by Sibel Hodge
The problem was, my head wouldn’t let me forget. I had flashbacks and panic attacks sometimes. I found it hard to sleep again, hard to concentrate, and even harder still to keep up my pretence that I was a normal guy. I kept seeing what had happened all those years ago, and it wouldn’t go away. Like a seed germinating in the ground, the anger started as a tiny little speck of life. Over the months, it grew until it blossomed into hatred and fury, and I knew there was only one thing I could do. My conscience wouldn’t allow me another way. I wasn’t that skinny, terrified little boy now. I was a man who’d fought to survive. I couldn’t run away from it all any longer. And I wasn’t going to stay silent anymore and let them get away with it. I was going to write a record of everything to get it straight in my head first.
Then I was going to finally tell my story.
MAYA
Chapter 3
Somehow, I fell asleep. I didn’t know when or how, but I drifted off eventually, only to jerk awake to that sinking feeling that I knew something was wrong but couldn’t work out what until it hit me like a wrecking ball.
My eyelids were swollen shut, stuck together with caked tears, and it took me a moment to open them and focus on the bedroom. Our bedroom. Except it wouldn’t be our bedroom anymore.
A suffocating squeezing in my chest almost crushed me. I pulled Jamie’s pillow tighter towards me. How could he really be gone? It wasn’t possible. Twenty-four hours before, he was telling me he loved me. He was laughing. Looking forward to celebrating our anniversary with me. He was happy. There was no hint he was about to kill himself. Nothing. How could that be? How could it?
I wanted to lie there forever, smelling his lingering scent of soap and masculinity and…just Jamie. The man I love. Will always love. Not loved. I wanted to slip into oblivion, and when I woke, it would all be a horrific dream.
I was so hollow and empty that no more tears came, only the painful ache of tears that wouldn’t flow anymore.
Why would he do it? How could he leave me like that?
I turned onto my side, staring at my bedside unit at the black-and-white photo of Jamie and me. A selfie I’d taken during a picnic in a field near Codicote. We’d rambled around the picturesque area before Jamie had led me to a river snaking through some woods. He’d said it was one of his favourite local places to sit and think and get away from everything. It had been a scorching July day in a deserted spot in the middle of nowhere, and after eating, we’d made love with the heat of the sun on our skin.
I reached over and picked up the photo, tracing his face with my fingertips. His eyes were sparkling. Alive and ecstatic. The left side of his lip curled up higher than the right, as it did when he smiled.
A strangled groan escaped my lips.
He wouldn’t do it. Not Jamie. No.
And yet he had.
‘Why?’ I cried, my croaky voice echoing in the silence.
What was so bad that he’d felt he had to take his own life? We could’ve talked about things. Sorted out any problems he had. Made plans. I’d thought we were making plans for our future.
But surely there should’ve been a sign. Had I missed it somehow? Was this my fault because I hadn’t noticed something was wrong?
I tried to think back to the last few weeks. He’d acted just as he always did. What had we done last week? We’d been out for a midweek curry because neither of us could be bothered to cook after work. We’d met up with my friends Becca and Lynn and their boyfriends on Friday night. We’d stumbled home, drunk, and had sex on the kitchen table. Jamie hadn’t been acting weird. He was a little quieter than usual, I supposed. A few times, I’d caught him staring into space with a pensive look on his face, but he’d said he had a lot on at work and was a bit stressed. And he had been having a few nightmares lately, but other than that, he seemed okay.
It didn’t make sense.
I remembered the phone call with Jamie’s boss, Paul, last night. If Jamie hadn’t been going to work, where had he really been going? What ‘personal things’ did he need to sort out? Was that something to do with why he’d killed himself?
Thinking about Paul reminded me I had things to do. People to phone.
Not yet, though. I couldn’t cope with that yet. I needed help. I needed Ava.
It was 6.30 a.m. when I phoned her. I knew she’d already be up by now giving Jackson his morning feed.
‘Wow, you’re phoning early!’ Ava gushed down the phone. ‘You’ve got something exciting to tell me, haven’t you? He proposed last night, didn’t he, like you thought he would? Oh my God, I’m so happy for—’
‘Ava, Jamie’s dead.’ As I spoke the words, they still didn’t feel real. It was as if I was playing a role in a film. An actress stiffly saying lines she hadn’t rehearsed. They sounded alien on my tongue. Alien and terrifying.
‘What?’ She gasped.
‘He…last night…the…he hanged himself. In a wood nearby.’ My hand flew to my mouth, as if somehow I could stuff the words back in. Never let them out.
Another gasp. ‘No! What? Why would he do that?’
‘I don’t know. I don’t know anything. I can’t think straight. He was happy. He was. Why would he do it? Why? I don’t understand.’
‘Hanged himself? Oh, hon, I’m so sorry. So, so sorry.’ She was silent for a while, apparently thinking of something to say. What should she say in these circumstances? ‘I…shit, I’m shocked.’
‘I don’t know what to do.’ My voice sounded small, like a child’s. ‘I think I need you to help me. There are people to tell. Things to…I don’t want to…’
‘Look, don’t worry about anything, okay? I’ll just finish feeding Jackson, then we’ll be round. I’ll take care of things. You just do what you need to do. Feel what you need to feel.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Do you want me to get you anything? Food or…anything else?’
‘No. We’ve got food here.’ I thought about the ruined anniversary dinner, and a sob lodged in my throat. ‘I can’t face food, anyway.’
‘All right. I’ll be there in about forty-five minutes. Love you, sis.’
‘Love you, too.’
I stripped out of my rumpled tea dress and opened the wardrobe, staring at Jamie’s clothes neatly staring back at me from the left half. I trailed my fingers along the fabric then recoiled at them lifelessly hanging there.
Lifeless. Hanging.
My mouth watered. Sweat broke out on my forehead. Acid rose in my throat.
I ran to the en suite bathroom and vomited violently. When I was spent, I wiped my mouth with toilet paper, curled up on the freezing cold floor, naked, and howled.
A knocking at the door sometime later jolted me out of my desperate thoughts. I grabbed Jamie’s dressing gown from the peg behind the door and pulled it on. It was miles too long for me, the arms coming way past my hands, the hem dragging on the carpet.
I walked down the stairs on legs that threatened to buckle with every movement, feeling as if I had a bad case of the flu. Wobbly. Disorientated. Empty.
If only it was flu. If only Jamie was here. If only.
Ava’s silhouette was visible through the obscured double-glazed panels on the front door. I took a deep breath and opened it.
She’d been crying, too, her eyes red and shiny. In the crook of her arm, she held a sleeping Jackson in his car seat.
‘Oh, Maya.’ Her upper lip quivered. She put Jackson down in the hallway and pulled me towards her.
I fell against her, and we clung on tight to each other, crying, our chests rising and falling with each sob.
‘I can’t believe it.’ I sniffed, trying to breathe through my blocked nose.
‘I can’t, either. Can you tell me what happened?’
I closed my eyes, pressing the lids together firmly, not wanting to ever open them again to a world without him.
‘It’s okay. You don’t need to talk if you don’t want to. How about I make you a cup of tea? Something to eat? Take your
time.’ She released me and placed a soft hand to my cheek, her face twisting with anguish.
‘Coffee,’ I mumbled. ‘Coffee. With some brandy.’
‘You’ve got it.’ She squeezed my arm, picked up Jackson, and walked through the hallway into the kitchen.
I stumbled behind her, holding onto the wall for support. Sitting at the kitchen table, I watched her pottering around, grabbing a couple of mugs, spooning in coffee granules, and adding a hefty dose of brandy to mine.
I tried to stop the turmoil of visions exploding in my head. Jamie in the mortuary. Jamie hanging from a tree. I wanted to block them, but they kept coming. Jamie laughing at his fortieth celebration in the pub three weeks ago. Me decorating the Christmas tree so badly Jamie laughed at it and had to take off all the decorations and redo it when I’d gone out. Jamie’s eyes staring into mine intensely when we had sex. I blinked. Focused on Ava pressing a mug into my hands. Stared at the steam rising. Felt my heart splinter.
She sat next to me and shook her head. We were silent. The only sounds were the clock ticking on the wall and Jackson’s snuffles and sighs of contentment in his sleep. I wiped my eyes with the cuff of Jamie’s dressing gown. A waft of his scent hit my nostrils, and a knife of grief stabbed me viciously.
‘He’s not coming back.’ I shook my head. ‘He’s never coming back.’
She rubbed my back in soothing, circular motions. ‘What happened?’
‘I don’t know.’ I bent over and rested my head in my hands. ‘I don’t understand.’ And the more I went over it, the less sense it made, but of course, I couldn’t stop.
We’ll have all the time in the world later.
You’ll love what happens after dinner.
‘He was fine. The last time I saw him was yesterday morning. He brought me breakfast in bed. We were talking about seeing each other later that night for our anniversary dinner. He talked about his surprise. He was happy, Ava. I thought he was going to propose, I really did. There wasn’t anything…nothing. He wasn’t depressed. He loved me, I know he did.’
‘Of course he did. It was obvious.’
‘He loved his life. He loved his job. I would’ve known if something was bothering him, wouldn’t I? I would’ve noticed…’ I trailed off, thinking about my conversation with Paul again. ‘Except…’
‘What?’
I shrugged. ‘I don’t know. His boss said he’d taken two weeks’ annual leave to sort out some personal things. Jamie had only had a week of it before…before…he did this. And I didn’t know that.’ I sniffed again. ‘Jamie didn’t tell me about it.’
Ava stood and tore off a handful of kitchen roll. She handed it to me, and I blew my nose. Took a shuddering breath.
‘Personal things? What does that mean?’
‘I haven’t got a clue. He was leaving for work as normal. He didn’t say anything to me about it. I didn’t think we had any secrets. But there must’ve been something that made him do it. Something that was going on in the last week I didn’t know about. That’s the only explanation, isn’t it? Everything was good between us. Everything else was just as it usually was. Maybe he had some personal problem and it was…’ I shook my head. ‘I don’t know. I can’t even imagine what it was. His mortgage is paid off. He hasn’t got any loans that I know of. It couldn’t be anything financial. So, what?’ I pleaded with her, even though she didn’t know the answer. ‘What could it mean?’ I wailed.
‘I have no idea. But it must’ve been pretty terrible for him to have taken his own life and leave you behind.’
‘Terrible,’ I repeated.
‘Look, I’ll organise things. Who do you want me to call first? Mum and Dad?’
I groaned. ‘Mum will want to come over, but she’s too busy looking after Dad at the moment. It’s not fair on either of them. Tell her I’m okay, will you? Just that I don’t want to talk to anyone yet.’
Mum and Dad had retired to Portugal three years ago, and Dad had just come out of hospital after having a hip replacement. He needed full-time care at the moment. ‘I can’t face telling people what’s happened. Not yet. Not even Mum and Dad.’
‘Of course. Whatever you want. And who else? Your boss? I can tell her you won’t be in for a while. And does Jamie’s boss know?’
‘No. Jamie’s boss is Paul Porter. His mobile number is on my phone.’ I reached for it on the table and scrolled through the calls I’d made last night. Jamie’s number was there, too, taunting me. I pressed the heel of my hand to the bridge of my nose, forcing the tears back down as I handed the phone to Ava.
‘Anyone else?’
‘I…um…I don’t think so at the moment. I don’t know. I’ve never done this before.’
‘We’ll just take it one step at a time. One day at a time.’ She gave me an encouraging half smile and clasped both my hands in hers. ‘You’ll get through this, hon.’
‘Will I? It just feels like…someone has scooped out my insides and set them on fire, and I’m burning from the inside out. It feels like the end of my life. How am I going to cope with never seeing him again?’ My lips trembled. Tears filled my eyes. ‘How can I ever stop missing him? Stop thinking about him? Knowing all the time that I’ll never hear his laugh or touch him or talk to him? How, Ava? How do you do that?’
She pulled her chair closer and slid her arm around me, pulling me towards her so my head rested on her shoulder. ‘Like I say, one day at a time. This is normal. This is grief. Gradually, it will get less acute.’
She held me for a while until I sat up and sipped at my coffee. The brandy burned my throat and stomach lining, but I didn’t care. I wanted more of it. Maybe I could drink myself into unconsciousness. Numb the pain. At least for a while.
Ava went into the lounge to make the phone calls. Low mumbles echoed through the closed door, but I couldn’t make out what she was saying. I stared at sleeping Jackson, clutching his blanket in his tiny fist, and felt a pang of jealousy. Jamie had wanted kids, and so did I. We’d talked about it before. He would make an amazing dad. Would’ve. Now there would be no chance.
I pulled my gaze away from Jackson, put my feet up on the edge of the chair, and hugged my knees. As Ava came back in, the phone in her hand rang.
She looked at me. ‘Do you want me to answer it?’
I nodded.
‘Hello? No, this is her sister, Ava. Oh. Right. Um…can you just hang on a second? She’s very upset.’ She pressed a hand over the mouthpiece. ‘It’s someone from the coroner’s office. They want to come and talk to you today. Are you up to that?’
I ran my hands over my face. ‘I suppose so. If I don’t do it today, they’ll just want to do it tomorrow or the next day. Maybe I should get it over with.’
‘Sure?’
‘No, but…’ I trailed off, unsure how to end the sentence.
Ava removed her hand and spoke again. ‘Yes, she’ll be at home. What time?’ She glanced at me and nodded. ‘Okay. One o’clock. Bye.’ She hung up and put the phone back on the table. ‘Do you want me to be here when they come?’
‘Would you?’
‘Of course.’
‘What did Mum and Dad say?’
‘Mum started crying and said she wanted to come over, but I told her you weren’t up to visitors just yet. And anyway, she can’t leave Dad. He can’t do anything for himself at the moment. She said to give you her love. They both do. They’re in shock. I guess we all are. And they said to tell you they’re very sorry and thinking of you. I spoke to your boss, too, and she said take as much time as you need, and if there’s anything she can do, you can contact her.’
‘What did Paul say?’
‘He was completely shocked, too. He said to pass on his condolences.’
‘Did he say anything else about what Jamie could’ve been doing on his time off?’
‘No. He said to ring him when you felt up to it.’
I nodded vaguely.
‘Do you want something to eat?’
The thought o
f food made me feel nauseous again. ‘No, thanks.’
‘Another coffee?’
‘Maybe just brandy.’
She bit her lip for a moment then poured a hefty measure into the mug.
~~~~
I didn’t know how I got through the morning, but somehow I was still living. Still breathing. My heart was still beating. Even if Jamie’s wasn’t.
At 1.00 p.m. on the dot, someone knocked on the door.
I looked at Ava. She looked at me.
‘Are you up to this?’
I shrugged helplessly.
‘I’ll let them in.’
We sat in the lounge, me on the corner sofa with Ava next to me, clutching my hand tightly. The coroner’s officer introduced himself as Tony Williams. He sat in the armchair opposite, placed a briefcase on the floor, and opened it, then he retrieved a clipboard with some papers on it and a pen. He was thickset, red-faced with a grey beard and bushy grey hair and eyebrows. He had kind eyes. Like Jamie. Jamie’s eyes had a softness behind them when he looked at me.
‘I’m very sorry about James,’ Tony said.
‘Jamie,’ I corrected him. No one called him James. It was wrong. This whole thing was wrong. Couldn’t he see that?
‘Jamie.’ He gave me a sympathetic smile. ‘In these circumstances of sudden deaths, it’s my job to investigate what happened to Jamie. To establish the circumstances leading up to his death and how it came about. So I’ll be making enquiries with various people, and there will be an inquest.’
‘Inquest,’ I repeated stupidly.
‘Yes. A post-mortem was carried out this morning,’ he continued.
An image of Jamie on a mortuary slab flashed in my head. I’d watched crime programmes on TV. Silent Witness and all that. I knew about the Y incision they would have made. The organs they would’ve examined and weighed. It was more than I could bear. I pressed my fingertips to my eyes until black-and-white dots appeared, trying to blot it out.