The Seven Ages of Bodie.
2. Denial
I move wearily away from the binoculars perched on the windowsill and rub my tired eyes. There's been no movement at the house we are watching for twenty four hours now. I use the term 'we' loosely as I look round to view the dozing form of my so called partner. There's not been much movement from him lately either, the odd groan and plenty of sighs to indicate his boredom. We'd collected the details of the surveillance operation but not without Bodie expressing his lack of enthusiasm for the early start and for the job as a whole to anyone willing to listen which, to his annoyance, didn't include Cowley or myself. Whilst I had walked away reading the particulars of the location I had left Bodie to carry the various equipment we needed and ignored his call of 'oi!' that echoed down the corridor in my direction. I had gained a good feeling of smug satisfaction on hearing him lumbering behind me weighed down with our kit.
It's our first assignment together, not that either Bodie or I would call it one as such. I have my suspicions that Cowley has given it to us to aid our 'bonding' which, although he hasn't said anything, he clearly knows is floundering in the water. I could have told him that some surveillance work together is not going to make it happen. Bodie is as steadfastly distant as he had been at our first introduction. There is no meaningful conversation between us and anything of a workplace matter is succinct and to the point. I admit to no one but myself that it is starting to get me down and that as the long days continue I have all but given up the hope that things will improve.
I take the opportunity now to look at him really closely maybe for the first time. As he sleeps I can do so without fear of recrimination and also if such scrutiny could enlighten me as to the reason for his reluctance to include me in his life, working or otherwise. Why would someone behave like this? Has something happened in the past to cause it? I can only think that it must have, but what? As far as I know, according to rumour, he had left the S.A.S. to join C.I.5 but as we don't converse I don't know whether his reason for leaving has anything to do with his current demeanour. Whatever it is it clearly hasn't been resolved for him as I appear to be taking the fall out and the brunt of his anger. A slim ripple of sudden compassion for the man runs through me but with it also runs the knowledge that until he lets me in I am powerless to help even if he were to allow me. All this is pure conjecture on my part, it could just be that I have been saddled with the biggest miserable bastard that I ever had the misfortune to work with. But for now I need to give him the benefit of the doubt.
I put my eyes to the binoculars again and, through the windows, scan the inside of the house opposite. All appears quiet and I return my attention back to Bodie. He sits leaning against the wall on an old disguarded mattress. His closed eyes I know to be of the bluest blue and with his dark hair and lean well built physique they all contribute to making him a bit of a magnet for women. They seem to like it and he revels in their attention. Indeed one of the few things I know about him is that women are of a permanent interest to him as is food. It's just past lunchtime now so I am surprised he hasn't woken to complain of hunger seeing as it was ages ago that he polished off the meagre rations left by the two agents we'd taken over watch from at dawn.
As if he has read my thoughts Bodie opens one eye but I'm not quick enough to look away. He regards me with a wrinkling of his brow in suspicion as if I am invading his privacy. For an awful moment I find I can't break away from his stare, feeling he is about to lay into me again verbally but instead he nods towards the window.
"What's happening?" he asks disinterestedly, stretching his arms above his head with a yawn.
"Nothing. No movement in or out." I glance at my watch and add "I'm hungry."
"Anything left from this morning?" he indicates the remnants of food wrappers on the table.
"No, but I come prepared!" I inform him brightly and get up to cross the room towards the bags. Bodie slips onto my seat at the window and looks through the binoculars as I take up his position on the mattress and open up several paper bags. At the rustle of them he turns round to see me laying out a variety of sandwiches, crisps, biscuits and chocolate. His eyes positively shine as he views the tempting array with uncertainty wondering if he has been invited to this impromptu picnic but assuming he hasn't. He knows he's done nothing to deserve being included and I'd be within my rights to tell him where to go in no uncertain terms. But I've banked on him not having thought to have brought his own lunch and use this now as another, and probably final, attempt to bring about some sort of truce in our unspoken war of words.
"Tuck in!" I tell him without looking at him. I can sense his hesitancy and it's not until I look up at him smiling does he take a quick last look through the binoculars and then joins me. He collects some food, murmurs his thanks with a hint of embarrassment and takes his seat at the window again. We eat in silence for a few minutes with Bodie keeping a watchful vigil on the house until he says quite suddenly and quietly. "It's not about you,you know."
"Yeah," I reply softly. "I know."
He doesn't elaborate or give a reason and I neither push or encourage anything more. This has to come from him in his own time when he feels ready, if indeed he ever does. I make do however with the genuine smile that warms his usually cold unmoving face when I produce a couple of cans of beer. Progress, I tell myself, is slowly but surely being made.