“Of course, I will, my love,” I told her, my heart shattering to pieces in front of her.
Molly passed.
My wife did everything in a hurry. Born early, lived hard, had children early, and died early. Way before what should have been her time.
I took the boys, and Molly (MJ), back to Pat and Val’s. The three brothers had all moved out, so we were able to move into their old rooms.
Mum had shown no interest in meeting any of her grandchildren, so, for my own peace of mind, I had let her die in my mind too.
I held it together, not because I wanted to or even thought I could, but because my children needed me to. Our eldest wasn’t even six yet. I mostly held it together because I knew Molly wanted me to.
Many a night, I repeated in my mind what she said to me before dying, “You’re not to grieve. I promise that we will be together again.”
It helped, somehow.
It’s always seemed weird to me how genetics work. The three boys all grew to be tall like me. None of them quite reached the 6 ft. 4 in. (193 cm) that I am, but they’re all well over 6 feet tall. Molly and my eldest two are both slim. The youngest, Robbie, will probably run to fat like I would have if I didn’t keep my exercise levels high and my diet strict.
MJ was like her mum, tiny. MJ had her mum’s flashing green eyes and dark brown hair. The same even white teeth under full lips and the same impish smile.
Unfortunately, she had the same tendency to stare at me as well. The intensity of her gaze was a little scary at times.
On MJ’s fifth birthday, she asked if I could enrol her into a gymnastics course. The Olympics had been on the previous year, and MJ had sat glued to the TV throughout the gymnastic events.
I was able to find her a club, and it was no effort to get her there. MJ was always ready and waiting with all of her gear well before it was time to go to the club.
MJ got to be pretty good. She was a non-travelling reserve for the Australian gymnastics team for the 2018 Commonwealth games and the 2020 Tokyo Olympics (held in 2021, as you know).
She was only 14 in 2018, but even so, missing her home Commonwealth games by such a small margin must’ve hurt. MJ took it all in her stride, though.
“Gymnastics is just something to do as I wait for the time to be right,” MJ informed me when I asked how she felt about missing out.
Now, where had I heard that before? I gave a shiver as if a goose had walked over my grave.
My late wife felt very close just then.
My teaching career had gone well, and the rest of my life was good. The boys had all grown up to be good kids and great young men. PJ and Thomas had both completed apprenticeships. PJ did his with the same Council his grandfather worked for. Pat had managed to get him in there to do an electrical apprenticeship. Tommy wanted to be a plumber, so that’s what he did. Pat put a word in for him, and Tommy was taken in as one of QBuild’s apprentices.
Robbie was a brain box, so he was currently attending Melbourne University, journeying through a degree that would eventually see him graduate as a Doctor of Medicine.
I was offered the Principal’s job back at my first teaching school in Augathella. Initially, I was going to refuse because MJ was about to start grade 12. Probably the most important year of her school career.
MJ told me, “Don’t be silly, dad. You always said you were going back there because you loved it so much. What better time than now?”
“Any time after you’ve graduated would be a better time, Miss,” I growled at her.
“I don’t want to go on to Uni, dad,” MJ informed me. “I want to settle down with a nice boy and have his children. Augathella is a great place to raise kids, as you well know, so why not there?”
“What about your gymnastics? You won’t be able to do what you need to do to make the 2024 Olympic team from there.”
“Gymnastics was just to fill in the time, dad. The time is almost filled in. I don’t need it anymore.”
I knew, by now, that arguing with MJ was as futile as arguing with Molly and that MJ was just as difficult to refuse.
I gave an exasperated sigh.
“It’s settled then,” MJ told me. “You’ll take the job, we’ll move back to Augathella, and I’ll finish high school then find myself a good husband. I want the same as mum had, the same as her mum had. Three boys, then a girl.”
Tossing my hands in the air, I opened my emails and sent a confirmation request saying I could start in the new term, about four weeks from now and about a week after Molly’s eighteenth birthday.
There was one part of my life that hadn’t gone well.
I had never found another woman I felt I could love. I indulged in a bit of casual sex, but it seemed so hollow that I didn’t bother very often. There were women who, it seemed, set their cap for me, but as soon as they realised I had four young kids to raise and not much money, interest dropped away quickly.
If I’m being honest, the problem was this: They weren’t Molly.
MJ and I packed our meagre belongings, stacked them into a rented trailer, and drove the 8 hours to Augathella.
As the principal, I got a larger, better equipped home than I got as the teacher but I was happy to swap houses with Alex, one of the four other teachers at the high school. Alex was in the house I had when I was first there. A modest three-bedroom affair with only one toilet and bathroom.
Alex and his wife had four kids. The principal’s residence has four bedrooms plus an en suite in the main bedroom, so the swap made sense given only MJ and I were there.
This simple act alone garnered me the approbation and support of the teaching staff.
Molly Junior had celebrated her ‘coming of age’ eighteenth birthday in Brisbane modestly. She invited a few of her closest friends back to Pat and Val’s place for a BBQ and a few drinks.
It was a surprisingly quiet affair. There were only six people, plus MJ, Pat, Val, two of her brothers (Robbie couldn’t make the trip) and me. Only two of MJ’s guests were boys. Boyfriends of her friends.
MJ had never had a boyfriend, as far as I knew. At least, if she had one, she never brought him home or even mentioned his name.
“That girl is waiting for something,” Val muttered, watching the seven kids laugh and dance together.
Without thinking, I replied, “Tonight, her eighteenth birthday, I’d guess. I wonder who the lucky guy is.”
Pat just about choked on his beer.
“You think you’re going to have the same conversation with a boy as you and I had tomorrow morning?” He managed.
“No, well maybe, but not tomorrow. Neither of these guys is strong enough to attract MJ’s interest.”
“It will be nice to have babies and the pitter-patter of young feet around the house again,” Val mused.
It was my turn to choke on my beer.
Once MJ and I were settled into our lives at Augathella, MJ’s behaviour changed.
If I didn’t know better, I’d say that my daughter began to flirt with me. I’d come home from school to find her in a very short skirt or dress with her knicker-covered hairy snatch on display, with a foot up on the bench, chair, or couch she was sitting on.
I pretended that I hadn’t noticed, of course. Fathers don’t have those thoughts or visions about their daughters. That is just wrong.