Page 4 of Conflict

“Jay, please…” I turn the volume up on the fishing program as I try to drown out her voice. She gets the message, and I finally hear the front door close behind her.

I give it a few minutes before I glance out of the window, the small crestfallen outline of Scarlett as she walks down the street brings sorrow, and my head aches a little with the confusion thatI feel bone deep. As much as I want to, I can’t hold her up as well as trying to keep myself afloat.

CHAPTER 5

SCARLETT

As I walk away from Jamie’s house, all I feel is hollow. He’s the strong one normally. He’s carried me and my family through the events of the last few weeks, if he hadn’t been around, I’m pretty sure my parents would be saying goodbye to their remaining child. I pause at the end of Jamie’s street; maybe I should go back. Maybe he needs me to just be there for him like he’s always been for Tom and me. I turn on my heels and head back up the tree-lined avenue, a million scenarios play out in my mind with each heavy footstep I take nearer to his house. The gate squeaks loudly as I push it open, and Jamie’s face appears at the front window. His face scrunches into a scowl before he shakes his side slightly and closes the curtains, effectively shutting me out. Well, I guess that’s my answer. The strength I felt earlier has escaped me now, I don’t have it in me to push through his barriers right now. With a heavy heart, I turn around again and head home.

Jamie’s mum, Pat, is sitting at our kitchen table when I get home. Her hands are resting in her lap as she chats with my mother over a cup of tea. The conversation halts as I enter the room, and Pat smiles up at me, a hopeful look in her eyes. She doesn’t need to ask me how it went, it’s written all over my face,the blotchy red-rimmed eyes are all the confirmation she needs that it didn’t go as planned. “Oh Scarlett, I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking asking you to talk to him for me. You have your own grief to contend with.” Pat stands and wraps her arms around me, the feeling of home shelters me. “I’ll sort him out, don’t you worry. You just concentrate on you and your family for now.”

“I thought I could help him…you, but he wouldn’t listen to me. He shut me out completely. I think I actually made it worse.” A sob leaves my body as Pat squeezes me tightly.

My own mother stands to embrace me, taking my shoulders in her hands, she puts a little distance between us. “Listen to me, you did not make it worse. You tried to help a friend, Tom’s friend, but he’s obviously not ready. He’ll find you when he’s ready to talk, he needs to work through his feelings too, just like we’re having to.” Mum sniffles as Pat cocoons us both.

The past fewhours I’ve checked my phone every few minutes. I sent Jamie a text after the little heart-to-heart earlier, asking him to let me know he was okay, but he still hasn’t replied. I keep bringing up his contact details, desperate to call him so I can hear his voice, but each time, I chicken out. Too afraid that he’ll reject me again with harsh words or, worse still, he just won’t answer. My Kindle rests on my lap, I’ve read the same paragraph five times now, but I pick it up and try again to lose myself in something other than the sadness that surrounds me.

I’m gently nudged awake by the soft tone of my phone ringing quietly besides me on the bed. My finger swipes quickly across the screen to accept the call before I have chance to checkthe caller ID; I’m hopeful it’s Jamie, hopeful that he’s finally ready to talk to me. It’s not him.

“Hey, how’re you doing?” Rachel’s voice softly floods my ear and I try desperately not to be disappointed that it’s my best friend and not Jamie. “Did I wake you? Sorry, I can call later if you want me to?”

I’m groggy from the sleep that seems to have dragged me under, a quick glance at the bedside clock tells me I’ve napped for way longer than I should have. “No, no it’s fine. I need to wake up anyway.”

“So how did the intervention with Jamie go? I’m guessing not that well.”

I breathe in deeply before I regale Rachel with the whole sorry tale. “He was like a different person; he’s not showered or shaved for days. I don’t know what to do.”

“You can’t force him to do anything he doesn’t want to do. He has to deal with it in his own way. Don’t take this the wrong way but he lost a hell of a lot more than any of us that day. You lost Tom, and I can’t begin to understand how that feels, but he lost five people that day; men that he was closer to than Charlie, his own brother. Not only did he lose them, he watched them die in the most horrendous way. Give him the space he needs to process that.”

In my heart, I know she’s right. But her words do nothing to calm the uneasy feeling that’s permanently resident in my stomach these days. “Yeah, I try not to think about how they died to be honest or what Jamie witnessed, it’s too much.”

“Shit, Scarlett, I’m so sorry I didn’t think. I was trying to help you understand why he’s reacting so differently to you; I didn’t mean to make you think about how Tom died.” Rachel’s words scramble out of her mouth.

“It’s okay, I know you were trying to help, I’m fine,” I’m anything but fine, although I can’t admit that to my best friendwho’s currently trying to dig herself out of the massive hole that she just dug for herself.

Silence stretches between us before Rachel speaks again. “He’s moved out; Charlie rang me earlier. Apparently, he’s renting one of those flats overlooking the park near the river. Someone he knows through the army owns it and he’s offered it to Jamie for however long he needs it.” Silence prevails again while I try to process what Rachel’s just told me. “I guessed he hadn’t told you and I thought you’d want to know.”

“Wha…but…okay, thanks, I…I have to go, I’ll call you tomorrow.” I hang up the call and sit staring at the phone for what feels like an eternity before I pull up Jamie’s contact details and hit the dial button.

CHAPTER 6

JAMIE

Itoss and turn, entangled in the pristine, crisp white bed sheets that are now sodden with sweat from my nightmare. Every damn night the same images invade my mind; the truck flying through the air as though it were a toy, the bodies and severed limbs strewn carelessly across the unmade road. Everything swirls into one horrific image that has become embedded in my brain. My ears ring with the memory of the IED blast, and the smell of the explosives burns my nostrils as though I’m back in the moment. Scotty’s voice echoes inside my head, “Fuck, no!” he screams. The skin on my arm burns as I remember Scotty gripping me as he tried to keep me inside the Landy, when all my instincts screamed at me to run to where Tom’s body lay in the road ahead. But there’s nothing I could’ve done. I couldn’t save Tom; I couldn’t save any of them.

The bedside clock glows red; it’s four in the morning, and I know there’s no chance of sleep now. I throw the duvet back, climb out of bed and head toward the bathroom, where I lean against the countertop and stare at the man looking back at me from the bathroom mirror. The hollow eyes are unrecognisable, and the beard that now adorns my face is hideous but somehow comforting. Turning the cold tap on, I let the water run for a fewmoments to ensure its icy temperature before I lower my head, cup the water in my hands and proceed to swill my face. It’s an attempt to wash away the memories for now.

Out in the kitchen, I open the fridge, grab a slice of cold pizza and a few beers before heading to the couch and switching the TV on. Channel surfing is my only solace from the guilt and indescribable horrors that have taken over my brain. Time slides away from me; I’m only disturbed by the shrill ring of my phone as it vibrates on the coffee table in front of me. I watch intently as it dances along the glass table, bumping into empty beer can after empty beer can as it continues vibrating relentlessly. Without checking, I know it’s Scarlett. She’s been phoning constantly for the last three days; the girl cannot take a hint. I haven’t answered a single call since I moved in. The only thing I have done is text my mother to let her know I’m okay. Everything else can wait.

My phone finally stops vibrating, and calm is restored, but I know it’s short-lived. She’ll try again in an hour, that’s been the routine so far. She’s relentless. But for now, the ringing has stopped, and the last can of beer on the coffee table calls to me. The hiss as I yank open the ring pull is like a balm to my tetchiness. As the liquid slides down my throat, I feel the tension ebb away a little more, and my eyes begin to feel heavy again as the lack of sleep starts to batter my body. With a tip of the can, the rest of the beer disappears into my mouth. The feel of the cold steel in my fist as I crush the can is a little unnerving, but I toss it down on the coffee table with its companions. My gaze sweeps across the mess I’ve created in the few days I’ve been here, there’s takeaway boxes and beer cans on every surface.

“Jamie, open the door!” My mother’s voice drags me from the slumber I must have drifted into earlier. The command is followed by knocking loudly on the door.

“Okay, okay. Don’t break it down,” I call out as I make my way across to the door of the flat. “Where’s the fire?” I poke my head out into the hallway, much to my mother’s annoyance.

“Very funny, now take some of these. They’re cutting off the circulation to my fingers.” She holds out her arms for me to relieve her of the shopping bags. I have no idea what she’s bought or why, for that matter.

“You should have rung me; I’d have come down to the car to get them.”

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