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Instead, she bit her lip and nodded. ‘You?’
‘Surprisinglywell.’
Therewere so many questions she wanted to ask him, but it was probably a bit rude to launch into them straight after waking up.Atthe very least, she should let him have some coffee first.
Hereached out and pulled her towards him.Jesscuddled into his side, her head resting on his shoulder and her fingers playing with the wiry hairs on his chest.Sheinhaled the faint residue of his cologne overlayed with the pleasantly sour-sweet scent of good sex.
Gabrielsighed. ‘Goahead.’
‘What?’Sheangled her head to look at his profile.
‘Askyour questions.Ican tell you’re dying to know.’
Shedropped her head onto his shoulder again. ‘AmIthat transparent?’
Hejust laughed. ‘Yes.’
‘Okay.Well.’Shedidn’t want to start at the deep end, so she backtracked to the beginning. ‘Whendid you first realise you wanted to photograph war zones?Imean, how do you even get started in that kind of career?’Theidea of choosing to put oneself in danger for a living completely boggled her mind.Asa primary school teacher inEngland, the biggest danger she encountered were over-sharpened pencils.
Witha sharp huff, he said, ‘Bybeing the perfect combination of idealistic, young, and stupid.Whenwe lived inNewJersey,Iwent to a top boy’s school.ThinkDeadPoet’sSocietybut without the boarding.Anyway, they taught us that we were kings of the world, future captains of industry.Invincible.Ibelieved them.
‘Andthen, before my senior year,Imet a boy fromRwandaat soccer camp.Hetold me about the genocide in his country…both his parents had been killed and he and his sister were living with an aunt and uncle in theUS…andIjust thought,how didInot know about this?I’dbeen living in a safe bubble, completely oblivious.Icouldn’t stop thinking about whatIhad been doing when all those people were being massacred.Thatwas the beginning for me.Iwanted to show others what was going on in the world because if they saw, then they’d care, right?’Helaughed without humour. ‘Iwanted to understand war, the mechanics of it.Howit affected people.Iwanted to watch history happening and then onceIstarted doing it—it was like a drug.Themore dangerous, the better.Iwas always the last to leave when a situation got risky.IthoughtIwas indestructible.’
Glancingdown towards his stump, she finally asked, ‘Howdid you lose your foot?’
Afew beats passed before he exhaled and said quickly, as though trying to get the words out of his mouth as fast as possible, ‘Wewere taken hostage in the mountains ofAfghanistan.This’ —he gestured downwards—‘happened just before theUSArmyturned up to free us.’
Jessstayed silent.Shedetected that there was more, and she wanted to give him the safe space to say it. ‘Ourkidnappers shot me in the foot.Or, more accurately, they shot off my foot.Bythe time the soldiers got me to the hospital, they were worried about infection.Sothey amputated halfway up my calf.Idon’t remember it.’
Hereyes swelled with tears.Shecouldn’t even imagine the agony, the loneliness and the fear he must have experienced, so far away from home and the people who loved him.Herheart expanded to three times its natural size with feeling for him.Shewanted to take him in her arms and kiss away his pain.
Seekingto give him comfort, she turned her face up and leaned towards his cheek.Hejerked his head in the other direction, and his whole body tensed up.
Secondsas long as an eternity passed before he relaxed. ‘Sorry.’Hesat up, pulling his arm out from under her.Sittingon the edge of the bed, fully naked, he said, ‘Idon’t talk about it much.Itwas eight years ago.’Hetugged on a drawer in his bedside table and retrieved a flesh-coloured silicon sock.
Jessfelt stupid.Whilehis back was to her, she wiped at her eyes and willed the rest of her tears back into her head.Shesat up against the padded headboard, pulling the duvet up to cover herself, already mourning the closeness they’d shared only moments ago. ‘No,I’msorryIpried.It’syour story to tell or not tell.Imean, who amI?I’mnobody to you.’
Gabrielstopped what he was doing and pinned her with his honest gaze. ‘That’snot true.You’resomebody.’
Theystared at each other as the room brightened a bit more, the sun coming out from behind a cloud outside.
Themoment passed, andGabrielturned his attention to the rubbery sock in his hand.Heplaced the closed end against his stump and rolled it up, similar to donning a condom.
Jessthought about the picture on the mantelpiece.Thenext question hung on her lips, daring her to ask it: ‘Who’sthe woman in the photo?’Butshe didn’t.Shesuspected that this woman had been purposefully left out of the story.Ifhe’d wanted to tell her, he would have.Hewasn’tJess’sboyfriend, and he didn’t owe her explanations for anything.
Thesound of the front door opening madeGabrielwhip around.
‘Bonjour!’called a female voice.Shesaid something else inFrench.
‘Merde,’ saidGabriel.
Asick feeling squirmed inJess’sstomach, and she sat forward in the bed like a meerkat.Wasit his girlfriend?Thewoman in the picture?HadJessjust slept with a taken man?Wasshe about to have theFrenchestofFrenchexperiences: being discovered in someone else’s lover’s bed?
Gabrielsaw the horrified look on her face and said, ‘No, no.Don’tworry.It’smy well-intentioned, but annoying sister.’Hereached across to a bureau of drawers, conveniently placed within arm’s reach for him, and took out a pair of black tracksuit bottoms.
Reliefflooded throughJess.Theother woman scenario wasnoton her bucket list.Sheimmediately thought back to the day she’d arrived and the friendly, petite woman with the brown pony tail andAudreyHepburnvibes who greeted her.
Heshouted something out inFrenchand, toJess, said in a low voice, ‘Stayin here if you want.’Shimmyingthe right leg of the tracksuit over his prosthetic, which already had his shoe attached to the end, he slid his stump into the plastic socket at the top, then rolled another flesh-coloured sock up to cover the first one.
