Very Nearly Normal

by Hannah Sunderland

  ‘Not really. He’s gone, what more is there to say?’

  Tons, there was tons left to say.

  Kate and I stood on the pavement as the last few minutes of my lunch hour ticked away.

  ‘I know that apologising doesn’t make up for years of me being a bitch and I know that we aren’t magically going to become the best of friends again, but if you ever fancy talking, I’d love to see you.’

  I smiled a small smile. ‘You weren’t the only one who was a bitch, and it would be nice to see you again too.’

  She took a step back, knowing that a hug was too familiar; the relationship was delicate now, more delicate than it had ever been. ‘Have a nice Christmas, Effie.’

  ‘You too,’ I said. She turned and walked away.

  I couldn’t help but feel a blossoming warmth in my chest, one that seemed to melt a corner of heart I’d put on ice after Theo damaged it beyond repair.

  Life was surprising sometimes.

  That night I sat down at my laptop. It almost squealed as I pulled it open for the first time in an age to begin rewriting my novel. The release of pent-up anger from my reconciliation with Kate had cleared my head and given me the kick up the arse that I needed to get back to it. At first my fingers only hovered above the keys, afraid to get back to what they loved in case they found out that they weren’t any good at it. But I had realised my error with the novel I had been so heartbroken over and although editing it was not a guarantee that someone would want it, I needed to give myself the best shot at the dream I’d dreamt for so long. So, with a deep breath and a bottle of wine at my side, I began writing.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  I’d forgotten the feeling, the warm glow and the burst of excitement that came with writing and creating the world that I wanted, from references of a world that had disappointed me. I worked out all the kinks. I changed the parts that irked me. The parts that were wrong and didn’t make sense were altered, the characters fleshed out. I took instances from my own life, warmed them in my hands and moulded them into something new, like plasticine.

  My protagonist became stronger, her love interest became less of a focal point and by the end of an epic rewrite, I had something that I could be proud of. I worked through the night, spending every waking hour tweaking and changing, until it was finally done and I could flop back onto the sofa with a satisfied sigh.

  I ummed and ahhed about showing my work to anyone for the first time, but, in the end, I came to the decision that if I wanted to be a writer, I had to let people read what I’d written. I gave the first three chapters to Amy to read, her face lighting up with excitement when she learned that I was back at it. She read them while I stared at her the whole time, gauging her reaction and forgetting to breathe.

  ‘This is good, Effie,’ she said with a shake of her head. ‘It’s really good. Have you sent it off yet?’

  ‘No,’ I replied, ‘I’m too scared.’

  She handed the papers back to me with an encouraging grin. ‘I’ll come with you after work. You’re posting this today.’

  That night Caleb and I went on our second date, to see a film at The Electric Cinema. I didn’t ask what film we were seeing, I was just happy to be out. It turned out to be some artsy film with subtitles, which had been shot with a sepia filter. I didn’t really know what was going on and halfway through my mind began to wander. I looked over at Caleb. He was enthralled. His eyes drew wide as one of the characters drank down a vial of poison and died to the sound of a cash register. Cha-ching! I’m sure it was all meant to mean something, but what that something was I had absolutely no idea.

  I looked at Caleb’s lips, parted and with a popcorn shell stuck to the lower lip. I almost reached over and brushed it away. He turned and caught me staring. I felt a jolt of panic, but then he smiled and looked down at my hand, lacing his fingers through mine. They felt alien, new, exciting. I felt a flicker in my chest and, stupidly, I felt a little guilty. I was not Theo’s. I was no one’s but my own, and if I wanted Caleb then I would have him. I settled back into the seat and tried to enjoy the feeling of someone showing me affection, but somehow, I couldn’t let myself relax.

  Caleb walked me home and I invited him up into the flat. Maybe it would lead somewhere. Maybe I would look into his eyes and we would let whatever happened, happen. Or maybe I’d throw up on him, who knew? My luck had been so up and down when it came to men.

  He sat on the sofa as I poured us some wine. I took a large swig from my glass before topping it back up to match the other.

  I sat down beside him and put on some music to make the silence a little less deafening.

  ‘Did you enjoy the film?’ he asked, taking a sip of his wine. He grimaced.

  ‘It was okay,’ I replied, before sipping at my own wine to see why he’d sneered. It tasted fine. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘Nothing.’ He placed the wine down and turned to me with a smile in his eyes. ‘I have a confession to make: I don’t like wine.’

  I gasped. Blasphemy!

  ‘I know, I know,’ he apologised. ‘I’m a grown-up and I’m into art, so you would think that wine was something I’d be heavily into, but I just hate it.’

  I picked up his glass and poured his into mine. ‘This may cause a rift in our friendship,’ I joked. ‘Can I get you something else? I think I’ve got some gin somewhere.’

  I went to stand but Caleb’s hand on mine stopped me. ‘Actually, I think I’d rather …’ He stopped speaking and instead pressed his lips to mine. His lips were chapped; I guess that was from so many nights out in the cold.

  I tasted the wine on his tongue and I remembered the last time I had tasted wine on a kiss. I kissed Caleb harder as I tried to push Theo from my mind. Caleb seemed to take this as an invitation to push his fingers through my hair. Before I really knew what was happening, we were standing up and stumbling to Arthur’s bedroom. I cringed at the idea of having sex in Arthur’s bed, but still I let myself tumble to the mattress with him. His lips moved over mine, but I felt no electricity where they landed. I felt no love blooming in my chest, just a sort of bewildered excitement.

  I opened my eyes and saw that his were closed. I shut my eyelids again and that’s when I saw it, what I wished was happening instead of what was happening. My hands moved through his hair and I imagined that it was blond. I let my hands run over his shoulders and I wished that they were wider, firmer, Theo-er. His hands moved over my dress and I suddenly began to wish I’d never invited him here. I should have turned him away at the door. This was wrong. I couldn’t sleep with Caleb and be imagining that it was Theo the whole time. It wasn’t fair on him; it wasn’t fair on me.

  His lips fell out of rhythm and his eyelashes fluttered against my cheeks. I opened my eyes and found that we were staring at each other. My lips grew stationary, my hands fell to the mattress and after a few moments Caleb drew back.

  He stared down at me, an almost unbearable silence lying between us.

  ‘There’s something not quite right here isn’t there?’ he said, breaking the silence and the building tension.

  ‘Oh, thank God,’ I said, putting my hand to my forehead and sighing. ‘I thought it was just me.’

  ‘It’s definitely not just you.’ He breathed out heavily from his nose. ‘I didn’t want to stop because I didn’t want you to think that I didn’t find you attractive. I do.’ He sighed and climbed off, sitting on the edge of the bed. ‘I don’t know what’s wrong. I like you, you’re nice and funny and really pretty. This should be working.’ He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand.

  ‘I feel exactly the same!’ I sat up and drew my knees to my chest. ‘It kind of felt like …’

  ‘Snogging a family member?’

  ‘Exactly!’ We stared at each other for a moment and then, for some unknown reason, we both began laughing. We laughed until our eyes clouded with tears and our stomachs ached.

  ‘Look,’ he said, placing his hand on my knee, his face pink from laug
hing, ‘I like you, Effie, and I don’t want this to ruin anything, so let’s start again, shall we?’

  ‘Please,’ I said.

  ‘Effie—’ he held out his hand ‘—will you be my friend?’

  I took his hand and shook it firmly, three times. ‘Yes,’ I replied. ‘I think I will.’

  I’d never really been a dog person.

  I found that the aloof and generally passive-aggressive nature of cats was more befitting my personality, but as I sat in the Boots doorway with Ali, Otis’s heavy head lounging on my knee, I finally became one.

  ‘Where will you go on Christmas Day?’ I asked Ali as she tucked into the burger I’d bought for her, mustard running down her chin.

  ‘Here I suppose,’ she replied, smearing the sauce over her skin with the sleeve of her grubby hoodie and picking up the cup of steaming tea from beside her, ‘unless a better offer comes along.’

  I’d quickly grown to like Ali, spending a little longer with her than I should as the group made our rounds of the street. Otis had to be held back most nights from following me home and sometimes it was all I could do not to take him with me.

  Otis looked up as a glob of ketchup fell onto his nose. As he moved, he caught Ali’s elbow and her tea went flying. She managed to save half of it, but the rest seeped into her hoodie. She tutted and called Otis a ‘silly boy’, but there was no trace of anger in her voice. She rooted around in her meagre bag and pulled out a cleaner hoodie before quickly pulling the sodden one over her head. She shivered in the cold and reached for the new one. As she did, I noticed the track marks in the crook of her elbow that bled down onto her forearm, purple and angry.

  I quickly looked away, but she’d already seen me.

  ‘Not pretty, are they?’ She held up her arm and my eyes moved back to the river of indigo that travelled from her wrist to her elbow. Along the river were four red scabs, three semi-healed, and a speckling of white scars that looked like stars against her olive skin.

  ‘Do you use often?’ I asked, looking down at Otis and running my hand over his wide forehead. My hand came away waxy. I wondered how long it had been since he’d had a bath.

  ‘Not as much as I used to.’

  ‘Why do you do it? If you saved all the money that you spend on drugs, you could have enough to get yourself out of here.’

  She pulled the hoodie on and smoothed it over her slight frame. ‘Do you drink, Effie?’

  I took a breath and nodded. ‘I do, sometimes a little too much.’

  ‘Then tell me how that’s different from what I do.’ She looked at me and I let my eyes rise to meet hers. She didn’t look angry or accusatory, she just looked deeply sad.

  ‘Well, drinking isn’t illegal for one thing,’ I replied.

  ‘Why do you drink?’ she asked before sipping her tea. ‘Honestly.’

  ‘I drink because I’m unhappy and alcohol helps numb that unhappiness.’ I rubbed my face and sighed into my palm. ‘I’m sorry. I feel like such a dick saying that to you.’

  ‘Don’t apologise, Eff. We all have our own problems. Just ’cause I’m here on the street and you aren’t doesn’t mean that your problems don’t matter.’ I felt her hand on mine. Her palm felt like the surface of a pineapple. ‘I use because it helps me to forget where I am, what I am.’

  Otis looked up and licked Ali’s hand.

  ‘What do you do with Otis while you’re … well, while you’re out of it?’ I asked.

  ‘I make sure he’s safe. I wouldn’t ever leave him in harm’s way.’ She smiled the genuine smile that she kept only for him and kissed his nose. ‘He’s my heart. I wouldn’t let him get hurt.’

  I turned to her and squeezed her hand tightly. ‘Promise me you’ll be careful.’

  She laid her head down on my shoulder; her beanie hat sat against my cheek.

  ‘Thank you, Effie. It’s been a long time since someone cared.’

  I wanted to tell her that she was being stupid. That the drugs wouldn’t help her, but then, if I was in Ali’s dirty second-hand shoes, maybe I’d want something to take the edge off too.

  ‘He’s pretty that one,’ she said, nodding her head in Caleb’s direction. He stood laughing with an elderly homeless man called Norman.

  ‘We went on a couple of dates,’ I said. She squeezed my arm and drew her eyes wide. ‘We decided to stay friends; it was like kissing my cousin.’ I shuddered at the memory.

  ‘That’s a shame, but then I guess there’s still a chance for me, eh.’ She cocked her head and observed him from a distance. ‘I like his hair.’

  ‘It is good hair,’ I agreed.

  When I’d arrived at the shelter that evening, I’d thought that things between Caleb and I might be awkward, but he’d greeted me with a smile and gave me a Santa’s hat to complete my uniform and everything had been as it should. I hoped that it would last; Caleb and I had the makings of a great friendship, just so long as we didn’t have to go on another date.

  ‘Hey, Eff!’ Caleb called as I packed up for the night and grabbed my bag. I saw him jogging towards me, his cheeks red from the cold. ‘We’re all going to the German Christmas Market tomorrow evening before our shift if you want to come?’

  ‘I’d love to,’ I replied. I looked at my ragtag group of heroes. Ned and Cassie jostled each other beneath a sprig of plastic mistletoe, and Janet and Liz shared a cupcake that one of them had bought for the other as a Christmas gift. A few months ago, I would never have dreamed that I would be here in the centre of town in the freezing cold, thirteen days before Christmas and verging on being happy. But here I was.

  That morning I got back to the flat at around half one. I felt elated, too buzzed to sleep and too tired to do anything. I wandered to the kettle and clicked it on. It was too late for coffee, but I wanted one and it was better than going into the bedroom and finishing the quarter bottle of Shiraz that was left on the bedside table. As I waited, the sound of bubbling water filling the air, I walked over to the corkboard and looked at the list.

  9.Do something that matters … CHECK

  10.Stop holding grudges … CHECK (in Kate’s case anyway)

  11.Achieve a dream … In the process of Checking

  12.Learn to love myself …

  … I wouldn’t say that I was vain now. That I woke up in the morning and saw my pillow-creased, puffy face looking back at me and thought … I would.

  But I’d learned to love myself in a different way. I no longer gave a rat’s ass about what anyone else thought of me. When I left the shop, I didn’t instantly begin looking around like I used to, watching people’s eyes and wondering what they were thinking about me, about what I was wearing, about if I was good enough. I was not some grotesque gargoyle from the top of a cathedral, I was a young woman with red hair, pale skin and sturdy thighs and I was happy with that. And if I was happy and comfortable then what did it matter if other people occasionally mistook my thighs for honey-roasted ham hocks, or if they took offence at the orange-ness of my hair. I was who I was and I would never be anyone different, so I thought it about time that I started appreciating what I had. So, I guess, in short, CHECK!

  I woke to a tinkling sound coming from my laptop. I didn’t remember falling asleep or even going to bed, but, lo and behold, here I was waking to a pool of drying saliva across the pillow beneath me. I pressed a button without really knowing what I was doing, knocking my wrist on the edge of the screen and uttering a stream of obscenities as Arthur and Toby’s faces appeared on the screen.

  ‘Good morning to you too,’ Arthur said with a beaming smile.

  ‘Arthur!’ I pulled the laptop onto my chest and lay back down, my chin doubling in the unflattering webcam. I didn’t bother adjusting myself.

  ‘How’s the trip?’ I asked.

  Toby leaned forward and rolled his eyes. ‘This one went and got himself a tattoo, didn’t he?’

  ‘A holiday tattoo,’ Arthur corrected him. ‘I wanted to remember the trip.’

  ‘
And you couldn’t just use your brain for that?’ Toby chided, his Scottish accent thickening as he raised his voice.

  ‘I see that you two are already acting like an old married couple,’ I said through a laugh.

  I told them about how the shop was doing and about Amy and my date with Caleb.

  ‘Two boys in one year!’ Arthur remarked. ‘You’ll be getting a name for yourself, missy.’

  ‘And you’d know all about that wouldn’t you,’ I replied. Toby pretended not to hear and then went on to tell me about their trips to Charles Bridge and Karlštejn Castle and The Dancing House and the Lennon Wall. Arthur looked happier than I’d ever seen him before and that made me happy too.

  I was just about to sign off when Arthur stopped me.

  ‘Just in case you thought I’d forgotten, there’s a Christmas gift for you in the airing cupboard. I’ll be expecting mine when I get back.’

  ‘I miss you, both of you,’ I said without really knowing why. Arthur and I had never been sappy with each other; we were barely even polite.

  ‘Ah, we’ll be back before you know it and then you’ll wish we’d stayed away forever.’ Arthur beamed a smile and Toby blew a kiss my way. The screen went blank and they were gone. My heart feeling a little bit fuller than it had before.

  Once I’d wiped the drool from my cheek, I went to the airing cupboard and took out a rectangular parcel. I ripped off the wrapping – I was never one to wait until the actual day until I unwrapped everything – and found inside a notebook, bound in mahogany leather. In a strap on the side was a silver fountain pen. I flipped it open and saw that he’d written something inside:

  For your next masterpiece.

  Remember me in the dedication.

  Arthur X

  Eleven days till Christmas and the shop was so packed that I considered putting an ad out for an emergency member of staff. I stood behind the counter with my eyes closed and too many sounds in my ears.

  Christmas was always a manic time, but this was the first year that I was beginning to feel like I couldn’t handle it. It was probably because this time I was in charge and all the failings fell onto me.