All the Invisible Things

by Orlagh Collins

Viv waves her hand before I’ve asked for the bill. ‘It’s on me.’

  ‘Please, Viv,’ I say. ‘That’s so kind but I want to, really.’

  She clicks her tongue then rings up our order. ‘At least let me get the drinks,’ she says. I take a tenner out of my purse. ‘Keep the change,’ I say, handing over the note.

  She drops the coins in our tip jar. ‘Well, we appreciate that,’ she says, smiling at me. ‘See you tomorrow, love.’

  I run to the entrance, smiling, but the door opens and March strolls inside, already wearing her apron and sporting the biggest pineapple yet on the top of her head.

  I brake before our bodies crash and she looks up. ‘Vetty!’ she says, not alright? which I notice. Next thing I look down at her hand, holding mine. ‘What are you doing here? Mum said she was giving you the day off.’ She tugs on one of my fingers and I think of Kyle on Saturday night and what he’d say if he were watching us now. Can everyone tell how I feel about her? Is it that obvious? Would she hold my hand like this or look into my eyes the way she does if she knew the truth about how I feel? ‘Wanna step outside?’ she asks, already undoing her apron loops and heading for the door. I follow. Once we’re on the street she turns around. ‘So, how’s he doing today?’

  I shrug. ‘I’m on my way in now.’

  ‘Of course,’ she says. ‘Any news on when they’ll let him home?’

  ‘At least five days, they said, all going well, but at least he’s …’ I trail off. I can’t stomach the end of that sentence so I look down, pretending to check the time on my phone. ‘I’ve got to run. I want to be there as soon as he—’

  Her face falls. ‘Y’OK?’ she asks. I nod. ‘Well, call me later, yeah?’ I nod again and she grabs me in a quick hug. ‘Give him that from me,’ she says, before making for the cafe door as Wendy walks out of it.

  ‘You did not just buy me breakfast,’ Wendy says, putting her shirt back on and fumbling in her purse at the same time. March turns back briefly and Wendy looks up as the door closes behind her. I start to walk. ‘So … ?’ Wendy says, quickly following behind. ‘That was—’

  I speed up. ‘Uh-huh.’

  36

  I spot him at the far end of the room, propped up behind the half-drawn curtain. At least he’s in an ordinary ward now and it’s a lot less sci-fi blockbuster and more familiar Sunday night TV drama. When he looks up at me the relief is almost too much.

  ‘Hey,’ he whispers as I get closer. I take the camera off and lean in to hug him. ‘Watch the left side,’ he says, flinching and then carefully repositioning a pillow. I go to sit on the chair next to his bed but Luna’s jacket is already draped over the back. ‘She’s on a call,’ he says. ‘She’ll be ages.’

  I take a seat and shunt closer to the bed. There’s so much to say I don’t know where to begin. ‘How you doing?’ I do my absolute best to sound casual. ‘I mean, apart from the internal bleeding and the agony of your broken ribs.’

  ‘You won’t believe how much it hurts to cough.’

  ‘Did you tell the doctor?’

  He nods. ‘She’s been in to check my drains. Says I need another X-ray, but she thinks I’ll live.’ His voice sounds so weak but he smiles and I smile too. Then he winces and I can see that the tiniest movement is painful.

  ‘Dad and Arial say hi. She’s already made celebratory pancake batter for when you get back.’ The sides of his mouth tug upwards. ‘It’s in the fridge.’

  ‘Tell her thanks,’ he says, but he’s looking at the camera at the bottom of the bed. His camera. I reach for it and hold it to my face.

  ‘Just one?’ I say, peering through the lens. ‘Then I’ll put it away. D’you mind?’

  ‘Not sure I’m looking my best,’ he says. ‘But go on.’ He’s thin and pale, but his eyes are bright, and he looks almost himself again, which is saying something given he’s covered in wires and wearing a hospital gown. I move the f-stop and adjust the shutter speed, snapping away until he raises his hand. ‘Enough!’ he says, turning his face, but I shoot one last pic because that’s the one.

  I nod to Luna’s bag. ‘How is she?’

  He sniffs. ‘Happy I’m alive.’

  ‘Me too,’ I say, reaching for his hand. ‘Everyone is. I’ve had so many messages. Even March—’ He startles at her name, then lies back and stares at the ceiling. I shouldn’t have mentioned her so quickly. I’ve hit him with reality too soon.

  ‘Does she hate me now?’ he says.

  I shake my head and he twists his neck to look down at me. ‘No,’ I say. ‘She doesn’t. Not at all.’ Tears pool in my eyes. It’s guilt. It’s everything.

  ‘Hey,’ he says, his hand squeezing mine. ‘Y’OK?’

  I suck in a deep breath. ‘I promised myself … that if you came through this—’

  ‘Steady,’ he says, raising our clasped hands like he’s already reached peak emotion from me today.

  ‘I’m serious, Pez. I promised myself that if you were OK, I’d never keep secrets between us again and it’s just …’

  ‘Vetty?’ he says, trying to find my eye and smiling like it’s me who needs support and I can’t stomach how wrong this is.

  ‘I kissed her.’ I blurt it out then squeeze my eyes shut. When I open them, his eyes are wide and staring right at me.

  ‘Kissed her?’ he says. ‘March?’

  I nod.

  When my head dips he slides his hand from mine, confirming everything I’ve feared. ‘I had to say it, Pez. I couldn’t not tell you.’

  He tries to sit up, but he can’t, and he jabs at some remote control and the bed judders, making him suddenly more upright. Then he turns his head and stares into the space on the opposite side of his bed. I watch his chest rise and fall in agonising silence until the blue curtain is swept suddenly back and the lovely nurse from the other night is standing there, holding a tray.

  ‘There you are,’ she says, placing it on the table next to Pez’s bed before swinging it around so that it sits across the bed, directly in front of him. ‘Try and get some of this lunch into you,’ she says, removing the plastic lid. ‘And would you look,’ she says, eyeing Pez while nodding her head at me. ‘Hasn’t she brought the colour back to your cheeks already.’ With that she leaves, but it’s some time before I can form words.

  ‘Pez, say something, please.’

  Thick steam rises from his food. He waves it away then rolls his head to me.

  ‘When?’

  I swallow. ‘On our last day on the film. I’d already persuaded you to come out and because I knew the kiss meant nothing to her, I tried to pretend it meant nothing to me, but I should have told you.’

  His head drops back on to the pillow. ‘Then why didn’t you?’

  ‘Because … it was her.’ My voice shakes and I jam my hands between my knees to stop them trembling too. Everything, apart from the shrill of machines and the beep of a nearby monitor, has gone quiet again. ‘And—’

  ‘And you still kissed her?’ he says, eyes tight.

  ‘It all happened so quick,’ I say. ‘I didn’t plan it.’ He frowns. ‘She’s the first girl I’ve kissed and I feel awful, for you and for us, that it happened with her. Pez, I’m so sorry.’

  He reaches for his fork, then prods at the chicken breast on his plate before attempting to break some of it off. The chicken is too tough so he switches hands but he can’t manage to hold the knife with his other. Still he severs away with his fork, grimacing from the effort, then he finally gives up.

  ‘So, you like her now?’

  I stand and gently free the cutlery from his hands. He watches as I cut the chicken into neat morsels, then I stab a piece and mix it with a mouthful of rice and hold it in front of his lips. Without taking his eyes off me, he swallows. Quickly his mouth opens for more. I shovel in bite after bite and he gulps it all down.

  I pull away. ‘You need to chew!’

  He makes a face. ‘You wouldn’t chew this either, and like it’s indigestion I’m worried about,’ h
e says, then he opens his mouth more cautiously. I start to feed him again, slowly, and he eats silently until the plate is almost empty. Then he swigs some water and lies back, spent of what little energy he had. ‘Guess she’ll never look at me again anyway.’

  ‘That’s not true.’

  ‘Maybe not,’ he says. ‘But either way, I need to get my head together before I can try being with anyone else again.’ He looks at me. ‘So, how long have you known … that you like girls?’

  ‘I dunno,’ I say, refilling his glass with water and sitting back down. ‘Maybe forever? Or at least since George. You remember? I sort of felt like you knew. It wasn’t like I kept it a secret … not then anyway.’

  He shrugs. ‘Guess you’ve never been like other girls.’ As soon as he says this my body stiffens against the plastic chair. ‘What?’ he asks, like he can tell.

  I lean back, looking up. ‘You’ve no idea how much I’ve stressed about those words, not like other girls,’ I say. His eyebrows rise. ‘Seriously, I tortured myself trying to work out exactly what you meant when you said I was different.’

  He tries to sit up again. ‘Did I say that; that you were different?’

  Did he? Maybe this was my word and not his. ‘Dunno.’

  ‘All I meant is that you’re not like other girls to me.’ He looks over. ‘I’m different with you and I feel different about myself when I’m with you. It wasn’t about how you are … as a girl. Sorry, it’s hard to describe.’ I roll my eyes, like this detail he is taking such care to explain isn’t that important, but the truth is I appreciate it more than I can put into words. ‘I never said to Rob or Kyle that you were a lesbian. I would never.’

  I nod. ‘I know.’

  He looks relieved. ‘And thanks, for telling me,’ he says. ‘Coming out must be a big deal and I get that. I’m happy you trust me.’

  I’d never have got here had he not poured his heart out. ‘You trusted me first.’

  He smiles. ‘Well, I’m here, whenever.’ He nods at the wires sprouting from his body. ‘Well, I don’t plan on being in this bed forever, but you get what I mean.’ This is quickly followed by another painful grimace as he tucks the pillow in again. ‘So,’ he says after a while. ‘Have you told Wendy you’re gay?’

  I bite my lip. I’ve been thinking a lot about labels lately and which is right for me and whether they’re even important. I’ve spent years worrying that my heart was greedier and more reckless than everyone else’s, but I know now that this isn’t true and it helps. I just love how I love. ‘I’m not gay.’

  His forehead creases. ‘But—’

  I shake my head. ‘The way I’ve felt about boys is real too.’

  ‘Oh,’ he says, before raking his bottom lip with his teeth. ‘I wish you could have talked to me. Only so you weren’t worrying about this on your own.’

  ‘I was going to, when I got back, but then … March turned up in July. And then there was that kiss with Rob.’ He recoils, not from pain this time. ‘Mouth-breather, I know.’ He smiles at the Stranger Things reference, so I do too. ‘And everything I didn’t want to feel just confirmed how real all those feelings are. Truth is, I’m pretty sure I’m bisexual.’

  It’s the first time I’ve said the word aloud like this and it hangs in the air between us. I wait for it to hit the ground, but it floats off like a feather and I feel my lips curve into a smile.

  He watches me carefully. ‘So, that’s it? Simple as that?’ he says, smiling like he’s making it clear that he’s messing around.

  I shrug. ‘Or as complicated.’

  He strokes his chin in a way that in any other situation would be funny. ‘D’you mind if I ask?’ he says, shyly. ‘Is there one … you know, guys or girls, that you like better?’

  I watch an elderly man being lifted into a wheelchair on the other side of the room. ‘I honestly don’t know if it’s about better,’ I say. ‘I’ve been attracted to so few people in that way that it’s hard to be sure, and they’ve each been different. With Rob it was mostly physical I think.’

  ‘That’s reassuring,’ he says, deadpan.

  ‘But when I hung out with March, I wanted to spend more and more time with her, because it was like we were vibrating on the same frequency. At least that’s how it feels now, if that makes sense?’

  He looks like he’s thinking. ‘If it does to you, that’s enough.’ He nods at the yoghurt in the corner of his tray. ‘Open that for me?’

  I stand up and peel off the foil lid, spooning a mouthful of pink mousse into his mouth. For a moment he looks sceptical, like he’s not sure about the taste but then he raises his chin, opening his mouth for more, then he swallows and lies back. ‘It makes sense,’ he says then. ‘When my head was all dark I asked March to send me a photo of her face because it was the nicest thing I could think of. When I needed something good to focus on I’d just stare at her.’ He shakes his head like he’s embarrassed but this might be the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard. I’m thinking about how much March would like to hear it one day when I notice Pez staring over my head.

  Harland’s face is framed in the rectangular panel of glass. The door slowly opens and Harland pushes inside, followed closely by Luna. I stand, quickly checking Pez’s eyes for a reaction.

  Even with Harland’s long strides it takes time for him to cover the length of the room and as he approaches I squeeze Pez’s hand three times in mine. Harland doesn’t take his eyes off Pez. He watches him like he’s the only thing in the room and I wonder how it could have taken everything that’s happened for him to see his son like this.

  When Harland reaches us he stands on the opposite side of the bed to me.

  ‘Hi, Dad,’ Pez says quietly. I’ve never heard him call Harland Dad. The shock of it touches Harland too and he drops to his knees, looking up at Pez. Then like it’s almost too much, he slumps forward, tipping like a domino on to the pillow, the one that Pez so carefully positioned earlier.

  ‘I came as quick as I could,’ he says.

  Pez blinks a few times and I stand there silently taking them in, but when Luna’s hand lands on Harland’s back it’s time for me to go.

  I stride down the corridor towards the lifts, feeling for the first time in a long time like I know where I’m headed. The elevator opens as I arrive, which for a moment seems to confirm this new sense of direction; until Rob steps out carrying a laptop under one arm and holding a large bottle of Lucozade with the other.

  I move towards him, barely hesitating, forcing him back into the lift, hoping it will swallow him up again, but as I turn and make for the corridor, the huge, silver doors slide shut sealing us both inside.

  Rob slams his hand against the number five and the lift surges up. ‘Just, is he conscious?’ he says.

  I’m trapped, all the way to the top floor. ‘No thanks to you.’ I snort.

  ‘Please!’ He raises the arm with the Lucozade. ‘I want to apologise.’

  ‘You’re way past that,’ I snap. ‘Anyway, Luna and Harland are in with him now, so when we finally get out of here, you still can’t go in there.’

  He slumps against the wall with a sigh. ‘Look, I’ve been a royal arsehole.’

  I turn my face away. ‘Oh, you think?’

  ‘OK,’ he says, ‘So, what Kyle said was true; the whole trying-to-get-with-you thing started as a bet. I wanted one over on Pez. I wanted to prove him wrong, for once. But after I talked to you—’

  ‘This isn’t about me, Rob! You humiliated Pez, in front of everyone. How could you say those things?’ His chin drops. ‘His mum – his mother! – confides in you about something that important and you—’ I throw my hands up. ‘You’re supposed to be his friend.’

  The lift opens on the third floor and a hospital porter wheels a woman and her drip inside the lift, pushing Rob and I further back into the space.

  Rob’s eyes close. ‘I know,’ he whispers. ‘But … he hasn’t been that much of a friend either lately.’

  I lean in. �
��Maybe not, but unlike everyone else, Rob, you had some idea as to why. But hey, that didn’t stop you throwing him under a bus. Did it?’

  Rob stares at his shoes. ‘No,’ he says, quietly.

  The doors open on the 5th floor and the porter wheels the lady out. I reach over and hit the button marked G. ‘So, you never wanted to kiss me?’

  He swallows. ‘I was … nervous.’

  I blow out my cheeks. ‘Please!’

  ‘I swear!’ he says. ‘I thought it would be weird. I’ve never done anything like that, but—’

  ‘Anything like … kissing?’

  He squirms. ‘You know what I mean.’

  ‘Um … no, I don’t. Please elaborate.’

  ‘Well, I’d never kissed anyone, like … gay before.’

  Ugh, I can’t even …. We ride to the ground floor in silence, me with my fists clenched, working out whether or not I should bother setting Rob straight on what my sexuality is and isn’t. When the doors open I stomp out towards the main exit.

  He follows behind. ‘Please, hear me out,’ he says. We’re back in the fresh air before I face him. ‘Look,’ he says, ‘it stopped being about the bet.’ I fold my arms across my chest. ‘I swear,’ he says, clearing his throat, ‘I liked it when we’d talk and that time we kissed, it felt like there was something there. I guess I realised that I liked you. You know, genuinely.’ It’s all sounding a bit too remarkable to be a compliment. ‘See, there’s something about you that’s …’ He stops.

  I roll my eyes and spin on my heel. ‘I’ve got to go,’ I say, hurtling along the side street towards Tottenham Court Road. There is no way on earth I’m letting Rob see a smile on my face in case he decides it might have something to do with him.

  ‘Seriously,’ he says, catching up. ‘I get why Pez thinks so much of you.’

  I cross the road to the bus stop, where I look up, pretending to read the times, letting my breath settle before speaking again. ‘Well, that’s real nice of you and all, Rob, but it turns out, I wasn’t fully myself with you, so I’m not sure how much of me you’ve seen.’

  ‘Oh,’ he says, just as a number 24 bus pulls up.