21. W I L K S

TWENTY-ONE

W I L K S

“It made the most sense, you see.” Dad chows down on his supper whilst simultaneously explaining to Chelsie the unique way he and Mum came up with all six of our names. “My name starts with the letter ‘G’, so all the boys are just like me…”

“And my name starts with the letter ‘D’, so all the girls are just like me,” Mum happily finishes his sentence. The two of them are always notorious for that.

I can’t help but smile at their visibly proud faces, only my cheeks widen that much more when I take in the way that Chelsie’s got her hands adorably perched up on either side, listening with those big blue eyes full of intent.

I’m obsessed.

“I think that that’s so creative. Besides, it’s a subtle nod to each of you!” Chelsie beams from ear to ear. “You guys totally nailed it, by the way. Everyone’s names suit them so well, especially Gary’s.”

I raise a suspecting brow as I start to laugh. “Really?” I ask, leaning back into my chair. “In what way does Gary suit me?”

I’d never been a fan of it growing up. I won’t lie, it had always felt quite old-school, hence the adoption of ‘Wilks’. But everytime I hear Chelsie say it, suddenly, I can’t imagine myself being called anything different.

Chelsie shrugs. “I’m not sure. I can’t quite put my finger on it. You just… I don’t know… look like a Gary.”

A Gary.

Her Gary.

I swallow to resolve the escalating thought and raise my glass in their direction. “Good on ya, Mum and Dad,” I joke. “Cheers to Gary.”

“To Gary.” They smirk, joining in on the gesture before settling back into conversation.

Both of my parents were in their teens when they had me. I’m an accident baby; I have no shame in admitting that, but what can I say? Sometimes, the best things in life are… unexpected . At least that’s what I wrote in Mum's Mother's Day card a few months back.

Mum and Dad said they always knew they’d name me Gary, to yes, co-inside with my dad’s “G” theme, but the name also just so happened to be that of my grandad's. They say the firstborn always gets the family resemblance name, not to mention Granddad also just so happened to be a footballer.

Coincidence?

I think not.

For two years straight, I was the baby of the family, being doted on hand over foot until I lost all sense of peace in my life when the first of my many younger sisters was born—Daisy.

Another two years later, the saga continued with Dara.

And at eight years old, just when I thought that we were free of crying babies in the house, my parents came home from the hospital with not one, but two more—Delilah and Destiny.

At this point, I was surrounded by so much estrogen I could barely handle it. It got to the point that it didn’t matter that I was the oldest. The girls would all unify as one and bully me into their activities.

Do you know how bad I look in a dress?

The bullying got so bad I swore to my dad that if he and Mum ever had another, it better be a little brother, and if it wasn't, I was downright ready to move out.

I think that threat might’ve worked very well because after eleven years of waiting, the universe finally brought me George, or what we call him... Georgie .

Once Georgie came along, I was convinced that our family was complete—six kids, two parents, and a full household—and for a while, that was the case. Only a few years back, Mum and Dad shocked us all when they broke the news that baby number seven was on the way by gifting us each a onesie on Christmas morning…

“Father Christmas was working overtime this year, eh, Dad?” I playfully nudged him that night, prompting him to roll his eyes and grumble beneath his breath.

Darcy, my baby sister, was born late summer that following year, a few weeks after my eighteenth birthday. She proved to us all that she was the final and missing piece to our Wilkinson family puzzle.

So there you have it. That’s us. We’re a mad lot, that’s for sure—but we’re a family, and my family? I wouldn’t replace it for the world.

“So, Chelsie, how many siblings do you have?” Dad passes the salad down the table, handing it over to me as I place a hearty portion onto my plate, being slapped by Daisy as a result.

“Just one,” Chelsie recites, dapping along the corners of her mouth with a napkin. “An older sister, Ruby. She’s the best, so although I didn’t grow up in a big family like you guys, Ruby always kept me good company.”

“That’s lovely. There’s nothing quite like having a sister who is also your best friend. Isn’t that right, girls?” Mum peers down the table, hopeful that my sisters will agree. Their diverting eyes say it all…

“Don’t worry, Ruby and I fight too sometimes, I get it,” Chelsie laughs as she goes in for another bite. “It’s a part of what makes having a sister that much more fun.”

Mum nods in agreement as Dad is next to speak up. “So, Gary . How did you and Chelsie meet exactly?” He stares between the two of us curiously.

“At the bakery,” I’m quick to answer. “You know, the one up on Sandringham.” I gesture north with my fork.

“You mean Ruby's bakery?” Dara jumps in.

“That’s the one!” Chelsie smiles proudly. “Creative name, I know,” she jokes.

“Ruby's bakery? What? No way!” Georgie sits up in his seat with an abundance of enthusiasm. “My best friend Rowan loves that place. He talks about it all the time!”

Chelsie’s eyes light up with a sense of familiarity. “Hey, I know Rowan.”

Georgie beams. “You do?”

“Mhm.” She nods. “He and his mum come into the bakery all the time. Don’t tell anyone.” She leans in to whisper. “But they’re my favorite customers.”

“Not me?” I tease under my breath.

Her foot brushes past mine beneath the table. “You’re a close second.”

I’ll take what I can get.

“That reminds me of that saying.” Georgie takes no notice as he scratches his temple in thought. “What is it? ‘It’s a big world?—’”

“ Small , Georgie,” I correct him with a laugh. “It’s a small world, lad. Not big.” I pinch his cheek before taking a sip of my drink.

“You know, Georgie.” Chelsie leans in again, voice louder this time. “Rowan is obsessed with our chocolate biscuits. Have you ever had one before?”

Georgie shakes his head with the biggest puppy dog pout known to man—the kid could convince anyone with that frown.

“Well, don’t be too sad.” He’s already suckered Chelsie in. “Next time I see you, I’ll be sure to get you one. I’m the one who makes them, after all. How does that sound?”

“That sounds amazing!” Georgie’s excitement is practically through the roof at this point. Little does Chelsie know that the kid’s a chocoholic. “Thank you, Chelsie. You’re the best!”

She is, isn’t she? I can’t help but agree as she straightens her spine and flashes me a tender look.

God, how did we end up here?

Better yet, how did I end up with her?

“You’re such a sweet girl, Chelsie.” Mum is close enough that she places a hand on her arm. “Thank you so much.”

“It’s my pleasure, really.”

Mum pulls back with a comforting nod as she passes some more food down the table. I’m the first to grab it. “So, tell us more about you, Chelsie. Do you go to school?”

Mum’s mention of a touchy subject prompts Chelsie’s once full smile to subtly lose its spark. I can feel my chest tighten as a consequence.

“I do,” Chelsie’s voice lacks the confidence it once had. “I’m just uh—on a break right now. I needed some time to reset… relax, if you will.”

“Breaks are good,” Dad is thankfully quick to agree with her plan. Perhaps he, too, picked up on her shift in demeanor. They say the Wilkinson men have always been observant, or we’ve just been around women enough to know when something is off.

“You know, Chelsie.” Dad gestures his fork in my direction. “We’re always telling this one here to take a break. But he’s always pushing himself. He hasn’t stopped since he was twelve, you know. I don't think there’s been a single weekend where he hasn’t played footie.”

“That’s how you get to where you want to go, Dad,” I remind him like I always have. “That’s how I’ve gotten to where I am today.”

He playfully brushes me off with a wave of his hand. My parents have always supported my passions, but they often worry that I’m working too hard. Deep down, I know I am—but frankly, I have no other choice. I’m in my prime. I have to work hard because I know I can’t play football forever. My body has an expiry date, and for some, Coach included, you never know when that day might come.

So, as long as I’ve got my health and this sport continues to bring me happiness, I won’t stop working full steam ahead because nothing is more important to me than making sure the people at this table are okay. I look over at Chelsie as I run that thought back through my mind.

No one is more important .

Chelsie has fit into our group… our family so seamlessly that as a pleasant quiet falls amongst us, I’m left basking in the thought that there’s nothing more powerful than having the people you love embrace the person you’re starting to fall in love with…

Fall in love with.

Shit—I’ve never actually allowed that thought to fully come through, but now that it has, I don’t regret it. With every passing second this week, I’ve only grown more entranced by Chelsie. Marveled by the little details that make up who she is.

Like the way she’ll accidentally snort if she’s laughing too hard. How creases will form around her eyes when she’s smiling so bright. The way that even when her face is full of a frown, I know that a single joke will break her free from it. It’s the moments where I start to unconsciously recognize that her voice goes up an octave when she’s embarrassed, down an octave when she’s sad, or raspy when we’re mid-kiss.

It’s these little things that I hold onto when it comes to her—and above all else, it’s the way I’ve come to learn that she wears her heart on her sleeve. A sleeve I’m as determined to protect as I am to continue to get to know.

“I have a question,” little Darcy’s voice speaks up as she kneels up on her chair so that she can see above the table.

“You do?” Mum runs her hand over her forehead, brushing her fringe away from her delicate little face. “What’s your question, sweetheart?”

“Chelsie…” Of course the question is directed towards her. “Are you Gary’s girlfriend?”

The room goes silent.

Leave it to Darcy to ask the one question I know has been at the forefront of everyone’s mind. Mum’s been giving me the look. Dad’s been giving me the staredown. Hell, even Georgie’s been giving me an agreeable headnod.

I mean, to me, the answer to that question is obvious. Although we haven’t had a chance to talk about labels, Chelsie and I… we’re together—we’re exclusive. It’s only her. It’s only ever going to be her?—

“We’re not boyfriend and girlfriend.”

What?

The blood rushes to Chelsie’s cheeks as she shies back into the chair and murmurs out those five words.

And as Darcy’s face drops, so does my stomach.

I know I’ve not yet asked her formally, but if Chelsie and I aren’t a couple, then what are we?

The air in the room grows thick. There’s a reason why the elephant is ignored. It’s to avoid this feeling. This exact uncomfortable moment.

“Uh… how about we do gifts?” I propose, hopeful that that will brighten everyone’s spirits, including my own.

“Yes, gifts!” Oblivious to the tension, Georgie is immediately on board as he cheers out. “I want to open your gift first, Gary.” He pushes his dinner plate to the side and rushes to grab my gift from across the room.

Once he’s back, he tears away at the paper like a wild animal before crying out, “A new Crawfield jersey?! What the heck! This is the best gift ever!”

“Turn it around.” The words feel like deja vu as I instruct him. “Take a look at the back.”

He does as I request, jumping up and down in joy as he reads out what I had printed on the back. “It has my name on it?!” He eventually races to my side and pulls me into a tight hug.

“And the number twelve,” I clarify. “I thought, hey, maybe when you play for Crawfield one day, that could be your number. One after me, prodigy . What do you think?”

“Yes!” Georgie eagerly nods, prompting my parents to groan out in frustration. I don’t think either of them wants Georgie to play football, but he’s a natural, how can they deny him of his talents? I mean, after all, he’s had me to train him…

“I’m going to go and try it on!” he announces. “Be right back.” He sprints out of the room.

“Slow down, Georgie!” Mum shouts. “You’re going to?—”

There’s a crash that brings us all to a quiet.

“I’m okay…” Georgie winces, signifying that he’s unsurprisingly not okay.

“I’ll go check on him.” Dad’s used to the semantics by now as he exits the room and stomps his way up the stairs.

“I’m going to help clean up.” Daisy is next to stand up alongside my mum, who has already taken the liberty to clear off the table.

“I guess I should get started on dessert,” Dara offers, flashing Delilah a look to join her.

Destiny stands up, given that now it’s just Chelsie, Darcy, and I twiddling our thumbs as we awkwardly sit together.

“I’ll uh… help .”

Chelsie shifts beneath her chair, placing her handkerchief on the table. “Maybe I should, too?” Her question seems directed towards me.

“Sure.” I nod. “If you want.”

Nervously, she smiles before disappearing into the kitchen, leaving me to look down at Darcy for an explanation.

“Darce,” I whisper, pulling her onto my lap. “What the heck, kid? You just made things so awkward.”

When she pouts, I’m reminded that she’s only three. She doesn’t know any better. “I’m sorry, Gare-Bear,” she says in a downright adorable voice combined with the use of a nickname that’s criminal to be mad at. “I thought she was your girlfriend.”

I sigh, planting a kiss on her cheek. “Yeah, me too, kid.” I catch a glimpse of Chelsie in the kitchen, washing dishes beside my mum and sisters. “Me too.”