‘You spoke.’
Jake finished the bandage and tied it securely.
‘In your sleep,’ Marcus continued.
Jake got out of bed and looked down at the crumpled clothes he had slept in. He reached for his shoes and then glanced about the room for his bag; he needed a fresh set of clothes. He noticed that Marcus must have cleared up the room that morning while he slept, repacking their cases with the clothes and items he’d thrown all over the place in his frantic search for the plastic bag he’d left with from the police station.
‘Where’s my bag?’ Jake glared at Marcus as if he was hiding it intentionally to keep him stranded in the room. There was no sign of it.
Marcus crossed the room to the wardrobe. He got out Jake’s bag and closed he wardrobe door. ‘Don’t you want to know what you said?’ he asked.
‘In my sleep?’ said Jake as Marcus dropped the bag on the bed. Jake unzipped it. He put his hands straight on a pair of clean jeans, but finding a sweatshirt was proving trickier. He gingerly lifted some clothes out of the bag and glanced at Marcus. He had a feeling that Marcus had something he wasitching to get off his chest. ‘What the hell does it matter what I said?’ Jake added.
‘It matters, Jake,’ Marcus said softly, as he took a seat on the sofa, watching Jake.
Something in Marcus’s tone made him stop, his hand still in his bag. He had a good idea what he had said in his sleep, and most probably shouted out every single night. At home, alone, there was no one to hear him. There was no one to remind him each morning what had gone on while he was sleeping – he made sure of it. That’s why he wasn’t in a relationship. It was why he didn’t stay in the same house as anyone else if he could help it.
He thought back to the previous Friday night, when he had babysat Natty. Marcus had reminded him of his bad dreams, his fitful sleep, and how he shouted out in his sleep. The question he was now asking himself was whether he had woken Natty. Was that why she had come down in the middle of the night for a glass of water and some reassurance about the strange noises she’d heard?
Jake had reassured her she had just a bad dream – but had she? It made him think of the times she’d stayed over at his house. He hadn’t woken her there. Perhaps she’d been out like a light, and hadn’t heard him. Or maybe it was the case that for some reason, on those occasions, he had not had a nightmarish, fitful night’s sleep. He certainly didn’t recall having nightmares when she’d stayed over.
Marcus continued. ‘I was woken by the sound of heavy breathing, but it wasn’t just heavy breathing – you were gasping for air like someone, or something, was sitting on your chest and squeezing the life out of you.’
Jake slowly pulled out a shirt from the holdall, the search for a sweatshirt forgotten.
‘You were calling my name,Marcus, Marcus,over and over.’
Jake slowly zipped the holdall back up.
‘Marcus. Not me! Leave me!you said.’ He paused. ‘Then you just said her name,Eleanor, over and over.’
Jake closed his eyes.
‘That’s how I managed to find you, you know, after the avalanche.’
Jake’s eyes shot open. Not this again. How many times had Marcus told him this story? He still didn’t believe him. Jake dumped the bag on the floor.
‘Remember, I told you in the aftermath, I could hear your voice – like you were talking to someone, telling them to leave you buried in the snow, and find her, find Eleanor.’
‘What the hell are you talking about?’ Jake turned on Marcus. He was furious. He pointed angrily at him. Then he suddenly felt tired; tired of having the same argument, tired of hearing the same lies. He hoped that one day, Marcus would just be honest. Or, at the very least, be honest with himself about what had really taken place on the mountain on Christmas Day.
‘I don’t want to hear it,’ Jake said flatly. He stood up, took his clothes and opened the bathroom door.
‘What is it you don’t want to hear, Jake?’ Marcus said defiantly, ‘The truth?’
‘And just what is that, Marcus?’ Jake said from the bathroom door. ‘That you found me because you heard me calling out?’
Marcus nodded.
‘Well, that’s bullshit, and you know it. How could I call out when I was buried in the snow, for god’s sake?Completely buried. That’s how I wake up every morning, like I can’t breathe, like I’m buried on that mountain again, like …’ Jake stopped abruptly.
‘Eleanor,’ Marcus finished.
Silence.
‘You know what your problem is?’ said Jake bitterly. ‘Youcan’t accept the fact that you made a choice up there.’ He stabbed a finger in the direction of the mountain beyond the house. ‘And you can’t live with it!’
‘No, you’re the one with the problem.’ Marcus got up from the sofa. ‘You can’t live without someone to blame.’ He marched to the bedroom door, flung it open and walked out, slamming it shut behind him.
