Page 20 of Conflict

“That’s the second goal he’s scored while I’ve been watching,” Jamie takes another bite of his breakfast. “We’re 3-0 up now thanks to that kid.” The rest of the team crowd the young boy, clapping him on the back and jumping around in joy as the do. “You legend,” Jamie shouts across the pitch and the young lad jumps to his feet and takes a bow in Jamie’s direction. Both of us laugh loudly at his exuberance.

“That’s my grandson, Josh.” the old guy we’ve been standing next to moves a little closer. The pride is evident in his eyes. “He wasn’t keen on joining the team but I’m glad he did. It’s been the making of him these last few months.” The old man pulls out a handkerchief from his pocket and runs it under his eyes, I’m not sure if the tears are his pride, the early morning chill or a mixture of both.

“He’s really good, he looks like he’s been playing for years.” Jamie turns to face the old man. “Jamie,” he holds out his hand for the man to shake.

The man removes his hand from his pocket and shakes Jamie’s proffered one wholeheartedly. “Ben. I’ve seen you watching them over the last few weeks. It’s nice they’re gaining some interest. They’ve had it hard,” Ben pauses to watch as his grandson takes another shot on goal but misses by a hair’s breadth. “The coaches are really good with them. They take their time and make sure the kids are all having fun. Josh has a few problems; those guys don’t stand for any nonsense from the rest of the team. Any sign of bullying or showboating, and they shut the kids down. I like that about them.”

I can see Jamie take a few minutes to gather his thoughts so I dive in and introduce myself too. “I’m Scarlett, it’s nice to meet you,”

Ben nods his head as he pats my arm. “You, too, Miss Scarlett. Does he make you stand on the side lines often?” Ben chuckles to himself. “My Betsy wouldn’t have stood for that; God rest her soul.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Jamie and I offer our condolences at the same time, and my arms come to wrap around Jamie’s waist, pulling him in tightly. I saw him tense when Ben mentioned losing his wife, and that brings our own loss to the forefront of my mind.

“Has Josh been bullied?” Jamie asks.

“It’s kids, they can be little shits. He gets bullied for the colour of his skin and then there’s his disability. We’ve tried to teach him that his differences don’t matter; they’re not who his is, but you know what kids can be like.” Ben’s fist is suddenly punching the air as we turn to check out the match. Josh has scored another goal. “Yes Josh!” the hanky is out again to dab at his leaky eyes. “I told you he was good!” The referee blows thewhistle to indicate the match is over and everyone cheers. The home team lads all huddle together, congratulating Josh, the only goal scorer of the game. “Same time next week?” Ben nods in mine and Jamie’s direction and we both promise to be there.

CHAPTER 27

JAMIE

“How have you been?” Dr Munroe asks. His hands are folded neatly in his lap again, it appears to be his standard consultation stance. It also provides me with a focus and means I don’t have to look him in the eye when I recount my inner most fears.

Reaching over to the small table, I pour myself the obligatory glass of water and take a sip before I answer. “It’s been an eventful week,” my finger runs along the rim of the glass, wiping away a droplet of water. “Things have moved on with Scarlett, we’re kind of a thing now.”

“Scarlett is your friend’s sister, yes?” My head nods slowly in response. I’ve talked about Scarlett a lot throughout all of these sessions. She’s been an integral part of my life and I feel she’s part of my story; she’s part of who I am. “Do you think it was inevitable you’d end up in a relationship with Tom’s sister?” What the hell is that supposed to mean? The furrows on my brow deepen as I give thought to his question. I’m not sure inevitable is a word I’d use to describe how we got here. When I don’t respond, he adds, “What do you mean when you say ‘you’re kind of a thing?’” He’s prompting me to spill my guts, this feelsmore intrusive than talking through my grief surrounding Tom’s death and my pulse quickens.

“We’re in a relationship; a non-platonic relationship. She’s my girlfriend, I suppose,” there’s no suppose about it, if I’m honest.

Dr Munroe scribbles something down on his notepad before he returns to our conversation. “It’s good to have someone in your life that you can turn to for support, especially during times of loss and adjustment.” For some reason, that gets my back up. The pent-up anger feels like a ball in my chest.

“That’s not what she is. She isn’t my emotional crutch. That’s not what this is,” my tone is abrupt and forceful. My grasp tightens around the glass of water and I’m worried it’ll smash between my fingers. It takes great focus for me to be able to put the glass down on the table, where it’s safe. My military training requires me to be calm under fire and I can’t explain why this session is turning into a situation where I feel like I’m under enemy attack. Pushing up from the chair, I make my way over to the window. At some point during every session so far, I’ve ended up staring out of this window across the car park. I think open spaces make me feel grounded and more secure. It should probably be the other way round for most people, but I’m not most people. Being inside makes me feel trapped, like I need to keep an eye on all of the exits. The soldier within me needs to plan for every eventuality.

Dr Munroe nods, “I didn’t use the words emotional crutch, I merely pointed out it’s good to have someone in your corner.” He’s scribbling down notes again and the hairs on the back of my neck prickle. Now I’m confused. Being in a relationship with Scarlett is not something I ever envisaged, and I’m not sure she did either. Have we just fallen into something that’s comfortable, instead of falling for each other? A fog descendsupon my brain, making every decision I’ve ever made feel unrelatable.

I raise my arms, and allow my hands to clasp behind my neck, as I try to open up my ribcage to allow more air into my lungs. The room feels oppressive. “Can I open this window?” I turn to ask Dr Munroe, when he nods, I flick the handle to release the catch and push it wide. The cool air flitters across my face on a welcome breeze, grounding me again. “I don’t know if Tom would approve, if that’s what you’re asking,” my gaze remains fixed on the view across the car park. I don’t want my therapy to become about mine and Scarlett’s sex life. I’m only here because the army insists, the sessions are part of my discharge process. I didn’t choose to come here. “He probably wouldn’t. He’d no doubt kick my arse about it.”

“I didn’t ask that, but what makes you think he wouldn’t approve?” Dr Munroe is back to his signature sitting position with his hands laid in his lap, and his ankle rested on the opposite knee. It’s unusually warm today, and a bead of sweat trickles down my back making me even more uncomfortable. My shoulders shrug in answer to his question. I don’t know why Tom would disapprove of my relationship with his sister. I’m not a bad person; I’m one of the good guys. Scarlett could be dating someone much worse than me. The silence stretches between us and I don’t like it.

“You don’t date your best mate’s sister. I don’t know if it’s just an army thing or if it’s one of life’s rules,” I move to sit back on the chair and take a sip of water. “Scarlett could do much better than me. She deserves more, Tom would want her to have the best life.”

“Can you not provide Scarlett with a good life?”

The laugh that leaves my throat feels alien to me, it’s certainly not recognisable as my voice. Suddenly, I’m hit with the realisation that I am, in fact, still a mess. I don’t have my lifesorted; my eggs are not all in one basket. Honestly, the chickens are still running around in a headless frenzy. “I can’t even take of care myself, look at the mess I’ve got myself into.” My head shakes from side to side.

“Jamie, you have witnessed a lot of devastation and destruction during your service. Most people wouldn’t be able to process half of the things you’ve encountered. The mess you describe is the chaos that grief creates inside your brain. The death of a loved one is hard to deal with, throw five or six of your colleagues into the mix as well, and it would be too much for anyone to deal with.” Dr Munroe gives me a few minutes to process his words. “As for your relationship with Scarlett, I’m not a relationship counsellor. I do think there’s a conversation to be had there, though. Not because you think Tom wouldn’t approve, but you’ve both lost someone very important. I’ll leave you to explore that yourselves.” That’s definitely a conversation I need to build up to.

Dr Munroe stands and shows me to the door. “Same time next week?” I ask and he smiles.

“I’ll see you then,” he closes the door as I make my way down the corridor and out of the building. A quick glance at my watches tells me if I jump on the next train home, I can make it back in time to watch the football training on the park. It’s become a highlight for me, the club trains twice a week and then a match on a weekend. I love to watch the game play out, and see the joy it brings to the kids.

“There you are,” Ben smiles widely as I approach the football pitch. “Thought you’d decided to give it a miss today.”

I shake my head, “Nah, I’m too invested now. They’re playing against the local private school team at the weekend, aren’t they? I think we’ve a good chance of beating them.” We both pause to watch Ben’s grandson, Josh, take a shot on goal and miss. The look of defeat on his face is not something I enjoy. He lookscrestfallen as he jogs over to his grandad. “Hey, at least you tried. Next time, it’ll be a goal.” I offer my version of a pep talk to the young lad.

He shrugs as he turns to Ben. “See, I told you I’m rubbish,” Josh whines. But Ben is having none of his negativity.

“Erm, no you’re not. Over the last three matches you’ve scored five goals, that does not make you rubbish at football,” Ben pulls out a chocolate éclair from his pocket and hands it to Josh. “Here, keep your energy up and get back out there,” he nods to the pitch where the other lads continue to practice their shots on goal. Josh unwraps the sweet and shoves it in his mouth as he turns to rejoin his team mates. “I wish he could see how good he is. It breaks my heart that he thinks he’s no good at anything.”

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