I didn’t sit down. I stood in the middle of the room so he would make it quick, folded my arms and said, ‘How can I help you?’
He leaned a hip against the couch for support and seemed unsure what to say. I hated this. I didn’t want any more messy emotions or feelings. Just get it over with. But he didn’t, so I said, ‘Chief, I can understand why you want to go. I want to leave myself. We both need a new beginning. It was fun, but it was a mistake and I can see now why the Boss discourages workplace relationships. Surely we don’t have to make this any more difficult than it is. I’m sorry you feel you have to go. St Mary’s loss is the Space Programme’s gain. I hope, not too far into the future, you’ll be able to look back at – everything – and find a few happy memories.’
OK, not my best, but I was drunk, battered, stressed, and distressed. Full house again! He jerked upright, stared at me a moment, and then said, in a voice that cracked so much I hardly recognised it, ‘I don’t want to be only a memory. I know you can’t … you don’t … it’s not easy for you, but it’s not easy for me either. I don’t want much. I just want you to tell me you love me sometimes.’
I shook my head. ‘Yes, you see, I can’t do that.’ He turned his head away. ‘I love you all the time.’
He made to speak, but suddenly his chest heaved and he collapsed onto the arm of the couch, coughing out terrible, racking, dry sobs. He covered his face with his hands. I didn’t know what to do. I just didn’t know what to do. I walked up to him, put my arms around him, and rested my cheek on top of his head and made a discovery.
Some behaviour is contagious. Yawn in front of me and I’m at it for the rest of the day. And vomiting. If I so much as hear someone heave I’m barfing up everything I’ve eaten in the past ten years. Now I discovered a third behaviour. Crying. Even as I stood with him, something forced its way up through my chest. And again. And again. It was uncontrollable. I couldn’t stop. He put his arms around me and we cried together.
It wasn’t romantic. This was no gentle mingling of tears. This was painful and raw and wet. My tears ran down into his hair, his were soaking the front of my T-shirt, which was pretty well covered in body fluids anyway. After a while, we slowed down, but he didn’t let go. He really was in a bit of a state and he hadn’t been in good condition when he came in. I couldn’t let anyone see him like this.
I persuaded him to let go, went into the bathroom, and wet a flannel with warm water. I gently washed his face and hands, got his boots off, and put him to bed. He went out like a light.
Things were a bit more difficult for me. I’d never cried like that before and it was every bit as unpleasant as I’d always thought it would be. My head throbbed (although that may have been the drink), my sinuses were blocked, and my throat raw. I looked terrible and my chest and hands hurt. I wasn’t going to be doing that again anytime soon. I made a quiet cup of tea and sat down to pack up my books again. Half an hour later I’d finished and there was still no way I was going to be able to sleep and, besides, my bed was occupied. I looked round for something else to do.
My sports bag. I pulled it over and began to sort out the stinky mess inside. The bag itself went out on to the roof to air. I clumsily turned out all my pockets and stuffed everything into my laundry bag. That left my jacket; burnt and ripped, but still the only one I had. I started to feel the pockets, but something had gone down a hole in the lining. I fished around, finally locating it in an armpit, yanked it out and everything in the world changed. For ever.
Chapter Fifteen
I honestly thought I was going to faint.
What a day this was turning out to be.
I held on to the back of the couch and tried to breathe deeply. It didn’t help. I sat down and leaned forward, putting my head between my knees. It works better if you put your head between someone else’s knees, but after a while my head cleared. I sat up and opened my hand. You would not have thought such a tiny thing could change the world.
I was looking at a fir cone. Not a big one; about three or four inches long and having easily as bad a day as me. It was almost completely burned away on one side and quite badly charred on the other. I put it gently down on the table, rubbed my face with my hands, and tried to think. A few minutes later, I got up and quietly put the kettle on again. My thoughts were all over the place so I sat back and let my mind wander as it wanted.