Heart

by Nicola Hudson

  There was a quiet knock on the door before Simone came in. “Jake’s mum is going to be here in a few minutes. The Police are bringing them down from London. I thought you would want to know.” She smiled and left the room. I knew I didn’t have the energy or the guts to see Jake’s family yet.

  So this is it. Goodbye.

  “I love you, Jake. Even with everything that happened, I never stopped loving you. I will always love you. It’s like you said – it’s like breathing; I can’t stop myself doing it. I will carry on loving you as long as I’m breathing. I promise. I will treasure every moment I spent with you and everything I learned from you.” I ran my fingers through his hair one final time and stood. “You are the love of my life. I love you.” I leant down and kissed his forehead. I inhaled the way he still smelt like Jake. I pressed my lips to his, absorbing the last time we would be joined in this way.

  “’Night, Jake.”

  I managed to leave him before I broke into so many pieces I knew I could never be the same again.

  My memory of those next few hours is still hazy, a random pile of images and words between leaving Jake and being curled up in my bed at home, wearing one of Jake’s tee shirts.

  A taxi.

  Mickey crying.

  Me crying.

  Mum crying.

  Dad packing.

  Me crying.

  The car.

  Sleep.

  Flynn crying.

  Me crying.

  My room.

  Crying.

  Sleep.

  Crying.

  Sleep.

  Crying.

  Sleep. Crying

  Sleep.

  Crying.

  Sleep.

  Crying.

  Sleep.

  The hand gripping my shoulder made me burrow further into my duvet. Every time anyone had tried to communicate with me, I had hidden away, wishing I could hibernate until the season of pain was over.

  I had barely been able to speak when the police came to ask questions about what happened, trying to work out whether Garrett was responsible. It was clear that they didn’t care if he was morally responsible: his hand hadn’t touched Jake so he wasn’t at fault. He was probably already back at home, living a life of luxurious contempt, whilst Jake was lying cold. Dead.

  But was it Garrett’s fault? Or mine? The question taunted me every time I allowed it an inch of space in my mind. I just about managed to keep it out with a combination of self-pity and memories which made me heave with tears, but it was a fragile balancing act which threatened to tip me into the void.

  “Come on, Neve, I’ve showered you before. Remember?” Cass was sat on the edge of my bed, speaking to me like I was her little sister, Sylvie. “It won’t take long. I’ll dry your hair afterwards. You can even get straight back into bed. Please? Or, if you’d rather do it by yourself, I can sort out some clean sheets while you’re in there.”

  I didn’t want to move, to get out of bed, to accept that life was carrying on. Jake-less.

  “I’m fine.” I couldn’t remember the last time I’d used my voice.

  She pulled the covers away from my head. “No, you’re not. And nobody expects you to be. But you need a shower and this bed needs clean sheets. So either you sort it or I will.”

  “I said I’m fine. Please, just go.”

  “No. I can’t do that. I love you too much to do that. Get up.” I rolled over to face the wall. “I mean it, Neve. I’m not going anywhere until you’re clean.” I didn’t care about her implied threats. “This is your final chance, Neve.” I remained where I was. Until she yanked the duvet off the bed.

  “Fuck off, Cass! Don’t you get it? I don’t want to have a fucking shower. So go away, go make out with your boyfriend. Because at least you’ve got one. LEAVE ME ALONE.”

  “You can moan and shout all you want, but I’m not going anywhere. And I’m not going to take any of that crap you’re spouting personally, either, so I’d save my breath, if I were you. Now, are you going to get up or do I have to do that, as well?”

  “It’s not crap I’m spouting! Didn’t you hear? My fucking boyfriend died. In my arms. Dead. So sorry if I’m not bothered about my personal hygiene right now, but I’ve got other things on my mind.” I expected the next round of orders to follow. What I didn’t expect was Cass to climb next to me, spooning her body round mine.

  “Ssshhh. I know, Neve. I know. That’s why I’m trying to take some of these things off your mind for you. So you can focus on what you want to: Jake.” She wrapped her arm around my middle, snuggling her face into the curve of my neck. “Nobody is trying to take that away from you.” The warmth of her hug, the feel of a body pressed into mine, gave me the comfort I needed to let go of some of the anger.

  “Why, Cass? Why did it happen? I’m never going to see him again. Never going to touch him again. It’s not fair!”

  “It isn’t fair. I can’t give you any reasons for it other than life is shit sometimes. But you can’t change what happened, Neve.”

  “But why him? He is, he was such a good person. You know that, right? Why not murderers or rapists? He didn’t deserve it.”

  “You’re right. He didn’t. But I don’t think you should focus on that. Focus on what was special about Jake. All the reasons you love him. Because that love is still alive. Look at all of the fantastic memories you have. Everything you did with him. Spend your time thinking about that. Thinking about his life.” Cass hugged me tighter, as if unsure about how I would react to her words.

  “I want to. I really do. But I can’t stop that night playing over and over in my head. I want to get away from it, but I can’t stop looking at it. It’s all I have left.” I turned over to face her. “The look on his face at the end. He looked straight into me, Cass. As much as I don’t want to see it, I don’t want to forget it, either.”

  “I know, lovely,” she said, stroking my back. “You won’t forget it. But don’t make it the main thing you remember. What was the happiest moment you had with him?”

  “The day he told me he loved me at the park; he was so nervous. No, the weekend we had in Brighton, in that bed and breakfast. Or maybe the day we got back together, at the park, in the rain. I can’t decide.”

  “That’s the point. You had so many amazing times; remember them. And don’t forget how lucky you are. You got to be loved by him – you are the only person to know what that felt like. To have Jake completely and utterly love you. Nothing can take that away. Ever.” She was right. Whatever life brought me, I had experienced full love. Jake would always be mine.

  “Thanks, Cass.” I hugged her and then thought about what I probably smelled like. “Sorry. I’ll have a shower.”

  “Praise the Lord! Do you want me to stay with you?”

  “Please – but just in here. I’ll be okay doing the bathroom bit by myself.” I stood and stretched before finding some clean clothes.

  Closing the bathroom door behind me, I took off Jake’s tee shirt and held it to my face before recoiling. It didn’t smell of him anymore, just a very unpleasant version of me. I promised myself not to waste anything else I had of his, to look after everything, real or memory. Determined to face up to life, I leant on the sink and looked at myself in the mirror. I was a mess. In every way. I remembered back to seeing Cass at her lowest last year and knew it was going to be a road of small steps until I found the complete me again. But I wasn’t alone: I had Cass and my family with me.

  The emotional exhaustion still blanketed me and, despite making the effort to go downstairs and be with Mum and Dad, most of the next few days were spent in my room. Listening to Ed Sheeran and Sam Smith. Looking at photos of me and Jake. Reading through all of the texts he had sent me. Yeah, Kema would have thrown a fit if she had seen it.

  But I needed it. I was lost in the unbearable absence of him. I needed to do what Cass had said and remind myself of everything good about my time with Jake. As sad as it is to admit, I even tried to recreate mo
ments. I sat in bed, wearing Jake’s hoodie, listening to videos of the sea washing over pebbles, trying to relive being sat on the beach with him. It didn’t work. I revisited every memory, a moth drawn to the softest of lights, incapable of anything but seeking the very thing which could destroy it.

  My room became a shrine to Jake. Every photo I had of him, of us, even the blurriest, grainiest pictures on my phone, was printed and stuck up. I lined up on my desk the bits and pieces which represented our relationship: cinema tickets, silly gifts, a note he’d left on the front door. Nothing had any financial value, yet it was all priceless to me.

  But one thing sat there, haunting me, needing me to do something about it: Dad had picked up Jake’s rucksack with my things when we left Brighton and it had sat there, in the corner or my room, since we got back. I wasn’t sure whether I should keep it or give it to his mum. I wasn’t sure whether to open it and see what was inside or leave it the way he had left it.

  But, when Flynn came home on the Friday evening, I knew he would help me. We sat on his bed, the rucksack between us.

  “Ready?” Flynn asked.

  “Yes. I think.” Was I? “You open it.” He pulled the bag toward him and unzipped it.

  “I hope there’s nothing dodgy in here,” he said, his words and wink an attempt to keep me from falling apart. He pulled out the clothes Jake had brought with him for the weekend, creating a familiar pile of colour and texture. And smell. I took a couple of the tee shirts, remembering how he looked in them. They were now mine. As well as the clothes, there was his small supply of toiletries. I added his aftershave to the pile of tee shirts. Mine. Flynn put his hand in as though he were looking for something else but pulled it out empty.

  “That’s it. Clothes and deodorant. Nothing dodgy after all.” We were both quiet with the anti-climax of it. I didn’t know what I was expecting but, deep down, I had hoped for more.

  “Oh, okay.” I folded the clothes up and put them neatly back into the bag, leaving out the ones I was keeping. I put the toiletry bag on top and closed the bag. “Would you be able to drop it off at Jake’s house? Or I can ask Dad to? I don’t think I can face seeing them before the funeral.”

  “I’ll take it round tomorrow. I was going to check on the arrangements for the wake.” My head still struggled with the words that sounded so final. He picked up the bag and took a second look. “Hang on, there’s a pocket here we missed.” He opened the pocket and pulled out a white envelope. “It’s for you.”

  Everything stopped.

  For me.

  From Jake.

  I took the envelope, feeling its weight in my hands. It was heavy, filled with something soft yet hard. It had my name on the front, written in Jake’s familiar scrawl.

  I breathed it in, knowing he had touched it, sealed it.

  Time stopped, rewound to a moment when Jake was still alive. Still thinking of me.

  “I’m going to my room,” I whispered before rushing out. I closed my bedroom door and sat on my bed, still holding the envelope as though it could detonate at any moment. Part of me worried that the envelope would break my heart with words Jake would never be able to take back, never be able to justify. But I had no choice but to take that risk; I couldn’t leave his final words unread.

  I carefully unsealed the envelope and took out folded pieces of paper and something wrapped in tissue. I unwrapped the tissue, preserving the folds so I could recreate it exactly how Jake had left it, to reveal a pebble. A misshapen pebble? Taking a deep breath, I opened the pieces of paper to find them filled with his handwriting. I’d never seen so much of it at the same time and there was a beauty to the organic shapes and lines it made across the page. It took a few seconds of deep breathing and closing my eyes to help me calm down enough to read.

  I lay down and cried, the pebble a warm piece of Jake in my hand.

  The sky was weeping on the morning of Jake’s funeral. I stood, still in my pyjamas, looking out my bedroom window, recalling how much Jake loved this view. Mist rolled over the hills in the distance and the fine drizzle gave everything a dull edge, more Impressionist watercolour than HD. Maybe nature had muted the colour and light in his honour, mourning a friend.

  “You okay?” Cass had stayed over, as much for Flynn’s benefit as mine, but she spent the night in my room, like she used to in the pre-Flynn days. When I had cried myself to sleep, she had held my hand, a prolonged version of the way we had always wished each other good night on sleepovers. Knowing she was going to be with me gave me the strength to believe I could survive the day. I had to.

  “Honestly, I just want to get the service over and done with. A part of me wishes we didn’t have to go,” I admitted. It was the truth. Today, I was going to have to face up to the reality of what had happened. Jake was gone. Up until the funeral, a small part of me could still pretend. But this was going to make it real. He was gone. Forever.

  “I know. Today is going to be a crappy day, but I’m here for you. And for Flynn.” She hugged me tight enough to quell the tears threatening to make themselves public. “Forget I asked such a stupid question. Let’s go get some breakfast and then do Jake proud,” she added, pulling at my hand.

  Flynn was already sat in the kitchen, eating pancakes Mum was busy making. Dad was also there, chatting with Mum, one eye on the news on the TV in the corner. I was reminded how lucky I was, having a family who loved me and who were all willing to be there, supporting me when I needed it most. But it was also about supporting Flynn; he’d been best friends with Jake since they were little. I couldn’t remember a time when they weren’t hanging around with each other. Looking closely, I could see the tell-tale redness around Flynn’s eyes which told me he had probably needed Cass as much as I had last night. I gave him a hug before sitting next to him.

  “You okay, lovely?” Mum asked as I sat down; it was clearly going to be the question of the day.

  “Yeah, I’m all right. What time do we need to leave, Dad?” He looked over and gave me the sort of smile he would give me when I was little and fell over and grazed my knee: the one trying to take away my pain with just the magical healing powers of unconditional love.

  “About eleven, I reckon. So you’ve got plenty of time to make yourself look beautiful, beautiful.” Mum threw an approving smile in his direction, along with an extra pancake onto his plate.

  Back in my room, having managed to eat a pancake and some fruit, I stood in front of my wardrobe, each item of clothing triggering the memory of when I had worn it with Jake. I’d already decided to wear his favourite pink underwear but was struggling with what to wear on top. None of us was going to wear black; it just wasn’t Jake’s style. Still undecided, I picked up the undies and went for a shower.

  When I returned, laid out on my bed was the outfit I had worn last New Year’s Eve. The night it all started. The night Jake kissed me, rendering me hopelessly infatuated.

  “How did you know?” I whispered, filled with gratitude at the way Cass knew me. It was the perfect thing to wear.

  “I could see you were stuck, and I thought back to that night. You looked so gorgeous. And Jake clearly thought so, too.” She grinned as she made her way into the bathroom and left me to remember how much that evening had changed my life. And, even though there had been so much heartache over the last year, I wouldn’t change the events of that night.

  If I could turn back the clock, I would still smile at him, silently willing him to show me he wanted more than someone to chat to whilst Flynn and Cass were upstairs. I would still get up on my tiptoes, trying to prolong the kiss he gave me as the clock struck midnight. Because, despite all of the pain, Jake had brought so much joy, so much love to my life. I was a different person because of him. Thanks to him.

  In return for all he had given me, I was determined to be strong, to not fall apart.

  Starting with the funeral.

  By the time Cass returned, I had pulled my hair into a side braid, hoping to beat the damp air. I kep
t my makeup simple and made sure my mascara was waterproof, just in case. Zipping my knee high boots, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror and gasped. I stood and appraised myself. Although I looked like me, I also didn’t. My skin was paler than usual, making my heart-mark more prominent. There were faint hollows under my cheekbones and my usually skin-tight jeans felt comfortably loose. No wonder Mum had been so worried.

  I looked myself in the eye and promised I would pull myself together. This was not what Jake would have wanted. This was not what I wanted.

  “Come on, let’s make him proud,” I said to Cass as we left my room, braced for the challenge of the next few hours.

  The rain had passed by the time Cass, Flynn and I stood outside the crematorium doors, Mum and Dad behind us. The crowd of people awaiting the arrival of the hearse was a diverse group which represented the person Jake was. There were several clusters of young people, some of whom Flynn knew and had chatted briefly with, along with a couple of girls I knew Jake had gone out with in the past. There were a few teachers from school, two of whom had spoken words to me I’d barely been able to register. I also recognised Bill Edwards, Jake’s boss, who smiled weakly across at me. I wondered how many were expecting me to break down, making me even more resolved to stay strong.

  That resolve wavered when the hearse pulled up the drive, the oak coffin a stark reminder of why we were there. What really pissed me off, though, was the JAKE made of yellow chrysanthemums which filled the side window. Cut flowers? Really? How much did Jake’s family not know him?

  “Don’t say anything. They’re just doing what people do. The same as everyone else in this situation.” Flynn’s whispered words calmed my anger at how completely inappropriate the flowers were. Almost as inappropriate as the white jeans Jake’s mum had poured herself into for the occasion. But nowhere near as inappropriate as the fact that her boyfriend, who hated Jake, was there, arm draped over her shoulder. I felt a wave of sympathy for Grace and Josh, desperately trying to look grown-up, but their despairing faces making them look like children who couldn’t fathom that the world could be this cruel. My heart almost broke when Josh took a tissue from his pocket and wiped the tears from Grace’s face, all too aware that he would now feel the burden of being the man of the family. The tell-tale burning at the back of my eyes made me look away and grasp Cass’s hand.