Closure

Mike sprang awake and sat up. He was alone. Gemma must’ve done quite the dance to escape without so much as stirring him, he thought. He’d expect the opposite: her dragging him out of the basement and off to work. Or at least to breakfast. No matter, he’d catch up with her by the cook site.

Richard, the camp’s resident geezer, was there grilling up mushrooms on the old council grills. Sun cut through gaps in the clouds to dry out the picnic tables, soaked through from last night’s rain. A smattering of folks sat by themselves in the few dry patches they could find. Mike scanned their faces, but Gemma was nowhere to be found.

“Good morning,” said Richard from behind his apron. He spoke with military precision. Mike tensed up.

“Don’t suppose you’ve seen Gemma come through here this morning.”

“I did. She didn’t eat. Seemed to be in rather a hurry.”

“She happen to mention where she was going?”

“She did.” Richard stroked his glorious salt-and-pepper beard. Mike stood up a bit straighter. “Mike, I’ve never been one to meddle in the affairs of my neighbours. That was typically my wife’s remit, and I was content to edge the back garden and handle repairs around the house.”

“Okay, Richard.” Mike was never more uncomfortable than when he had to speak with this man for any length. The Royal Marine lieutenant turned tree surgeon turned cook. Mike had about as much in common with Richard as he did with a lorry.

“She looked after the front garden and I looked after the back, if you catch my meaning.”

“I do, sir.” He did not. Mike began popping mushrooms into his mouth at an alarming rate, in the hopes that the rumours were true and he would, in fact, become a mushroom as well.

“She’s passed now, as you know. So that’s left me with nobody manning that area. I’ve got to cover it as well, you see.”

“I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“Son, you seem to have fallen out with your… counterpart. It creates difficulties for all of us.”

Mike’s face contorted into an expressionist likeness of himself. He tried to sputter some sort of response but was stymied by mushroom-related issues.

“The difficulty for me, Mike, is that I’ve had to endure the impact Gemma’s uneven moods have on the rest of our camp. The gossip, the tense exchanges, the inefficiencies in our seating area when Gemma refuses to let anyone join her. Not to mention the time we lose when she’s engaged in these dialogues with yourself, rather than working. We rely on Gemma for a lot, you understand.”

“I do.” Mike nodded, his eyes saucers.

“But the real unpleasantness, you see, is my having to speak to you about it right now.”

“I see.”

“I trust you’ve got this in hand.” Richard’s tone was firm, even. Mike understood how this man had a successful military career. He could simply request that his enemies die and they would oblige.

“I’m not really sure I do, sir. She’s so angry with me, all the time.”

“It does appear that way.”

“If you don’t mind, sir. You were married for quite a long time. If you have any advice.”

Richard put his tongs down on the grill and planted his hands firmly on his hips. “Son, you two have never seemed very settled here. Remind me, are you actually married?”

“We are, erm. We are not.”

“Right. So you’re a couple then. Betrothed in the eyes of the Lord and our community, if not so much the Church or His Majesty.”

“Well.” Mike now wished the mushrooms had been poisoned. “Not particularly, as such, any of that. Sir.”

“Right. So, friends then. Thick as thieves, joined at the hip, bonded for life during your conscription together at the power plant. That sort of thing?”

“That’s not quite how I would characterise us.”

“So you’re her lodger, then.”

“I think that’s how she’d see it, yes sir.”

“Right.”

Mike took his plate, now empty, and headed to a nearby picnic table. He sat, staring into the pool of brown goo where his mushrooms had been. The more he pushed his way into Gemma’s life, the more she pulled away. His reward for planning the gigs in West Brom had been her rage. His reward for finding them a home was this damp, ridiculous basement. And now, his reward for choosing this life was Gemma venting their private troubles to Richard. A man who could break Mike in half like a KitKat bar, but chose instead to interrogate him until he broke on his own.

“You need any more there, lad?” Richard slid into the other side of the table. “There’s nothing on your plate.”

“No, sir.” Mike shook his head and kept staring down. He could only assume his face was turning a deep red. Everything about his existence here had become an embarrassment. “I don’t think I belong here.”

“Son, I do believe it takes a particular skillset to be here. I know one of our councillors, I’d regret saying which, they say it’s rather a privilege to live like this at this time in history. And it’s one we have to earn each day. Now, I would not say that. I believe in taking people in, helping them, allowing them to simply exist. But I also can’t say that stance, regarding privilege, is lost on me. This place is under constant threat. We have limited resources. Limited space. Everyone has to pitch in, and everyone has to get along.”

A ringing grew in Mike's ears, threatening to drown out the man's words. He nodded, focusing all his energy on staying upright, on appearing to listen. His foot tapped uncontrollably.

“I recall you were only stopping here temporarily, is that so? You’ve been here quite a while. I just assumed you and Gemma had settled down, even as you appeared so unsettled.”

“That’s true,” Mike squeaked. He worried all the colour had just left his face. Pins and needles crept from his fingertips up his palm. “I was meant to head down to London to find my ex-wife Elizabeth.”

“Quite right,” Richard said with a finality. “Elizabeth Marsh, MP. It’s a bloody great idea too, chasing that lost love, the one you were meant for, the one that makes you whole. I’d give anything to have that back, Mike. But mine’s gone forever.”

“I don’t know if she’d agree we’re meant for each other.”

“Well, to get closure then, son. There was something in you, making you want to go down there.”

“You really think I should go? How would I even find her?” Mike drummed his fingers back and forth on the table. Any thought of Elizabeth threatened to send him to a past he swore he’d leave behind. It wasn’t manageable for him to even flirt with thinking about her. That was an all or nothing prospect, and he’d grown quite comfortable with nothing. Gemma had set him straight on this more times than he could remember. But talking to her now, the way she’d been lately, would lead to pain. She wouldn’t even look him in the eye. She’d toss a hand up and say yes, please, just go Michael. Put us out of our misery.

“Mike, I’m in no position to give you orders. But if that’s what you want to do I support you. Can’t imagine you’ll have much trouble tracking down a Member of Parliament. But whatever you do, things can’t progress how they are here.”

“Sure, right. Okay. I understand.” He wanted to retract inside his shell, would that he could. He settled instead for pulling his arms further inside his jacket. The sleeves hung at his sides and his head hung low, his chin hugged by the front of his top.

“I think about myself sitting where you are,” Richard said, building toward crescendo. “If it’s me, I’d think about how to have the strongest, most positive impact on the ones I love, and on this community.” He leaned forward and put his hands on Mike’s shoulders. “Because that’s what it’s about, lad,” he continued in a buttery-smooth baritone, with a hint of Geordie accent coming to the fore. “Being a man, I mean. That’s the secret. It’s not hard. It’s not about grilling out or watching the rugby, working with your hands, or so-called masculinity. It’s just about supporting others. It’s about supporting the community. Supporting your family.” He gave a firm nod and squeezed Mike’s shoulders, then gave his chest a couple of light pokes. “It’s about this, son. This in here.”

Richard rose, as did Mike, pulled skyward by the gravitas. But his foot got caught in the crossbeam of the table, which sent him crashing back down to the bench.

“Might rest here, sir. Give it more of a think.”

“You do that, son. But I think you’re making the right decision. It warms my heart, to see how far you’ve come since you’ve been here. How much you’ve grown. Elizabeth will be happy to have you back.”