What Remains (18 page)

One Sunday morning, ten weeks after Jodi came home from hospital, Rupert emerged from a quiet night shift into the first spring sun of the year, the kind of sunshine that teased London at the close of winter, promising an end to the dreary grey frost, only to disappear again like it had never been there at all.

Knowing this far too well, Rupert stood in the eerie calm of early morning Brixton and tilted his face to the sky, absorbing the gentle heat, letting it seep into his bones. As ever, his thoughts turned to Jodi, who was no doubt tucked up in bed with Sophie watching over him, and the warmth stalled, blocked by the cool grip of sadness around his heart. There’d been a few fleeting days when he’d almost believed they were getting somewhere, but over the past week or so, Jodi had become more silent than ever, retreating to the bedroom the moment Rupert came home, only coming out to pick at the food Rupert fudged for him, or to take a shower, an occupation he seemed to have a renewed interest in.

Rupert sighed and opened his eyes. Jodi’s physical recovery was progressing as well as anyone could hope for, but caring for someone who wouldn’t even look at you was more soul-destroying than he could ever have imagined. Still, the situation didn’t seem like it was going to change anytime soon and the sun’s appearance had given him a faint charge of energy he couldn’t ignore. He caught the Tube to Finsbury Park and jogged the rest of the way home. With his bag slung on his back, the four-mile run was hard work—he hadn’t been to the gym in months—but the strain on his lungs and the lactic acid in his legs felt good, cleansing, and he was almost sorry when the flat appeared on the horizon. He slowed to a walk, catching his breath. The light in the bedroom was on, but that didn’t necessarily mean anyone was awake. Jodi didn’t care for the dark, and there was no reason for Sophie to be up this early on a Sunday.

He let himself in and dumped his bag in the corner with the rest of the clutter. His makeshift bed on the couch called his name, but he needed to eat first or he’d never find rest. Empty cupboards and an empty fridge spoiled the party. A closer inspection revealed there was nothing edible in the flat save half a packet of pasta Rupert couldn’t be arsed to cook and a fun-size KitKat.

Rupert took the KitKat and a mug with the last teabag into the living room, mentally writing a shopping list to take to the supermarket later that day, and cursing himself for letting the cupboards get so bare. Grocery shopping was one of many things he’d yet to get used to, even after all these months.

“Morning.”

“Jesus!” Rupert jumped, sloshing hot tea over his hand. “What the fuck are you doing sitting in the dark?”

“Trying to figure out the HTML code for a website I can’t remember building.” Jodi eyed Rupert from the rarely used armchair, his gaze inscrutable. “Didn’t think you’d be back till later.”

Rupert set his mug down, shaking his hand. “Why? I came off shift at six.”

“I know, but you’re always late at weekends.”

“So?” Rupert glared at Jodi, irrationally irritated. Jodi had often waited up for him in the past, unable to sleep until he knew Rupert was safe, but those days were long gone, and Rupert didn’t feel like explaining himself to someone who didn’t give a shit.

Jodi took the hint and turned back to his laptop, his face a study in concentration. Despite his chagrin, Rupert was intrigued. He dropped his chocolate on the coffee table and rounded the armchair to squint over Jodi’s shoulder. What he saw meant little to him, but Jodi’s work never had. Jodi’s passion for web design had always impressed and baffled him in equal measure.

“Weird, isn’t it?”

“Hmm?” Rupert tore his gaze from the screen to find Jodi staring at him again.

“That I can remember how to code, but not how the central heating works.”

“No one knows how the central heating works in this place, mate. Bloody boiler’s got a mind of its own.”

“If you say so. Still doesn’t make any sense, though.”

Nothing does.

Rupert left Jodi to it, flopped on the couch, and went to sleep.

He woke a few hours later to the metallic clang of the weights Jodi had been given to strengthen his arms and legs. Yawning, Rupert sat up and checked the time: 10 a.m.
Damn it.
He’d had dreams of sleeping until at least midday, but it wasn’t to be. Unlike Jodi—both before and after the accident—once Rupert was awake, he was awake, and there was little point pretending he wasn’t, especially when there was no big, warm bed and welcoming arms to make lying around in his pants any fun.

Get used to it, dickhead.
Rupert scrunched his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose, ignoring Jodi and his weights, and willing away the cloud of pessimism he wasn’t quite ready to deal with yet, but his mind refused to play ball, instead sweeping through every nightmare he’d had since Jodi’s accident, including the ones where nothing ever changed. The ones that became more and more real with every day that passed. The ones where Jodi continued to frown at his computer screen, and Rupert spent the rest of his life rotting on a lonely couch.
’Cause even if he never looks my way again, I’ll never love anyone else.

Rupert rubbed his eyes and focussed on Jodi, who seemed to be having trouble packing the weights away in their box. Guilt fast replaced depression as he recalled biting Jodi’s head off just a few hours before. “Do you need some help?”

“No.”

Of course he didn’t. Rupert suppressed the compulsion to check Jodi had taken his medication and breathed a silent sigh. Jodi’s mood, like his own, was unlikely to change as the day went on. Sophie wouldn’t be back until tomorrow night, leaving Rupert at the mercy of Jodi’s apathy for the next thirty-six hours.
Great.

“You can hold my feet . . . if you want?”

“What?”

Jodi looked amused, an emotion Rupert had almost forgotten existed. “I’ve done most of it already, but I gotta do sit-ups now, and I can’t keep my feet down.”

He might as well have asked Rupert to fly him to Mars. Since when had Jodi followed the daily exercise routines his recovery team had devised for him of his own accord? Without growling at Rupert and Sophie first? Or simply being too tired and ill to cope with it?

Rupert slid off the couch and shuffled to where Jodi had lain down on the rug. “You sure about this? It’s been a while since we last tried.”

A month, to be exact, and they hadn’t exactly tried. Rupert had got as far as holding up the abdominal exercise sheet before Jodi had called him a cunt and left the room. The time before that, he’d fainted, leading Rupert to deduce that particular worksheet was cursed.

Perhaps Jodi didn’t remember, or care. He answered Rupert’s question by pointing to his feet. “Hold them down.”

Rupert held them down. Jodi took a breath, then slowly, painfully, hauled himself up.

It was hard to watch. Jodi had never been bothered by exercise or personal fitness, but with his lank and leanly muscled frame, bright smile, and general good health, it had never mattered.

“This hurts,” Jodi said.

“Where?”

Jodi shrugged like Rupert had asked the most bone-stupid question in the world.

Rupert tried again. “Everywhere, right? Okay, let me grab a pillow.”

Rupert snagged a sofa cushion and placed it behind Jodi, trying to ignore the clean, familiar scent of Jodi’s sweat.
He’s not that Jodi, remember?
“Gives you a little less work to do like this. Will hurt less if you drop too.”

“Got all the answers, haven’t you?”

“I wish, boyo. I wish. Straighten your spine a little.”

Jodi obeyed and fixed Rupert with an odd stare. “Are you okay?”

“Me? I’m fine. Why do you ask?”

“You don’t seem yourself.”

“How would you know what that is?” The words were out before Rupert could stop them, spilling from him with a flat despondency. An emotion he couldn’t name flashed in Jodi’s dark gaze. Hurt? Sadness? Guilt? Or was it the dull rage that had become their constant companion?

Either way, it was gone before Rupert could decipher it. Jodi lowered himself to the pillow and took a deep breath, effectively ending a conversation Rupert didn’t really want to pursue anyway. What was the point? Jodi didn’t remember him. Didn’t want to remember him. And this was their reality.

“Ready?” Rupert asked.

Jodi nodded and pulled himself up. He did it with more purpose this time, faster and bolder, yet seemed surprised when he found himself upright. “That wasn’t so bad.”

“Try it again,” Rupert said. “The sheet says to do ten, but it’s just a guideline.”

“Guideline, my arse,” Jodi muttered, but he followed Rupert’s instructions and completed the exercise again and again until he reached number ten.

“One more,” Rupert said. “You’re winning, come on.”

Jodi’s glare was murderous, but as he hauled himself up a final time, Rupert was amazed to see laughter in his eyes. “Bloody hell. I don’t think I’ve ever finished one of these sheets.”

“You must be having a good day.”

Jodi shook his head. “I feel different, have done all week. It’s like I’ve dropped something somewhere and I don’t have to pick it up again.”

His analogy was so honest and simple that Rupert had to smile. “That’s really great. Hold on to it until the next breakthrough comes.”

“Do you think there’ll be another one?”

Rupert got up and held his arm out for Jodi to use as leverage. “What do you mean?”

“Just feels like everything’s been shit for ages. I’d pretty much resigned myself to it staying that way.” Jodi stood, his eyes glazing over briefly.

Rupert waited for his equilibrium to catch up, then released his arm. “Nothing ever stays the same. Even if your recovery doesn’t work out the way you want, you’ll get better at living with your injuries.”

“S’pose it helps that I can’t remember what I was like before.”

“Only you know that, boyo.”

Rupert watched Jodi until he was safely on the sofa, then picked up the exercise paraphernalia Jodi had left on the floor.

“Why do you call me ‘boyo’?”

“Hmm?”

“Boyo. You say it all the time, and I don’t know what it means.”

“Erm, I guess it’s the same as ‘mate’ or ‘lad’ if you’re Irish. My dad used to say it to me and my cousins.”

“Used to?”

Rupert turned away and snagged some stray socks that had been under the coffee table for more than a week. “We haven’t talked in a while.”

“Why not?”

“Long story.”

“You don’t want to tell me?”

Rupert said nothing. It was probably high time he told Jodi he was gay and dealt with the consequences, but he wasn’t in the mood today, especially without Sophie for backup.

“I used to know, didn’t I?” Jodi said when Rupert didn’t answer. “And now you know everything about me, and I know nothing about you.”

The sadness in Jodi’s tone made Rupert look up. “What do you want to know?”

Jodi shrugged. “Dunno. I like talking to you, though. Did we used to talk a lot before?”

Rupert smiled in spite of the weight dragging his heart through the mud. “Yeah, we talked. You were the best friend I ever had.”

If that meant anything to Jodi, it didn’t show. His only response was another absent shrug before he rose from the couch and left the room.

“Where are you going?”

Rupert glanced over his shoulder as he stamped into his scruffy trainers. “Sainsbury’s. Why? Do you need me for something?”

“No.”

Jodi leaned on the living room doorframe, hands in his pockets, looking for all the world like he didn’t give a shit, but his dark, brooding gaze compelled Rupert to close the distance between them. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Sure? I can stay if you want? Wait until Sophie gets here tomorrow? We’ll have to order Domino’s for breakfast, but—”

“I want to come with you.”

It was the last thing Rupert had expected Jodi to say. Aside from his many medical appointments, Jodi rarely left the flat at all. “You want to come to the supermarket?”

“I want to go with you.”

“With me?”

Jodi started to roll his eyes, but seemed to change his mind. “I think I feel better when I’m with you. I know that doesn’t make sense, but everything is more . . . logical, maybe.”

Rupert had been lost for words many times since the moment he’d met Jodi, but this felt like the first time all over again. Like it had been that long since Jodi had truly wanted to be in his presence. “I guess you’d better write us a list, then.”

Half an hour later found them in the frozen section of the closest supermarket, trying to decipher Jodi’s scrawled list.

“It could be sausages,” Jodi remarked sagely. “Or maybe salami?”

“It definitely isn’t salami.” Rupert squinted at the list. “And you don’t like frozen sausages. You never let me buy them before. Said they were full of trotters and ball sacs.”

“They probably are. What was my handwriting like before the accident? Was it legible?”

“Just. To be honest, it wasn’t much better than this.”

“That’s what Sophie said.”

Jodi seemed relieved, though it left them no clearer as to what they were looking for. Rupert was beginning to regret challenging him to open the fridge-freezer and write down what he thought was missing.