Chapter 36
Jamie
Ian joins me as I sit at the edge of the pool, waiting for a lane to open up.
“How was your night?” he asks while dangling his legs in the water.
“Did they send you, or did you come of your own free will?”
“I came for a little chat.”
“You could chat with any random dickhead, you know.”
“You’re my favourite dickhead.”
“Don’t say that too loud, or Ryan will try to drown me to get me out of the way. He’s weirdly possessive of you. I’d be worried if I were you.”
“Are you at it again?”
“At what?”
“Spouting shit at everyone else so no one looks too closely at you?”
“I’ve nothing to hide.”
“You can be very convincing when you want, but unlucky for you, I know you too well.”
“That’s only because I had to fling all my shit in your face to save your fat arse.”
“If you did it, then on some level you knew it had to be done.”
“I only did it for Riley.”
“I’m glad you did — not just for your sister, but for me as well.”
“So you’ve something to blackmail me with now, have you?”
“Will you be serious for two minutes?”
“A minute, max.”
“What’s actually holding you back?”
“Do you want the whole list, or just the highlights?”
“Whatever you’re willing to give me, as long as it’s the truth.”
“Why do you even care this much?”
“Because I like your fucking face.”
“Are you actually hitting on me right now?”
“Jamie…”
“What do you want me to say, Ian? Some things don’t just go away.”
“You told me you were over it, though. That therapy, Riley’s help, rugby…”
I finally turn to him. “They helped me keep my head above water.”
“A bit of a stretch, don’t you think?”
“So far, it’s been enough.”
“But it’s not enough anymore, is it?”
“Now it’s…” I snort, exhausted. “I knew it wouldn’t be enough for him.”
“Is it usually enough for everyone else?”
“Other people only ever want one thing, Ian.”
“Not everyone. Maybe just the ones you’ve met so far.”
“You really don’t get it at all, do you?”
“What are you talking about?”
“I go for them like this: three dates, three times in bed, and never more than three weeks. That’s the deal.”
“You know you have a problem, yeah?”
“I didn’t have one until I met the wrong person.”
“Just so we’re clear, we’re talking about the Doctor, are we?”
I let out a frustrated sigh.
“He didn’t like your rules,” Ian says.
“He doesn’t like to play.”
“I thought as much.”
“But I wanted to play anyway.”
“It wasn’t him who lost, was it?”
“Wow. You’re some lad.”
“What hurts you more? The defeat, or the fact he doesn’t want a rematch?”
That’s a fair question, Ian. I always knew you were sharp, but I didn’t realise you were this intuitive.
“Both, I get it. Can I ask you something?”
“That minute’s gone.”
“If you knew he wasn’t right, why did you go ahead with it?”
How am I supposed to explain the way my sick mind works?
How do I tell you about this thing I have for the Doctor — this obsession I’ve tried to ignore, only for it to dig in deeper the harder I push it away?
How do I tell you he’s everything I never had, and that it scares the life out of me?
How do I tell you that Jamie Kennedy died years ago, and I helped put him in the ground?
How do I tell you that, for most of my life, I’ve believed in nothing and never dared to hope for a thing?
How do I tell you that what I have isn’t really a life at all, just getting by?
How do I tell you that the Doctor makes me feel like that small, helpless kid again, with no way to defend himself?
“I think he’s a really decent man. I know we take the piss out of him, but that’s Ryan’s doing. And the Doctor’s so put-together and serious — how would you not slag him?”
“He is. A decent man, yeah.”
“I’d say he’s the kind of man you could trust, Jamie.”
I close my eyes and pull in a long breath.
“The sort you could actually let in, let him look right through you. I’d say he’d see you, and he’d like what he sees.”
“That’s the problem.”
Ian lets out a long sigh. “Do you know how you tell if someone’s the one?”
I don’t answer. I don’t move. So he keeps going.
“It’s when you’re half scared out of your mind that who you are can’t possibly make their life better — only worse. When you’re sure that keeping them at arm’s length is the only way to keep them safe. And do you know how you realise you were wrong?”
I shake my head.
“It’s when, after you’ve hurt them, disappointed them, shoved them away every which way, they still come back. They sit down beside you and help you pick up the pieces with their own hands, one by one, until there’s nothing left on the floor.”
“I wish I could believe that.”
Ian sets his hand on my shoulder and gives it a gentle squeeze.
“You will, Jamie. One of these days, you’ll believe it, too. I swear you will.”