Page 19 of Conflict

“Sorry I woke you,” the cold water is a welcome balm to my parched throat. The air in the room is oppressive, and I stand to push the window open, allowing the cool air to chill my clammy skin. These nightmares, flashbacks, whatever you want to call them are riding my arse. My forehead rests against the cool pane of glass while I take a minute to calm my racing pulse. Scarlett flicks on the bedside light, illuminating the room with a soft glow.

“Can I do anything?” she asks cautiously. When I turn around, she’s sitting up in bed, wearing the T-shirt I’d shed before we climbed into bed last night. The duvet pools around her hips as she runs her fingers through her hair, pulling it up into a messy bun on the top of her head. I pull my mouth to the side a sad smile and shake my head.

“No, thanks.” As I make my way back towards the bed, Scarlett pulls back the covers for me to climb in, and I go willingly.

“Does this happen often? The nightmares,” Scarlett, turns to face me. “I get them, too. I mean, they’re probably nothing like yours. Mine are about not seeing him again; being alone,” she reaches out and grabs my hand and I pull her closer. I’ve been selfish in all of this, putting my fears ahead of hers. Scarlett has been the strong one throughout this trauma. That’s what all of this is; trauma. My head falls back against the headboard and I close my eyes.

“Just because they’re different doesn’t mean they’re any less significant. Why didn’t you tell me?” My hand lifts to cradle her head against my chest. How have I pushed Scarlett to the periphery in all of this? She’s dealing with losing her brother, and I tried to take my own life; that’s a coward’s way out. “You’ve let me carry on wallowing in my own self-pity when you’re struggling to cope too, I’m so sorry.” I kiss the top of her head and she lifts her head to offer me a smile.

“You’re not wallowing. You’re grieving, the same way that I am, and our parents. Grief is different for everyone, how it manifests, how you deal with it. It’s never the same. My way of dealing with losing Tom has been helping you survive your grief,” the moonlight seeps through the window, illuminating Scarlett’s features, when I look down, I see the tracks her tears have left along her cheeks. Raising her hand, she swipes the fresh tears away. Hiding her grief from me, and I feel like a failure again. Not only did I let Tom die, but I’m denying Scarlett her time to grieve.

Silent tears erupt from somewhere deep within me, spilling from my eyes as I hold her tightly against my body. I’ve let her down, not only her, but her parents, too. At Tom’s wake I promised Jack I’d take care of his daughter, that I’d look afterher. This isn’t looking after her, and I vow to make a change. A vow to be a better person. “Mine is more guilt mixed in with the grief,” I snivel through my words. Her body stiffens beside me, and she pushes off from my chest.

“What do you mean guilt? None of this is your fault, Jay,” she’s incredulous as she moves to kneel beside me on the bed, her leg is thrown across both of mine and she comes to rest in my lap. Her hands grip my shoulders as she stares at me, and I wish to God she’d turned the light off first. Nobody needs to see me ugly cry. “Listen to me, you couldn’t do anything to stop Tom’s death. You didn’t plant the bomb that blew up his truck. They did, those bastards did this. If you’d been in that truck you’d have died instead,” she stops to steady herself and her breathing. “Do you think Tom would be feeling guilty if the tables were turned? No, he wouldn’t. He’d be shouting from the rooftops about what a great soldier you were. He’d be celebrating your life and vowing to make the most of his.” Scarlett gives my shoulders a shake and I see the fire in her eyes. “Nobody blames you for my brother’s death, and if I have to say that aloud for the rest of my days, I will.” The dam breaks and my body shakes uncontrollably as I sob, Scarlett scoots closer still and holds me tightly. “Let me see you cry; I’ve seen the darkness, too. Let me stand with you. We get through this together, just like we always have.”

It hurts with every heartbeat, the pain of losing my best friend, the suffering I’ve inflicted on Scarlett and my mother. All of it comes to the surface at once, and instead of suppressing it, I allow myself to embrace it. None of it makes sense yet, but I’m starting to understand the pain. The hours I’ve spent talking to Dr Munroe seem to make more sense now. “My therapist talked me through the guilt I’m feeling, he made me see that I couldn’t stop the explosion. There is nothing I could have done to get Tom to avoid that IED,” I swipe my arm over my eyes, drying my weakness. “I’m so fucking sad, though. I miss him so much.”

“We all do, and I’m guessing we always will miss him, but they tell me it gets easier with time. That the hole he’s left in lives gets smaller and more manageable. But we won’t know if that’s true unless we try to see the future. And I really think we have a future,” Scarlett holds my face as she carries on. “Can you imagine his face if he could see us now?” she asks with a chuckle.

“Jeez, do not do that or we may never have sex again and that would be really disappointing,” I allow myself to smile. “All I can think of now is your brother punching me in the face for breaking the guy code.” And he would. The idea of Scarlett and I being together would have taken some getting used to for him. Silently, I promise him I’ll never hurt her, hoping that wherever he is he knows my feelings for her are genuine.

Scarlett shudders, “Let’s hope they have blindfolds and earbuds up there then.” She leans in and plants a kiss on my lips, and it’s not unwelcome. “See, now I have an image of him watching us get all hot and heavy. Thanks, Spooky!” She shifts her weight from my lap and settles back beside me in the bed. “Maybe we should try to get some more sleep, it’s still very early.” Scarlett switches off the bedside lamp, then slides down under the covers and plumps the pillow beneath her head. Sliding down too, I pull her in close and wrap my arm around her waist so I can feel the length of her. “Forget it, you killed my mood.” She pokes her tongue out at me and screws her eyes tight shut. “Go to sleep, Spooks.” I love that she uses my army moniker even though it reminds me of a time I’d rather forget for now.

I kiss her forehead and close my eyes; sleep seems like a good idea now. “Less of the Spooky, it’s Jamie or Jay to you,” I sense her eyes open a fracture and risk letting her see me smile. I love to tease her, she’s such an easy target.

Scarlett turns in my arms and presses her backside into my groin, pulling my arm around her, she grasps my hand tightly,like there’s a deep-seated fear I’ll leave her if she let’s go. There’s zero chance of that now. “Whatever you say, Spooky.” She emphasises my nickname and I laugh at her audacity.

It’s not long before sleep takes both us.

CHAPTER 26

SCARLETT

When I wake, it takes me a minute to realise where I am, but when I do, I’m upset to see Jamie’s side of the bed is empty. Lifting my phone from the bedside table, it vibrates in my hand alerting me to an unread message. I unlock the screen and press on the message from Jamie.

Morning beautiful, gone for a run. Won’t be long.

He sent that around an hour ago and I can’t believe I slept through him getting out of bed and leaving the room. I stretch before throwing back the duvet and swinging my legs over the end of the bed and head for a shower. Luckily, Jamie’s bedroom is right next to the bathroom, and a quick scan of the landing assures me I can make it to the bathroom without encountering Pat. Listening attentively, I’m pretty certain I can hear her moving around in the kitchen.

As I re-enter Jamie’s room with a towel, he’d graciously left on his chair for me, wrapped tightly around my body, my phone pings with another message.

Come meet me in the park. I’m watching the kids play football again.

I smile at the thought of him doing something other than beating himself up with the guilt he admits is ruining his life at the minute. As I dry off, my phone pings a gain.

Bring coffee ;)

I chuck on last night’s jeans, deciding going commando is better than wearing dirty pants, and rummage around in Jamie’s drawer for a T-shirt that isn’t going to swamp me. “Success!” I smile as I pull out a faded, old, band T-shirt. I remember him saving up for this when he was in his rock era. It’s a little big on me but it doesn’t look ridiculous. Tucking the front into my jeans, I leave the back free and admire myself in the mirror. “That’ll do,” grabbing my phone, I head to the kitchen to ask Pat where the flask is.

Pat hands me two bacon sandwiches wrapped in foil and a full flask. “His lordship rang, I guessed you’d be heading over to the park, too,” she looks different this morning, more like the Pat I know of old. The lines around her eyes appear a little softer and they seem to have their sparkle back.

“Thank you!” My arms are too full to give her a hug but I still manage to squish myself into her side and plant a kiss on her cheek. “You’re the best,”

“Oh, don’t I know it,” she chuckles as she wipes her hands on a tea towel and begins to wipe down the units. “I’m so happy for you, all these years I hoped but…” she shrugs her shoulders and waves me off. “Go, before those get cold. Jamie will not be happy if his food is cold!”

She has a point. The man is obsessed with food. My parents used to joke they couldn’t fill Tom and Jamie during theirteenage years. It hasn’t altered over time either. “On it,” I say as I shimmy into Jamie’s discarded hoody and head out of the house to the park. I can see the football pitch from the roadside and I make out Jamie standing pitch-side. He looks like he’s shouting encouragement at the kids playing. Well, I hope it’s encouragement, and not his army style, boot camp motivation. Lord, help them if it is. His eyes light up when I hand him the foil package Pat sent for us, and get him to hold the cup from the flask as I pour the liquid lava, that is Pat’s coffee, out for him. “You spoil me,” Jamie kisses my temple before he takes a bite of the bacon sandwich.

“Thank your mum, not me.” The words are mumbled around the mouthful of bacon and ketchup. I can’t remember the last time I ate anything as tasty. “Hey, that kid is pretty good,” I point at the young lad who is knee sliding down the pitch with the hem of his football shirt pulled up over his face. Jamie laughs when he sees him.

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