All the Invisible Things

by Orlagh Collins

  ‘Vetty?’ It’s Rob again.

  I turn around. ‘Huh?’

  He slides a gold bottle top off the counter and flicks it upwards with his thumb. ‘Penny for them,’ he says, snatching the cap mid-air and pressing it into my hand.

  I turn the cap over in my fingers, listening as Rob talks on and on, even though I’m the one who’s supposed to be answering questions. I’d like to be able to talk to Rob about stuff, but he definitely doesn’t need to hear the thoughts that are going through my head right now. Why am I this stressed about how to act around Pez and March when they’re together? Why is it so much harder and head-melting than I imagined?

  Rob waves a hand in front of my eyes. ‘Earth to Vetty?’

  I shake my face. ‘I’m miles away, that’s all.’

  ‘No, really?’ he says, smirking. I try to smile back but my eyes slip away again, gravitating back to the oven. Only March and Pez aren’t there. They’ve gone. My eyes flit around the rest of the kitchen but there’s no sign of them anywhere. Rob watches me and I can’t work out what words to use or what face to make or anything. ‘I think they’ve gone upstairs.’ His voice is so gentle, I can’t respond, so I have to stand there silently digesting what this might mean. Upstairs to bed?

  ‘Where’s the bathroom?’ I blurt it out.

  ‘In the hall,’ he says. Maybe he adds something else, but I’m already walking off.

  Nick and Amira are huddled by the coats on the bottom stair like some kind of sentry guards. Amira looks up at me; her face is saying lot of things, but mostly that she’s pleased her Pez and March plan is coming together. She obviously expects me to feel the same but she couldn’t know how strangely conflicted I feel.

  I dash into the bathroom, close the seat and sit down. Breathe in, out, in, out. When my eyes close I see Pez smile and my ears fill with March’s laughter. Could they really be having sex upstairs, like … now, just like that? How can they be that … throwaway? Ugh, get a grip, Vetty. Why do you care this much about what they’re doing when neither of them seem to? It’s none of your business anyway.

  I force my eyes open and look around the tiny room. Framed inspirational quotes sit alongside pictures of boats on the flowery-papered walls. There’s a basket of books and magazines beside the loo and I drag the pile on to my lap. I flick through an ancient interiors magazine before moving to the book underneath, which is full of pictures of dogs with their heads stuck out of car windows. That’s literally all it is, pictures of windswept dogs, but I go through every single page and don’t stop until I reach the final image of Willow, the Yorkipoo at the wheel of a Ford Mustang. I keep my eyes on the tiny dog in a bow tie, feeling my heart slowly slow down. My head drops to my knees. How rude of me to walk away on Rob like that. He must think I’m weirdly jealous or possessive about Pez. I shudder at these thoughts and then stand. I need to apologise or at least style it out. I need to do something! I return the book to the basket and wash my hands because it feels like I should.

  The kitchen is almost full when I walk back in. People are shuffling about like it’s a dance floor, doing similarly robotic arm movements, but I don’t recognise anyone so I ramble back through the hall and peer into the living room. Rob and Lucas are sitting on the floor by a coffee table. Rob looks up and places his hand on the carpet beside him like he’s been keeping a space for me. I make my way towards them, feeling grateful, but as soon as I sit down, Lucas stands.

  He smiles at Rob. ‘I’m going to get a drink,’ he says, reaching for his beer bottle, which I can’t help but notice is full. Rob lies back against the couch, watching Lucas disappear out the door, and I lean against the edge of the seat cushion wondering how to address my abrupt exit without making too big a thing of it. A picture on the wall catches my eye.

  ‘Your mum looks nice,’ I say.

  Rob slides his beer along to me then looks up to the photo. ‘Pez told me you moved away after your mum died,’ he says softly. I take a long shaky breath. I often feel like I should be better at coping with Mum being dead by now. ‘Must have been rough.’

  It’s still rough. There are times lately when it feels worse than ever, but I don’t tell Rob that. Words have a habit of becoming real when I say them out loud.

  ‘Look, I’m sorry,’ I say, ‘I don’t know what came over me in the kitchen back there.’ He shifts around to face me. ‘I think I’m still adjusting to how things are … with Pez.’ He waits for me to say more but I reach for his beer, thinking about how annoying it is that Dad was right about things with Pez and me being different, even if it’s not quite in the way he expected. ‘We’re not the same as we were. He’s changed, I guess. He’s more—’ I stop to think of a word that will fit. Distant, maybe, but I don’t want to admit this.

  Rob looks around. ‘Yeah,’ he says. ‘He’s gotten worse. But he’s been like this for a while is the truth.’

  ‘Like what?’ The question pops out, but then I freeze like I’m not sure I want the answer. I wasn’t expecting this to be a two-way conversation.

  Rob shrugs. ‘Just … cold. Or, messed up, I guess,’ he says. ‘You know, you coming back is the only thing he’s been excited about in months. And he wasn’t that excited about you. No offence,’ he says, holding up his hands.

  This conversation feels uncomfortable and I want out of it. ‘He’s got all that stuff going on with his parents—’

  ‘It’s not just that though,’ Rob says, fixing his eyes on me. ‘Is it? C’mon, you must see it?’

  I don’t like the way he says this because I do see it, but that I do and that he’s right makes it harder to answer. He draws his knees in closer to his chest, lifting his chin like he’s studying my face. Then he looks over his shoulder. ‘Look, I haven’t told anyone this,’ he says softly, ‘but Luna called me, a few months ago.’

  My mouth falls open. ‘Luna?’ I say. ‘Luna called you?’

  He nods. ‘I know,’ he says. ‘I’d hardly said more than hi to her in four years and only if I passed her in his kitchen or whatever. I thought it was a wind-up at first.’ He shakes his head.

  ‘But … why?’

  He leans in. ‘Said she was … concerned about him. She asked if I’d noticed anything.’ He does speech marks in the air. ‘In his behaviour.’

  My heart starts to thump. It’s so loud I’m sure Rob can hear it. ‘And what did you say?’

  He shoots me a look. ‘Said he’s been a bit distant … you know, harder to read. I had to,’ he says then, like he senses me stiffen. ‘I didn’t say that he’s been a bit of a prick or that he’s become a loner at school, but like, of course I’ve noticed he’s changed. I had to say something.’

  ‘I thought he had lots of mates.’

  ‘He does, but he feels above us all, I have to persuade him to come out, like he’d rather be alone in his room most of the time. Funny thing is, it was like she knew.’

  I turn back. ‘Knew what?’

  He looks at me for a minute, biting on his fingernail, then he takes his hand away like he’s decided not to say any more. ‘Just stuff …’ He trails off. ‘Anyway, said I’d talk to him.’

  ‘And did you?’

  He snorts. ‘You’ve seen how he is lately. So down on everything. The rare times we’re alone or when he does return my calls, he just acts like he’s hard done by or like he doesn’t care. He doesn’t make it easy. In fact, it can be hard to take. And the way he is with March; barely talking to her one minute then expecting to get his end away the next. Even Amira says it. Sorry,’ he says quickly, like he’s said too much. Then his head drops back on the seat and he stares at the ceiling.

  ‘S’OK.’

  He sighs and loosens the neck of his T-shirt. ‘I didn’t think he’d come tonight,’ he says, rolling his head along the seat in my direction. ‘I’m sure he only came to keep an eye on me, but I guess he’s decided there are other benefits too.’

  ‘Why would he need to keep an eye on you?’

  ‘No reason,’
he says, then his mouth gives him away. It’s the smile from Pez’s kitchen when he drank the mango smoothie straight from the carton. It’s the smile that sort of liquidised my insides. ‘Let’s just say I don’t think he’d be pleased if anything was to happen … between us.’ I lean my head back too, biting my lip. I feel his stare, but I can’t look at him again yet. My heart is galloping. ‘Trust me,’ he says, ‘he would not be happy.’ I slowly turn my face and the way he’s looking at me is such a surprise. Then he looks to the door before twisting back to me. ‘You’ve got nice eyes,’ he says. I push further back into the velvety couch, letting the words seep in as the furry pile brushes against the hairs on my neck. ‘I mean it,’ he says, ‘I’ve been meaning to tell you for a while.’

  I roll my head back to his. ‘Is this where I offer up a compliment for you too?’

  He raises one eyebrow. ‘Be my guest.’

  ‘OK,’ I say. ‘Well, you’re not painful to look at either.’ That is so bad I start to laugh, but he moves closer.

  ‘So, does this mean you’re not really immune to my charms?’ His top lip does something funny, curling up a tiny bit on one side. It’s what Pez said that first night, after he told Rob that I’m not like other girls.

  I blink and then keep blinking to stop the words soaking into my brain, and soon Rob’s breath is warm on my face. He tucks a stray strand of hair behind my ear. ‘You’re miles away again,’ he says.

  I shake my head. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘S’OK,’ he says, inching his face to mine. I lick my bottom lip, watching as his gets closer. My eyes fall shut and I feel his mouth against mine. His lips move to my cheek and words fly out of my head and I start to imagine where he’ll kiss me next but then his lips are on my lips again and I start to kiss him back, slowly at first; softly and gently but really kissing, and he tastes better than I expected. There’s a rush in my stomach, as though I’m standing in the sea waiting for a wave, watching the swell get closer and closer.

  I reach my hand up to the back of his head, lacing my fingers through his hair, when a thunderous noise makes us break apart.

  Rob pushes himself up. ‘What the—?’

  My dress has writhed up and I yank it back into place as I follow Rob into the hallway. When I get there Pez is standing at the front door, leaning his head against the wood. His shaking hand fumbles on the latch and I reach for his shoulder. ‘You’re leaving?’ I say, but he brushes me off without turning around.

  Rob steps towards him. ‘What’s up?’

  ‘Open the door,’ Pez says, in a voice so low I barely hear it.

  ‘Pez?’ We say his name at the same time.

  Pez’s foot kicks against the bottom of the door, making the whole frame shudder. ‘Just fucking open it!’

  Rob leans over and flicks a small brass switch by Pez’s hand, then he holds down the latch and pushes the door wide. Pez bolts out and tears off up the drive. I swing around to Rob but he’s now staring at March, who is crouched at the top of the stairs, hiding her face in a jumper she wasn’t wearing earlier. It sounds like she’s crying. What the hell? I’m trying to piece it all together in my head.

  I step forward, wanting to check that March is OK, but I can’t get Pez’s trembling hand out of my mind and next thing I’m shoving past Rob and I too am out the door.

  Rob reaches for my arm, pulling me back. ‘I told you,’ he says. ‘Messed up.’

  I don’t answer. There’s isn’t time.

  PART THREE

  Love is … something that grows

  17

  I race up the drive, weaving between parked cars until I’m out on the street. I catch sight of Pez turning left at the bottom by the main road.

  ‘Pez!’ He doesn’t look back and I pick up the pace. ‘Wait!’

  I shout it out, but instead of slowing, he walks even faster. I’m afraid I’ll lose him if I don’t speed up, so I start to jog but he jogs too, which means I have to sprint. It’s years since I’ve run this fast and as I pound the pavement to the junction with Highgate Road my lungs begin to burn. I keep going, gasping for breath, but he’s already at the sourdough pizza place with the tables outside. I have to stop. I can hardly breathe. ‘Hey, hold up!’ I shout it out and I know he hears but he doesn’t turn around and I can only watch as he continues on down the street, narrowly dodging an approaching couple. I can’t believe he’s ignoring me.

  He keeps at this ridiculous pace all the way down Kentish Town Road. He’s outside Superdrug by the time he looks behind.

  ‘Pez!’

  I’m practically screaming as I pass the kebab shop, much to the amusement of two young boys on their bikes, but I’m furious and I don’t care.

  ‘Seriously, will you please stop!’

  On he goes, alternating between speed-walking and running for the rest of the journey. Whatever concern I had for him leaving Rob’s house is gone. Why am I racing down the road after him when I could be back there checking that March is OK? I’m less than four paces behind him when I realise we’re retracing our steps from the first time we met, the evening of my tenth birthday when I followed him home from Tesco. He knew I was shadowing him then, just as he knows now, but even as I shout out his name, he still he won’t turn around. When I finally reach St Agnes Villas he’s already at the steps to his house. I want to punch something.

  ‘I can’t believe how much you’ve changed!’ It leaves my mouth as screams and he stops. He freezes halfway up his steps. I move closer, growing more furious with each stride, almost enjoying the fact that he’s trapped because I’m so angry I could burst. ‘The Pez I used to know would never act like this. I left Rob’s house out of loyalty. I followed you because I was worried, but it looks like I’ve been worried about the wrong person.’ His face turns but he doesn’t look up. ‘March was crying when I left. Did you know that? Do you even care? I honestly don’t know who you are any more.’

  He finally lifts his face to mine. He still doesn’t speak but his haunted eyes shoot chills down my sweaty back. Before I can begin to think of what to do next, he slumps up the last few steps and disappears behind the door.

  * * *

  When I walk in Dad glances at his watch. It’s not yet eleven. He closes his laptop. ‘Everything OK?’ he says.

  I mumble something about period pain and head straight into my room but I don’t go to the window this time. I’ve got no interest in seeing Pez stare at some computer, watching god knows what. I lie on my bed in the dark, gazing into the blackness, turning everything over and over in my head.

  I could still be at the party. I could still be there, kissing Rob, but I’m not and I’m not even sure why. Then I picture March, holding her head in her hands, and I feel winded. What was I thinking leaving her? I slot a cushion under my head and scroll for her number.

  Sorry for running out

  I accidentally hit send too early. Shit.

  Like that.

  Send.

  You OK?

  As soon as I’ve hit send again I realise I should have called instead, then I see dots under my message and I stare, gripped, willing her words to emerge, but after a long minute they disappear and there’s nothing. My heart sinks to my stomach. It would be weird to call now so I sit up again and lean against the window, peering out into the night. It’s completely dark and nothing stirs apart from Old Giles’s slick grey cat, prowling along Pez’s front wall. I almost let myself look up, then my phone buzzes.

  March: What did he say?

  I stare at the words, thinking of how to reply, then I see she’s typing again.

  March: Just tell me, please

  I quickly punch the letters on my screen.

  Nothing! Honestly, nothing.

  More bubbles … we’re overlapping.

  I followed him home. Chased him, but he went into his house without a word. No idea what’s got into him.

  March: I’ll tell you when I see you.

  Huh? She’s typing again.

  March:
It’s one for face 2 face.

  I stare at the screen, feeling confused and hopeless.

  K. But are you OK?

  My chest sinks, and I lie back, a thousand thoughts sloshing between my ears.

  I don’t think I’ve ever understood so little.

  18

  There’s a noise.

  A loud noise.

  I open my eyes and I still hear it.

  ‘VETTY?’ It’s Arial banging on the wall from the other side.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Have you seen my toothbrush?’ she shouts.

  ‘What’s wrong with using the door?’

  Next thing she’s in my room. She’s wearing a leotard over her pyjamas. She plonks herself down beside me and looks around. ‘I left it in here,’ she says, patting the duvet down. Next, she’s kneeling on the floor and then she disappears under the bed.

  I reach over her for my phone; two texts from Rob asking if I’m OK, but no more from March and not surprisingly a bit fat ZILCH from Pez.

  ‘Knew it!’ she says, re-emerging with her toothbrush in hand. I throw off the duvet and go to the window and look out. His shutters are closed.

  Arial joins me at the window and we both stare out on to the street. She looks up at my face. ‘What is it?’ she asks.

  Nobody but me could understand the significance of the closed shutters. ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Why d’you look out there so much?’

  I drape my arm around her shoulder. ‘Just keeping an eye on things.’

  She pulls away. ‘Squirrel!’ she squeals, pointing at the tree out on the path. ‘Look!’