he pulls her into his arms. "I'm sorry."
"I shouldn't have snapped-"
"You had every right to," Francis cuts her off, pulling away to cup her cheeks. "You are the strongest person I know. I've had had a privileged life, with a mother and a father raising me but you were raising yourself. I'm so sorry."
Mary buries her face in his chest and sighs. "Let's just give her Christmas and New Year's, and then we'll... we'll insist she sees someone."
"Yeah."
"Because I love her too," Mary says, her voice breaking. "And I'd rather have had time with her than no time at all."
Francis smiles wryly. "Yeah..."
...
The next morning, Francis wakes up to see Mary's side bare. He slips out of bed and stumbles into the bathroom tiredly to get started on his day. She's probably already downstairs, eating breakfast and getting the kids sorted but when he checks the digital clock in the bathroom, it's early and she steps out of the shower, going straight to the sink without towelling anything but her hair.
"Morning," he mumbles, nuzzling her neck before grabbing his toothbrush. He notices the hair dye on the counter.
"Hey," she replies, squeezing his forearm tenderly as he starts to brush his teeth, lifting a box of hair dye up.
"Mi'nigh black, hmm?" He says through the foam.
Mary smiles wryly. "Grey hairs, Francis."
Francis spits out some toothpaste, turning to her in surprise. "Grey hairs? Babe, since when do you have grey hairs?"
"Stress, babe," Mary replies tightly. "From life, work, home stuff..."
Francis frowns at the last option. "Home stuff?"
"We're okay," Mary assures him with a kiss to the side of his lips. "It's nothing to worry about-"
"Your anxiety?"
Mary nods. "Yeah. Amongst other things," she admits. "Doesn't make me any less beautiful though, hmm?"
Francis smiles warmly before finishing up brushing his teeth and wrapping his arms around her bare waist. "Makes you sexier but go ahead and dye them if you want," he tells her huskily. "Either way, you're my wife and I love every single bit of you."
Mary grins and leans up to meet his lips in a heated kiss, moaning into his mouth when he squeezes her body, his hands trailing down to her bum. "I've got to finish up and wake the kids up," she says, pulling away.
Francis makes a noise of displeasure but lets her go so he can grab a quick shower. "Mary, I'm sorry about last night," he says as she pulls her underwear on.
Mary gives him a little nod, grabbing her bra and putting it on. "It's fine. I love you."
"I love you too."
...
"Claude," Mary breathes out, hugging her tightly. "You look great!" She pulls back to take a good look of her sister-in-law who laughs softly. "Merry Christmas!"
Claude nods. "Merry Christmas. We only ever seem to see each other around this time. I'll make more of an effort-"
"No, you're in London, helping the family business," Mary chides. "You look really good."
Claude smiles, her eyes filling with tears. "Don't feel it."
"Well, we women always fake it to make it," Mary mumbles. "Are you near that stuff?"
"No," Claude insists. "I'm not. I don't even take painkillers."
"Well, you sought help quickly so that was a good thing," Mary replies. "Come and see the kids!"
Claude grins and lets Mary pull her into the living room where James, Anne and Rose are. She settles herself on the carpet near Rose, helping the baby with her soft toys.
"They're all so big!"
"Yeah," Mary says with a wide smile. "Kids, say 'hello' and 'Merry Christmas' to Aunt Claude, will you?"
As the kids greet their aunt, Mary goes to answer the door. Christmas is at their place this year and Francis has been slaving away in the kitchen sorting out dinner. Catherine arrived with Dominic earlier and they're upstairs in one of the guest bedrooms, taking naps. Charlie and Hercule are hanging out outside in the garden and they're waiting on Leeza and Bash with their families.
"Leeza," Mary says, hugging the woman tightly. "Wow, you look huge."
Leeza scoffs, rubbing her bump. "I know! It's a boy," she says happily, her husband grinning as their daughters toddle inside. "Girls, greet Aunt Mary!"
The girls ignore their mother and search for the owners of the squealing, excited voices in the living room, making their parents scoff and apologise to Mary.
"And they're off," Mary says, laughing. "It's fine, honestly. Everyone's excited! Come in from the cold, then!" She ushers them inside and closes the door, helping Leeza take her coat off. "How long do you have to go?"
"About five or so weeks," Leeza replies. "I can't take it anymore. This baby is a little footballer and my bladder-ooh, got to go!" She hurries to the bathroom as Mary laughs and helps Philip with his coat.
She still can't believe they've been together for a decade or more. Childhood sweethearts, Catherine calls them and Mary smiles fondly before telling Philip to go and help Francis since the women are on strike this Christmas.
"Not even going to help with the desserts? You're cruel!" Philip calls over his shoulder before Mary hears her husband greet him warmly.
After putting the coats away, Mary's about to head to the living room but the doorbell rings again and she playfully rolls her eyes. Answering it, she sees a small hand stick up a gift bag.
"Why, thank you, Anastasia!"
"I have one for Uncle Francis," Ana says, checking her giant bag of gifts. "One for Jamie... One for Annie... One for Rosie... One for Bell-"
"We get it, Princess," Bash chuckles, ushering her inside. "It's freezing."
Ana pouts but enters the house after hugging Mary, allowing Mary to hug the couple at once and let them inside. She closes the door and sees Ana place her bag down before getting her coat off elegantly. She really is a little proper madam and Mary can't wait to give the girl her Christmas present, a princess tea party set with real crockery.
"Francis is in the kitchen," Mary tells Bash, taking his coat from his hands. "You're on Christmas dinner duty."
"Damn it," Bash mutters, leaving the women alone as Ana hurries into the living room, lugging the gifts behind her.
Mary turns to Kenna with a grin. "Are you finally telling everyone today?"
Kenna nods. "I think it's what they need. Just to think about new life and not think about the ones who aren't here," she says softly. "Bash is already getting quieter now that Henry's party is two days away. How's Francis?"
Mary winces. "He's worried. Mostly about Catherine."
"Dementia," Kenna states. "Bash tells me it could be that."
"Yeah. And Francis and Catherine don't want to know..."
"It could not even be dementia," Kenna says quickly. "I mean, she's almost sixty. Old people forget things."
Mary nods. "I just hope it isn't anything serious or if it is, we'll be able to be there for her and make things easier for her family."
Kenna smiles wryly, shifting on her heels. "Yeah. And how are you?"
"I'm fine."
"Really?" Kenna asks with a raised brow.
Mary nods with a smile. "Yeah. And you? I hope those arseholes haven't contacted you or harassed you."
"Nothing that I can't handle. Or get my husband to," Kenna replies before gesturing for them to enter the living room. "Let's go relieve Claude from our terrible kids."
...
"Kenna and I have news," Bash says, everyone silencing at once, including the children. He turns to his wife. "Want to announce it?"
Kenna squeezes his hand before turning to everyone else. "I'm pregnant."
"Ah, that's lovely! That's really amazing news," Catherine gushes, tears springing to her eyes. "Oh, Anastasia's going to be a big sister. Darling, you'll have a little brother or sister!"
"No," Anastasia says nonchalantly.
"I'm sorry?"
"Not a little brother or sister..." Ana tells her, stuffing tofu into her mouth.
Everyone turns back to the couple in confusion with Claude saying, "What does she mean?"
Kenna laughs nervously. "Well, we went to the doctors' and found out... Well, uh..."
"They f-found th-three babies," Bash says, bewildered.
Mary chokes on her wine before looking up at them in shock. "I'm sorry, three?!"
"We're having triplets, yay," Kenna says, waving her hands.
"Congratulations?" Francis tries, making the couple laugh nervously.
"It's a good thing," Bash says quickly. "Don't worry, we're happy. Aren't we?"
Kenna swallows hard, nodding. "We are," she says, her fingers itching to grab his wine glass but she quickly sticks with her apple juice. "We're really happy and so is Ana."
Leeza, upon noticing the elephant in the room, smiles widely. "When are you due then? We have way too many Summer babies in this family."
"May. Just after my birthday," Kenna tells them. "Anyway, apparently it's going to snow?"
...
Twenty Three Years Ago
"Here," Henry says, handing his sons and daughter gift boxes. "Merry Christmas."
Francis looks at his gift before looking over at his mother who is petting a two-year-old Claude to sleep in her arms. His brother has opened his gift and taken it out in confusion as Leeza holds hers delicately in her hands. Finally, he opens his gift and sees the same item his siblings have.
"What is it?" Leeza asks.
"They're ribbons," Henry states, taking Leeza's and tying the pink ribbon around her forefinger.
Leeza stares at the ribbon in awe and surprise. "It's so... lovely!"
"It's just a ribbon," Bash says, completely disappointed. "Where are our real presents?"
"Those are your presents," Catherine tells him gently.
Francis looks at their parents in shock, eyeing his own red ribbon. "Seriously?"
Henry chuckles warmly, tying the ribbon around Francis's finger before doing the same to Bash. "Now, who knows what tying ribbons around fingers mean?" No one speaks or makes a move. "Okay, it means that by tying a ribbon around your finger, you won't forget things."
"I can remember everything though," Bash says.
"Yeah!" Francis adds.
Henry tuts lightly. "Oh, then you'll find your soulmate."
"Soulmate?" Leeza asks, eyes wide.
"What's that?" Francis asks.
Henry shares a look with his wife before smiling. "Someone you're destined to be with," he tells his children. "An old friend of mine from China told me all about the story of a matchmaker in Chinese lore. He'd go around with a record of soulmates destined to meet each other along with a bag of red ribbons. I don't know when you're going to fall in love and get married but I promise you all that you will know. And I want you to remember this moment, hence the different coloured ribbons. Remember when I told you that you are all destined for great love stories."
Bash gags. "No, thanks!" He says before going to play with his horseriding book.
Henry merely chuckles and brings Francis into his arms as Leeza hurries off, excitedly looking at her ribbon. "I can only wish to see you all marry," he says softly, Francis looking at him in curiosity. "Just promise me you'll be happy."
"I promise," Francis says, burying his face into his father's chest and closing his eyes. "But do I have to fall in love?"
He feels his father smile against the top of his head and he is warmed and lulled by his father's heartbeat as his father says, "I fell in love with your mother, I could only wish the same fate for you and your siblings to find the one who will stand by you and help you strive to be the best you that you can be."
...
Present Day
"It's supposed to be a party," Catherine says, pulling Francis up for a dance. "Humour me?"
Francis sighs, plants a smile on his face and holds his mother's hand before wrapping his other arm around her waist and moving about the room. He can see the joy in his mother's eyes but he sees that they're laced with pain and longing but all he can do it give her this one last farewell to his father before she moves on for good. She deserves to move on for good, she can't remain a widow for the rest of her life. She lost her husband too soon but it's time for her to restart her life in the new year.
"Your father and I had many songs. We couldn't choose the one we loved the most for our first dance so we had many dances," she says. "Oh, it was beautiful. Our parents spared no expense! Your nonno and nonna hired the best string quartet and we got Sebastian the best toddler suit we could afford... I remember that day like it was yesterday."
Francis smiles fondly. "What was your cake like?"
Catherine giggles. "We were a little greedy," she says scandalously. "We had two cakes. A croquembouche cake and a lovely five-tier vanilla cake with beautiful white roses adorned on it. We froze the top tier for our first wedding anniversary and the second tier for when you came along. My father made you a birthday cake and we froze that for your first birthday. You and Bash finished that right off, you both had upset tummies for days."
"Yep, sounds like us," Francis chuckles, his mother resting her head against his chest. There was a time he was shorter than her but after he turned fourteen, he had a growth spurt and grew a head taller than her. It was strange going from looking up at her, to looking down at her.
"I don't want to forget anything," she says quietly.
Francis blinks away his tears. "See someone."
Catherine looks up at him. "Sometimes old people have their moments," she says before letting him go in favour of a dance with her darling daughters.
Mary appears by Francis's side, handing him a wine glance and he downs it. "Slow down."
"I need something stronger," he mumbles, leaving the room and coming to a stop in front of an intricately decorated table with a condolences book and a framed photograph of his father in black and white.
A few guests express their undying condolences and he gives them wry smiles, accepting all the words of comfort and assurances before they head into the party room. Heading up to the book, he scans all the messages from bereft extended family members and family friends and colleagues, even former university friends of his father's and his mother's... They all care because no message is one line but multiple. Even some are reminiscing of a time his father helped them.
"Francis?"
Francis jumps and turns to find Christian, Natasha and Jim standing there, Jim's wife beside her husband. "Hey, everyone's in the living room."
"We bought flowers," Natasha says hesitantly. "It's strange because it's not like it was yesterday..."
Francis nods, taking the flowers. "Yeah. Mum wanted this party. To say 'goodbye' for good."
Jim nods knowingly, turning to his wife. "Why don't you find Mary? I'll be in soon," he tells her, his wife leaving them with Natasha and Christian following after her. "Where can we find some good Scotch?"
Francis chuckles and leads him to the study, unlocking his father's old cabinet and retrieving an aged bottle of Scotch. When they moved in, they rearranged stuff, made it their own home and repainted walls, replaced furniture but this cabinet will never leave.
He pours two glasses and slides one across to Jim who sips it with a sigh of relief before they both take seats on the armchairs by the navy-painted wall.
"When my father died, I was seven," Jim starts. "Marie was heartbroken. She didn't have long with him and she felt that it was unfair. She was closed-off for a good while, her sister had to look after Mary and me until she was ready. Ten years after he passed, she called me downstairs. She told me she was letting him go because her health depended on it. That Mary needed her and she had to be her mother and her father. It's like a right of passage, to make sure their ghosts pass onto the afterlife. We don't need them, but we won't forget them. They're in us, Francis, whether it's physical or spiritual but they're there."
Francis swallows hard. "Did you move on?"
"I had a stepmum and sister to look after. I was the man of the house, I couldn't dwell," Jim replies gently. "But I've never forgotten my father. He's too important to me to forget but I let him go. When I have my first kid in the Spring, they will know all I can tell them about their grandfather. We'll keep his memory alive in our children and their children and so on. You do the same with yours. Then they'll truly be at peace, knowing that they don't need to be restless because we're still unable to grieve and let them go."
"It's hard."
"The best things for us always come hard," Jim tells him. "But we value them all the more."
...
"So, you're Madame Bonacieux now," Mary says to Catherine at the older woman's wedding reception.
Catherine smiles a little. "No, I've taken my maiden name up again," she says softly. "I don't think I can wear another man's name after Henry. That part of me is still loyal to him just as you hyphenated your name."
Mary understands. She couldn't quite write her father's name away. But she wanted to honour her new husband so agreed to hyphenate her name as her children will bear their father's name.
"Congratulations, Catherine," Mary says, giving her a hug. "I'll see where Francis has got to."
She finds him in the bathroom, finishing up with changing Rose. It's quite the sight, watching him struggle to get her back into her dress when all she wants is to be bare and free. When she sees Mary's face, she stops resisting and Francis turns to give his wife a wry smile.
"Mama's got the magic touch," Francis says, finally getting Rose redressed and setting her off to find her siblings who are down the hallway with their cousins and aunts.
"How are you doing?"
Francis shrugs. "I'm okay. I just want this day to be perfect for Mum."
"It is," Mary tells him. "She's really happy and she's glad her children and grandchildren are here to celebrate with her. All you have to do is relax." She rubs her hands down his forearms and he nods, resting his forehead against hers.
"Do you regret not having a big wedding?"
"We couldn't afford one," Mary says. "And no, I don't regret that because it was still special and we still got rings and a lovely, little signed paper at the end of it... Who needs big weddings when you've got the love of your life standing right in front of you?"
Francis kisses her and she chuckles against his lips, feeling her back hit the wall. He pulls her back into the bathroom and locks the door, her back hitting the door this time before his fingers move to unzip her dress.
"Are we really going to have sex at your mother's wedding?" Mary asks as his lips trail down her neck and all the exposed flesh he's causing.
"We are trying for a baby," he says against her skin.
"But isn't that..." Her words die as she laughs when he nips at her skin with a low groan. "Okay, I won't question it! But if anyone needs the loo-"
He raises a brow. "Pretty sure this isn't the only bathroom around," he replies. "Now, will you shut up and pull the rest of that pretty dress down?"
Mary pushes him off and teasingly takes her time to remove her dress before laying it on the thoughtfully placed velvet armchair in the corner. "I'm not ruining that dress for sex."
Francis spins her back into his arms and grins. "Trying to stay clean, hmm? You don't need to worry about the dress, it's your mouth that will be spewing all things dirty."
Mary gapes, a blush creeping onto her cheeks before she presses her lips against his hungrily, laughter in the back of her throat. He drives her mad and she loves it very much.
Avid watcher of Adelaide Kane's YouTube channel and was surprised to learn about her stress/anxiety induced premature grey hair! Thought I'd add that into the story.