Maya had been her rock, her constant, for more than ten years. When the world confused her beyond belief, Maya was able to translate it. Most of her happiest memories involved Maya. They texted nearly every day, and saw each other almost every week. It had become a rhythm, and all of that was changing. It was all changing and going wrong and it was too much...
‘I need to go home now,’ Paige forced out, stumbling to her feet and making her way towards the door. She turned back briefly when she touched the handle. ‘I am happy for you, Maya, I really am. I just –’
‘I know, lovely,’ Maya said gently as she watched her best friend dart out of the door.
Paige locked her front door behind her and leant back against it, head back, eyes closed, breathing deeply and deliberately. She knew she had not handled that very well.
Her suburban townhouse was right on the edge of the city; she could even see the forest and hills from her bedroom window. It was more space than she needed given that she lived alone. She had bought it so that her family could come and stay without having to spend a fortune on hotels. Her niece and nephew loved sleeping over and would often trek up to the forest to build forts and dens, with Paige in the thick of it, playing the role of the dastardly pirate or the army general. The decoration downstairs was clean and simple. White walls contrasted with the odd splash of colour provided by historical items she had collected over the years. The kitchen was quite small but well organised, optimised for maximum efficiency. But one of the spare bedrooms looked like it had been haphazardly transplanted into the house by Dr Frankenstein. Brightly coloured walls supported shelves loaded with games and stuffed animals, waiting in silence for their owners. The superhero bedding clashed horribly with the walls, but the children had been so happy when they picked it out. Paige tended to keep the door to that room shut when her family weren’t staying; the clash of decor felt like someone was playing the cymbals in her head. Her favourite room in the house was her office, which doubled as a library. It had the best views across the fields towards the forest and the window had framed many a spectacular sunset. Much like her office at work, there were books piled everywhere, but instead of a bean bag she had an old, beaten-up, fold-out sofa along one wall. She’d fallen asleep on it numerous times with a book still in her hand, and woken up with pain in every joint, but she still couldn’t bring herself to get rid of it. It was one of the first things she’d bought when she got her own place after her undergraduate degree. It had been second-hand and pretty worn even back then, but it was hers. It had seen her through her masters, her PhD, a couple of break-ups, and many, many job applications. It was almost a historical object in itself.
Gathering the energy to detach herself from her front door, a still dazed Paige wandered into the kitchen to make a cup of tea. Her mum would always tell her tea fixed everything, and while she wasn’t sure it actually worked, she found the nostalgia comforting. Her cat Sooty stretched lazily on the sofa, jumped down, and followed her into the kitchen purring. His purrs were so loud they echoed around the tiled room. Paige filled up his food bowl and gave him some scratches behind the ears. He licked her hand in appreciation before digging in to his dinner. The kettle clicked off and Paige poured the water, leaving the chamomile tea bag in the cup and taking the whole thing with her back to the living room. She curled up under a blanket on the sofa and put something mindless on the television; her eyes still glazed over. Her brain slowly started re-booting. She had coped just fine before Maya came into her life. She had coped when Maya went travelling after they graduated. She had coped when Maya moved away from the city they both studied in, even though that had been unexpected, too. Logically, she knew she could cope with this. She just wasn’t sure how.
As if psychic, her phone vibrated in her pocket - it was a text from Maya.
‘How’re you doing, lovely?’
‘OK,’ she messaged back. ‘Calmer now.’
‘Do you need me to come over? I’m still in the city...’
‘No, it’s OK, thank you though. I really am happy for you, Maya. I’ll speak to you tomorrow.’
‘OK, lovely. Sleep well xxx’
Paige put her phone face down on the table and tried to focus on the television; a random nature documentary about penguins. But it didn’t take long for her brain to wander back to their conversation at the pub. Maybe trying to make new friends wouldn’t be such a bad idea, especially with the prospect of Maya moving away for a while. Sooty interrupted her thoughts by jumping on her lap and demanding attention, rubbing his head against her hands.
‘Ah-ah! Careful!’ she scolded him before putting her tea down on the table, out of his reach. He hadn’t paid any notice to her mild telling off and flopped ungracefully down onto her lap with a thud, still purring. ‘At least I know you’ll never change.’
CHAPTER TWO
Home Comforts
Paige got up early that Saturday morning, as always. She could hear the birds exchanging dawn gossip as she stretched in her driveway. Her run would take her over the top of a nearby hill, gifting her with panoramic views of the forest below. Her whole body felt restless, like each muscle fibre and nerve ending had an itch. She put her earphones in and started her watch. The route she had chosen was a tough ten-kilometre route with a fair bit of incline, but as thoughts of Maya moving away flickered across her mind like a picture book, she picked up the pace.
The well-worn trail gradually thinned as other routes splintered off; each step caused leaves and twigs to brush her calves, and every now and again she would have to duck under a low-hanging branch. Each step took her further away from the university, the city, and life.
Maya had planted a seed in her brain and it had taken root. It had germinated to the point where the vague structure of a book was visible. She had been wondering, hypothetically, who she would write about. There was also the small issue of a novel being a very different style of writing compared to that of academia, her native tongue. She didn’t know if she was actually capable of creative writing.
Her chest tightened slightly as she headed towards the final and steepest descent. It seemed like every step she took sent small stones tumbling down the trail, but she did not slow down. Way ahead of her personal best, the adrenaline rushed through her veins, allowing her to push on despite the burning in her legs. Suddenly, a brown rabbit jumped out of the bushes right into her path. Avoiding it broke her stride and destroyed her concentration. Her foot slipped on a particularly muddy patch of ground. She stumbled sideways, then toppled forward, limbs flailing as she desperately tried to stay upright to no avail. Knees, arms, and face all hit the rough and muddy ground as she slid downward.
Eventually her crumpled body came to a stop.
‘Damn it!’ she shouted, lifting her head out of the mud. A new personal best had been within reach!
She sat up gingerly, carefully scanning each limb for any obvious deformities or severe bleeding. Nothing seemed sprained or broken, she just had minor cuts and grazes. ‘Screw it,’ she thought, scrambling to her feet. She took a few exploratory steps before launching herself back into her run at an even faster pace than before, ignoring the dull throbbing that seemed to have overtaken every inch of her body. One wayward rabbit was not going to deny her a personal best.
The ground began levelling out for the final stretch and Paige started sprinting. Her lungs desperately tried to suck in more air, as if that would put out the fire that now burned inside them. It only fuelled it. She was so close to the end. Fifty metres to go. Twenty. Ten...
She slammed her fingers down on the stop button of her watch as she passed her finish line, chest heaving and legs about to give way. Her vision drifted in and out of focus as she tried to read the digits on her watch. Vindication. She sat down on the grass and interlaced her fingers behind her head, fighting to inhale as much oxygen as she could. She had beaten her personal best by over forty seconds. That feeling of triumph was worth the scrapes and inevitable bruises that would appear
in the next few days.
Eventually, Paige felt she had enough control of her limbs to drag herself to her feet and begin the short walk back to her house, allowing her muscles to cool down from the run. Her legs complained painfully that she had been sitting down for too long and the lactic acid hadn’t been able to clear. She kept going, motivated by the thought of a well-earned shower - and the need to find some antiseptic cream and plasters.
That afternoon, Paige went to her favourite coffee shop. The barista did a double take when Paige got to the counter. She could understand why - she had a graze on her forehead, another above her left eye, and a cut on her cheek. She had bandaged her left forearm, wrist, and palm in an effort to keep the extensive grazes there clean.
‘What...’ he said, eyes flicking between her face and her arm, ‘what can I get you?’
‘A pot of tea, please,’ she responded chirpily. ‘Could you possibly bring the tray over for me, please? Because, y’know...’ she trailed off, gesturing with her bandaged arm. The last thing she needed was to spill scalding hot tea on the broken skin.
‘Y-yes, yes, of course,’ he stammered sheepishly, not making eye contact.
Paige smiled, paid, and made her way to her usual corner. The soft armchair gave her clear views of both the entrance and the counter, and she could see out of the front windows to the street. From this vantage point she could see everyone who was coming and going. For example, the two people who had just walked in. Paige guessed they were siblings by their similar features and the playful way the woman nudged the man’s arm.
TAYLOR
‘Ow! That hurt!’ the man said teasingly. ‘You clearly don’t know your own strength, Taylor!’
‘Yeah, yeah,’ Taylor replied. ‘Whatever, Dylan. You give as good as you get.’ She emphasised her point with a slight shove.
‘What do you want to drink?’ Dylan asked. ‘I’m buying, it’s the least I can do for you helping me move this weekend.’
‘A mocha would be great, thanks. And one of those little cakes would express your gratefulness too, a sweet thank you to your big sister...’
Dylan rolled his eyes. ‘You’re only nine minutes older than me!’ he protested. ‘And your puns are awful.’
‘No they’re not, and don’t you forget it, little bro,’ Taylor said, smirking and dodging past him. ‘I’ll go and get us a table.’
Taylor weaved her way between the chairs to a table by the back wall. The coffee shop furniture was mainly plush cotton and real wood chairs, with a few dark red sofas around the edges of the room. The red fabric seemed richer when framed by the dark tones of the stained oak. She chose a particularly soft-looking sofa and sank into it gratefully, muscles aching from lifting boxes all day. The smell of coffee filled the air as she leant further back into the chair, closing her eyes and resting for what felt like the first time in an age. Between her prep work for the start of term, and helping Dylan move into a student flat on the third floor of a building with no lift, she felt like she hadn’t slept in days.
The clunk of the tray as Dylan placed it on the table caused her to open her eyes again, just in time to see the woman in the corner looking away. Had she been staring at her? Taylor shook her head. She was tired, probably just being paranoid.
‘I asked for the biggest slices of the chocolaty-est cake they had,’ Dylan said proudly, handing her the plate and a fork. ‘I don't understand how you can drink and eat chocolate at the same time!’ Dylan had opted for a plain cappuccino, his first sip giving him a foamy moustache where the skin before had been bare. Taylor chuckled and wiped her own top lip meaningfully. Dylan got the hint and applied a napkin.
‘When do your lectures start?’ Taylor asked in a faux nonchalant way.
‘Oh, don’t start now,’ Dylan said, his jovial expression slipping slightly.
‘What do you mean?’ she questioned with feigned ignorance.
‘I don’t need you keeping an eye on me, or hounding me, or nagging me about whether I’ve made any friends yet like it’s my first day of school. Mum and Dad are already doing that. I’ll be fine, Lor, you don’t need to worry.’
‘I’m your sister. I always worry! But OK, I’ll try and back off a bit. You’d better not shirk on our lunch dates though, just like when we both lived at home? I’ve been looking forward to those.’
‘I know, me too. I won’t, I promise.’
Taylor glanced past her brother’s ear at the woman in the corner. This time she was sure she’d caught her looking. Maybe the strange woman was just daydreaming in their direction. She was quite an unusual sight, shoes kicked off and legs tucked underneath her on the chair, peering over a laptop screen with a pot of tea nearby. She looked a little like a hermit who had been transplanted into a coffee shop and the shock hadn’t quite worn off yet. A very accident-prone hermit, Taylor thought as her eyes roamed between the various injuries present on the woman. And that was just the ones she could see; Taylor was sure there would be more elsewhere.
Dylan noticed her slight distraction and snapped his head around to look, seemingly scared of missing out.
‘What’re we looking at?’ he said loudly.
‘Shhhhhhh!’ Taylor hushed, smacking his arm. ‘Don’t be so obvious!’
‘Oh, OK,’ Dylan said, turning back around. ‘Is it the chick with the messed-up face you’re staring at?’
‘No... she’s the one who’s been staring at me. Or at least I think she has.’
‘Maybe she likes you?’
‘Ha, don’t be stupid’
‘OK then,’ Dylan said, changing tack, ‘how about...’ And with that he did the most over dramatic yawn and stretch she had ever seen, during which he turned around to gawk at this poor woman. ‘She works for MI5 and you’re under surveillance. Her face got all busted up on her last mission, so they’ve assigned her something more mundane, such as following you around.’
‘Oh, ha ha!’
‘You should go talk to her. She’s your type, right? Brunette, athletic, slightly crazy-looking...’ The last bit Dylan said tentatively, already recoiling from the expected retort from his sister.
‘Too soon, dude,’ she scolded, glaring at him.
‘OK, OK’ he held his hand up in apology. ‘But you should still go talk to her. Get back on the horse, or whatever they say.’
‘I’ve got enough going on, like helping my muppet of a brother move to a new city.’
‘Hey! I’m the muppet of a brother who got accepted into one of the best journalism schools in the country, thank you very much. If you’re going to insult me, at least use my full title.’
Taylor rolled her eyes. He was right though. The university where she worked, and at which he was now a student, had an exemplary School of Journalism. She was so proud of him when he had gotten accepted. She had offered for him to come and live with her as soon as he got his acceptance letter, supposedly to make life easier for him - but really, she just wanted to keep an eye on him. He had politely declined her offer for that exact reason. He didn’t need his sister ‘cramping his style’, apparently. The engineering building wasn’t far from the journalism department though, so they could easily have lunch together, unless her teaching schedule was too hectic. Taylor looked across at her brother and smiled. He was looking so much healthier than he had last year. His eyes had that sparkle again, rather than that sunken, hopeless look. His clothes fitted him now rather than hanging off him. But she still worried.
‘We should probably head off soon,’ he said, taking another gulp of his coffee. ‘Those boxes aren’t going to unpack themselves!’
‘You’re on your own with that one, I have plans tonight,’ Taylor replied.
‘Ooooooh, does Taylor have a date?’
‘Yep, a date I’ve been looking forward to all week. I’m spending some quality time with Mr Ben and his friend Jerry, and we’re viewing an amazing cultural phenomenon known as a televised baking competition. You should try it some time!’ She laughed. ‘Come on, I�
��ll drive you back.’
‘If you haven’t got a date, that means I can slip the MI5 agent your number, right?’ Dylan teased as they stood up.
‘Not if you want to retain the ability to have children.’
Taylor had been lecturing in the engineering department for a few years now. She had previously worked in the industry, but it always felt like something was missing. She would read about new technological advances a few weeks or months after they were published, and it was like she was being left behind. When one of her old lecturers, now a professor at her current university, contacted her telling her about a new, fully funded PhD project he was putting together, she jumped at the chance to return to university. The research was on adapting existing mechanical engineering solutions so they could be employed in areas of extreme poverty with the resources they had available. Part of her contract required she teach for a manageable number of hours a week, but her teaching commitments were fast taking over, and she was falling behind on her research.
Taylor helped Dylan carry the last few bits from her car up the three flights of stairs that felt all too familiar now. He was sharing with a few other people, none of whom had moved in yet. The university tended to house the mature students together, so she at least knew they would all be in the same boat. The worn furniture looked odd in Dylan’s shared living room, like it had never really belonged there in the first place. They’d done their best to make his bedroom feel more homely, with photographs of their family adorning the walls, blankets on the bed, and even a small plant on one of the shelves. The slightly flickering fluorescent light didn’t do the whole set-up any favours.
‘Are you sure you don’t want to come and live with me?’ Taylor said, glancing around the room as she put the box she was carrying down on his desk. ‘I mean...’ She trailed off. She didn’t want to criticise his new home too aggressively, but even he couldn’t pretend it was a comfortable place to live.
The Face of It Page 2