SEVEN

Elliot sat on his bed and listened to Daniel closing the door behind him as he headed out for his drink with Kate. He tossed his mobile phone from hand to hand as he stared at the wooden floor of his bedroom.

He looked at the screen of his phone for the third time. The text message in his inbox hadn’t changed. I’ll ring you at eight, it said. Try not to miss it.

The clock read five past eight. James was late, but Elliot didn’t mind. He wished he wouldn’t ring at all. He hadn’t spoken to his brother since his father’s funeral three weeks ago, and he was in doubt as to what this latest conversation would be about.

The phone vibrated in his hand. Elliot looked at the screen for a few seconds, the LCD display showing the unrecognised number. He answered the call and held the phone to his ear.

“Elliot? It’s James. Can you hear me?”

Elliot sighed and gritted his teeth. It was a good line. “Loud and clear.”

“Good. This is important. They’ve given me ten minutes on the satellite phone, so I’ll have to be quick.”

“What is it then?”

James took a deep breath. “You have to go and see Mum. She’s not coping”.

Elliot bit into his bottom lip. He didn’t know what to say. He knew he had to go and see his mother; he didn’t need his brother to tell him that.

“I know I do. I just can’t face her alone.”

“You’ll be fine”, James told him. There was genuine support in his voice. “It’ll probably do you some good.”

“You reckon? How is she going to find time to make me feel better? She’s just lost her husband”.

“And you’ve just lost your father”.

Elliot felt the tears welling up in his eyes. He knew his father was dead, but hearing somebody tell him so out loud was something else. It made it seem so real.

James continued speaking. “You haven’t grieved yet.”

“Haven’t I? If this isn’t grieving, I’d hate see what grief feels like”.

“It feels terrible.”

“I know!” Elliot raised his voice. “He was my Dad too! I don’t need you to tell me how that feels!”

“I know you’re feeling upset-"

“Upset? Upset doesn’t quite cover it! I can’t feel anything inside. I can’t feel anything but pain, and that occasional sick feeling when I tell myself I’m never going to see him again. So don’t you dare tell me I haven’t grieved!”

“I know you’re feeling upset. And you might have started grieving, but you can’t really get over this until you talk about it. You haven’t finished grieving if you can’t talk about him without completely falling apart.”

Elliot ran the back of his hand across his eyes. It was wet with tears. His breathing was faster, and the blood pumped violently in his temples. James was right. He was falling apart. He had the sudden urge to have a drink.

He got up from the bed and opened the wardrobe in the corner of the room. A bottle of whiskey rested on the top shelf, along with a small glass. He’d stored it there a couple of weeks ago after a similar episode, but he’d never needed it more than now. He poured an inch of the golden liquid into the bottom of the glass and swallowed it in one.

“Isn’t it about time you started carrying some of the burden?”

“You can’t start blaming me for this, Elliot.”

“Why not? What have you done for Mum? A ten-minute phone call? A postcard?”

“Well what do you expect me to do? I’m in Iraq, if you hadn’t noticed. It’s not exactly easy for me to get home.”

“It’s not easy, but if you cared that much, you would make it happen! Is your job really more important than your own family?”

“I’m out here defending helpless people. I’m out here fighting for our country!”

“Don’t give me that rubbish, James! You can’t just play the brave soldier again and again and expect to me to play along with it. It just doesn’t wash with me anymore!”

Elliot was standing. His fist was clenched by his side, his jaw clenched in anger. He was glad he was having this conversation over the phone. He wouldn’t have been able to look his brother in the face had he been standing in the same room

“I can’t just come home! You don’t know what it’s like out here, you-“

“Here we go again! It’s always the same! “Poor little Elliot, he’ll never make a soldier, he’ll never quite fit in.” You’re right, I have no idea what it’s like out there, but that doesn’t make me any less of a person!”

“That’s not what I said.”

“No, but you thought it. You’ve always thought it! I’m living my own life, and you can’t handle that!”

“Where’s this coming from Elliot? There’s more important things to care about now. Dad’s dead-“

“I know! But even when he’s dead, you can’t resist trying to impress him. You turn up at the funeral and make your speech about Dad serving his country, and how proud you are to be following in his footsteps, and how you know he’ll be watching you from heaven.”

“And I meant it!”

“So where were you when he needed you? Where were you when he needed to be proud of you, when you should have been watching over him? You were out fighting your big war, while I sat and watched him die!”

“I couldn’t be there! Believe me, if I could have spent those last days with him, I would. But I can’t get leave for a family illness, you know that.”

“You had six weeks. You’re the son of a former captain. You could have made it home.”

“I needed to stay-“

“You didn’t come home, because you knew I was there to take care of it. And why would you? Because Elliot’s always been good at that, Elliot’s always been the sensitive one, Elliot’s always willing to help. But for how long James? How long did you expect me to sit in the background while you stood up at the funeral and took the glory?”

“This isn’t about glory! It never has been!”

“How long? How long am I meant to sit here and handle the messes you leave behind?”

“They are not my messes! It is not my fault that Dad’s dead!”

Elliot had nothing more to say. He felt drained. He still held the phone to his ear, but he heard nothing except the slight crackling of the line and his brother’s heavy breathing. Yet he still held it close in the hope that James would forget everything he’d said and come home. More than ever, he needed help. He couldn’t do this alone. He had thought that he could cruise through the next few weeks and months by keeping an empty head and not thinking too much about the horrible feelings that were tearing him up from the inside. He hated that he had to act as if nothing had happened to keep his friends happy, he hated that he couldn’t go a night without having a drink, but most of all, he hated that he would never see his father again. Most of all, he missed his Dad.

James finally spoke. “You need to see Mum.”

The line went dead as James hung up the phone.