The Harper Effect

by Taryn Bashford

  ‘The usual. Everything and nothing. I can’t remember. Are you helping with this or what?’ I thud a bag of sugar on the counter.

  ‘You remember our oath about boys – our blood on the pink guitar picks?’

  ‘Of course. What are you suggesting? Jacob and I are just finding our way – just like you are – we have to learn how to be the Raggers again. Stop seeing stuff that isn’t there.’

  Aria flicks her scarf like a whip as she joins me in the kitchen then ties it around her neck. ‘Maybe you’re right. I’m just being paranoid. But you two seem to be closer than ever and I’m back in your shadow – same as before I got together with Jacob.’

  ‘That’s so not true.’ I open the pantry, ready to take a hundred years to find the flour.

  Did she go out with Jacob to escape the shadow of the Harper Show? I realise she must’ve really resented me. My childhood ended abruptly – but thanks to me, so did Aria’s. I took Dad away, was absent so much it broke up the Raggers, and grabbed the spotlight at home. All while my dreams came true. For the first time, I comprehend I might have done the same thing she did, had the situation been reversed. And now I have Jacob too.

  Aria seizes the scales and dumps in too much sugar. She tips some back into the paper bag. We make pancakes, but she’s quieter than usual, going through the motions. I jabber too much to fill the silences, certain I deserve nothing better than to strangle myself with Aria’s scarf.

  ‘Colt and I have been talking,’ says Milo, pulling at his baseball cap. It’s 6 am and raining. ‘He’s admitted to overtraining and that’s not good on every level – physical, emotional, mental. I’m telling you this, Harper, to ensure you don’t get the same idea.’ Colt shakes the rain from his hair. ‘It’s easy to get sucked into when you’re determined to achieve your goals, but ultimately it’s counterproductive.’

  With Kominsky I’d trained hard, but now I see it was only a 90 per cent effort, probably because I became afraid of not being good enough – if I didn’t try hard, I couldn’t fail. But now I want to give 150 per cent. Every competitive cell in my body is screaming at me to win because I’m beginning to think I can actually do this – so I understand why Colt’s overtraining.

  ‘We’re concentrating on that wandering ball toss of yours when Colt’s hitting partner gets here, Dampfnudel. Then fitness training. One week until the Bangkok Futures. Let’s go.’ Milo claps sharply.

  Colt wipes at the strands of wet hair stuck to my face. My cheeks flare, his finger a match striking on skin, hot against the cool rain. I search for something to mirror for Colt as he blinks rain from his lashes, but I’m inexplicably embarrassed and take off for a warm-up jog instead.

  Our fitness training is a tandem bike ride, but Milo converts the bike into an instrument of torture. We speed-race up and down a footpath in a nearby park until Milo finds a hill to scale. We work as a team. When one of us needs to pull back due to cramp or the fatal lack of air, we code-call child, and when we’re ready to take on the main work we shout Milo. Then purple when we stand in the pedals to pump up the hill.

  When Milo calls time, we fall sideways off the bike, huffing next to each other on the grass. Milo’s chuffed face materialises above us. ‘Same again tomorrow?’

  Arms flung over his head, Colt says, ‘One day, we’ll get you back for this, old man.’

  ‘One day, you’ll kiss my feet with gratitude,’ replies Milo.

  Colt sits up. ‘Only if they’re made of bacon and eggs.’

  The heavens open and Milo waves and jogs to his Saab convertible.

  Unable to stand yet, I tilt my face and open my mouth to drink the rain, which is both sweet and cool. From this angle, some of the drops look bigger and I bop around to trap them. When I glance back at Colt he’s watching me, his wide eyes sparkling.

  ‘What?’ I ask, wiping the rain from my face with a flat palm.

  ‘You. I like that you enjoy the small things in life. And that you can be a bit silly.’

  I’m searching for a retort to his criticism until I realise the look in his eyes is approval. My heart cartwheels like one of Milo’s racquets.

  I have an hour to eat and shower before Mr Fraser arrives for my tutoring. The house should be deserted, but the French doors in the kitchen remain open, and Aria is sitting out on the deck facing the pool.

  She never simply sits.

  She’s always cooking or playing music or reading or walking. Besides, I realise with a prick of unease, she’s not even supposed to be home.

  ‘Aria? Why aren’t you at your audition?’ I step onto the deck. She stiffens. ‘Aria?’ She’s wearing pyjamas. My stomach somersaults. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘I’d be playing right at this moment.’ Her words are soft staccato notes.

  ‘Why aren’t you?’

  She sags and rocks forward, bundles herself into a ball on the chair, and sobs. I blanket her with my body, wanting to absorb all the sadness. She stiffens so it’s like hugging someone who’s wearing armour. I slowly loosen myself from her and slump into a chair, rub her arm. ‘You took a gap year. You’ve practised and practised. Did the nerves get to you?’

  Her lips contort. ‘It’s Jacob.’ She shudders and tightens the hold around her legs.

  My heart shrivels and pants, as if it got stuffed into a dark, tiny box too small to hold it. ‘Why? What’s he done?’

  ‘He’s always there, being himself and making me love him more and more and it – hurts. Too. Much.’ The last two words are more of a wail.

  The skin rips from my body.

  She holds her breath. Hiccups. ‘How can I go with him to the Con every day for the next few years when the more time we spend together the more I miss him? What if he finds a girlfriend?’ Aria rocks herself, rubbing her shins. ‘I was stupid to think I could do it. I can’t even sleep properly. What if I never fall in love again because my heart is broken?’

  ‘But you’ve been fine.’ Guilt tears at me. ‘You’re moving on.’

  Eyes pink and crammed with gloom, she says, ‘I didn’t want to spoil everything. We had such a perfect childhood. I didn’t want to lose that as well. But it’s not working. I can’t do it. It’s breaking me instead.’

  Aria’s worked toward this audition since she turned thirteen. She can’t let a boy destroy her dreams. Love can’t be this destructive. Yet heartbreak did the same thing to Colt last year. Except in Aria’s case it’s me as well as Jacob who’ve hurt her, and now she’s utterly lost. Why did I ever kiss him back? I slap a hand over the sob that’s thickening in the back of my throat.

  Aria presses her lips together, sits straighter. ‘I need to get away.’ Pulling her pyjama sleeve over her fist, she uses it to wipe away any remaining tears. ‘I’ve decided to travel – apply to a music school in Paris or Rome.’ She stares at the roof of Jacob’s music studio just visible over the wall dividing our houses.

  Life suddenly resembles those towers we used to build out of blocks; as soon as we perfected the tower it would tilt and fall and explode into a hundred pieces. This time there is more than a mess of bricks. This time dreams are being lost, sisters split apart, friendships broken.

  The side kitchen door slams open and Venus and Adagio bounce in, followed by their long-haired master. Jacob’s face is fixed with worry. I’m taken aback at how handsome he is in a suit and tie. ‘Aria? Where’d you go?’

  Aria rushes to her feet, silences me with a warning look and the tiniest shake of her head. ‘I decided I didn’t want to go to the Con,’ she says. ‘I want to study overseas.’

  My stomach stretches and twists, knowing that each word must bite at her throat. I reach for her.

  ‘Don’t,’ she says. ‘I’m fine. I’m not unhappy about this decision. Honestly. I’m going to look up flights.’ She makes her face smile and sprints upstairs.

  It’s as if she’s dropped a gre
nade and run away, leaving Jacob and me to deal with the fallout. Jacob sits then stands. I fold myself in half on the chair. When I straighten, tears are tracking down Jacob’s cheeks and I badly want to erase the memory of his empty stare into the garden.

  ‘She didn’t duck out of the audition because of me, did she?’ he asks.

  I pull up my knees. If he finds out she gave up her dreams because of him, he’ll blame himself for the rest of his life. This isn’t some childish argument to solve with a tickle and an ice-cream. I have to minimise the damage. I have to catch the block tower before it hits the floor and explodes.

  ‘She wants to travel.’ I hiccup into my knees. ‘It’s not you.’

  ‘Really?’ His voice cracks, making me look up. He bites his bottom lip and rubs a crooked finger along his eyebrow. ‘Crap – everything’s changing so fast.’ For once he keeps his distance.

  But space and a remorseful silence can’t wash away my guilt, because Aria must love Jacob more than her dreams, more than her future.

  Jacob walks back into the kitchen and stares at Aria’s violin on the table.

  ‘Jeez, I’m sorry, Jacob. How did your audition go?’

  ‘Good. I think it was good enough.’

  ‘I bet you blew them away,’ I say. He stuffs bunched fists into his trouser pockets, taps a rhythm with his shoe against a table leg. I want to hug him. Kiss him. Instead, I say, ‘I should go to Aria.’

  ‘Harps?’ Jacob looks like a little boy lost. ‘Don’t ever change, Harps.’

  But it’s too late. I realise I’m no longer the person Jacob wants me to be. And that changing, moving away from the familiar and stepping into the new, is inevitable.

  If I didn’t exist, would Jacob love Aria?

  Losing myself in three-legged races, in repetitive serves and volleys, in tandem bike rides, in the monotonous sound of the ball on the racquet, helps me forget the riddle. But it doesn’t eradicate the growing darkness inside me. It’s like Aria’s decision to abandon her audition, her dream, shut out all the light. Each day Aria avoids both me and Jacob, and each day any remaining chinks of light splinter, then vanish. The weight of darkness is crushing me because the only way to fix this is to turn back time.

  I avoid Jacob. It’s impossible to explain that we can never be together. I know he thinks there’s still hope for us in the distant future when Aria finds someone else – if I’m honest, I thought that too. But Aria gave up her dreams both now and forever because of him, and I can’t deliver that parcel of guilt.

  We could hide our love forever and it wouldn’t be long enough.

  Mum and Dad haven’t changed toward Jacob, although I wonder what reason Aria gave them for her decision to study abroad. They’re being supportive, but I see them watching her when she’s not looking, trying to decode the riddle for themselves.

  Everyone’s more serious and subdued, as if someone turned down our volume. Except for Jacob.

  The night before I leave for Bangkok for the final two Futures tournaments of this season, Jacob jokes around at dinner, even getting into a tickling contest with me. I know it’s because he’s desperate to get my attention, and to touch me. I know he thinks it’s okay to act like this, because that’s what we did when we were the Raggers. But we’re not ten anymore. And he’s my sister’s ex. And she’s still in love with him. His breath in my ear, I wriggle to escape, but he sits on my legs and spread-eagles my arms. Instead of boyish victory in his eyes, the heat in his gaze makes my heart choke.

  I slip into a crack of despair. How do I stop loving him just because he’s the wrong person to fall for? Love isn’t a pilot light that can be switched on and off. It’s more of a fire you build and care for and stoke until it’s no longer under your control.

  When Dad announces bedtime, Jacob asks if he can steal a quick word with me. The darkness expands and sits like a truck on my chest. I guess he doesn’t know he’s the reason for Aria’s choice, but while we’re all changing, he’s still acting like we’re the Raggers. I glare at him, and his eyes reflect the disappointment littered in my own.

  Aria stacks plates so aggressively it’s no surprise she chips one. While Dad scolds her harder than he normally would, I follow Jacob into the shadows cast by the woods, waiting for his questions with my heart hung on a hook.

  Jacob nibbles on a cuticle. ‘What’s happening with Aria? She okay?’

  I wonder if he feels as wretched as I do about Aria leaving. I resist reaching for the comfort he could deliver in just one hug. ‘She’s determined to persuade Mum and Dad she made the right decision.’

  ‘Is she definitely going to Europe?’

  Freaking hell yes. ‘I guess.’

  He stops walking. ‘Are we okay?’ Jacob’s tone is pinched with worry. ‘Have you been avoiding me?’

  Even now, I have no answers. We agreed to keep it ‘friends’ until Aria got over him, found someone else, but now if I say we can never tell Aria we love each other, he’ll twig she’s leaving because of him. And while I need him to back off, I still love him; I won’t hurt him with that truth.

  ‘Sure, we’re okay. But we need to keep our distance – I think Aria’s suspicious.’

  ‘Shit. Did she say something?’

  I keep walking, but he stays rooted to the spot, collaring my wrist. He threads his fingers with mine then frowns at our linked hands. I will my heart to stay as small and hard as an uncrackable nut. I’ve missed his tender touch. With Aria going, somehow I need him more. A Colt-shaped thought sneaks in. It makes me uneasy to think a hug from him would probably make me need Jacob less. So maybe I am a little hooked on Colt. But I shake the thought away – Colt’s off limits too, thanks to his ex-girlfriend. This is my punishment for betraying my sister – both Jacob and Colt are barred.

  ‘Did she say something?’ repeats Jacob.

  Unlinking our hands, I shake my head and rub my upper arms. ‘Life will never be the same again,’ I whisper. I can’t imagine Aria’s bedroom without her. Something inside me unravels. My chin quivers.

  Jacob draws me in, kisses my head. I want to pull away, but some part of me clutches for comfort. All it takes is for him to leave his lips on my forehead and a warm summer’s breeze whisks through me, lifting the darkness. He feels familiar and safe and smells of popcorn and I raise my chin and can’t stop myself kissing him back and kissing him back and the tears slipping down my cheeks are tears of wretchedness followed by tears of self-hatred because I am so weak.

  I walk away from him in tatters, unsure I’ll ever be able to let him go.

  In the kitchen, Dad’s seated at the table, hands frozen in a steeple. When he inspects me, anger and confusion war across his face.

  ‘What the hell are you and Jacob doing, Harper?’ Dad never yells, but his words are a shouted whisper. Lips drawn taut, he adds, ‘I went to get something from the garage. I saw.’

  OhmyGodno.

  It’s one rip too many. I collapse into a chair, hug my shoulders, chin dipped onto my chest. Hunting for excuses and denials is pointless – my dad is not a stupid man. I could admit to everything – how we’ve loved each other for years and never acted on it, how we tried to fight it but love came anyway. But I already know none of it matters.

  ‘I don’t know where to start,’ Dad mutters.

  Scouring the ceiling, I blink wildly. ‘You don’t need to say anything. I’m trying to stop.’

  ‘No, Harper. You will end it!’ His flat palm wallops the table. My face warps. ‘It’s bad enough that one of my daughters has given up her dreams for Jacob.’ I wonder if he guessed or if Aria explained. ‘Not you, too. Not after everything.’

  My chin juts forward. ‘I wouldn’t let him affect my tennis.’

  ‘You can’t be sure of that.’ Head in his hands, he massages his scalp. The dishwasher whirs and the fridge rattles briefly. ‘What do you think it’d do to this
family if Aria found out? She’s lost the future she worked for because of Jacob. It would tear the two of you apart. And your mum and I –’ His voice stretches. ‘Do you think we could bear to see that?’

  I chop at my thigh with the side of a hand.

  ‘And Jacob. We love him like a son. But you and Aria come first. If he came between you –’ Tension makes the words hiss. ‘Put a stop to this now.’ His whole body is trembling.

  I know he’s right. I’m doing everything wrong, not only by my sister, but by everyone. I should be focusing on tennis, on becoming stronger, on winning. I’ve taken the sparkle out of Dad’s eyes again. The only thing I can think of to make amends is to win big in Bangkok – perhaps that will bring back Dad’s sparkle and everything he just witnessed will be obliterated from his memory.

  At breakfast the next morning Jacob’s not in the kitchen. His wet hair doesn’t drip on the floor after a morning’s surf, and his skin doesn’t bring the smell of salt and coconut sunscreen. He’s not stuffing himself with slices of buttery toast, or talking Dad’s ear off, or filling the room with light as if the sun actually rises in our kitchen.

  The void makes my insides wrench.

  The clatter of my chair against the wooden floor pierces the silence. Yet Dad doesn’t look up from his iPad. ‘Dad? What did you say to Jacob?’

  Dad stays locked on the screen. ‘I told him that if I ever caught him with you – doing anything like you did last night – he won’t be welcome in this house.’ My chest judders. Tears threaten – not for me, for Jacob. Dad lifts a heavy gaze, eyes tired behind his glasses. ‘It was hard for me to say that, Harper. Your actions have already hurt this family. As soon as you’re back from Asia, put him straight before a war breaks out in this home.’

  ‘I will. And I’m going to play the best tennis ever. You’ve invested a lot in me and I am grateful. It’s time I started to pay off.’

  I seek out the sparkle in his eyes. But it’s gone.