It was never going to be easy for either of us moving. But the job offer was hard to turn down; we needed the stability it provided, especially now. And the house had a ghost. Not a real one of course, but her presence. The memory of what we had both lost. Even after a year and a half, it hung heavily on me. And I knew it was the same for Hannah. It was difficult for both of us to talk about some things. Hard to engage with an eight-year-old about the mother she no longer had. Hard for me to acknowledge the gaping void in my life. I didn't feel I had the words.
Nicole had been at home for the last few weeks. It had felt like the thing to do. It probably was, for her. She was in her own house, her own bed, not in a faceless hospital or hospice. But now the walls bore the imprint of her passing. It was pervasive, inescapable, indelible. A new start wouldn't erase her memory, I didn't want to do that. But it might make things a little more bearable for both of us.
The move was to a new town in a new state. It meant leaving friends for Hannah, which was tough. For me, it was easier. I'd burnt bridges with so many people. I guess we process grief in different ways. I became a depressive asshole who was impossible to be around. Some friends tried, but eventually I drove even the most persistent of them away. Yeah! I could do with a new start too. Maybe I was being selfish and should have thought more about my daughter, but I hadn't exactly been the best version of me. I hoped a reset might help to get back to being a semi-decent father. I told myself it was best for Hannah as well.
It didn't feel that way as we drove to the new place. Hannah sat in the back with her headphones on and refused to acknowledge my presence, let alone reply to my attempts at conversation. It had been a long three hours, but I now parked in the drive.
"Here we are, big girl. Home."
She silently got out, waited for me to open the house door and disappeared upstairs. We had stayed with my mom for a few days while the movers had been at work. I wanted Hannah to have the place set up, her furniture and things in situ. So much for that idea. I resisted the thought that I had a premature teenager on my hands and instead told myself that Hannah had been through hell. Who wants to see their mom die, for fuck's sake? Give her time, give her time.
--
We arrived on the Saturday. Monday was Labor Day and school started on the Tuesday. Hannah would be joining in third grade, with children who had known each other since pre-K. I knew it was going to be tough, being thrown in at the deep end so soon. The way things worked with the new and old houses, we couldn't have moved earlier. And I didn't see much point waiting until later in the year. Still I realized it sucked.
Her mood had gotten better over the long weekend. I did my best to be fun dad. We explored our new Main Street. Saw some awful Disney confection at the theater, a period building that I found charming. Found a pizza place she liked -- and which I noted for future reference did deliveries. She'd helped me with grocery shopping and buying the few things that inevitably had got lost in the move. On the Monday, I gave her the iPhone she had wanted; though I was far from convinced it was best for a girl her age. Yeah, there was some guilt there, I'll admit to trying to buy my way back into Hannah's good books. Later, we had a dad and daughter BBQ. And no one got food poisoning.
But, that night, she couldn't sleep. She said she was OK, but I know my daughter. I guess she had learnt to protect grown-ups from shit, the way I couldn't protect her from what happened to her mom. I tried to settle her, but she ended up in the big bed, with my arm round her. The big bed? I couldn't bear to keep the old one. The one in which... I was unclear why I'd bought a new big bed. Probably just autopilot. Lying awake at just gone midnight, my daughter finally asleep next to me, I missed Nicole. I missed my Nicky so very much.
--
I'd dropped off Hannah. She had trudged more than walked. Her teacher had given her a friendly greeting, which she had barely responded to, eyes surveying the floor. I reminded her to be polite. But the teacher had said she understood and would look after her. And then she was gone.
And I was alone.
I'm a technical author, I write documentation for software, or user guides, or training manuals. I had been freelance and worked exclusively from home. That had been handy when Nicky was working. She had been in financial services. Hers was the main income and she worked long hours.
My time had been pretty much my own to organize, as long as I met my deadlines. That meant it was dad who dropped Hannah off, dad who picked her up, dad who took her to swimming, or play dates, or birthday parties. Friends used to joke that I was the real mom. I didn't mind, it made sense and I liked the time with my daughter.
Now I'd taken a permanent job with one of my regular clients. With just one income, freelancing felt too risky. I'd still be mostly at home, but they wanted me nearby. Able to come into the office for half days, maybe once or twice a week, if required. Hence the move. The were a good organization and already knew I was a single parent. They had promised me a lot of flexibility.
In the past, I'd got to know the other parents. A couple of at home dads like me, but mostly moms. I was on the PTA and knew some of the other members pretty well. All people I'd now never talk to again. Today was different. It wasn't just Hannah who knew no one. I adopted my daughter's hang-dog gait as I walked back to the car.
"Jacob! Jacob! Please wait."
A raised female voice, I wondered whether Hannah had had a meltdown. Something like when Nicole and I found an older girl had been bullying her for weeks, with the school blissfully unaware. I turned, fearing the worst.
"Jacob. Thank you. It is Jacob, right? I hope I haven't been shouting at the wrong man."
She was a little out of breath, her light brown hair pulled up and held messily by a crooked claw-clip. Her face was round, warm, and open, slightly flushed by running after me. I don't think I noticed her clothes, mom clothes, I guess. Sort of shapeless. But her smile was nice. She was also holding a blue sweater.
"Hi. Yes, I'm Jacob."
"Oh good. Wait. You are Hannah's dad, right?"
"Yes, that's right. Can I help you?"
"No. But I'm meant to help you."
I must have looked quizzical.
"Sorry. First day back is always so hectic. I'm meant to be your buddy. For school that is. I'm meant to help you and Hannah get to know the school and the area. But the school office only sent me your details this morning. Really sorry, I should have contacted you a few weeks ago. But I couldn't get anyone at the school to respond."
She paused and took a deep breath.
"Sorry again. So frazzled. I'm being rude. I'm Paula. My daughter, Riley, is in Hannah's class."
She held out her hand and I shook it.
"I'm happy to meet you, Paula."
Again I got the big smile. It lit up her face.
"Right. So I was meant to have contacted you before. Sorry again. Want to maybe go grab a coffee and I can fill you in."
"That would be great. And really no need to apologize. In fact it's me who needs to say sorry. I have a deadline today and with the move and settling in, I have to do some work. But how about tomorrow after drop off? Does that work for you?"
"That's actually better. Let's do that. I've just remembered, I didn't give Riley her sweater. So hectic. Speak tomorrow."
She turned and rushed back to the school. Walking back to my car, I smiled. At least it's not just me who is disorganized. She seemed nice, it was good to know one person at least.
I got my work done. Went to pick up Hannah and waved to Paula from a distance. Riley waved and shouted "see you tomorrow, Hannah". Hannah seemed pretty good. I told her I had found an ice cream place and asked if she wanted to tell me about her day over a sundae. Nothing makes Hannah more talkative than frozen dairy goods.
So. It had not been too bad. She liked her teacher. She'd been sat next to Riley, who was meant to be her buddy too. They got on. Some Korean boy band they both like, I struggle to keep up. And Riley likes dinosaurs, so of course Hannah thinks she's great. Liking dinosaurs or not is Hannah's main way of assessing people. It was a relief that she was chatty. Early days, I told myself, but it could have been worse.
I got Hannah to bed on time for once and -- even more incredibly -- she went to sleep. I guess it had been a big day emotionally. It was only 8pm and I finished off some other work, before having an early night myself.
--
Lying in bed, sleep wouldn't come. I knew why not.
For a long time, sex had been the last thing on my mind. After Nicky's death, I closed down. I had anxiety. I couldn't sleep. Sex wasn't a thing for me. I even noticed that I was having problems. It didn't normally take much to get me physically aroused. A bed scene shot artfully for a PG-13 audience was often enough. Nicole used to make fun of me. She said I was always 'up' for anything. Then that stopped.
I spoke to a doctor and she said it was most likely stress. She said that the normal pills would help for now, and that it would probably get better with time. I tried a pill once, just to check there was no bigger problem and it worked. But I had no real reason to take them. So I gave it time as the doc suggested. She was right about that too. Things got better, but that also led to other problems.
I wanted to cum. I knew that. I'd latched the door to my room. My dilemma was how? I closed my eyes and thought about Nicole's body. About the first time I had seen it, when we were both at college. I thought about how I couldn't believe she was with me. She was the cutest Junior in college, and it wasn't even close. Her soft skin, her ample curves, her bewitching face, her big, limpid, sapphire eyes, framed by golden tresses. She was out of my league, but there she was, naked and wanting me.
The memories were enough to rekindle excitement. But then I always hit a block. Instead of arousal, remembering making love to her just brought tears. Maybe I was messed up to try to masturbate to my wife's memory, but it felt better than the alternative. The alternative was shameful, disloyal to her. But the alternative was what I needed.
I grabbed my iPad and ear buds off of the nightstand and opened a private window in Safari. There was a girl. A girl who reminded me of her; reminded me of her a lot. A girl who was often available, at a price. I logged on, searched my favorites, and she was online. Ava knew my username and wrote something provocative as I joined her room. I clicked on the private button and she was all mine. She jumped as I buzzed the toy sticking pinkly out of her panties. She asked if I wanted her to be Nicky again and I typed yes. Ava's voice was totally different, East European I thought, but it still helped me to pretend. I asked her to strip and she revealed the body that brought back so many memories.
"Do you want to fuck your Nicky, Jacob?"
I did. Stupid to use my real name, I know. But I kinda needed to hear Ava say it. I typed a reply one handed, balancing my iPad, with my other hand busy. She found a large dildo and sucked on it, then pushed it deep into her mouth. Pulling it out dripping with saliva.
"I love to suck your cock, Jacob. Now I want to be fucked."
She pulled out the remote toy and left it on her belly. Then she slid the dildo up and down from her vagina to clit and back. Then she took it inside her, putting the toy on her clit. I buzzed it again and she moaned as she slid the dildo deeper in. My excitement built as she fucked herself, calling out my name, saying she was my Nicky, asking me to buzz the toy. I got tissues ready.
And then I heard something else, above her moans and sighs. A knocking at my door. I quickly typed 'thank you' and closed my browser window and then the iPad case. I grabbed my PJs and dressed rapidly, tucking my still rigid cock into the waistband, wishing it would start to deflate.
"I'm coming, honey, just a second."
Fuck! Why did I chose those words?
