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Doctor Fieldstone looked up from her computer when she heard shouting.
“I don’t care who you are, you are not a resident of this building!” the voice shouted. “Don’t make me call the police, young man.”
It sounded like the busybody neighbor that likes to get into everyone's business. He seemed to feel responsible for the place, and spent his days making sure everyone there lived up to the community guidelines.
“Get your fuckin’ hands offa me, you twat!”
Sharon would recognize that particular flavor of Mancunian anywhere. Jamie Tartt was outside her home, incredibly escalated by the sounds of it. There was more shouting as she pulled on her jacket and stepped into her shoes. She took a deep breath and opened her door.
Sure enough, Jamie Tartt was a few doors down ducking out of Frank’s arms. “Don’t fuckin’ touch me.” He started to storm away, but turned around to shout at Frank again. “I’m tryin’ to find someone!”
“Jamie Tartt!” she called. Jamie stopped and turned around, grinning when he saw her.
“I told ya! I knew she were here!” he said, pointing his finger in Frank’s face. He skirted around Frank and made his way over to her. His gait was somewhat clumsy, she noted. “I’ve been lookin’ for you, Doc.”
“You know this kid?” Frank called, concerned. “He’s drunk as a skunk. Caught him peeing in my garden.”
“I did not!” Jamie shouted, spinning back towards Frank. He wobbled slightly, causing Sharon to reach out and grab the back of his hoodie to balance him.
Sharon nodded. “I’ve got it, Frank. Thank you.”
Frank shook his head and waved his hand, walking back to his home. He muttered something about idiot cocky footballers and was gone.
Sharon sighed. She let go of Jamie and turned to open her door again. “Come on, then,” she said unenthusiastically. Jamie obediently followed her inside. “Tea?” she called as he caught up with her.
“Yes, please.”
She switched the kettle on and pulled two mugs down. “Hungry?” she asked.
Jamie sat down on one of the bar stools, fiddling with the strings of his hoodie. “Fuckin’ starvin’.”
She poured the tea and handed Jamie a cup, sliding the sugar towards him in case he wanted it. “I can offer you a leftover caesar salad, some crisps, or I could fry up some bacon. I’m doing the shopping this afternoon, so not much is left.”
“Bacon sounds so fuckin’ good right now.”
“Bacon it is. I just remembered I’ve got some bread left. Bacon butty?”
“Yeah, please.”
It was a good twenty minutes before Sharon decided to ask Jamie why he was there. She wanted to make sure that the kid’s needs were met before diving into why the hell he was drunk in her kitchen on a Sunday afternoon.
Jamie had devoured the sandwich and was now munching on some of the crisps Sharon had put in front of him. She’d also given him a large glass of water.
“Is everything alright, Jamie?” she finally asked.
“No.”
Sharon just nodded, letting the silence stretch out. She smiled to herself when Jamie sighed and kept talking. The silence trick worked every time.
“I mean, not really. It’s me dad. He’s been in me fuckin’ head since Wembley.”
She had heard about the confrontation in the locker room. She had actually put Jamie down in her schedule for later that week, hoping to check in with him. It was probably best to play dumb, though. She didn’t want to make him feel like they’re talking about him behind his back. Plus, this way she could hear it from his perspective.
“Why’s that?”
Jamie furrowed his brow. “Oh. Figured you knew.” He took a long drink of water. “Me dad’s a prick. I’ve never been good enough for him, you know? Wasn’t around much when I were a kid. Buggered off when I were just a baby.”
Sharon nodded, lips twitching at how he said the word baby. She’s always found the Mancunian dialect incredibly endearing.
“When he saw how amazing I were at football, he showed back up. Tried to be a part of me life again. He did try, I think. For a bit.”
He seemed to get stuck there for a bit, gnawing on his lip. Sharon watched as Jamie’s eyes started to get shiny, filling with tears which were quickly soaked up by the sleeve he swiped over his face. She gave him a moment to get back on track.
“He wanted me to be the best. He needed me to be the best. So I was the best. I had to be to keep him off me back. I worked so fuckin’ hard so he’d leave me alone.” Jamie swallowed thickly. “Any little mistake, any fuckup, and he’d let me have it.”
Jamie started digging his fingers into his thighs, standing up and shaking his hands out. The tears were back. This time he let them escape and run down his cheeks, tongue darting out to catch the ones that fell towards his lips.
Sharon moved around the island. She didn’t touch him or get close enough to invade his space, but she wanted to remove the barrier between them.
“I tried so fuckin’ hard.”
“I know you did, Jamie. I know you did.”
It was silent for a bit. Apart from Jamie’s shaky breaths.
“But it’s still not good enough. I’m still tryin’ to impress the bastard. Even today. I’m still the same scared little kid who’s fuckin’ terrified of me dad. Still flinchin’ when he gets too close.”
Sharon’s stomach clenched. She’d had a hunch that Jamie’s father had been abusive. Emotionally abusive, obviously, but she had a suspicion that the abuse had been physical as well. She considered for a moment how to move forward. She wanted Jamie to keep talking. But she also wanted to try to guide him in the direction of what is affecting him so negatively.
“Jamie, did your dad hit you?”
Jamie scoffed, making Sharon tilt her head curiously. “No, I fuckin’ decked him.”
Sharon nodded, realizing her mistake. Jamie’s a literal thinker. She’d learned as much during her time with the team. “I see. What about before this weekend?”
Jamie stiffened. He chewed on his fingernails for a moment. Sharon was about to pivot and ask about something else when Jamie nodded slowly.
Sharon waited a beat to see if he’d elaborate. And elaborate he did. She spent the next little bit listening in excruciating detail the many ways in which James Tartt had attempted to fuck up his son. Attempted being the key word there. Because he hadn’t succeeded. Not even close.
Finally, when Jamie had said what he needed to say, Sharon just nodded. She could see that Jamie was desperate for some kind of feedback on his therapy performance. “Jamie, I’m so proud of you. You are a wonder. The odds have been stacked against you and just look at what you’ve done.”
Jamie furrowed his brow, waiting for her to continue.
“I want to thank you sincerely for telling me all of that. For trusting me. For not letting things stew in your head today. For coming here,” she said, chuckling at that last bit. “Even if you did piss off my neighbor.”
Jamie smirked. “Anytime, doc.”
“Well, maybe next time we aim for my office hours.”