All the Invisible Things

by Orlagh Collins

  I shrug. ‘Nah. Dad’s working late and I’m not up for putting on a face tonight, to be honest.’

  She leans in. ‘I get that,’ she says. ‘But if you ever think of something you’d like to do, maybe next year or whatever, I’d be up for joining you. If you want company, that is.’ Then she smiles with her mouth closed and I have to turn away in case my eyes leak. The carriages of another train fill the window and all I can do is nod as they whizz by.

  She knows I can’t talk yet and starts on telling me about her day. ‘Lizzie and Ben were on my bus so I sat with them at lunch, but we didn’t play any games without you.’

  I manage to smile at this. ‘Rob called me,’ I say. ‘He said everyone’s meeting up tomorrow night.’

  ‘Yeah, Amira messaged. Gonna come?’

  I nod. ‘I’ve been thinking about asking Pez to come too.’ I check her eyes and she bites at the nail on her thumb. ‘But how would you feel if I did?’

  She sighs. ‘Depends, I guess. I’d like to see him. I just don’t want to have to deal with any more weirdness.’

  ‘He doesn’t want any weirdness either. In fact, I think he’d be as keen to clear the air as you.’

  She’s taking this in when her phone rings. ‘Hey,’ she says into the handset, like her mind is still on Pez, not the call. I can’t make out Amira’s words, but she takes a while saying them. ‘I’ll be at yours by eight. Let’s talk about it then.’ March hangs up then sighs. ‘Results party’s next week. It’s all she can talk about.’

  Results! I blow out my cheeks. ‘I hope to god I manage to scrape by.’

  Pez and Arial are watching The Goonies when I get in and I flop down on the couch beside them. Before I’ve said anything, Arial shushes me, then reaches across for my hand and tucks it under her arm. Pez glances at me with a half nod and then returns to the TV. ‘Figured Stranger Things was a bit scary,’ he says, ‘but I’m continuing the eighties theme in your honour.’

  I give him my best smirk, then lie there for a moment watching the two of them watching. I’d forgotten how much yelling they did in this film.

  I get up and stand by the counter. ‘Anyone eaten?’ I ask, and they both shake their heads, eyes still glued to the TV screen. ‘Guess I’ll make pesto pasta then.’ I grumble it to myself, boiling the kettle and clattering around in the low cupboard for a clean pot. When I stand up Pez is sitting at the countertop opposite me.

  ‘I know what day it is,’ he whispers, flicking a tube of dry penne across at me. ‘And I feel bad for two reasons.’

  ‘Um … thanks for remembering, but why feel bad?’

  ‘Well, you ended up checking in on me on the day that I’d planned to check in on you, that’s the first thing. And then,’ he says, ‘I ended up not mentioning it. I was going to, on the phone earlier, but then … you were at work and stuff.’

  I look at the silk tree outside the window, then toss the dried pasta back at him. ‘D’you ever feel like everything has changed?’

  He smooths his hand down the back of his head, nodding. ‘Not even The Goonies seems that good any more,’ he says while reaching over the couch for his phone, which has started to buzz somewhere on the seat. He looks at the screen and kills the call.

  ‘Who was that?’ I ask.

  He huffs. ‘Rob.’

  I turn around and open the fridge. ‘Maybe he’s just trying to be nice?’

  ‘Mmm …’ he says. ‘Rob’s rarely just … nice. Sure, he’s got his strong points but more often than not, he’s after something.’ I plonk the jar of pesto down and eyeball him. ‘Trust me,’ he says, before spinning his stool around to watch the TV. I stare at the back of his head, thinking about this. ‘Anyway,’ Pez says then. ‘I haven’t seen him since I did a runner from his party. Honestly don’t think I can face him … or any of them.’

  I shake too much pasta into the pot. ‘But you seem … stronger.’

  ‘A little,’ he says, shifting around.

  ‘Well that’s good, isn’t it?’

  He sighs. ‘It’s been good to be here … to have a reason to stay out of my room.’

  ‘Is your iMac still in there?’

  He nods. ‘I play a lot of Warhammer. I won’t lie. I’ve been trying to read but it’s making me exhausted and I feel so … flat.’ He looks up. ‘I don’t know if it’s a good idea for me to be around people at the moment. Especially March.’

  My gut twists. ‘But I think she’d appreciate some reassurance. Right now, she’s convinced she’s the problem.’

  This clicks. I can tell by his eyes. ‘But I don’t want to use her as a guinea pig to gauge whether or not I’m OK.’

  ‘You don’t have to. A chat, that’s all.’ While I want March to be comforted, I’d be lying if I said I wanted much more than reassurance to happen between them.

  ‘Maybe,’ he says. ‘I’m so … shaky—’ He stops and looks up. ‘I think I’m going to need some help, Vetty.’

  It’s such a relief to hear this. ‘Yeah?’

  ‘I don’t want to hide away forever,’ he says. I freeze, for a few reasons, one of them being I don’t want to hide myself away either, and yet here I am, twisted in two, torn between him and March and while he’s here, being all honest about his feelings, I’m still lying about mine. ‘I need to talk to someone,’ he says.

  I force myself to focus back on him. ‘Maybe Luna?’ I say, walking around the counter, closer to him, but he shrugs and looks away. ‘Or even Harland?’ He snorts at this. ‘C’mon, Pez, they love you and they’ll have noticed that you haven’t been yourself. I bet they’d be more supportive than you think.’

  ‘I was thinking maybe someone … professional.’

  ‘Oh. Good.’

  ‘Anyway, Mum’s never around,’ he says.

  ‘She’d make time,’ I say, ‘if you told her you need her.’

  ‘Maybe,’ he says, then his eyes briefly close and when he opens them he asks, ‘How’s she doing?’

  ‘March?’ My voice trembles. ‘Good, I think. She’s going to Amira’s tonight to plan results parties. You know … the kind of normal stuff we should probably be thinking about too. Look, I’m sure what happened at Rob’s seems much bigger in your head than it does to any of them. They just want to see you.’ There’s a tiny glint in his eye, like he’s thinking about it. I hear singing and I spin around to the front door, where Dad stands armed with pizza boxes. ‘You’re back!’

  Arial hops up from the couch. ‘I’ll get plates!’

  Dad plants a kiss on my cheek. ‘Good day?’ he says, spreading out his feast like the hunter returned. I mumble something like fine. ‘Anniversaries are a bitch,’ he says quietly into my ear before sliding a box across the counter towards Pez. I should have known he’d remember, he always does. ‘Hawaiian with NO mushroom, for Mr Boyd.’ Then he looks back, doing the tiniest wink that’s just for me, and I smile.

  Pez tears off a heavy slice of pizza and I lean over, planting my face between him and the food on its way to his mouth. ‘Well? Are you gonna come?’

  He swoops around, avoiding eye contact. ‘Guess I could binge the rest of Stranger Things by this time on Saturday,’ he says, popping a pineapple chunk in his mouth. ‘And you got my back, right?’

  I reach my hand out, taking his. ‘Always.’

  29

  I meet March outside the station as usual. We’re wearing the same clothes as yesterday like we were told. She looks happy, giddy almost. ‘We better not get split up today,’ she says. ‘Seriously. Let’s make sure we get on the minibus together after breakfast.’ She leans in. ‘Got it?’

  I nod and bite my lip at the same time.

  ‘What’s up?’ she says.

  ‘He’s gonna come out, tomorrow night.’

  She shifts around in her seat, smiling. ‘I know,’ she says.

  ‘He called you?’

  ‘No, but we’ve been texting, all night.’

  ‘Yeah?’ She nods. ‘What did he say?’

  ‘No
t that much, but the stuff he did say felt honest.’ My eyes must widen for her to keep going. ‘Just that his head’s been in a bad place and that he’s sorry … for not being in touch.’

  My shoulders sink some. ‘Well, that’s good. Isn’t it?’

  She sighs and picks her nails in her lap. ‘We’ve agreed not to be together,’ she says, looking up. ‘At least not until he’s in a better place.’

  ‘Oh,’ I say. ‘And you’re OK, with that?’

  ‘Maybe I should feel sad, but honestly, I’m relieved. At least things are clear and it already feels like the pressure is off.’ She turns to look out the window, but I catch the side of her smile. ‘Maybe it’ll be nice to be his friend for a while.’

  It’s the same set-up as yesterday but we’re positioned closer to the stage, right by the front where the DJ decks are. The first AD describes the action through her megaphone again. ‘Listen up,’ she says, standing on a speaker close to us. ‘We’re going to be moving about a lot and going in tight for some sequences. It’s really important that you ignore the camera as it moves about the floor. Understood?’ She says this really loud and everyone shouts Yes! ‘Talk amongst yourselves and act natural. The camera can’t hear you so don’t worry about your Belfast accents.’ This gets a laugh. ‘OK, everybody, it’s 1992, you’re in love with yourselves and everyone around you.’ She shouts this out and although it’s only 8.15 a.m. people start blowing the whistles around their necks and cheering like crazy.

  Me and March spend the next four hours dancing while the same music as yesterday plays on a loop. This might sound like torture but it’s surprisingly uplifting and dreamy, like we’re all in a deep hypnotic trance. When we break for lunch, I’m so tired I pick the first thing from each menu, which happens to be the curry followed by something called school dinner pudding, then we flop into some seats downstairs on the bus and eat our main courses in easy, exhausted silence.

  ‘Hey,’ March says once she’s finished. ‘Did I tell you Mum’s starting a Masters?’

  ‘Nope,’ I say, taking a mouthful of what is basically crumble with custard from my giant bowl and shaking my head.

  ‘Social Justice and Community Action,’ she says. ‘Starting in October. It’ll take her three years but she’s wanted to do it for ages. She’s got a degree in Science from Dublin and everything, but she couldn’t afford it until she got this bursary from the refugee action charity she’s been working with.’ Then she dips her spoon into my pudding, beaming at me. ‘She paid the deposit yesterday, or rather I paid the deposit.’

  I put my spoon down. ‘March, that’s the best.’

  ‘Isn’t it,’ she says, ditching her fruit salad before quickly taking another bite from my bowl. ‘Ohmygod!’ she says. ‘That tastes like nothing I’ve ever eaten at school.’ Then she goes in for another giant scoop. ‘Seriously,’ she says. ‘It’s sick.’

  Her mouth is still full when she loads another spoon and waves it at me to eat. I take it and smile. I’m not sure whether the pudding tastes that good, but March is clearly just happy; about her mum, about Pez being in touch and maybe even this job, and it’s so nice to see her like this. We take turns to devour the remains of the bowl and by one o’clock we’re off the bus and back on it again.

  First AD lady explains that the Steadicam is out this afternoon so we wait around while the director and the man with the camera strapped to his body follow the actor through the crowd several times. We’re supposed to stay still for this, but March keeps making faces at me as they establish a path that comes right by where we’re standing.

  March leans in. ‘We’re going to be on camera,’ she says, bouncing up and down once they’ve passed.

  I don’t care about being on camera. I’m just ready to dance again. The first AD stands on a box and repeats the brief from earlier through her megaphone but it’s safe to say every raver in this hot, dark warehouse has it nailed by now.

  The music fires up and we start to move. Unlike yesterday when the camera stopped and started, the music is on continually as the Steadicam works its way around. I watch March dance, moving her hands around like she did in her bedroom, and I think about what she said about me being sexy on my own terms, like that singer, and suddenly I’m dancing, losing myself in the rhythm. Everybody around us seems to be smiling and I’m surprised at how unselfconscious I feel dancing about sober in the middle of the afternoon in my borrowed clothes. I’m sweating from the heat of the lights, the bodies and the energy of all the movement. I went to spin class with Fran once and it felt a lot like this. My trainers are sticky on the floor but nothing will stop me dancing now.

  March has tied the yellow tracksuit top she was given around her waist and she’s wearing a white vest underneath. I notice the shine on her shoulders as she moves under the light. Her eyes close and her face turns up to the ceiling. The tiny muscles around her eyes flex like she’s feeling every beat and she mouths the words along with the music. I close my eyes and tilt my head up too, feeling the bass throb up from the floor. That’s when her fingers take my hand and she raises our arms in the air. Either we’ve magically become actors or we really are under some kind of spell. We face the DJ now, moving forward and back, up and down together, then we’re opposite each other, swaying as the beat changes. She turns to me, stepping so close to me that our bodies touch all the way down, chest against chest. My stomach flips as we whirl around together, each of us with one hand held aloft, her black eyes staring into mine.

  I look down at her half-open mouth, watching the space between her teeth, my head filling with thoughts of how it would feel to touch her lips. I blush, praying that my face is already too red for anyone to notice under the lights. I go to say something, anything to stop me thinking like this, but her breath brushes against my ear. I’m expecting her voice. I’m waiting for words when her cheek lands softly on mine. We couldn’t be any closer. There’s no distance, she’s right there, and as I breathe in the faint peppermint of her gum our mouths meet. I hold my lips closed, concentrating on the warm rush rising up from the lowest part of me, and I shut my eyes to feel it more. We move slowly together and I’m burning, melting, entirely in my body, like I’ve finally worked out how to widen the aperture and slow the shutter speed down, stretching out time and blurring it into something extraordinary. I open my mouth and her tongue lightly scoops the space inside. Then, as one of her hands lands on my waist and the other pushes against my hair, a wave crashes inside my chest, drenching every part of me. This is a kiss. This is what it feels like.

  My heart fills, swelling like an airship this time. Nothing about what we’re doing makes sense and yet it feels so right. I try to stop the thoughts twirling behind my eyes as I kiss her back, trying to focus only on the pressure as she pushes up against me and we kiss and we kiss and we kiss. I want to feel this so badly and I’m wondering whether real life could ever be like this when the music stops, and March slowly pulls away. She’s less than a step from me but I miss the feel of her already. It takes a few seconds for my eyes to focus and when they do I see that hers are clear again.

  ‘That’s a wrap, everybody!’ The first AD shouts and she keeps talking, saying more stuff, but the volume inside my head has been turned down and everything around us falls away.

  We sit side by side on the train.

  The carriage is packed and March is chatting on like nothing has changed. Nothing’s changed except there’s an octopus swimming around my insides. My lips still tingle where she kissed them but while she looks calm and composed, I’m almost breathless with a longing I never asked for. March is my friend and I don’t want to feel like this. I don’t know what to do with the energy in my legs. Maybe I should get up and run?

  March closes her mouth mid-sentence and turns to face me. ‘You’re not even listening, are you?’ she says. I’m afraid to look up in case she reads the panic in my eyes. Should I worry about the trouble I’m in or simply enjoy the fluttery lightness in my chest? ‘S’alright,’ sh
e says then, placing a warm hand on my knee.

  What the hell have we done? What have I done to Pez’s heart, and to my own? She shuffles in. ‘You OK?’ she says. I smell that peppermint again; it’s mixed with vanilla and a pain starts between my legs, crawling up under my ribs. It’s all so much more than I want to feel but it isn’t a choice.

  I shift around on my seat, moving my backpack between my legs. ‘I think it’s best we don’t say anything to anyone about—’

  She laughs. ‘The kiss!’ she says, like it was a joke, and it stings.

  ‘I mean it,’ I whisper. ‘Can we keep it to ourselves?’

  ‘Course,’ she says, swinging her knees to the side to let someone pass. ‘And relax. It was fun to pretend for a bit but it’s not like it was a big deal.’

  The train pulls out of Hampstead Heath station and I look away, out of the far window, sliding my palms down my skirt as traffic and tower blocks pass in a blur. I feel her look at me a number of times, but we don’t say much for the rest of the journey and when we pull into Kentish Town West, I grab my backpack and quickly push up off the seat. ‘Well, see you.’

  For some reason, she stands too. ‘We could get ready together tomorrow night?’

  ‘I told Pez I’d call for him on the way.’ My words tremble but if she notices she lets it pass.

  ‘OK,’ she says, smiling. ‘I’ll come to yours and then you’ll be there when I see Pez again, so it’ll be … easier.’

  ‘Cool.’ I grin back as hard as I can. ‘Sounds like fun.’

  The flat looks empty when I walk in but the door to the garden is open and I head on through the living room towards it. I stop by the open door, staring outside and blinking into the sun. Pez is sitting on the wall beside the silk tree, wearing one of his old baseball caps, watching Arial do front and back walkovers on a wooden railway sleeper that’s been turned on its side. Pez sees me and lifts his hand off his thigh in a wave but I can’t look at him yet, knowing what I’ve just done, and I walk towards Arial.