4. Jamie
I t’s been six weeks since we said our goodbyes to Tom.
The pain and hollowness where my heart used to be is ever present.
I lost five other members of my team that day.
Five people who were like family to me, gone forever.
Wives, parents and children have been left alone, devastated by their loss of a loved one.
There isn’t a day goes by when I’m not wracked with guilt because my death would have been much less significant, there wouldn’t be a gaping hole left in a girlfriends’ life, I don’t have any kids that would have been left without a father, unlike four of my mates.
I should’ve been in that truck with Tom, I should have died too.
I’m pulled from the dark mist that seems to surround me most of the time now, by a knock to the front door.
My heart sinks.
I’m not in the mood for visitors or small talk right now.
“Mum, door!”
I shout towards the kitchen, where I know my mother is currently baking.
It’s her way of caring for me at the minute, I’ve tried to not feel smothered by her attentiveness but it gets harder every day.
It’s only now that I realise getting my own place would have been the sensible thing to do.
There hadn’t ever seemed like much point as I’m away on tour more than I’m home, to be honest, but right now, I understand the error of my decision.
A place just for me seems like what I need right now.
The knocking on the front door starts again, and I let out a sigh as I push myself up from the sofa that’s become my cocoon; my haven, these last few days.
As I make my way through the doorway, I shout again, hopeful that my mother will appear and answer the door.
That way I don’t have to smile or put on an act, but no such luck.
She’s nowhere in sight.
Whoever is at the door becomes even more impatient, and the knocking becomes a banging instead.
“Alright, alright!”
I grumble while I turn the key in the lock and open the front door.
Scarlett stands on the doorstep, her eyes narrow when she takes in my unkempt appearance.
I haven’t shaved since the funeral; it hasn’t seemed necessary.
Scarlett’s gaze sweeps from my face all the way down to my bare feet and back up again before she lets out a frustrated sigh.
“Your mum said it was bad but I think she underestimated the state of you.”
Scarlett steps past me into the hallway.
“When did you shower last? I’m guessing it wasn’t yesterday or the day before from the smell you’re omitting right now.”
I push the front door closed and turn the key in the lock again.
“Nice to see you too, Scarlett.”
With my fingertips tucked in the waistband of the track pants I’ve been wearing for a few days now, I follow Tom’s sister down the hallway into the kitchen, where I suspect my mother is hiding.
I’m wrong, the traitor is nowhere in sight, only Scarlett, who is scanning the contents of the fridge.
“Have you eaten today? I could cook you lunch,”
her attention returns to me suddenly.
“Scrap that, you can take me out for lunch.
Once you’ve had a shower and shaved that ridiculous excuse for a beard off.”
She pulls a carton of juice from my parent’s fridge and pours herself a glass before she sits at the small kitchen table.
“Are you still here? Go! Shower now, I’m hungry for the first time since…”
She doesn’t need to finish that sentence.
I can see the pain she tries to hide in her eyes.
I’ve always been able to read her like a book.
“If you’re hungry, I’ll make you a sandwich, pretty sure Mum has some chicken tucked away in here.”
I begin to rummage around the fridge, locating everything I need to make a snack for Scarlett.
My need to take care of her surfacing above the grief.
“I don’t want anything so no point going out for lunch, I’ll just make you something.”
I’m not ready to venture anywhere at the moment.
To be honest, I haven’t left the home I grew up in for almost three weeks, I can’t stand the sympathetic looks everyone seems to give me because they still don’t know what to say.
Outside feels far too open right now, all my senses feel heightened away from these four walls and I’m in no rush to subject myself to that yet.
My Commanding Officer contacted me last week with the details I needed to make an appointment with the army counsellor.
I scribbled all the information down then pinned it onto the noticeboard in the kitchen.
I haven’t looked at it since.
Scarlett places a warm hand on my arm, too engrossed in the fridge contents, I hadn’t heard her move across the kitchen.
“No, I don’t want you to make me a sandwich.
If you’re not hungry we’ll just go for a walk down by the river instead.
Go get cleaned up.
You can’t hide in here forever, Jay.”
Her face is turned upwards as she studies my features.
“If I can do it, you can.”
She’s turning my grief into a fucking competition? I swallow hard as I force the anger inside me into submission, slowly my eyes blink closed before I turn to smile at Scarlett, albeit somewhat sarcastically.
“Mum phoned you, didn’t she? I told her not to.
I’m fine Scar, I don’t need anyone managing my life right now.
I need a little time and space.
That’s all.
Why don’t you call Rachel? I bet she’s not doing anything; I’m sure she’d like a walk by the river or lunch at the pub.”
I give Scarlett another brief forced grin before I push the fridge door closed and make my way out of the kitchen and back down the hall.
I hear her small footsteps follow behind me as she sighs deeply.
I take my place on the sofa again, TV remote in my hand, as I begin to scan the channels for something mind-numbing to watch.
I’m well aware of Scarlett’s presence in the doorway but I refuse to give her the eye contact she demands.
“That’s not the point.
Rachel isn’t hiding away from the real world, you are.
Your mum’s worried about you.
I’m worried about you.
This isn’t you; the Jamie I know wouldn’t sit around for weeks on end, unshaven and in the same clothes.
You look like death…”
She gasps at the choice of her own words as my head swivels on my neck to glower at her.
My chest heaves as my heart rattles against my ribcage.
I can feel the blood rush around my body as my fists clench at my sides.
“I think you should leave now, Scarlett.”
It’s all I can manage to say right now, if another word passes my lips, I know she’ll never speak to me again.
“I-I’m sorry, that came out wrong.”
Scarlett wrings her hands, it’s her go-to nervous reaction whenever she feels overwhelmed, she’s unable to keep her hands still.
“Just go, Scarlett.”
My concentration returns to the TV guide as I scan the channels again, desperate to keep my mind off the girl standing in the doorway.
I settle on some fishing program; the guy has just hauled a massive tuna fish onto the deck of the boat, and they appear to be extremely excited about the size of it.
It is huge, to be fair.
“Jay, please…”
I turn the volume up on the fishing program as I try to drown out her voice.
She gets the message, and I finally hear the front door close behind her.
I give it a few minutes before I glance out of the window, the small crestfallen outline of Scarlett as she walks down the street brings sorrow, and my head aches a little with the confusion that I feel bone deep.
As much as I want to, I can’t hold her up as well as trying to keep myself afloat.