Chapter 7
7
I take the sofa, like I threatened myself with. There’s no way I can listen to Jamie lightly snore, all bathed in moonlight like an angelic five-year-old hugging a teddy bear, even if things do feel somewhat neutralised. I toss and turn, though – a bag of coat hangers would be more comfortable than this lumpy old thing.
I need to go for a run.
There’s just enough light that I can make out the steps from the sitting area up to the bottom of the steps that wind up to the first floor, where everyone else’s room is, and to the second floor in the eaves, where my room is. Mine and Jamie ’s room. But I only need to sneak in and grab my stuff, then sneak out without waking him. I’m light of foot. I’m not worried.
The door is open, so I pad through on my tiptoes past the bathroom and round the corner to where our two single beds are and—
‘Jesus!’ I utter, holding up my hands in surrender – partly to shield my face, and partly as an unconscious reaction that will let Jamie know: I had absolutely no idea he was: a) awake and b) stark bollock-naked. He’s bent over, rifling through a bag on the floor, and from this angle I can see everything . His ginormous swinging everything .
‘What the—’ Jamie gasps, scuttling to stand up. He uses a hand to cover his ginormous swinging everything , but to be honest, despite the size of his hands, that doesn’t cover it all. His jaw drops and he swallows once, hard – a big, satisfying gulp. And I just stand. And wait. I don’t know what I’m waiting for, but I daren’t move, and we look at each other, shocked. I see his pupils dilate, and then he lunges for a pair of boxers and says, ‘Shit. Sorry. Urm …’
It’s then that I remember to shield my eyes and look away. ‘Sorry,’ I whisper, not wanting to wake up the rest of the house. ‘I didn’t think you’d be up.’
‘I couldn’t sleep,’ he mutters, finding a pair of shorts, too. They’re tiny things, the sort that only a man with thighs like his can pull off. He stands taller now he’s ‘dressed’. I am free to look, now. He adds, ‘I was planning to go for a run.’
I nod. ‘Same,’ I say.
‘You’re going for a run?’
‘I couldn’t sleep either,’ I reply.
And he says, ‘ Oh .’
I narrow my eyes at him as he moves to pull on his trainers. ‘I didn’t know you were a runner,’ I comment.
‘I’m an everything,’ he says. ‘As long as it moves my body. I like to keep busy,’ he adds. ‘It helps. You know. My head, or whatever.’
I roll my eyes. I almost thought we had something in common there, with the running, but he’s not a runner. He’s an everything. Well, excuse me, Your Excellency.
‘Anyway,’ he breezes, waving a hand, ‘I’ll leave you to it.’
He’s gone before I can reply.
I set off towards the hill behind the house, because Dad mentioned that the house ring-binder with all the info about the local area says it’s got great views, and although I prefer to run on the flat, occasionally pushing hard on hills feels good, just for the change. I half run, half hike, because it’s steep – steeper than yesterday. But I love the feeling of my blood pumping, of all the bad thoughts and feelings leaving my body.
And then I see Jamie.
He must sense me, because there, at the top of the big hill (I mean, we could call it a mountain, to be fair, from the way I am puffing and panting), he spins round and his face falls.
‘Are you following me?’ he asks crossly.
‘No,’ I say. I sound insulted. I am insulted. ‘Why would I follow you?’
He doesn’t say anything.
‘I’ll go,’ I offer, already backing away. It’s too early for this. I’ll head back and loop into town, like yesterday. ‘Sorry.’
I start to make my way back towards the trail. I would have liked to catch my breath more, but I can walk down, maybe find a bench on the hillside somewhere to take in the view.
‘Flo, wait.’
I almost ignore him, but decide against it. Ignoring Jamie isn’t in the spirit of exposure therapy , after all. I turn round.
‘You don’t have to go,’ he says, in the same way that a person might offer to clean up after a party. He doesn’t mean it.
I narrow my eyes at him.
‘Nobody should be deprived of this view,’ he presses, gesturing around us. Finally I look up properly.
It really is gorgeous.
We’re in a small clearing right at the top. There are incredible panoramic views over the sea, the bay, and then right across to the old town where we had dinner, too. I get that feeling in my chest that I had when we arrived and I took my first dip in the ocean: space. Room to breathe. Contentedness. I don’t even realise I’ve said anything out loud until Jamie says, ‘I agree. Whoa, indeed.’
I’m gasping, sweating, and Jamie spots it before I can think to conceal it, wordlessly handing me a water bottle that I didn’t realise he’d been carrying. I take it and drink.
There’s a semicircular wooden bench, designed so that no matter which bit you sit on, you can see something amazing. I meander over, sitting down with the ocean view, and let myself be for a moment. I won’t be long, I just need a beat.
Jamie comes and sits beside me. We sit, not talking, simply breathing, side-by-side, watching the light change.
I realise that I’m glugging Jamie’s water and he’s not had any himself. I hand him back his bottle and he takes it with a terse smile, opening the cap to hydrate himself. We spend so long sitting there that it makes me jump when Jamie eventually speaks.
‘I like it up here,’ he offers. ‘Makes my head feel quiet.’
I pull a face and don’t realise it’s unkind until after I’ve done it. But like … Jamie needs to make his head feel quiet? Sure .
‘What?’ he asks, in that way men do when they mean, Go on. Say what you’ve got to say.
‘No,’ I shrug, wishing I had sunglasses so I didn’t have to look right at him. ‘I just … you make it sound like it’s really hard to be you.’
Jamie furrows his brow, opening his mouth to speak and then changing his mind. He takes a breath and settles on, ‘I don’t get it. Why would you say that?’
‘I don’t know,’ I say.
‘You do,’ he challenges. ‘Go on.’
I shake my head and part my lips, but no noise comes out.
But Jamie won’t relent. ‘Seriously,’ he probes.
‘Well,’ I start, after some effort. ‘People who look like you do,’ I say, gesturing up and down his 8 per cent body fat, ‘sailing across the world, apparently making all this money …’ I realise how I sound. Intellectually, I know that everybody has some secret pain that isn’t obvious to the rest of the world, but somehow that doesn’t add up for him. Of course Jamie must miss his parents terribly – I don’t even know how I would survive without Mum and Dad. I guess he hurt me, so maybe I’m taking my chance to hurt him a little, too. ‘It can’t exactly be stressful for you is all I mean.’
Jamie shakes his head. His face has fallen, like he expects more of me than dismissiveness – which feels rich, considering how he treats me. Of course we’re not allowed to talk about that, though, are we?
‘I expected you, of all people, to understand,’ he says, his voice saddened.
I don’t get what he means. ‘Me, of all people?’ I ask, silently marvelling: me, the girl you so casually discarded? Why would I have any sympathy for him?
‘Yeah,’ he nods, and he’s not looking at me. He’s staring at the sparkling diamonds of the ocean, his thick forearms on his distressingly massive legs. ‘Beautiful. Smart. Got the whole world at your feet, your whole life ahead of you, and you still had your …’
I nod. ‘Breakdown?’ I supply.
‘Yeah,’ he motions.
I almost miss the fact that Jamie has just called me beautiful and smart. He must be doing it solely to prove his point. He can’t mean it.
‘I wondered what you knew about that,’ I say, my voice as small as his was, moments ago. I mirror his body language, looking to the bay myself. Is this why he decided to keep his distance? Because he thinks I’m certifiably insane? I feel like this conversation is a sideways apology of sorts, if I squint and focus really hard. We’re dancing around something.
Jamie shakes his head. ‘Only what Laurie or Kate mentioned in passing.’ He looks up, obviously noting the horror on my face. ‘Don’t worry. They’ve been very protective of you. It’s been bare-minimum details. It’s none of my business.’
I feel a flush of gratitude for Laurie’s discretion. Who knew he had it in him?
I take a breath. ‘So, what?’ I ask. ‘Are you telling me it’s your turn for a breakdown now?’
He shocks me with a hoot of a laugh. ‘Jesus,’ he says, ‘if it was, I wouldn’t be coming to you for your bedside manner, would I?’
I laugh, too. ‘No,’ I reply. ‘I suppose not. I don’t mean to sound harsh.’
‘And yet,’ he says, eyebrow cocked.
I roll my eyes. ‘And yet,’ I say.
If this was anybody else, I’d issue a comical grin right now, to ease the tension, but I’m still not there with Jamie. We were so close to arguing, but we’ve pulled it back. We’re almost getting on. Almost . That’s enough. I feel like he’s trying to tell me that he wants what I want, too; that he wouldn’t mind finding some more solid ground between us, if we have to be around each other anyway.
‘All I mean is,’ he says, ‘that it’s beautiful up here. And I’m glad you like it, too.’
I nod and Jamie sits beside me, and we stay that way until the sun comes further up in the sky and my belly starts to rumble.
‘Come on,’ he says, when he hears it. ‘Time for breakfast.’
We arrive back at the villa, but before we go in Jamie pauses, hand on the doorknob.
‘For the record,’ he says, his face creased in thought and reflection, ‘I do have problems, you know.’
I go to speak, but he continues before I can say that I’m sure he does.
‘I have a nice life, yeah. But I am alone. No parents. No siblings. No significant other. And I’ve got to be honest, Flo, it fucking sucks.’
What would I have done without my family these past few years? They kept me afloat. I try to read Jamie’s face, everything that is going through his mind. Is he really saying he’s lonely? If he is, why push people away?
‘I think that’s the most vulnerable thing you’ve ever said to me,’ I say, deliberately not adding that obviously it’s one of the few things he’s recently said to me directly, full stop.
‘You seem intent on being surprised that I have feelings,’ he replies. ‘And I can’t understand why.’
He’s got me there. Mostly because I’ve never seen these feelings. And when I have come close, he’s pulled away so fast I’ve been left with whiplash. I don’t see how Jamie can accuse me of being the bad guy here …
A bunch of images crash into one another in my mind: jigsaws and cold buffets and drinks by the fire at Christmas. Lingering looks and fizzing excitement, and tears that came from nowhere. A beginning. An unspoken promise.
I take a breath, ready to ask him why, then, he would push me away?
The front door flings open.
We both turn to see who has interrupted us, confronted by Mum, car keys in hand.
‘Oh, hello! Become jogging buddies, have you? That’s exciting.’ She looks between us, and we must look like we’ve been caught doing something we shouldn’t have, because she adds, ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt. I’m doing the bakery run. Any requests?’
‘Not for me,’ says Jamie. ‘I eat what I’m given.’
‘Flo?’ asks Mum.
‘Anything with chocolate in it,’ I reply. ‘Do you need help?’ I’m obviously hoping she’ll say no, but Mum bursts into a massive smile. She loves it when I offer to spend time with her – and it seems she isn’t capable of reading the emptiness in my offer.
‘I do like the company,’ she grins. ‘If you don’t mind showering afterwards? I don’t want to hang around, you see. The good stuff goes.’
I turn to Jamie. ‘You get first dibs on the bathroom then, it looks like.’
‘Lucky me,’ he replies. And goddammit – the look he gives me. All narrowed eyes and blank stare. I think he’s relieved we were interrupted. I can’t, for the life of me, figure out what he wants from me. What Jamie needs. So, what: he’s going to tell me his deepest, darkest secrets, but then also thank the heavens when our chat is over? I don’t get it!
‘See you later,’ I say, sounding petulant. I follow Mum to the hire car.
‘Yeah,’ he replies. ‘And thanks for the chat.’
I look at him. He smiles.
When we get in the car Mum asks, ‘What chat, darling?’
I’m too busy looking at Jamie through the window. He’s not gone in yet; he’s standing on the front step with his hands in his pockets and his face impassive, eyes trained on me as I do up my seatbelt. I thought he couldn’t wait to get inside, and now he’s loitering.
‘Hmmm?’ I ask.
‘Jamie thanked you for the chat. I just wondered what you were chatting about, is all. Unless it’s private.’
‘We didn’t really chat about anything,’ I tell her, as we reverse out of the drive. I lift a hand, still unsmiling. Jamie lifts his hand in return.
‘Well,’ Mum says, putting the car into first gear, ‘I’m glad to see you getting along. He’s more sensitive than you think, Jamie. God bless his heart.’
He falls out of view.
‘I’m learning that,’ I say. ‘I think.’
Mum looks at me. ‘Yeah?’ she asks, but it’s the kind of yeah that doesn’t need an answer. We drive the rest of the way in silence, thoughts of Jamie lingering in the air between us.