Authors: Garrett Leigh
What Remains (33 page)
Rupert knew. “Jodi, that doesn’t happen to humans.”
“Not anymore. If I’d had that accident a hundred—Christ, even fifty—years ago, I wouldn’t have made it this far.”
The jump from stray cat to grown man was vast, but Rupert heard Jodi loud and clear, and the thought of him being cast aside for the sake of a disability most people would never notice hurt his heart.
Rupert caught Jodi as he turned away, and pulled him back into his arms, laying his hand over the steady beat of Jodi’s heart. “Boyo, you’ve got everything you’ll ever need right here.”
A little while later, Rupert found Jodi in his office, working on whatever he was working on, like he did around this time every day now that his business was cautiously up and running again. After many false starts, they’d figured out that routine was one of the best ways to keep Jodi on track. It didn’t pan out every day, mainly because what remained of the old Jodi objected so fiercely to such a structured life, but today was a good day. At least, it had been until Rupert stuck his foot in his mouth.
Rupert dropped Forrest on Jodi’s desk, grinning as she sashayed straight across the keyboard, blocking Jodi’s view of the screen. “We made friends.”
Jodi smiled too and nuzzled Forrest’s face. “Yeah? Hello, girl. Told you he was all right really.”
“‘All right,’ really?”
“Yeah,” Jodi said. “You’re all right, you know. I’d shag ya.”
“I’ll bear that in mind.” Rupert did his best to look miffed, and failed, because it was hard to be truly annoyed when Jodi was smiling. “We can fuck later, though. We’ve got shit to do first.”
“We have?”
“Yup.” Rupert brandished the real reason he’d sought Jodi out—the flowery photo album they did their best to update every week. “Have you picked your photo yet?”
Jodi shook his head and retrieved his phone from the windowsill behind him, plugging it into the computer and bringing up the photo application. “I took loads this week. I don’t know how I’m going to choose.”
“So choose a couple.”
“That’s against the rules.”
“Our rules, so who gives a fuck?”
Jodi laughed. “True. Oooh, what about this one?”
Rupert peered over Jodi’s shoulder at the screen, dodging Forrest’s tail as she swiped it over his face. The image was of Jodi and Indie, sitting at the top of the slide in the nearby park, grinning like idiots and squinting in the summer sun. “That’s lovely. When did you take that?”
“Thursday. We went to the park when you were in the shower, remember?”
Rupert shrugged and mussed Jodi’s hair. “I don’t remember everything, boyo.”
Consternation flashed in Jodi’s gaze. Too often he did expect Rupert to remember
everything
, like he’d forgotten that even without a brain injury life just wasn’t like that. “You know I really appreciate you letting me take Indie out, don’t you?”
“I reckon you appreciate it as much as I love that you want to.”
Jodi shot Rupert a quizzical glance. “Why wouldn’t I?”
Rupert shrugged again. “Your relationship with Indie was one of the things I loved most about you.”
“You mean . . . before?”
“Aye. I never gave up on you, boyo, but there was some shit I convinced myself I’d never see again. You and Indie against the world was one of them.”
For a moment, Jodi looked upset, but his gaze quickly cleared. As his recovery had progressed, he’d got better at handling negative emotions. He clicked through a few more images, finishing on a selfie he’d taken of him and Rupert outside the fire station a couple of nights ago when Jodi had met him after work. “I like this one too.”
Rupert studied the photo. At first glance it seemed like nothing out of the ordinary, then he remembered that had been the day Jodi had come into the station and shown his face to a station full of men he hadn’t seen since the accident—men he had no memory of. He had spent the week leading up to his visit learning their names and histories so they’d never know it. “I love you.”
Jodi lolled his head on Rupert’s shoulder. “I love you too. Shall I print these out?”
“Aye.”
The printer in the corner flashed to life, filling the room with the whirring Rupert had always found strangely calming. He waited until it was finished and then replaced Jodi’s phone with his own as Jodi took the already printed photographs and set about sticking them into the last few pages of the album.
“We need a new one,” Jodi remarked.
Rupert nodded absently as he printed the photo he’d picked out to be the final image in the album. Jodi appeared at his shoulder as he pulled it from the printer.
“Our mortgage agreement? Are you fucking serious?”
“Deadly.” Rupert trimmed the edges of the photo so it would fit in the small album. “It’s kinda crass, but I want to remember this.”
“You’re not likely to forget we’re moving house, mate.”
“No . . . but I might forget there was a time when we didn’t think we’d ever be able to.”
Jodi said nothing, his gaze suddenly distant as he clearly searched his patchy memories for ones that matched what Rupert meant. “It never bothered me that this place was mine, even before. I never felt like you owed me or some shit. You know that, don’t you? It wasn’t my home until you and Indie came.”
“I know, boyo, I know. If it’s any consolation, I never felt like a kept man, but this . . .” Rupert gestured at the photograph that documented the joint mortgage that would finance their exodus from the bustling big smoke of the city. “Moving away with you and Indie, to a house I can put my name to . . . Fuck, I don’t know. I guess I just feel like I’ve finally given you both what you deserve.”
“Indie deserves the world, Rupe. Me? I’m happy with a jar of Nutella and a wank job.”
Trust Jodi to lower the tone. Rupert took a halfhearted swipe at him, but Forrest intercepted his hand, leaping onto Jodi’s shoulder with a low growl that told Rupert as much as he needed to know about whose cat she was going to be.
As if he’d expected anything less. Jodi had been irresistible to
him
from the day they’d met, and despite what life had thrown at them, nothing had changed—nothing, and everything.
“Do you think Jen will ever want Indie back?”
“Hmm?” Rupert glanced down at Jodi. “Oh, shit . . . I don’t know. I’m still getting used to the fact that she gave her up in the first place.”
Jodi grunted. He hadn’t seemed at all surprised when Jen had appeared one evening a few months ago, bearing the good news that she was emigrating to Brazil with her new boyfriend.
“Face it, mate. She’s a selfish twat.”
Indeed, and her loss was Rupert’s gain. He wasn’t going to let her invade another moment of his life, not even this one . . . especially not this one. Rupert pulled Jodi close again and squeezed him as tight as he dared. The accident had nearly killed them both—in different ways—but what they had now was as imperfectly perfect as it had ever been, and he wouldn’t change a thing. “I fucking love you, boyo, you know that?”
Jodi looked up and grinned. “Course I do, knobhead. That’s why I made it this far.”
“Knobhead?”
“Yeah . . . knobhead, my whole fucking world, whatever I call you, it all means the same, ’cause I love you too, Rupe. More than you’ll ever know.”
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What Remains
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Garrett Leigh is a British writer and book designer, currently working for Dreamspinner Press, Loose Id, Riptide Publishing, and Black Jazz Press. Her protagonists will always be tortured, crippled, broken, and deeply flawed. Throw in a tale of enduring true love, some stubbly facial hair, and a bunch of tattoos, and you’ve got yourself a Garrett special.
