Radio Silence

by Alice Oseman

The whole thing was desperately sad and I knew that I had to get them talking again, even if it was literally the last thing I ever did.

  “Anyway, one day I just had to get out.” She finished her drink and put the glass down. “If I stayed there, I would have been miserable for the rest of my life. She’d have made me do A levels, probably repeat a year when I inevitably failed them, and then I’d struggle to get a job that matched up to my mum’s expectations.” She shrugged. “So I just left. Tracked down my grandparents – my dad’s parents – and lived with them for a while. My dad’s a goner, but my grandparents always stayed in touch. Then I got involved with the National Youth Theatre, managed to get funding for one of their acting courses I’d auditioned for. Then applied for a job here.” She flipped her hair like a film star, making me laugh. “And now my life’s great! Living with friends, a fun job doing something I enjoy. Life isn’t all textbooks and grades.”

  I felt a glow at the knowledge that she was happy.

  I had expected to learn a lot of things about Carys Last when I found her, but that was not one of them.

  “But …” She leaned back in her seat. “I am sorry that Aled’s having a rough time.”

  “I’ve been really worried about him since he stopped making Universe City.”

  Carys tilted her head. Her white-blonde hair shimmered a little under the LED lights of the bar. “Making … university?”

  And then I realised.

  Carys had no idea what Universe City was about.

  “You-you don’t know the story of Universe City.” I brought my hand up to my forehead. “Oh my God.”

  She stared at me, baffled.

  And then I told her everything that had happened in Universe City. Including about February Friday.

  Her icy expression melted as I spoke. Her eyes widened. She shook her head several times.

  “I assumed you knew,” I said, once I’d finished. “I mean … you’re twins.”

  She snorted. “We don’t have a psychic connection.”

  “No, I thought he would have told you.”

  “Aled doesn’t say anything.” She was frowning again, deep in thought. “He doesn’t bloody say anything.”

  “I thought that might have been why you chose the name February—”

  “February is my middle name.”

  There was a piercing silence.

  “And it was all for me, was it?” she asked.

  “Well … it was mostly for him, really. But he wanted you to listen. He wanted to talk to you.”

  Eventually she sighed. “I always thought you two were similar.”

  I spun the straw round my glass. “Why?”

  “You never say what you’re actually thinking.”

  FAMILY

  We stayed there for a while longer, talking about our lives. She was only three months older than me, but she was ten times as adult. She’d done job interviews, she paid bills and taxes and drank red wine. I couldn’t even make a doctor’s appointment by myself.

  When it got to nine thirty I said I’d better leave, so she paid for our drinks (despite my protests) and we left to walk back to Waterloo station.

  I still hadn’t managed to ask her to help Aled somehow, and this was the only chance I was going to get.

  After we’d hugged to say goodbye in the middle of the station, I asked her.

  “Is there any chance you’d-you’d get in touch with Aled?” I said in a quiet voice.

  She seemed unsurprised. Her face resumed her classic expressionless mask. “That’s the main reason you came to find me, right?”

  “Well … yeah.”

  “Hm. You must really like him.”

  “He’s … the best friend … I’ve ever had.” I immediately felt a bit pathetic for saying it.

  “That’s cute,” she said. “But— I don’t think I can talk to him again.”

  My stomach dropped. “What— Why?”

  “I’ve just—” She fidgeted awkwardly. “I’ve put that life behind me. I’ve moved on. It’s not any of my business any more.”

  “But … he’s your brother. He’s your family.”

  “Family means nothing,” she said, and I knew she believed it. “You have no obligation to love your family. It wasn’t your choice to be born.”

  “But— Aled’s good, he’s— I think he needs help and he won’t talk to me—”

  “It’s just not my business any more!” she said, raising her voice slightly. No one noticed – people were rushing about around us, their voices echoing around the station. “I can’t go back, Frances. I made my decision to leave and not look back. Aled will be fine at university, it’s where he’s always been destined for. Honestly, trust me, I grew up with him. If anyone was supposed to be at university doing some sort of difficult academic degree, it’d be him. He’s probably having the time of his life.”

  And I realised then that I didn’t believe her.

  He’d told me he didn’t want to go. Back in the summer. He’d said he didn’t want to go to university and nobody listened. And now there he was. When I’d called him in December, he’d sounded like he wanted to die.

  “He wrote the Letters to February to you,” I said. “For you. Even when you were still at home, he was making Universe City and hoping you’d find out and talk to him.”

  She said nothing.

  “Do you care?”

  “Obviously, but—”

  “Please,” I said. “Please. I’m scared.”

  She shook her head slightly. “Scared of what?”

  “That he’s going to disappear,” I said. “Just like you did.”

  She froze, and then looked down.

  I almost wanted her to feel guilty about it.

  I wanted her to feel how I’d felt for two years.

  She chuckled.

  “You’re guilt-tripping me, Frances,” she said, grinning. “I think I liked you more when you were a massive pushover.”

  I shrugged. “I’m just telling the truth this time.”

  “Well, there’s power in truth, or something.”

  “Are you going to help him?”

  She drew in a deep breath, narrowed her eyes, and put her hands in her pockets.

  “Yes,” she said.

  THE ‘INCIDENT’

  We went to Carys’s house for her to pick up some clothes, then to St Pancras to get the train back to mine. It was too late to get a train all the way up north to Aled’s university, so we decided to sleep at mine and head off in the morning. I’d texted my mum about it and she’d said that was fine.

  We spoke only a little on the train. It felt almost surreal to be with her like this again – sitting on opposite sides of a table, staring out of the window into the dark. So many things were different, but the way she leaned on her hand and the way her eyes flickered were exactly the same.

  We reached my house and she stepped inside and took off her shoes. “Wow. Nothing’s changed.”

  I laughed. “We’re not big into DIY.”

  Mum entered the hallway from the kitchen. “Carys! Cor, I like your hair. I had a fringe like that once. Looked terrible on me.”

  Carys laughed too. “Thanks! I can actually see these days.”

  Carys made small-talk with my mum for a few minutes and then we headed up to bed – it was going on midnight. It was dark outside, but the streetlamps shone in a little, a dim orange glow amid the dark blue.

  “D’you remember when I slept over your house that time?” she asked me, after I’d changed into my pyjamas in the bathroom.

  “Oh, yeah,” I said, as if I’d only just remembered. I hadn’t forgotten. It had been two days before the ‘incident’. We’d crashed here after Carys had dragged me to another house party I didn’t really want to go to. “You were drunk, haha.”

  “Yeah.”

  She went to clean her teeth and change into pyjamas and I tried to ignore how awkward I felt and the way Carys kept looking at me.

  We both got into my
double bed. I turned the ceiling lights off and put my fairy lights on, then Carys rolled her head towards me and said, “What’s it like to be clever?”

  I huffed out a laugh, but couldn’t really look at her. I looked at the fairy lights on the ceiling instead. “Why do you think I’m clever?”

  “I mean, grades. You get good grades. What’s that like?”

  “It’s … not that special. It’s useful, I guess. Useful.”

  “Yeah, that makes sense.” She rolled her head away and looked up at the ceiling too. “Would have been useful. My mum kept trying to make me get good grades. Wouldn’t work. I’m just not clever.”

  “You’re clever in more important ways though.”

  She looked at me again and grinned. “Aw. That’s cute.”

  I glanced at her and couldn’t resist a smile. “What? It’s true.”

  “You’re cute.”

  “I’m not cute.”

  “You are.” She brought up a hand to brush my hair. “Your hair looks cute like this.” She stroked my cheek gently with one finger. “I forgot you have freckles. Cute.”

  “Stop saying ‘cute’,” I said, with a snort of laughter.

  She just kept on stroking my cheek with her fingertips. After a while I rolled my head to face her, only to find we were just centimetres apart. Her skin flashed blue from the fairy lights, then softly changed to pink, then green, then blue again.

  “I’m sorry—” My voice cracked before I could get the words out. “—I’m sorry I wasn’t a better friend.”

  “You mean you’re sorry you kissed me,” she said.

  “Yeah,” I whispered.

  “Hm.” She dropped her hand, and then I realised what she was about to do and I couldn’t think of a way to say no in time, so I just let her lean forward and press her lips to mine.

  I let it happen for a couple of minutes. It was fine. Somewhere in the time that it was happening, I realised that I was not attracted to her any more, and I did not want this to be happening at all.

  Also in that time, she rolled over so her elbow was on the other side of my head and she was almost leaning on top of me, a leg pressed against me, and she kissed slowly, like she was trying to make up for shouting at me two years ago. I got the impression that she’d kissed quite a lot of people in between then and now.

  After I’d finished processing what was happening, I broke away by turning my head to one side.

  “I don’t … want that,” I said.

  She stayed very still for a moment. And then she moved off me and laid back on the bed.

  “Okay,” she said. “That’s fine.”

  There was a pause.

  “You don’t secretly have a crush on me, do you?” I asked.

  She smiled to herself.

  “No,” she said. “I just wanted to say sorry. An apology kiss.”

  “Apology for what?”

  “I literally screamed at you for a good ten minutes just because you kissed me.”

  We both laughed.

  I felt relieved.

  I felt relieved mostly because I definitely did not have a crush on Carys any more.

  “Has Aled got a girlfriend?” she asked.

  “Oh … you don’t know that either …”

  “What?”

  “Aled, erm … d’you remember his friend Daniel?”

  “They’re a thing?” Carys let out a witch cackle. “That’s brilliant. That is brilliant. I hope it pisses Mum right off.”

  I laughed because I didn’t know what to say.

  She tucked her hands underneath her cheek.

  “Can we listen to Universe City?” she asked.

  “You want to listen to an episode?”

  “Yeah. I’m curious.”

  I rolled over so I was facing her again and rummaged under my pillow for my phone. I loaded up the first episode – might as well start at the beginning – and pressed play.

  As Aled’s voice started to sound across the room, Carys moved again so she was lying on her back. She listened to Aled’s voice and stared up at the ceiling. She didn’t make any comments or even show much of a reaction, though she did smile at a few of the funny lines. After a few minutes, I started to zone out too, feeling like I was about to fall asleep, and then all I knew was Aled’s voice, speaking to us from the air above our heads, speaking to us as if he were here in the room. When the episode finished, the final chords of ‘Nothing Left For Us’ fading away into nothing, the room felt painfully empty and so quiet. Silent.

  I glanced over at Carys and was surprised to find her still in the same position, blinking slowly as if in deep thought. And then a tear dripped down from the corner of her eye.

  “That was sad,” she murmured. “That was really sad.”

  I didn’t say anything.

  “He was doing this all that time. Even before I left … he was calling.”

  She closed her eyes.

  “I wish I could be as subtle and beautiful. All I know how to do is scream …”

  I rolled over to face her. “Why didn’t you want to help him?”

  “I’m scared,” she whispered.

  “Of what?”

  “That if I see him, I won’t be able to leave him again.”

  She fell asleep almost immediately after that and I decided to text Aled. I doubted he would reply. Maybe he wouldn’t even see it. But I wanted to do it all the same.

  Frances Janvier

  Hey Aled, hope you’re okay pal. Just wanted you to know that I found Carys, and we’re coming to see you tomorrow at your university. We’re really worried about you and love you and miss you xxx

  UNIVERSE CITY: Ep. 1 – dark blue

  UniverseCity 109,982 views

  In Distress. Stuck in Universe City. Send Help.

  Scroll down for transcript >>>

  […]

  I am not in love with you, but you, my friend, I want to tell you everything. Long ago I was afflicted with a terrible predisposition to never say a word, and I honestly cannot understand why or how that happened. C’est la vie.

  But there is something about you which makes me wish I could speak like you do – I’ve watched you from afar and you really are the best person that I have met in my whole life. You possess the ability to make people listen to you without question, even if you don’t often use it. I almost want to be you. Does that make any sense? I bet it doesn’t. I’m just rambling on. I’m sorry.

  Anyway. I hope, when one day we meet again, you will listen to me, and pay attention. I do not have anyone else to whom I could say these things. You might not even be listening now. Then again, you do not have to listen if you do not want to. Who am I to make you do anything? I’m not, I’m nothing. But you – oh, you – why, I’d listen to you for hours.

  […]

  5. SPRING TERM (b)

  ART REFLECTS LIFE

  “Btw, I’m broke,” Raine said through the open window of her tiny Ford Ka. “So I hope you guys have cash on you.”

  I’d called Raine the next morning, praying she would be up for the ‘rescue Aled from university’ plan, which, of course, she was.

  “I’ll pay petrol,” said Carys as she climbed into the back seat.

  Raine watched her with amazement.

  “I’m Carys,” said Carys.

  “Yeah,” said Raine. “Wow.” She realised she was staring and cleared her throat. “I’m Raine. You don’t look much like Aled.”

  “Well, we are twins, but we’re not actually the same person.”

  I moved the seat back up and sat down. “You sure you’re okay to drive us all the way up north?”

  Raine shrugged. “Beats going to school.”

  Carys chuckled. “Very true.”

  Just as Raine started the engine, I had a sudden thought.

  “D’you think we should see if Daniel wants to come?”

  Raine and Carys turned to look at me.

  “I think if he knew about all this, he’d … he’d want to come,
” I said.

  “You are literally the most thoughtful person on this Earth,” said Raine.

  Carys shrugged. “The more the merrier.”

  I took out my phone and called Daniel. I told him everything.

  “All okay?” said Raine.

  “Yep. We need to pick him up.”

  Carys was staring out of the window.

  Raine looked at her in the rear-view mirror and said, “You all right, mate? What are you looking at?”

  “Don’t worry. Let’s go.”

  We drove to his house to pick him up. He was sat waiting on the low brick wall outside his house, wearing a burgundy jumper under his school suit. He looked slightly like he was about to have an anxiety attack.

  I got out of the car to let him climb in next to Carys. He sat down and they exchanged a long look.

  “Jesus fucking Christ,” he said. “You’re back.”

  “I’m back,” she said. “And it’s good to see you too.”

  It was a six-hour drive. It started off fairly tense – Raine seemed to be a bit wary of Carys in the same way that I used to be, mainly because Carys was extremely intimidating. Daniel kept passing his phone from hand to hand and asking me to repeat exactly what had happened to Aled over Christmas.

  Around two hours into the drive we stopped at a service station so Raine could fuel up on coffee and we could all go to the loo. As we were heading back to the car, wind blowing around the car park, Raine asked Carys, “So where’d you disappear off to, then?”

  “London,” said Carys. “I work for the National Theatre, I run workshops and stuff. Pays pretty well.”

  “Mate! I know the National. I saw War Horse there a few years ago.” Raine stared at Carys intently. “Didn’t you need any qualifications for that?”

  “No,” said Carys. “They didn’t even ask.”

  Daniel frowned at this, and Raine didn’t say anything in response, but her mouth stretched into a grin, and as Carys was climbing back into the car, Raine murmured to me, “I like her.”

  Things in the car eased up a bit after that. Raine let me take control of her iPod so I put Madeon on, but Daniel grumbled that it was too loud, so I gave up and put on Radio 1. Carys stared through her sunglasses out of the window like she was Audrey Hepburn.