‘I don’t know what to do, Laurie.’ Sarah swills her wine around in her glass, looking thoroughly miserable. She texted earlier to see if there was any chance of meeting up for a drink after work; although I still had a bunch of emails to get through, I could tell from the tone of the message that she needed to get something off her chest, so I dropped them and went to meet her. I wasn’t wrong. I knew that life with Jack hadn’t been a bed of roses since his accident but from what she’s told me over the last hour or so it sounds as if lately he’s making things almost intolerable.
‘And now he’s decided that he’s not going to take any more painkillers,’ she says. ‘Flushed them all down the loo last night. He said they were making him numb, but I think he’d rather be in pain so he can moan about it.’
If she sounds uncharitable, don’t judge her harshly. She’s been trying her best to put a cheerful face on ever since the accident, and I know for a fact there’s been precious little coming back from Jack in the way of gratitude. It’s been almost three months now, and every time I’ve seen Jack since he got out of hospital he’s been borderline rude, particularly to Oscar. It’s got to the point where I’m almost avoiding him.
‘I take it he’s not had any joy on the job front?’ I know the answer to the question before I ask it. Although he’s well enough now physically, emotionally he’s far from out of the woods. Of all of the injuries he could have sustained, partial hearing loss seems particularly cruel given his career.
She shakes her head. ‘I don’t know if he’s even been looking and I’m damn sure he hasn’t been in contact with any stations.’ She eats a cashew from the bag open on the table between us. ‘I’m worried, Lu. He just seems so bloody angry all the time. And he doesn’t want to do anything; it’s a massive palaver to get him to even leave the house.’ She sighs. ‘I’m worried he’s becoming a recluse or something.’
I try to choose my words carefully. ‘He’s been through a big trauma. I guess it’s his coping mechanism?’
‘But that’s just it. He isn’t coping. He’s sitting and staring at the wall and growing a fucking beard that doesn’t suit him.’
I top our glasses up from the half-empty bottle of white in the cooler beside our table. ‘You could try talking to his doctor?’
‘Jack says I’m smothering him.’ She frowns into her glass. ‘He’ll be lucky if I don’t, the way he’s going. He never calls or texts me any more. I’ve had more texts from Luke than Jack since the accident. That’s how bad it’s gotten.’
Sarah has stayed in loose contact with Luke, the good-natured Aussie who found Jack’s phone on the night of the accident.
‘Is it bad that I can’t wait to go away next week?’
I shake my head. ‘Not bad at all. You must be desperate for a break.’ Her sister’s hen party in the Canaries couldn’t have been more timely. ‘It might do Jack good to stew on things without you there to jolly him up. He’ll have to fend for himself a bit more.’
She sighs, shrugging. ‘You’re so lucky with Oscar. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him in a bad mood.’
I have to think really hard to remember the last time we clashed. ‘Yeah. He’s a pretty steady guy.’
‘I don’t suppose you’d call in on Jack while I’m away, would you?’ She looks at me as if I’m her last hope. ‘He might open up to you. God knows he won’t talk to me.’
What am I supposed to say? No isn’t an option. ‘Do you think he’d talk to Oscar? Maybe he’d be better with a man?’ Even before I say it I know it’s a ridiculous idea.
She shakes her head, downcast. ‘Please don’t be offended, Lu, and don’t repeat this to Oscar, but I don’t know if he and Jack are on the same wavelength. I mean, he likes him, but I think he struggles to know what to say around him sometimes.’
I don’t really know how to respond to that, so I just nod and knock back a mouthful of wine. Because I’m left with no other choice, I reach down into my Kate Spade bag and pull my diary out.
‘Okay.’ I flip it open and run my finger down next week’s page until I get to Saturday. ‘Looks like Oscar’s going shooting in the morning.’
I laugh when Sarah raises her eyebrows. ‘Don’t ask. One of those gift experience things someone gave his brother, I think. I could call round to see Jack while he’s off doing that?’
Sarah’s shoulders sag with relief. ‘I don’t know how to get through to him; I’m at the point now where everything I say pisses him off. He might not think he can get away with being so rude to you.’
My mobile goes off on the table between us, and I feel almost guilty as a loved-up image of me and Oscar in Thailand flashes up.
‘It’s just Oscar checking about dinner,’ I say, scanning his text quickly. I’m terrified of ignoring messages in case there’s anything wrong; not surprising really given what happened to Jack.
‘Very domesticated,’ Sarah says. I can’t deny it. I’ve made no headway at all with looking for somewhere else to live, partly because of what happened to Jack, but if I’m honest mostly because I’m enjoying playing house without the onerous responsibility of a mortgage or bills. It’s a ridiculous way to live, I know, but for Oscar it’s just how life has always been, and I have to admit it’s amazing to feel so safe. Every now and then I wonder if it’s too safe, too steady, but sitting here listening to Sarah, I know I should thank my lucky stars.
‘Right then.’ Sarah nods towards my phone, where a picture of the Bolognese Oscar’s just made is flashing up. ‘Looks like you need to make tracks.’
I pause to hug her tightly as I get up to leave. ‘He’ll come good again, Sar, I know he will. He’s been through a lot. Just give him time.’
‘It’s all I seem to do,’ she says, shrugging into her jacket. The weather has been getting colder for the last few days. Winter coats suddenly fill the streets of London.
‘Enjoy a bit of sunshine.’ I’m hit by an intense longing to go with her, to dance, to laugh, to be carefree and silly the way we used to in Delancey Street.
‘I’ll have a cocktail for you,’ she grins.
‘Visitor for you in the living room, Jack m’lad,’ Billy shouts through from the hallway. I’m in the bathroom, half-heartedly brushing my teeth. I know it can’t be Sarah, because she’s off sunning herself in Tenerife. And I know it’s no one from work, because, oh yeah, I don’t have a job. And I hope to God it’s not my bloody mother again, because if it is and Billy has let her in on his way out to the footie with Phil then I’m going to fucking kill him. I should have accepted their invitation to go with them. Oh, wait. They didn’t ask me. I don’t blame them, to be honest. They’ve pretty much stopped asking me to do anything any more because they already know the answer will be no. Maybe it’s Mila Kunis. She’s in luck, I’ve had a shower.
‘Laurie,’ I say, surprised enough to come to a halt in the doorway of the living room. She’s perched on the arm of the chair, still buttoned into her red woollen coat, her bobble hat in her hand.
‘Jack.’ Her smile is hesitant and doesn’t quite make it as far as her eyes.
I look over my shoulder towards the kitchen suddenly, struck by the possibility that she hasn’t come alone. ‘Where’s posh boy?’
‘His name is Oscar,’ she says, testy.
I shrug. I don’t really want to pass the time of day talking about that tosser, so I change the subject. ‘Coffee?’
She shakes her head.
‘Wine? A beer?’
Another refusal as she takes off her coat and I go to the kitchen and grab myself a beer.
‘It’s good to see you,’ she says as I head back through and drop down on the sofa. ‘How’s things?’
‘Peachy.’ I raise my bottle. ‘Down the hatch.’
She sits quietly as I swallow half the beer.
‘You sure you don’t want one?’
‘It’s half past ten in the morning, Jack.’
I’m hoping the beer will be hair of the dog for my hangover. I’m starting to regret ditching all the painkillers in one go and using vodka instead to medicate. I know this can’t go on; I’m still half-cut from last night.
‘Did you come round here just to tell me what time it is? Because I have a watch to do that for me.’ I look at my bare wrist and belatedly realize it’s been a while since I last saw my watch. Probably somewhere amongst the piles of stuff in my room; Billy and Phil insist on being neat freaks out here, so my room is the dumping ground for all things Jack. Laurie looks thrown by my question. God knows why. She started it with her pious observations about my drinking.
‘No, I came because I’m worried about you,’ she says, sliding from the arm of the sofa on to the seat, her knees angled towards me.
‘Well, as you can see, there’s no need to be.’ I gesture grandly down at my fortuitously clean T-shirt. ‘Contrary to what Sarah has no doubt told you, I’m not wallowing in a stinking cesspit of my own self-pity. I’ve showered and I’ve eaten breakfast, so you can stand down from your suicide watch or whatever this is supposed to be.’
‘A clean T-shirt isn’t enough to convince me that you’re fine,’ she says. ‘I’m always here if you need someone to talk to, okay?’
I laugh. ‘Go and volunteer at the Samaritans if you want to listen to someone’s problems.’
‘Just stop, will you?’ she says, staring at me. ‘That’s enough.’
‘That’s enough?’ I hope the razor-sharp derision is enough to cut. ‘Enough?’
Her chin comes up, her round, wary eyes watching me. ‘Yes, Jack. Enough. I haven’t come here to fight with you. There’s no reason for you to be so damn rude.’
I glance at her. ‘How’s work?’
She looks for a second as if she’s having trouble keeping up with my swift change of direction. ‘Umm, yeah,’ she says. ‘It’s fine. I like it.’
‘Good for you,’ I nod, pointing at her with my beer bottle. ‘Although I always imagined you’d find something a bit more, you know, grown-up.’ I’m not proud of myself right now. I know how much landing that job meant to Laurie, and that she’ll be damn good at it. I can’t think of another person more full-hearted and kind to answer teenage problems without belittling their worries. I see how my offensive remark hurts her. It would be better for both of us if she just left.
‘Is that so?’
I nod. ‘Everybody has to start somewhere though.’
‘Yes, I suppose they do,’ she says. ‘How’s the job hunt going?’
Oh, clever. Just when I was already feeling like a tosser, she throws that one in. ‘Oh, you know how it is. They’re queuing round the block but I’m keeping my options open.’
‘You should probably buy yourself a new razor if you get called in for any interviews.’
I run my hand defensively over my stubble. Okay, so maybe it’s gone past stubble into minor beard territory. I think I can carry it off. ‘Did you come here for a row? Because you’ll get one.’
‘No, of course not,’ she says, exasperated. ‘Look, Jack. Everybody is worried about you. Sarah. Your mum … I know the accident must have been incredibly tough, and that losing out on your job was really crappy, but you can’t just sit here and rot. That’s not who you are.’
I watch her as she speaks; the way her mouth moves, the even line of her teeth. The beer must be going to my head. ‘You’ve barely changed at all over the years,’ I surprise myself by saying, and her expression slides from concerned to wrong-footed. ‘You still remind me of a street urchin or a Parisian waif.’
She looks startled, as if she’s going to say one thing and then rejects it in favour of something else. ‘Sarah said you’ve thrown your painkillers away.’
‘They were numbing me.’
‘That’s what they’re supposed to do, Jack. Numb the pain.’
I huff, because it wasn’t just my pain they were numbing. It was my brain, too. I’ve been walking like a man in lead boots, too tired to raise my bones from my bed, too fuddled to think any further ahead than my next meal and how long it is until I can go back to bed again. A small part of me acknowledges that the booze is doing pretty much the same thing.
‘I miss you.’ The words don’t register as my own, so much so that I almost look behind me to see if there is someone else here.
Her demeanour changes, and she drops to her knees in front of me, her hands over mine. ‘Look at me. Jack, listen. Please let us help you. Let me help you. Let me be your friend again.’
She’s looking at me sincerely with those big violet eyes of hers, as her fingers squeeze mine.
‘It’s always been like this with us, hasn’t it?’ I don’t have any control over the words spilling from my mouth. ‘When you look at me, I know that you really see me. I don’t think anyone ever has, Lu. Not the way you do.’
She swallows and looks down, frowning and confused by the direction our conversation has taken. I am too.
‘How can I help?’ she says, meeting my eyes again, staying doggedly on message. ‘Shall we make a list of all of the stuff on your mind and work through it?’
The only thing on my mind right now is Laurie. ‘You always smell like summer flowers. It’s my favourite smell in the fucking world.’ What am I doing?
‘Jack …’
I can’t not do this. This is the first time I’ve felt like a man in as long as I can remember, and it feels so damn good, like waking up from a coma. Her hand is warm and fragile in mine, and I do the only thing I can do, or perhaps the one thing I can’t not do. I lower my mouth over hers and kiss her, my mouth trembling, or perhaps it’s hers. I catch her off guard, and for just a second it’s perfect, my hand on her face, her lips warm under mine. And then it isn’t perfect any more, because she wrenches back and away from me, stumbling to her feet.
‘Jesus, Jack, what are you doing?’ She’s breathing fast, one hand on her hip, bending a little as if she’s just stopped running.
‘Isn’t this what you came for?’ I say, spiteful in my shame, wiping the back of my hand across my mouth as if she tastes rancid. ‘While the cat’s away and all that?’
She gasps and presses her hands to her flushed cheeks, horrified by my implication. ‘We’ve been friends for a long time, Jack O’Mara, but if you ever say anything like that to me again, we’re done. Is that clear?’
‘Oh, so high and mighty, Laurie,’ I mock, getting to my feet and pacing because the room suddenly feels claustrophobic. I’ve been cooped up in here for months, and now all I want is to open the door and get out. I’d walk to the edges of our island, and then I’d walk into the sea, and not stop until it’s over. ‘It hasn’t always been like that though, has it? Everything was different when it was you who needed comforting, wasn’t it? When you were sad, bone-tired and wallowing in your own misery?’
She’s shaking her head slowly and her eyes have filled with tears. ‘Please don’t say any more, Jack. It’s not the same and you know it.’
‘Yeah,’ I spit. ‘It was different because it was you who needed me back then, and I wasn’t so fucking high and mighty as to turn you down.’ I jab my finger towards her in the space between us. ‘I took pity on you, and now the tables have turned and you can’t lower yourself to return the fucking favour.’ It’s not true. Not a word of it. I don’t recognize the vicious loser I’ve become. I take a step towards her, to do I don’t know what, and she backs away from me, horrified. I see the person I’ve become in her eyes and it makes me sick. But then, as she moves, that bloody starfish pendant catches my eye and I reach out to grab it. I don’t know why, it’s irrational, I just want to do something to make her stop, but she jerks away from me and it snaps from round her neck. I stare at it for a moment, then throw it to the floor, and we stand stock-still and glare at each other. Her chest is heaving and I can hear my blood rushing in my veins like water crashing against rocks.
Slowly, warily, she stoops down and retrieves her necklace, never taking her eyes off me, as if I am an animal about to attack.
‘Run on home, Starfish, and don’t come back,’ I say, choking on the pathetic endearment I’ve heard Oscar use when he thinks no one’s listening. She sobs, full-on sobs, then she turns and runs, out of the door, out of the flat, out of my life. I watch her go from my window, and then I lie down on the floor and stay there.
Jack scared me this morning. No, he horrified me. I don’t know what I’m going to tell Sarah when she asks how my visit went. I’d no idea the state he was in, he’s dangerously low. God knows he’s not a man given to violence or vicious words under normal circumstances; it scared me to see him like that.
I tie my hair up in the bathroom and twist to look at the back of my neck. As I thought, there’s a mark, a small red graze where the catch on my necklace dug into my skin before it snapped. I place a cold flannel on it and then I sink down and sit on the edge of the bath. I don’t care about my neck; I know Jack well enough to know he would never hurt me intentionally; the chain was delicate enough to snap easily. But it was what it meant. And his words. Don’t come back.