The Seven Ages Of Bodie.
Chapter Three. Relenting.
Exhaustion, complete and utter, both physical and mental rests in every fibre of my being as I let myself into the much needed quiet sanctuary of my flat. Ignoring the beginnings of hunger gnawing at me and tossing my jacket on a chair I throw myself face down onto the sofa.
The last three weeks seem to have been some of the longest of my life and in my heart I know that having an unresponsive partner has caused a large part of my fatigue. Some inroads have been made in our relationship but they have been painfully slow. Bodie is more actively engaged verbally in our work though conversation of a more personal nature is still non existant. There is a yawning distance beween us and it's a gap I can't seem to close and a gap he seems unwilling to bridge. I have seriously asked myself how much longer it can go on and, more worryingly, how much longer can I . But there still persists something about him that I can't put my finger on. He intrigues me and the rush of excitement at the prospect of partnering him that I had felt at our first meeting has never left me dispite everything he has put me through. Nor has the lonely forlorn look in his eyes that I had witnessed last week. It continues to haunt me.
The realisation I had fallen asleep is made plain when I become dimly aware that the buzzer on my door has sounded and the room is in the relative darkness of the early evening. Even as I struggle towards wakefulness and tell myself it can't possibly be him, from somewhere deep within me I know instinctively that it is Bodie.
Gathering my wits I depress the intercom switch but say nothing. My silence tells him I am aware it is him but he says anyway, "It's me."
Oh God, what's he doing here? What does he want? He is the last person I want to see. Haven't I just endured all day with him? I momentarily close my eyes in mental preparation and then press the switch to release the lock to allow him access. Bodie stands in the doorway taking in my dishevelled appearance and it's clear my face houses my unspoken questions.
"Sorry," he said nervously. "Were you asleep?" He shifts awkwardly as I studied him closely for a second and then I stood back to let him in. There is a slight reluctance on his part but then he stepped inside. I have never seen him looking so uncomfortable but dispite this there is an air of friendliness about him and a lightness to his face. But still, I am wary of his often quick change of mood.
Bodie drifts slowly into the living room, eyes flickering around the bookcases occasionally tilting his head to read the title written along the spine of a book. I head into the kitchen still at a loss as to why he's here.
"I'm making a sandwich. Want one?" I offer.
"No thanks, I'm fine."
"That'll be a first."
Bodie's head appears around the door, a half smile on his face. "Meaning?"
"I've never known you to refuse food."
"What can I say, I'm a growing boy!"
He continues to stand there watching me but oddly I don't find this unsettling, instead there is a strange familiarity about his prescence. As I take our sandwiches into the living room and set the plates on the coffee table Bodie sits opposite me and is very still for a moment.
"Why didn't you use our altercation in the car park as a chance to get rid of me?" he asks softly.
"Maybe I didn't want to get rid of you. Maybe I thought you were worth keeping." Our eyes meet and I hold his gaze, refusing to look away. He stares back at me.
"You were a cop, weren't you?" he asks.
"Yes."
"I hate cops. Bloody nosey interfering…"he stops himself, tiredly.
I decide to let this go and continue to eat my sandwich. He sits back and regards me thoughtfully.
"I wouldn't have hit you, you know and I'm sorry about that."
"Look, like it or not we seem to be stuck with each other and so, I for one, am going to try to make the best of it." I told him. "We don't have to be friends or have anything to do with each other outside of work if that's what you want."
Bodie nods and takes his steady gaze from me, the look of relief on his face is clearly evident.
"That suits me. I don't need any friends, no offence. I paddle my own canoe." He looks away wistfully for a moment, lost in his own thoughts leaving me fascinated and further intrigued by the complexities of this man. It strikes me that's exactly what he needs. A friend.
"None taken but what happens when your canoe runs aground?"
"It won't." There is a hint of hostility in his voice which he then realises and looks at me apologetically. But his determined words reveal that something has happened in the past that has had a lasting effect on him, and not a good one. Someone's hurt him and I'd take money on it that it's a woman but why is he taking it out on me?
"What's that?" Bodie gets up and points to an easel leaning against the wall, anxiously changing the subject to repel any further questions on the matter.
"An easel. For painting." I told him, cringing inwardly. I realised that for the time being at any rate there were things I didn't particularly want Bodie to know about me and painting was one of them. For someone like him I would expect derision that I could participate in something not quite in keeping with the tough and often violent world of C.I.5.
"You paint?" He sounds, as I had expected, somewhat incredulous but to my surprise there is no mocking to his voice, more a genuine interest.
"Sometimes."
"You any good?"
"No."
Bodie spun round and gave me a big wide grin that lit up his face and his blue eyes flashed with mischief.
"Anytime you need a tall dark and handsome model, with his clothes on mind you, to sit for you then give me a call."
"Why, do you know someone?" I smiled back at him enjoying this rare moment of good humour with him. It re-inforces the feeling that if he would only just let me in a little we could be friends and, amazingly dispite everything, I'd like that. I can't push aside the feeling that he'd like it too but I don't know what's stopping him.
"Have you any hobbies? Interests?" I probe carefully.
"Yeah, girls!" There's another one of his huge grins that match his almost schoolboy response but instead of finding him shallow I begin to see a shy layer to him, a shy layer that he uses his humour to hide it behind.
"Got a girlfriend?" he asks, taking another sandwich and adding with a grin, "Boyfriend?"
"No serious girlfriend. You?"
"Hundreds! Girlfriends that is,but then I would have wouldn't I on account of me being so tall…."
"Dark and handsome, yeah I know." I finish. "And so modest with it."
Bodie sits down again and casually picks up a biking magazine from the table.
"You into bikes?"
"Yeah. Are you?" I ask, noting the sudden spark of interest in his eyes as he flips through the pages.
"Yeah."
"I'm restoring a vintage one in the garage. I've got a couple of old dirt bikes we could go out on sometime if you like." But then, just as suddenly, I watch the congeniality slide away from him and, looking serious again he stands up.
"No thanks. I should be going."
As he moves towards the door I realise I've unwittingly offered too much too soon. My suggestion has overtones of friendship and that's one thing that Bodie doesn't want or at least what he maintains.
He mutters his thanks for the food, says he'll see me on Monday and, before I know what's happening he has disappeared.
The room seems strangely quiet after his quick departure but dispite his unwillingness to take our relationship further I feel I have at least gained some insight into the man and that when the defenders of his heart had let their guard down I had glimpsed a side of him that I felt I could work on albeit carefully. I wasn't to know however that the fickle hand of fate had other ideas.