“Yes, I do.”
“No, you don’t. You quit three years ago.”
Silence. Jodi considered her words and tried to make sense of them. Couldn’t. Fuck it. He retreated to the couch and put his head in his hands. His headache had faded to a dull roar, but dizziness still plagued him, like he’d moved too fast and his brain couldn’t catch up. Like he’d never catch up. He thought back to the strained conversations he’d had with Sophie in hospital, the ones where, under the watchful gaze of an inscrutable doctor, she’d nervously explained that his mind seemed to be missing around five years of his life. The breakup, the flat, the mortgage. If he thought hard enough, he could comprehend all that, but giving up the fags? Why the fuck would he do that?
He was no closer to an answer when a warm hand on his shoulder startled him. Sophie set a plate of lumpy brown gloop on the coffee table. “Dinner.”
“No, thanks.”
“I wasn’t asking. You need to eat, hon. Come on, you’re wasting away.”
Jodi eyed the plate. Its contents looked like shit and smelled like arse. “No.”
Sophie sighed. “You didn’t eat lunch either. What am I going to do with you? If you won’t let us take care of you, the doctors might make you go back to hospital.”
“Liar.” Brain-damaged he might be, but he knew the doctors at the hospital considered him well enough to be at home. “What day is it?”
“Thursday, hon. Why?”
“When do I have to go back?”
“To the hospital? Erm, Monday, I think. Rupert’s taking you to the physiotherapist.”
“Rupert.” The odd clicking in Jodi’s brain returned. “Why can’t you take me?”
“I have to work. In fact, I’ve got to get going soon. Rupert’s going to look after you tonight.”
“I don’t need looking after,” Jodi muttered, though he was beginning to accept that was far from true. Despite sleeping most of the day, he felt more tired than ever. He curled up on the couch and picked up the TV remote, studying the buttons. None jumped out at him.Fucking idiot.Frustrated, he closed his eyes.
He had no idea how much time had passed when Sophie roused him again a little while later.
“I’m going home,” she said. “Do you want me to help you to bed before I go?”
“Wha—?” Jodi sat up. “What? What time is it?”
“Eleven.”
Eleven.The room seemed to get darker. A familiar panic clawed at Jodi’s gut. “Don’t go.”
“I have to, hon. I’m sorry. Rupert’s here. Do you want me to get him?”
“I’m here, Soph.”
The new voice made Jodi jump. He turned awkwardly to find Rupert leaning in the doorway with a hesitant smile, hovering in a way that set Jodi’s teeth on edge.Fuck’s sake. He’s gonna maul me like every other twat here.“You’re not going to touch me, are you?”
“No, mate. I won’t. I promise. I’m sorry about what happened at the hospital.”
Blankness hit Jodi. “What happened at the hospital?”
“Erm ...”
Rupert glanced at Sophie, a clear plea for help if Jodi had ever seen one. A faint flicker of curiosity tickled his belly, but was gone before he could act on it. He turned away and flopped back on the couch. Sophie lingered, like she wanted to say something, but settled for a tight hug before she kissed his cheek and left.
The front door closed with a quietclunkthat sounded deafening to Jodi. He looked around the living room, at the plain walls, the photographs, the blank TV, anywhere but at Rupert. Somehow, he’d missed him venturing into the room and taking Sophie’s place, perched on the coffee table.
“It’s late,” Rupert said. “You’ve got some medication to take. The antiseizure pills give you a bit of a stomach ache if you don’t eat. How about we get you to bed and I bring you some food before you take them?”
“No, thanks.”
