12. Jamie
T he sight that greeted me as I stood in the doorway to my bedroom was sickening.
The noose that hung from the loft hatch and my dress uniform laid out neatly on the bed were a stark reminder of how low I’d sunk.
Moving toward the bed, I picked up Tom’s dog tags that lay beside mine and ran my fingertips across the embossed details.
WOOD T. 0 POS.
My fist closes tightly around the cool metal as I take a moment to remember that day.
The heat, the smell and the fear shroud me as I collapse backwards on the mattress.
I allow myself to cry freely, something I’ve avoided doing since that day.
The light sobs quickly turn into something more guttural and gut-wrenching.
How does life go on without him? I let the enormity of it all engulf me; breathed it in, and blew it out.
I know I have to acknowledge it before I can begin to piece everything back together, before I can even think about the future, I have to accept what’s passed.
That Tom has gone, and I have to navigate this world without him now.
With the heal of my palms pressed against my eyes, I try to stem the tears as I rise to sit on the edge of the bed again.
Lifting the tags to my mouth, I hold them against my lips and mutter an almost silent promise to my best friend, “For you, mate. Only for you.”
I slipped the chain around my neck and tucked the tags inside my T-shirt, the feel of the cool metal against my chest, next to my heart, helped to ground me.
As I left the bedroom, I took a glance back at the rope and chair I’d carefully placed hours ago, they’d stay for now as a reminder.
The shrill ringtone of my phone drowned out the click of the bedroom door closing firmly behind me, I knew who it was without checking the screen.
Pulling it from my back pocket, I contemplated not answering it but I knew if I didn’t, she’d only come and break down the door.
My thumb slid across the screen to accept Mum’s call.
“I’m amazed you’re not on the doorstep trying to break down the door,”
my fingertips squeezed the bridge of my nose as I spoke.
“You have Scarlett to thank for that.
She convinced me to leave you be this afternoon, but let me tell you, if you hadn’t answered you’d be living out that nightmare within the hour,”
the tone of her voice was a dead giveaway to how much I’d hurt her.
I’d never be able to take that back, that was something else I’d need to learn to live with now.
“Do you want me to come over? I can be there in five minutes, if that’s what you want.
Or Scarlett, or both of us.
Just tell me what you need, love.”
A small sob escaped from her as she waited for me to answer.
I could hear Scarlett in the background, offering words of comfort, but I couldn’t quite make out what she was saying.
“Maybe tomorrow, Mum.
I just need some time, I’m alright but I can’t deal with anything else today,”
my eyes searched the ceiling as I waited for her to argue, and insist she’d be over with home-cooked food but, surprisingly, she agreed.
On a less shaky breath, she replied, “Okay, I’ll give you the rest of today, on one condition,”
I knew there would be some caveat attached.
“If I ring, you answer.
If you don’t answer I will call the police.
Tomorrow is a different matter.
Are we clear?”
The tearful, wobbly voice replaced now with a tone far more defiant.
Parent mode had been firmly engaged.
“Okay, I’ll speak to you soon then,”
no doubt the first call would be within the hour, but who could blame her.
I’d almost destroyed her life along with my own.
Just as I was about to end the call, she said, “I love you, son.”
And then the line went dead, leaving me staring at the blank screen.
It took me a minute or two to pull myself together again.
I refused to cry again today.
Of course, she’d told me she loved me a million times over.
More often than not, she told me several times a day, but this time it hit differently.
This time, it almost shattered me.
Surprisingly, it was Scarlett who texted me before my mother had a chance to call.
The text had come precisely thirty-five minutes later.
Hey, I’m heading home from your mum’s.
She seems okay, for now.
If you need anything, drop me a message and I can drop it off on my way.
The three little dots bounced on the screen, indicating she was typing out another message.
I waited patiently, but the dots disappeared.
I clicked the screen to reply minutes later but the dots reappeared, quickly followed by a second text message.
I know you’ve read my message so I’m guessing you’re still alive.
Speak soon, Scar x.
Dropping my phone on the kitchen counter, I pulled open the fridge.
My stomach rumbled as I perused the last slice of curled up ham in the packet and a stale piece of cheese that taunted me.
Cereal it was then.
I dragged a bowl from the draining board and the box of Shreddies from the cupboard, as I poured the milk over the top, ensuring each piece had its fair share of the creamy liquid, my phone rang out and bounced along the countertop.
Mum’s name lit up the screen.
I let it ring a few times before I accepted the call and placed it on speakerphone.
“Hey Mum, I’m okay.
Just having some cereal can we talk later?”
“At least you’re eating, even if it is only cereal.
Do you not have any proper food? Shall I bring something over? I’ve made a shepherd’s pie, your favourite.
There’s plenty, I can’t get used to just cooking for me now.
I always make too much.
It’s no trouble for me to bring you a plate to heat up.”
The cold milk slid down my throat as I spooned another mouthful of cereal in.
“No thanks, I’m happy with my Shreddies.
Look, I’m going to try sleep in a bit, I’m tired.
So, if I don’t answer, that’s why.
No need to call the cavalry.”
I knew making light of the situation was not the best idea but I didn’t want to sound too harsh and tell her not to call again.
“Jamie, I told you earlier you have a couple of options.
You answer the phone when I call; you let me come over and stay with you or I call the police.
It’s your decision.”
Her steely determination more than evident.
“Which is it?”
she prompted me to answer.
“Alright, alright, I get it.
Speak soon,”
I ended the call before she had time to reply and lifted the bowl to my lips, tipping the remainder of the milk into my mouth.
The back of my hand served as a napkin as I wiped away any residual mild from my chin.
The only thing I was sure of now was that it was going to be a long night.