Goodbye, Perfect

by Sara Barnard

  I feel, suddenly, really, really stupid. What am I doing here? What the actual fuck am I doing here?

  ‘I love that you did this,’ Bonnie continues, oblivious. ‘And I forgive you for just dropping in on me without a warning first.’

  I blink. ‘You forgive me?’

  ‘Jack won’t be happy about that. But this was the only way to do it, right? If you’d told me you were coming, I would’ve had to have told Jack, and he’d probably have said we should leave before you got here. Especially if we’d known about Connor coming too. And Valerie?! Did you have to bring her, Eeds?’

  ‘She’s the driver,’ I say, which is minimalist, but accurate.

  ‘Since when do you even talk to Valerie?’ she asks, and something about her tone makes my hackles, already prickling, rise.

  ‘She has a car,’ I say. ‘And she’s been pretty great, actually.’

  ‘Really? All that stuff down there about boundaries and abducting a minor? It’s so cold, you know? Doesn’t she have feelings?’

  I frown. ‘She’s right, though.’

  Bonnie shakes her head. ‘Only from one point of view, which is if you completely disregard the emotional level. I love Jack, and she’s saying that doesn’t matter? How does that make any sense?’

  ‘I’m not sure that’s what she—’

  ‘It’s all technicalities, Eden. How old I am right now, what his job is right now, that stuff. It’s so arbitrary. Did you know the legal age of consent in Denmark is fifteen? Doesn’t that just say everything?’

  I wait for her to elaborate on what this ‘everything’ is, but she doesn’t, so I say, ‘But we’re not in Denmark.’

  She rolls her eyes. ‘Yeah, I know that, Eeds. What I mean is that there are all these, like, caveats to us being in a relationship, but none of them factor in the most important thing, which is that we love each other.’

  This doesn’t sound right to me, but I don’t know how to say so. I feel hot and fizzing with confusion and frustration, and it’s making my brain, which doesn’t work fast enough to keep up with her at the best of times, panic and freeze. And anyway, isn’t Bonnie the smart one? She’s the one in the top sets, the one with all the As. Why am I questioning her? Of course she’d know better than me.

  ‘You understand, don’t you?’ she prompts. ‘You get it.’

  I could agree. It’s what she wants. I could tell her that she’s right, that all of this is worth it in the name of love. I could leave with all her secrets intact, give them a head start on the police. I could save our friendship in letting her go.

  ‘Not really,’ I say.

  Bonnie frowns. ‘You agree with all of them? You think that because some random guy fifty years ago decided that the age of consent should be sixteen, I shouldn’t be allowed to choose to be with the man I love?’

  I swallow past the tightness in my throat. ‘But it’s not just about that, is it?’ What was it Bob said a few days ago? Something about power? What was it? Come on, Eden. ‘I think it’s more of a thing that Mr Cohn is your teacher, and so he’s, like . . .’ Her darkening expression is twisting my insides into knots, but I steel myself. ‘I read this thing about grooming—’

  ‘Oh my God,’ she bursts out. ‘No way. Not you, too.’

  ‘OK, but listen—’

  ‘I don’t have to listen to another person talking like they know my own relationship better than I do. Grooming! For God’s sake! You only say that because you don’t know him.’

  ‘Well, of course I don’t know him,’ I say. ‘He’s my teacher. I’m not supposed to know him.’

  This silences her. She stares at me for a moment, and I’m proud of myself for getting in such a killer, inarguable point before she starts shaking her head, all slow and disappointed.

  ‘You don’t understand,’ she says. ‘And you’re not even trying to.’

  ‘I’ve been trying to understand all week,’ I say, stung. ‘I basically haven’t done anything else but try and understand.’

  Her eyebrows lift, like, Yeah, right, and it’s so unfair, after everything I’ve done for her, that for a second I want to stand up and leave. I don’t, though. I try again. ‘But Mr Cohn is your teacher, Bon. He’s in, like . . . a position of authority, so he has a kind of power over you. It’s not equal, and that’s the problem.’

  ‘His name is Jack,’ she says coldly. ‘And our relationship is totally equal. He loves me. He respects me. He’d never, ever hurt me. He’s given up everything to be with me. And just because you don’t get that, it means it’s not real?’

  ‘It’s not—’

  ‘You don’t understand that because you don’t feel that way about anyone, and no one feels that way about you.’

  Words like a sucker punch. They feel physical. But I don’t crack. I take the hurt inside and hold it there, ready. Pain is fuel. ‘I have Connor, actually.’

  She rolls her eyes. ‘Oh, please. Connor.’

  OK, now I’m mad. ‘What the hell is that supposed to mean?’

  ‘Come on, Eden. You can’t compare Connor to Jack. Jack’s a man. Connor’s a boy.’

  ‘Yeah, that’s just one of the great things about him,’ I say.

  ‘You’re not passionate about Connor,’ she accuses. ‘You don’t have sex. Do you even fancy him?’

  My instinct is to tell her that, actually, Connor and I just had sex. Like, literally last night. But that would feel too much like point-scoring, like taking something perfect and special and turning it into a weapon. The whole thing is just so wrong. Bonnie’s my best friend. She should have been the person I spoke to afterwards, to gasp and shriek and discuss every detail with. And I should have been that person for her. But look at where we are instead.

  ‘I love him,’ I hiss out through gritted teeth. ‘And that’s about more than how much sex we’re having, for God’s sake.’

  ‘So no, then?’

  ‘What is wrong with you?’ I yell, surprising myself and, judging by the look on her face, Bonnie. ‘Why are you being like this? This isn’t you. You’re not stupid and selfish and mean.’

  There’s a moment when I think she’s going to yell back at me, but then her face crumples and she turns away from me. I hear the hitch of her breath before she says, quietly, ‘I’m sorry. You’re right. I’m sorry.’

  I wait, my heart feeling strangely heavy in my chest, for what comes next. Is this the moment of revelation?

  ‘I just . . . I love him so much.’

  Nope.

  ‘But it’s still been so hard. And I just have to keep telling myself – reminding myself, I mean – that it’s all worth it.’

  I let this digest, then translate. ‘So you’re being mean because you feel guilty?’

  ‘No. I don’t feel guilty.’ She says this with far too much conviction for it to be completely true. ‘It’s just not easy. And knowing everyone is against me and I have to try so hard to explain everything.’

  ‘Bon,’ I start, then hesitate. ‘Bon, are you sure you’re not just in denial?’

  There’s a silence. ‘Denial?’ she repeats, but quietly, like she’s saying it to herself and not me.

  ‘About whether this is really the right decision,’ I say. I try hard to keep my voice soft and gentle. ‘And the effect it’s having on you.’

  ‘What difference does it make anyway?’ she asks, finally raising her gaze to meet mine again. ‘It’s done now.’

  ‘It makes a big difference,’ I say. ‘You can change your mind, you know. You can come home.’

  She half laughs. ‘No, I can’t.’

  ‘Of course you can. You can just leave with me. We’ll drive home together.’

  A pause. The wheels turning in her brain almost visible on her face. Oh my God. Oh my God. This might happen. I might actually turn this around.

  ‘I can’t leave Jack,’ she says.

  ‘You can,’ I say. ‘And this isn’t even about him. It’s about what’s best for you. Isn’t that what he wants, too? The bes
t for you?’

  Bonnie’s whole face is a crease of confusion now. ‘But I love him.’

  ‘Bon, you can love him in Kent.’

  ‘They’re going to arrest him if we go back.’

  ‘Then he can get a good lawyer,’ I say. ‘And you can—’

  ‘Girls.’ And there he is. Mr Cohn, standing in the doorway. How the fuck long has he been there? ‘All OK in here?’

  ‘Everything’s fine,’ I blurt, but Bonnie is already untangling her legs and easing herself off the bed, an instinctive smile on her face at the sight of him. And more than anything else, it’s that smile that does it. I know I’m not going to convince her, and what’s more, it was never a possibility, not really. I lost her to Jack Cohn a long time ago. I was the one in denial.

  ‘I heard some shouting,’ he says, smiling back at Bonnie and reaching out a hand.

  ‘Sir?’ I say, and he frowns.

  ‘Jack,’ he corrects.

  ‘Can you get my sister for me?’

  Mr Cohn glances at Bonnie, who nods like she’s vouching for me or something. He hesitates a little – what does he think I’m going to do? – then turns to leave.

  I wait until he’s gone before I reach for Bonnie’s hand and pull her back down beside me. ‘Bon, I love you, but I’m going to go.’

  Her smile disappears. ‘Already?’

  ‘I can’t stay here. Unless you want the police looking for me, Valerie and Connor as well.’

  ‘You’d be good company,’ she says.

  ‘I thought you had all the company you needed?’ I can hear the sound of footsteps coming back up the wooden stairs.

  ‘I miss my best friend,’ she replies.

  ‘Hey,’ Valerie says, sticking her head around the door. ‘You requested my presence?’

  ‘To let you know that I’m ready to go,’ I say.

  Valerie hesitates, her eyes flitting from me to Bonnie. ‘Just you?’ she asks.

  I nod. ‘Just me.’ I take a deep breath and turn back to Bonnie. ‘Listen. I’m not going to cover for you any more. When I get home I’m going to tell them what I know, OK? So wherever you go next, you’ll be on your own.’

  Bonnie closes her eyes, then slowly opens them again. ‘Eden,’ she begins.

  ‘No, seriously,’ I say. ‘I’ve said everything I can say. If I can’t convince you to come back, that means I can’t be part of this any more, either. You can understand that, can’t you?’ When she doesn’t say anything, I add, ‘If you want to be running forever, this is what that means.’

  As I say this, Valerie comes into the room to stand beside me. I feel her hand, steady and reassuring, touch my shoulder. ‘Eden’s right, Bonnie,’ she says. ‘This can’t last, what you have here. It’s going to fall apart.’ As she speaks, Mr Cohn appears in the doorway and, beside him, Connor, eyes full of questions. I watch Valerie look directly at Mr Cohn. ‘There’s no happy ending here.’

  ‘Bonnie,’ Mr Cohn says. ‘We have to go.’

  A helpless kind of confusion takes over Bonnie’s face. She looks, suddenly, like the schoolgirl she is. ‘What? Why?’

  Valerie’s hand clenches over my shoulder. ‘Let’s go,’ she says to me.

  Bonnie and I look at each other.

  ‘Bonnie,’ Mr Cohn says again, his voice tight and tense. ‘We have to go. Now.’

  What the hell. If this is over, I might as well say it. ‘Are you really going to choose him over me? Me and your whole family?’

  Bonnie’s mouth opens, then closes again. Mr Cohn makes a motion to come further into the room, but Connor – sweet Connor – puts out his hand and stops him.

  ‘Come with us,’ I say.

  There’s a moment of total silence, all of us suspended in it. Enough time for minds to change and the rose-tinted glasses to fall off and Bonnie to come back to me.

  But they don’t, and she doesn’t.

  ‘No,’ she says, softly.

  Everything inside me deflates, slowly, like air from a balloon. Disappointment and failure and sadness and heartbreak and that dull, heavy ache of something lost forever. ‘OK,’ I say. I stand up and walk straight towards the door, grabbing Connor’s hand and squeezing it so tight it must hurt him, but he just squeezes back. I can feel Valerie following me without a word, and we all walk down the stairs together, leaving the fugitives alone together in the bedroom, like they wanted. My heart is pounding into pieces.

  ‘What now?’ Connor asks, but quietly.

  ‘We have to leave,’ Valerie says, grabbing her shoes. ‘Whatever we do, we have to do it before they do.’

  I don’t know what she means by this, but in this mess she is the only one whose judgement I trust, so I just nod.

  Valerie pauses for just a second to tilt her head and meet my gaze. She touches her hand to my face, gentle like Carolyn would. ‘You’re OK,’ she says. A statement, not a question.

  ‘Let’s go,’ I say.

  So we do. All three of us together, walking out of the house and out on to the porch, ready to face whatever it is that comes next.

  Except we’re not. Because what comes next is the police.

  24

  Dozens of police, all waiting in front of us, on the driveway, on the lawn, on the street.

  Connor, Valerie and I all freeze, right there on the top step. She looks as shocked as I feel, but still I hear myself say, ‘You called them already?’

  There’s a clatter behind me and Bonnie’s voice, ‘Wait, just—’, which is all she manages before the tableau in front of her registers and she makes this tiny whimper that sounds a lot like ‘Eden?’ that pierces my heart, and there’s just one more second of frozen agony before life bursts back into full action and all hell breaks loose.

  Split second one: A police officer holding a taser – a taser – shouts something that my head can’t translate because . . . taser.

  Split second two: Both Connor and Valerie jump in front of me, crashing into each other so hard that Valerie falls down the steps.

  Split second three: Three police officers run forward.

  Split second four: There’s a crash behind the house – a door slamming against its frame – and the sound of someone running.

  Split second five: Everyone starts shouting.

  Split second six: Five police officers take off in that direction.

  Split second seven: Bonnie lunges after them.

  Split second eight: A police officer catches her before she’s made it two metres down the drive.

  Split second nine: Bonnie lets out a noise I’ve never heard before, a wail of pure, defeated pain that cuts across the mayhem and stops it dead. Everyone freezes, turning to look at her, bent double, caught in the police officer’s arms.

  Somehow I’m still standing on the top step. Connor has both his hands on my upper arm. Valerie is grimacing in pain on the concrete below. I hear a crackle of static from a radio, and then a voice saying, ‘Suspect secured.’

  And just like that, it’s over.

  Except it’s not, of course, because the end of something is always just the beginning of something else. This is the end of Bonnie being missing, the end of her ‘adventure’, but I know there are countless questions to come, not just from the police all around us, but from our parents, journalists and basically everyone back home. There’ll be a court case. Lawyers and statements and a judge. Recriminations and blame. Tears. Heartbreak. Acts of destruction are usually pretty brief, in the long run, but it’s the fallout that lasts. Not just months, but years.

  Right now, though, there’s Scottish soil beneath my feet and a frenzy of confusion all around me. The police swarm, and I lose track of Bonnie, and strangers come out of their houses to gawp at the circus, and Valerie tries to walk on her foot, and it’s so painful that she cries, and my music teacher is being pulled into a police car in handcuffs, and my phone is vibrating with a call from HOME, over and over and over, and Connor is taking my hand and squeezing, and someone is taking pictures, and we’re
being guided into a police car, and no one will tell me what’s going on.

  We get driven to a police station, where Connor and I sit in timid silence while Valerie argues with a liaison officer about whether she should go to the hospital for her foot or not. It’s through this conversation that I learn that we’re going to be put on a plane home, along with Bonnie, who is being looked after somewhere else in the station, as soon as physically possible. Valerie wants to come with us and deal with her foot back home, but she’s worried about her car, and the liaison officer – whose name is Lorraine – is worried that a potentially broken foot should be dealt with straight away.

  ‘I don’t want to get stuck here with a car I can’t drive if my foot really is broken,’ Valerie says. ‘But I also don’t want to leave my car behind.’

  ‘We’ll get your car driven back to you,’ Lorraine says. ‘That can be done.’

  I’m surprised and impressed by this level of service for about ten seconds, until I remember that Valerie was basically working for them for the last couple of days, and delivering her car back is really the least they can do. Especially as it now seems clear that the police never actually trusted her. At least, not as much as she thought they did. They weren’t just tracking her car; they were tracking her phone, too. There was never a moment when they didn’t know exactly where we were. It seems like everyone involved in this whole mission was double-crossing someone. Except Connor, of course.

  Lorraine leaves us alone for a few minutes to get an ice pack and painkillers, and Valerie turns to me. ‘Are you OK?’ she asks, which is sweet, considering she’s the one in actual pain.

  ‘I don’t understand what’s happening,’ I say. ‘Where’s Bonnie?’

  ‘Getting checked over and debriefed, most likely,’ she says. ‘But they’ll be getting her on a plane back home as soon as they can.’

  ‘Why?’ I ask. I’d assumed they’d want to do loads of questioning before bothering about planes.