Goodbye, Perfect

by Sara Barnard

  ‘Maybe you don’t see people as well as you think you do,’ she says. ‘Maybe you should stop thinking your impression is the right one, just because it’s yours. People won’t always tell you everything.’

  I hadn’t realized I thought they did.

  ‘And that goes for Bonnie, too,’ she adds. ‘In case that comparison wasn’t obvious.’

  ‘This isn’t anything to do with Bonnie,’ I say, finding my voice again.

  ‘Of course it is. She pulls this shock move on everyone, and you’re still talking like you know her so well, when clearly you don’t. I know that must be hard to take, but it’s true. She obviously had her reasons for doing what she did, and because you don’t understand what those reasons are, you’re pretending they don’t exist.’

  ‘That’s not what I’m doing.’

  ‘No?’ Her voice is a drawl. ‘Really?’

  ‘Stop talking to me like that!’ I almost shout the words, the fire that had eased off inside me flaring right back up again. Her patronizing disbelief is fanning my rage like fireplace bellows. ‘You don’t get to call me judgemental and then talk to me like you know me so well and I’m just so stupid.’

  From behind me, I hear a muffled, slightly panicked, ‘Oh God.’ Poor Connor.

  ‘I’m just saying—’ Valerie begins.

  ‘Well, stop saying. You don’t know Bonnie, and you don’t know me.’

  ‘You stop saying that,’ she throws back. ‘I’m your sister. Stop acting like that doesn’t matter to you; it’s fucking devastating, don’t you get that? It hurts.’

  I falter. ‘Of course that matters to me.’

  ‘Like fuck it does.’ Her breathing is a little ragged, her fingers drumming in agitated patterns against the steering wheel.

  There’s a long, horribly awkward silence.

  OK, it’s not like I didn’t know that Valerie and I had a fair amount of emotional baggage to unpack between us, but did we have to start digging into it now? In the middle of the motorway? But now we’ve started, I don’t know how to stop, how to push everything back into its case and lock it up for a more appropriate time.

  ‘I always wanted a sister, did you know that?’ Her voice is thick and tight, like she might start crying, and I hope she doesn’t because I don’t know what I’d do. ‘I was so, so happy when you and Daisy came to live with us. But that’s the thing – it was already and always you and Daisy. You were the sisters. I wanted to be a big sister to you, but it felt like you didn’t want me to be. You never let me try.’

  I shake my head. ‘Me and Daisy are different. It’s just different. You can’t understand.’

  ‘I can try, though. Why won’t you let me? Daisy does.’

  Until she was five, Daisy slept in my bed every night of her life. There are sisters, and then there’s Daisy and me. ‘Daisy’s young. She doesn’t remember stuff like I do.’

  ‘I remember,’ she says. ‘I remember the day you arrived. I got home from school and Mum said, “We’ll be having two guests joining us this evening. They might be staying with us for a while.” That’s what she always called the kids we fostered. Guests. And when you came through the door you were wearing this raggedy blue dress with a button missing and your hair was all tangled and I told you my name was Valerie and you scowled at me and said, “That’s an old woman’s name,” and Dad laughed and said, “Yes, yes it is. Valerie’s an old soul.”’

  I don’t even remember that. Which is weird, because I thought every detail of that time was lasered into my brain. I never thought about Valerie then, not really. It was all about making sure Daisy was OK, and learning what Carolyn and Bob expected in their home, and a new school and new friends and my social worker, Marisa. Valerie was always just . . . there.

  ‘We don’t have to be like you and Daisy to have a relationship,’ Valerie says. ‘The only thing stopping that happening is you and your bullheadedness.’

  ‘Can I say something?’ Connor’s voice comes from the back seat, and both Valerie and I jerk in surprise, like we’d forgotten he was there.

  ‘Go ahead,’ Valerie says.

  He’s going to say something monumental, isn’t he? Connor’s an observer, and he’s touched on something profound that Valerie and I just can’t see because we’re too—

  ‘I need to pee,’ he says.

  19

  We stop at the first motorway service station we find, having driven in total silence for the ten minutes it took us to get there. Connor disappears into the toilets while Valerie and I go to the coffee shop and find a table.

  It’s Valerie who breaks the silence. ‘Sorry,’ she says. ‘About all that in the car.’

  ‘That’s OK,’ I say. What I mean is that the person who should apologize is me, because as usual I was the one lighting all the fires and then acting surprised when they blew up in my face.

  ‘I don’t want to fight with you,’ she says. She sounds tired.

  ‘I don’t want that either,’ I mutter, keeping my gaze on the table so I don’t have to look at her.

  ‘Eden . . .’ She hesitates. ‘Should I just stop trying? Tell me.’

  Just this morning, I think I would have said yes to this. I probably wouldn’t even have given it much thought. But now . . . ‘yes’ doesn’t feel right.

  I tip some sugar on to the table and swirl my finger in it, stalling. ‘I don’t know why you do,’ I say eventually.

  ‘Try?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘I told you,’ she says. ‘I always wanted a sister.’

  For some reason, my throat kind of closes up at these words. I press my fingertip against the sugar crystals and feel them dent my skin.

  ‘Shall I get the coffees in?’ Connor’s voice sounds from beside me, and I look up in surprise. He smiles at me. ‘Or hot chocolate, or whatever.’

  ‘A coffee would be great,’ Valerie says. ‘Thanks, Connor.’ He walks off in the direction of the counter, hands in his back pockets, and she turns back to me, a cautious smile on her face. ‘Connor’s such a sweetheart.’

  I smile back, because this is easy. ‘Yeah, he is.’

  ‘I’ve never really got the chance to even speak to him much before. He’s not like most sixteen-year-old boys.’

  ‘Nope,’ I say, proud. ‘He’s special.’

  ‘How long have you guys been together now?’

  ‘Over a year.’

  She smiles again. ‘Are you guys in it for the long haul?’

  ‘Oh yeah,’ I say, nodding. ‘We’ve got it all planned.’

  ‘Yeah?’

  I can tell that she’s sceptical but trying not to show it, her mouth twitching with the I’m-so-much-older-and-you’re-just-a-teenager smirk that is so endlessly annoying. But I mean it about Connor and me. We have everything going for us to be together forever, and who really cares if that’s unrealistic or idealistic or whatever ‘-istic’ word it is adults use when what they mean is ‘cute but wrong’. I said once that Bonnie’s like the light in my life, and that’s true, but Connor is like the earth. Constant. Permanent. Safe. And we’re going to have the perfect life. I’m going to be a landscape designer, maybe even taking on Carolyn and Bob’s business one day. Connor is going to be an ornithologist, probably working for the RSPB. We’ll live somewhere near the Downs – either the ones in Kent or in Sussex, we’re not fussy – or near the woods, anywhere there’s nature on our doorstep. We’ll take holidays to faraway places with the coolest native birds and flowers. South America, for the quetzal bird. Japan, for the gardens and the cherry blossom.

  ‘It’s just right with him and me,’ I say.

  ‘That’s so nice,’ she says, and I can tell she means that bit, even if she doesn’t believe we’ll actually be together forever. ‘Especially as the two of you are so different.’

  ‘We’re not,’ I say. ‘Not really. It just looks like we are, from the outside. But we both want the same things, and that’s what’s most important.’

  ‘Like what?’
>
  I paraphrase the chunk of my thoughts. ‘An outdoorsy life. As little drama as possible.’

  Valerie laughs. ‘How’s that working out for you right now?’

  A reluctant smile twitches on my face. ‘Yeah, yeah. Who’d have thought Bonnie’d be the one who’d bring the drama?’

  ‘You never had any idea she was secretly like this?’

  ‘Not a runaway-in-waiting, no.’ I hesitate, then offer a little more. ‘That’s part of why we were friends, I thought. The no-drama bit. That’s why I love her so much. She’s steady.’

  ‘That works both ways, though, doesn’t it?’ As she speaks, Connor slides on to the seat beside me, pushing a tray of takeaway cups across the table. ‘That was quick. Thanks, Connor.’

  ‘No queue.’ He takes one of the cups and puts it in front of me. ‘What works both ways?’

  ‘Eden was just saying that she loves how steady Bonnie is. And I was thinking, well . . .’ She turns back to me. ‘If you chose her because she’s steady, it stands to reason that she chose you because you’re . . .’ She makes a face. ‘Er . . .’

  ‘Not steady?’ I suggest.

  She looks relieved. ‘Yeah. Exactly. She’s not friends with you by accident. She obviously likes a bit of edge, you know?’

  ‘Do I have edge?

  ‘Eden, you’re all edges.’

  Connor chokes on whatever it is he’s drinking, and then laughs, shaking his head and nodding at the same time.

  ‘Right?’ Valerie says to him, encouraged.

  ‘Is that a good thing?’ I ask, unsure whether I’m offended or not.

  ‘Yes,’ Connor says, at the same time Valerie says, ‘Sometimes.’

  ‘Well, anyway,’ I say, hoping to steer the conversation safely away from me again. ‘Bonnie’s obviously not as steady as I thought.’

  ‘Even steady people have rocky moments,’ Valerie says. ‘Life’s hard for everyone.’ She takes a sip from her cup and taps her phone. ‘Do you guys mind if we head off again soon? I really want to get to York before it gets dark.’

  I’m very aware that we never finished our original conversation, and I never told her that I don’t want her to stop trying, but I don’t know how to bring it up again, or even whether I should. But she and Connor are standing up, she’s gathering her bag and pulling it over her shoulder; the moment is long gone.

  We head back out into the car park together, Connor twining his fingers through mine, and Valerie looking at her phone. The silence stretches heavy and awkward. We’re halfway to the car when Connor stops suddenly. ‘Oh no,’ he says, a little too loudly. ‘I forgot a toothbrush. Is it OK if I just run back in and get one?’

  Valerie shrugs. ‘Sure.’

  He runs off back towards the main building, leaving Valerie and me alone, and it occurs to me that he’s done that three times since we got out of the car, and that he’s probably doing it on purpose.

  When we reach the car Valerie leans back against the bonnet, sipping from her cup. It’s sunny and warm, so I sit down on the concrete, closing my eyes and allowing myself a deep breath in and out.

  After a few minutes, Valerie speaks into the quiet. ‘Eeds, how come Connor’s here?’

  ‘Because I wanted him to come,’ I say, opening my eyes. What other answer is there? ‘Why?’

  ‘I was just telling my friend that I’m heading back up to York,’ she says, waving her phone as evidence. ‘And she was like, “Vee, they’ve obviously suckered you into being their chauffeur on some teenage shag weekend.”’

  I should probably find this offensive, but something about the way Valerie relays this message, plus the idea of Connor and me having any kind of a ‘shag weekend’, makes me crack up. ‘No,’ I manage, trying to gather myself. ‘That’s not why he’s here.’

  Valerie throws me a sideways grin. ‘No? You sure?’

  ‘Totally sure.’ I shake my head, picking up a stray pebble and bouncing it against the ground.

  ‘I mean, I’d understand,’ she says. ‘There aren’t that many opportunities for . . . alone time when you’re sixteen.’

  As she talks, I register that the friend called her Vee. I’d thought she was Valerie to everyone. Vee sounds so much friendlier, so much more fun. I look at her, leaning against her car bonnet, clasping her cup of coffee between her hands.

  ‘We haven’t,’ I say.

  She looks at me. ‘Haven’t?’

  ‘Had sex,’ I say. This is the kind of thing sisters tell each other, isn’t it? This is how I should talk to my big sister.

  ‘Oh,’ she says.

  I smile. ‘You’re surprised?’

  ‘No!’ she says, too quickly, then reconsiders. ‘Well, yeah.’ She smiles hopefully at me, an Is this OK? kind of smile, and I smile back. ‘I just thought, you know, you’ve been together for a long time.’

  ‘We sort-of-almost did,’ I say. ‘Right at the beginning. But it was because we thought we should, you know? And it . . . wasn’t great. So we agreed to wait until we were ready, and that just hasn’t happened yet.’ This is, by far, the most personal information I’ve ever given Valerie.

  ‘That’s so mature,’ she says.

  ‘You’re surprised?’ I ask again.

  ‘A little,’ she admits. ‘Sorry.’

  I shrug. ‘That’s OK.’

  ‘Not because of you,’ she adds. ‘Because you’re sixteen. I wouldn’t have been that mature when I was sixteen.’

  I want to ask her about this – the Valerie at sixteen that I remember was the essence of ‘mature’ – but Connor is walking across the car park towards us, and so the conversation has to end.

  ‘Thanks,’ Valerie says as she slides off the bonnet and takes a final gulp from her coffee cup.

  I don’t need to ask for what. In fact, I don’t actually need to say anything. I just nod, pull myself up off the concrete and get back into the car.

  We arrive in York not long after eight. Valerie is quiet as she drives us slowly through the evening traffic to the student house she lives in, her elbow resting on the window frame, chin in her hand. Even after our mini Connor-related heart-to-heart, she’s probably thinking that this whole thing is a mistake, that she’s got three more days of this, that I’m the worst sister ever. And I haven’t even told her about Glasgow yet.

  I feel like I should say something to warm everything up a bit, but I don’t know what. Connor is silent too, apart from the occasional self-conscious clearing of his throat. Basically, it’s all very awkward.

  ‘Here we are,’ Valerie says finally. We’ve pulled up outside an unremarkable terraced house on an unremarkable street. There’s a gnome smoking a pipe outside the door, a campaign poster for the Green Party in the front window.

  ‘It’s nice,’ I say, and she looks at me like she thinks I’m being sarcastic. ‘Um. Are your housemates in?’

  ‘No, not right now. Emma’s pulling an all-nighter at the library. Chlo’s at home this week. She says it’s easier to revise there and she only lives in Hull. Neesh is at work, but she might be back later, unless she goes to her boyfriend’s house. Come on.’ She unbuckles her seatbelt and opens her door without looking at me, as if she’s sensed that I’m wondering if Neesh’s boyfriend is the one she slept with and wants to avoid that conversation.

  I glance back at Connor, who smiles at me. ‘All good?’ he asks. Thank God he’s here.

  ‘Ish,’ I say.

  We get out of the car and follow Valerie to the front door, which she’s lifting her key to open. ‘I’ll show you the—’ she begins, but she’s interrupted by the door swinging open and a tall, beaming figure who comes bounding over the threshold.

  ‘Hi!’ the figure says, stopping in front of me. She radiates cheerfulness, which after the stifling quiet of the car feels like actual sunshine. ‘Vee! Is this Eden?!’

  Vee. ‘Yeah,’ Valerie says. ‘What are you—’

  ‘It’s so great to meet you!’ the figure interrupts, sticking out her hand for me to shak
e. I do, a bit dazedly. ‘I’m Emma. And you’re Connor, right? Hi!’

  ‘What happened to the library?’ Valerie asks, sweeping her hair back from her face.

  ‘I took a break,’ Emma says. ‘I wanted to meet the famous Eden.’ She grins at me. ‘I couldn’t believe it when Vee said you were visiting! After three years! And with all that shit happening with your friend!’

  ‘Um,’ I say.

  ‘Did Vee tell you I shagged my teacher once?’

  We’re all still standing outside the front door. At these words, Connor coughs.

  ‘Uh . . .’

  ‘I was nineteen. Home for Christmas. Saw him in a club on New Year’s. I’d always fancied him, so I was like, go for it, Emma!’

  ‘Emma—’ Valerie says.

  ‘And let me tell you, it’s one of those things where you don’t realize what a shit idea it is until you do it. The guy was in his thirties! And he had such a tiny knob.’ She cackles, eyes dancing, and I can’t help it – I laugh right along with her. I look over at Connor, whose face is bright red. ‘Anyway, you live, you learn, right? Do you have any bags? I’ll help you bring them in. Vee! We had a party while you were gone. You missed Badger falling down the stairs! He’s fine, though. Just a couple of stitches and he says the scar will make him cooler.’

  ‘Stitches?’ Valerie repeats, looking alarmed.

  ‘Just a couple, don’t worry,’ Emma says, throwing back a smile, and I realize two things. One, that even when she’s Vee, Valerie is the responsible one who worries, but that Emma genuinely likes this about her. Two, that ‘Badger’ is Emma’s boyfriend, and that he’s the one Valerie slept with. There’s just something in both their voices that gives it away to me, and then Valerie glances involuntarily at me, and I know for sure. ‘Where are you all sleeping?’ Emma asks, leading the way into the house. ‘I’m doing an all-nighter and then going straight to Badger’s, so one of you can have my bed, if you want?’

  ‘Would you mind?’ Valerie asks. ‘I can take it, then Eden can have my bed, and Connor can sleep on the sofa.’

  She can’t seriously think Connor will actually be sleeping on the sofa if I’m in an empty bed just down the hall. Does she think that just because I told her we haven’t had sex yet that we wouldn’t want to share a bed?