45. Jay
Chapter forty-five
Jay
“C ome on, Roo. Don’t be like this, please.” I rub a hand down my face. “We both love you, Rooey. Please call me.”
I sigh heavily. This is the fifth message I’ve left for Ruth in the last two days. She’s either switched her phone off, or she’s blocked my number, because it doesn’t even ring anymore before her voicemail picks up.
“I miss you, Roo. Don’t let this ruin us.”
I end the call and fling my phone to the other end of the sofa. I haven’t heard from my sister since I left her flat after our fight eight days ago. Even during my deployments, I usually managed to find a way to send an email, at the very least. But I haven’t heard from her at all. I miss my sister. Katy has quickly become my best friend, but Ruth was there first. We’ll always have an impenetrable bond. At least, I thought we would.
But since last week there’s been a tension in my shoulders, an emptiness in my chest and what feels like a brick sitting in my stomach. Each time I’ve spoken to my parents, our conversations have been brief, and I haven’t told them about my fight with Ruth. I can only imagine she hasn’t told them either, because they haven’t called to talk about it.
Katy and I are trying to carry on as normal, but there’s a low cloud hanging over both of us. I feel responsible for the rift between my girlfriend and her best friend, and I know she feels responsible for the one between me and my sister. Ruth and I are bound by blood, but what she has with Katy—that friendship is stronger than any familial bond.
I check the watch on my wrist before I sigh again. I don’t have time to stop by her flat and beg her to speak to me in person. I have another therapy appointment, and after skipping my last one, followed by the events of this week, I’m practically frothing at the mouth to unload all of my baggage in Guy’s small office. It turns out, after all of my hesitation, that therapy is actually a really fucking useful tool. Who knew?
Katy, apparently, considering she was the one who pushed me to look into it.
Traffic sucks, and it takes me far longer than it should do to arrive at the clinic—so long that I only just waltz into the reception area in time for my appointment to begin. Guy immediately ushers me into his room and I take my usual seat on the mini Chesterfield. Guy sits on a low, metal-framed armchair opposite me, folds one ankle over the other knee, and waits for me to speak. I’m already on edge after almost being late, and every thought in my head is a jumble. I start rambling as soon as I walk into the room, and within ninety seconds, Guy knows everything.
“I know what I did was dumb.”
“Why was it dumb, Jay? What makes you say that?”
“We—I—lied to my sister.”
“Did you lie, or did you just not tell her?”
“Lying by omission is still lying, right?”
Guy peers at me over the wire rimmed-lenses on his face. He says nothing, just gives me a look that encourages me to continue.
“Anyway. Lying, or just not telling her—she found out, just like we always knew she would, and she’s upset. Just like we knew she would be.”
“Why do you think she’s upset?”
“Uh, because we lied?”
“Humour me, Jay.”
“I don’t know. I guess—I guess maybe she feels… left out? Me and Ruth, we’re close, you know? She’s always been my best friend. I know that’s weird because she’s eight years younger than me, but she is. And Katy’s her best friend too. And now—now Katy’s mine. My best friend. My everything. So where does that leave Ruth?”
“So, you think Ruth feels like she has no place in your relationship anymore.”
“Maybe?”
“And the lies?”
“I think she feels hurt. Lied to.”
“Do you think her response to the news might come from another place? A place of fear, perhaps? Think about how you reacted when you were scared after you were hurt.”
“I pushed people away. I didn’t want to speak to them.”
“Do you think that’s something Ruth might do?”
“Why would she be scared?” I wrack my brain, trying to make sense of whatever it is Guy is trying to get at.
“Think about it, Jay.” Guy crosses his legs and refolds them with the other ankle on top. “What you’re telling me is that the two most important people in her life are embarking on a new adventure—together. Forget that she wasn’t told, that she was, quote, lied to . Ruth feels like she has no place in your life now, or in Katy’s.”
“She’s afraid she’s losing me. Us.”
“By Jove, he’s got it.” Guy offers a rare smile, sardonic though it is.
“I fucked up, didn’t I?”
“You did what you thought was best at the time.”
“I did. I mean, I would’ve told her. I would’ve told everyone. But Katy wanted to keep things quiet, at least until we figured out what we were doing—and by then, it was so easy to just keep it a secret. It was just… the thing we did. And it went on, and on.”
“It’s not a secret anymore, Jay.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Are you okay with that?”
“I told you. I would’ve screamed it from the rooftops the second she let me kiss her.”
“But now it really is out in the open.”
“It really is. And I-I’m okay with it.”
“Good. That’s good. What else has happened, Jay? Tell me about your week.” Guy leans back in his chair and I catch sight of some colour on his sock as the leg of his trousers lift a little. I try not to make it obvious that I’m staring at my therapist’s ankle, but eventually, I work it out. It’s a pizza slice. With pepperoni. Which is perfect, really for the next thing I’m about to say.
“I met a dog.”
“You met a dog?”
“I met him before all the drama with my sister, but he’s a Hero Pup.”
“An excellent organisation. Are you looking for a Hero Pup of your own?”
“Maybe. They said I’m a perfect candidate .” I make air quotes with my fingers.
“I’m inclined to agree.” Guy cocks his head slightly and scrawls a word or two on the paper in his lap. It’s the first physical note he’s made all session. “Please give them my details if they would like any references from me.”
“Thank you.” I swallow hard. It’s validating, albeit a little disheartening, to hear Guy’s encouragement. I’ve been kidding myself that I’m fine, that I’m making it all up. But I’m not. And to hear that from a professional—well, it feels good. And it also feels really shitty.
We talk some more about the last week or two since our last session. In that time, I’ve had my most terrifying nightmare yet, where Caleb was replaced in the jeep by Katy. I’ve told Katy I’m in love with her, I’ve fought with my sister, and met Pup. Our last session feels like a lifetime ago. And before long, this one is over, too.
On my way home, I make a quick stop to put some fuel in my car. I’m pulling out of the forecourt when a horn sounds loud and long, angry in my ears. I stomp my foot on the brake and pain shoots up my right leg. My heart is in my throat. I throw up a hand at the driver of the car I almost hit, let them drive off, and pull away slowly, turning a corner and parking up outside a stranger’s house.
Guy Fitzjohn’s voice sounds in my ears. The deep, calming baritone that pissed me off to no end the first few times we met, but now feels like a comfort. What can I see? What can I hear? What can I feel, taste, smell? I breathe deeply and evenly, consciously holding each inhale and extending the corresponding exhale until my pulse begins to slow.
When I met them two weeks ago, Ruby and Julie both assured me that Pup would be able to help in this kind of situation. That his basic training is geared towards general triggers, and then geared more specifically to mine, and to recognise my own fear responses. Two months ago, I would’ve needed him, unable to calm my racing heart. But today, I managed to stave off the panic—just about—for myself. I don’t know what to do with that information, whether it means I’m a fraud who doesn’t really need one of the hero dogs, or whether I’m proud, because I’m making progress. Maybe I’m a wreck. Maybe I’m just gaslighting myself. Either way, I feel like something Ruth would call a hot mess express right now.
Fuck, I miss my sister.
I give myself another minute to calm down, and then I pull away cautiously and carefully, checking each mirror multiple times. I drive in silence, leaning forward over the steering wheel like it’ll help me see better. Within minutes, I’m pulling into Ruth’s apartment complex. I would normally give her the respect of choosing to let me in, but today, I abuse the privilege of having the door code, and I drag myself up all four flights of stairs to the fourth floor and hammer my fist against her apartment door.
“Ruth, let me in.”
Silence. But I can hear muffled music from inside. It’s a Taylor Swift album, if I know my sister at all. I saw her Range Rover parked outside in its designated bay, too, so I know she’s home.
“Ruth.” I pound on the door a little harder this time. “Ruth, I know you’re angry and scared and you’re hurting, but for the love of fuck just let me in and talk to me.”
More silence. I’m sure all of Ruth’s neighbours will think I’m a jilted lover soon enough. Or maybe they’ll think Ruth is the scorned one.
I knock one more time.
“Come on, Rooey. Please.”
“Go away.” Her voice is quiet and muffled, but I can tell she’s right on the other side of the door. I raise my fist to knock again, but think better of it. Ruth is safe. She’s hurting, but she’s alive and she’s conscious and she’s okay . I’ll give her some more time.