There Is a Light by Ban Gilmartin

Author:Ban Gilmartin [Ban Gilmartin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Ban Gilmartin
Published: 2020-04-21T00:00:00+00:00

JUDE

I’m on my way back from the toilet when Jamie throws a piece of bread at me.

It hits me square between my shoulder blades and I pause in the hallway, trying to figure out whether I’m hallucinating.

“Oi, I made food.” He’s in the kitchen, slamming about, not looking at me. “Made loads, come grab some.”

“I’m not—” I start, but he turns around and glares at me.

“I havnae seen you eat anything other than toast or cheese in days, so just sit the fuck down and eat.”

It’s not that I’m not hungry. I am. I think I am, at least, under the weird bloated feeling that’s probably caused by an empty stomach. It’s just that I wasn’t planning on eating, and I always feel weird accepting food from Jamie. He always offers, but I always say no. I don’t want to put him out, and I don’t want to eat the food that he had to pay for. I can afford my own food. More than Jamie can.

“Really, I’m—” My words get cut off as Jamie throws another piece of bread at me. “Fine! Fine! Keep your trousers on.”

I’ve heard him in here, smacking pans and frying things. He didn’t say hello when he got in from work, just stormed into the kitchen and began cooking, and judging from the noises I figured it wasn’t a good idea to bother him.

He cooks a lot, actually, and you can always tell his mood by the sounds he makes.

Happy Jamie cooks quietly, hums a bit, plays music, talks to the cat. Tired Jamie gets in and out, doesn’t linger. Angry Jamie slams pans and curses and makes intricate meals, and then eats them on the sofa in silence.

We don’t ever eat together.

The kitchen smells amazing, though. He’s gone all out, made a proper fry up the likes of which I haven’t had since—well. I think the last time I had a full Scottish breakfast was the first and last time I had a casual hook up my first year of uni, and my date’s flatmate made me breakfast while my date slept off his hangover. It was probably the most uncomfortable breakfast of my life.

Jamie shoves the skillet onto my table, not even bothering to put something down to protect the wood, and I almost cry from the smell. He’s thrown everything in together—the eggs, mushrooms, tomatoes and sausage. He’s even scrounged up actual, honest to God potato scones and what I’m fairly sure is black pudding.

“It’s all pork, by the way,” he says, putting down two plates. Apparently he plans for us to eat in the kitchen. At the table. Together. “I checked with Upma.”

He checked with Upma about my dietary habits. Now it would just be rude not to eat the food.

Arthur is in the chair closest to the door so I take a seat in the one next to Jamie. He doesn’t even wait for me to be fully seated before he starts dumping food on a plate and hands it over.

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