by Luana Ferraz
Tyler follows my lead and enters the car. I buckle my seatbelt while he adjusts his seat and the rearview mirror. I look up to the house I once called home one more time. As much as I don’t want to feel tied to it, I know I am. Places have such a mysterious way of blending into our essence, and this place will always be part of who I am. It will always be responsible for who I became. And I hate it. But I also love it.
Tyler drives off and I watch grandma’s silhouette slowly disappear in the side mirror. He turns right into the main avenue and she’s gone. I blink hard, taken aback by the burning feeling behind my eyes.
“Are you okay?” Tyler asks after a few seconds.
“Yes,” I say. Then I look at him, waiting for him to glance at me, and say it again, “Yes.”
He smiles. Then he glances down my legs. I follow his eyes to find I’m still wearing my ‘normal’ clothes.
“We might have to stop on the way,” I say and he chuckles, but doesn’t argue. And, then, I have an idea. “Are you up for a tourist trip?”
“Now?” he frowns.
“Yeah, it won’t take long,” I say.
He fully turns his head to me, trying to read my expression. I try to remain as blasé as possible. He sighs, which means I succeeded.
“Fine,” he says. “Where to?”
***
I buy our tickets on my phone, so we head straight to the entrance once we arrive. There’s no line, since it’s not a very popular destination this time of the year. Sure enough, Dean is working the gate. It’s like everyone here is trapped in an endless time-space loop—they do the same things over and over again until they die.
“My, my, my, are my eyes deceiving me?” He adjusts his cap and rests his hands on his hips. “Or is this really Rebecca Olamina that I see?”
“Hey, Dean,” I nod as we approach.
“What happened to the blue?” He points to my head.
“I’m into purple now,” I reply.
“Right,” he nods and his eyes fall on Tyler.
“This is my friend, Tyler. We’re visiting,” I say and he and Tyler shake hands.
“I thought you were on tour,” he comments. That’s the worst thing about small towns—everyone knows about everything.
“I am. Just passing by,” I say while opening the tickets on my phone.
“Eileen, right?” See?
“Yep,” I sigh.
“Ah, don’t worry. She’s strong, that one.” He squeezes my shoulder and I give him an awkward smile. I turn the phone screen to him and he chuckles. “You didn’t need to buy tickets, you know.”
“I know,” I say while Tyler snorts.
“Go on ahead. Be careful going up, there are new security guards,” he instructs.
“Got it,” I say and we walk in.
“Do you ever pay for anything in this city?” Tyler asks as soon as we’re alone. I pretend I didn’t listen. It’s amazing the treatment you get in a small town when you’re struck by tragedy.
“So, do you want the tourist tour? Or the VIP one?” I ask Tyler.
“Do you really need to ask?” He raises one eyebrow and we start our way to my secret spot.
The Alnwick castle still serves as residence to the royal family, so not all of it is open for the public. Which doesn’t mean it’s not accessible to the public. After years of coming here and visiting, I know my way around these cold corridors better than I know my own house, and getting into the restricted area is easier than one might think. Especially because no one watches or uses most of it.
In all of my years of living here and sneaking around, I not once had an encounter with the Duke or any of his family members or servants. If they do use the castle, it’s a corner I was never able to find.
We walk around in silence, and I open some doors here and there to show Tyler inside. He looks a lot more interested than I thought he would be. I almost regret taking him to this side, he would probably enjoy the tourist stuff a lot more.
We reach the tower in no time—my favorite place in the whole town. I listen closely for any sound at the top of the stairs, and since there’s none, we climb up. It’s not the tallest one, but it’s the one with the best view—we can see the sun reflecting off the lake and the endless hills beyond it, in a mix of greens and yellows you only see in storybooks.
“Wow,” Tyler gasps. He squints his already small eyes until they almost disappear. Only now I realize he hasn’t worn his glasses the entire time we’ve been here.
“Welcome to Alnwick,” I say. I don’t know why, it sounds lame and unnecessary. Luckily, Tyler smiles at that.
He takes a few photos on his phone and I fight the urge to do the same. It doesn’t matter how many times I’ve been here, it always stuns me. I only have happy memories here.
“How do you know your way around this place?” Tyler asks.
“I used to come here a lot,” I explain.
“To the side visitors are not supposed to come?” He gives me a suspicious look. I shrug. “You never got caught?”
“All the time,” I chuckle.
“God, you get away with everything,” he jokes.
“The perks of living in a small town,” I point out.
“You have a lot of friends,” he remarks.
“They’re not my friends,” I argue. Which is true. “Pity is different than friendship,” I say aloud. I regret it. He whips his head around to look at me. But his curious expression turns into one of understanding within seconds.
“Your parents.” It’s not even a question.
“Yep,” I nod and look away.
“Did you come here with them?” he asks. He’s still looking at me.
“With my dad. I used to do a lot of things with my dad. My mom didn’t like me very much,” I blurt out again. Now that it’s on the surface, it will be hard to hold back.
“Why?” he frowns.
“Don’t know. Don’t care. I didn’t like her very much, either.” I have flashes of her yelling for the silliest things—lying on the grass with a white dress, jumping into mud puddles, tying my hair with elastic bands. And always blaming my dad for it.
“What happened?” he asks.
I look at him. It’s too personal. I never told anyone about my parents. In Alnwick, I never had to, everyone knows. Outside Alnwick, I chose not to tell, to start over, to pretend it didn’t happen. But it did, didn’t it? It happened and it changed me and it drove me away.
Tyler waits patiently while I make up my mind. I don’t want to tell him, about my parents, about anything. But I also kind of do. He’s already too close, he’s already seen too much, he already knows too much. And, for some reason, it doesn’t bother me. Not anymore.
“One day… one day they drove off. They were supposed to go to Glasgow for something, but they never made it.”
“Car accident?” he asks, never looking away.
“No. Well, I don’t know. They just… disappeared.” I break eye contact. They say time heals everything—whoever came up with this shit, they were lying. “I kinda wish it had been an accident, at least I’d know what happened, you know? Grandma thinks they just ran away, that my mom just finally turned my dad’s head around. But I don’t believe it. I can’t. My dad… he wouldn’t do that to me. He just… he wouldn’t.” I shake my head, childishly.
“Do you think they’re dead, then?” he asks. It’s a heavy question. It’s a question no one else has ever asked me. A question that is on repeat on my mind for over a decade now.
“They must be. They have to be,” I say, although a small part of me still wonders if it’s possible they’re living their best life somewhere else. Without me.
“And everybody knows.” Again with the non-question. I just nod. “Is that why you left?”
“Yes… and no,” I sigh. “There never was much for me here.”
“I see.” He finally looks away. “It’s a beautiful place, though.”
“It is.” I follow his gaze towards the silver
lake.
“I still live in my hometown,” he says out of nowhere, making me smile.
“How is it like?” I ask.
“It’s alright,” he shrugs. “Quiet, small. But we don’t have these views.” He points to the hills.
“Do you think about moving out someday?” I ask. I can’t picture him living in a small town.
“No,” he says firmly.
“Not even for a while? Not even somewhere like LA?” I continue.
“No.” He looks back at me, smiling knowingly. He must be asked this a lot.
“Why?” I frown getting more curious.
“I like it there. It’s… it’s the only place where I feel...” he hesitates before whispering the last word, “… real.”
He looks away into the distance and when he speaks again, it’s like he’s not even speaking to me anymore. “Sometimes, all of this is overwhelming. I feel like I’m this character in everyone else’s narrative. I’m an actor in other people’s stories. Clivesdale is the only place I don’t feel like that. It’s the only place I can go out and walk to the grocery store unconcerned. Where I can drive to my mom’s house and talk about something other than myself. I can sit alone in my kitchen and just... exist.”
I don’t know what to say to that, so I don’t say anything. I just stare, trying to reconcile this person standing in front of me and the guy who told me off just because I wanted to play his piano. It’s impossible. I wonder if he feels the same. I wonder if he sees me differently now. I wonder if he thinks it’s easy to talk to me like I’m beginning to think it’s easy to talk to him.
“You’re making me nervous,” he says, glancing at me from the side of his eye. I laugh.
“What happened to your dad?” I ask. He stiffens, so I add, “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”
For a moment, I think he’s going to tell me anyway. But, then, he sighs in defeat, shaking his head.
“I don’t want to,” he says. Then, he looks at me with an apologetic yet mischievous expression. “It’s a sensitive subject.”
“Got it,” I smile. And then he smiles. And then I get nervous. “Okay, turn around now.”
“What?” he frowns.
“I’m going to change,” I say.
“What?” His eyes widen.
“Turn around!” I demand.
He does and I take my usual clothes out of my backpack, changing as fast and as secretively as I can.
“Okay, I’m done,” I say as I stuff my jeans and sweatshirt in the backpack and smooth the front of my skirt. He waits until I’m looking at him to give me a once over. Bastard. “Better?”
He cocks his head to the side, biting his lip. He’s gonna come up with a smart-ass remark.
“Not really,” he says. “I think I like you better as a regular person.”
“Excuse me, sir,” I joke, “would you like me to change back, then?”
“No,” he says. “I can picture it in my mind.”
Heat. Heat creeps up my legs and arms and chest. I’m sure he can see it. Shit, I’m sure he can feel it. I narrow my eyes, trying to hide it.
“Come on,” I say, failing to give him a proper answer. But I’ll have three hours alone with him to think of one. Crap.
***
I’m in the lake. Naked. I’m swimming naked in the lake. I don’t know how I know I’m naked—I don’t actually feel it and the water is too dark to see much further than the surface. But I know. I’m naked. In the lake.
The sun is setting on the horizon, making the body of water shimmer with that silvery glow I like so much. I can smell the grass in the soft wind that blows my wet hair. I turn towards the castle, afraid someone will appear and find me here. But there is no one in sight, no sound to be heard. I scan the shore looking for my clothes, but can’t find them. I try to swim, but I can’t move. I mean, I can, my arms and legs push and kick the water in the right way, but it doesn’t matter how much I try, I’m still in the middle of the lake.
I stop, prepared for the fear. But my heartbeat is steady. My breathing is relaxed. The warmth of the sun on my face feels good. What is going on?
In my head, I know I shouldn’t be so calm. I shouldn’t be in the lake. I shouldn’t be naked in the lake. Not only it is a public space, but it’s also disgusting. God only knows what kind of things visitors and tourists throw in here. Or what kind of animals lurk in the dark.
As if on cue, I feel something moving near my feet. I’m about to scream when the creature breaks the water surface—a blond creature.
Unlike me, Tyler is able to swim around easily. He’s smiling, punching water at me, teasing.
“Stop!” I grunt. He swims closer and I try to grab his wrist, but he pulls away.
“Help me!” I cry again. He laughs. But then he turns to me and starts to approach. Slowly.
“Are you naked?”
“What?” he asks, although his mouth is not moving.
“Are you naked?” I repeat my silly question. And then he laughs.
I feel a tug on my shoulder, which is so unexpected that startles me awake. I sit up, trying to cover my body with my hands. Only I’m not naked. I’m not in the lake. I’m fully dressed and dry inside the car. With Tyler. Who is now bending over in laughter.
“Please, tell me I didn’t ask it out loud,” I groan, knowing very well I did.
“You so did!” He punches his leg. “What the hell were you dreaming about?”
“I was swimming naked in a lake,” I confess, and then quickly change the subject. “Have we arrived?”
“Yes,” he says, drying tears from his eyes. “Wait, a lake or the lake?”
I don’t answer and hop off the car. We’re parked in front of the venue. I grab my backpack from the backseat and rush to the side door.
“Who were you talking to?” he asks as he runs to catch up with me. “You were asking someone else if they were naked.”
I speed up, holding the backpack’s shoulder straps harder.
“Wait,” he says, and then lowers his voice as I stalk the corridors in search of Pete, or anyone, “Was it me?”
“You wish,” I scoff.
And then, in the most nonchalant tone I’ve ever heard, he says, “Oh, yes, I do.”
I stop on my tracks, whipping around to look at him. He almost collides with me, but stops himself just in time. And really close. I look up at his face, at his shameless face, as he smiles and raises his eyebrows and… argh! He didn’t… he can’t… I don’t…
“Becks!” someone shouts behind us. The next thing I know, Pete is trying to break my ribs with his arms tight around me. “Oh my God, finally! What took you so long? Why didn’t you text me? My mum said you left the house like five hours ago!”
“I fell asleep,” I say with the little breath that remains in me.
He lets me go and holds me at arm's length, studying my face. I hold his gaze, unsure of what he is seeing, but very aware of my heart stampeding inside my chest. His eyes then travel to somewhere behind me.
“Hey, Pete,” Tyler says. “Good to see you.”
“You, too,” Pete says.
“Where’s everyone?” Tyler asks.
“On stage, we were about to start soundcheck,” Pete says.
“Cool,” Tyler answers and then walks past us to go to the stage. We stare at his back as he slowly disappears down the corridor.
“So,” Pete turns back to me. “How was the trip?”
Christ. How can I describe it?
“Crazy.”
“Good!” Pete claps his hands together. “Tell me everything.”
“We don’t have time now,” I argue, glad for soundcheck and the opportunity to gather my thoughts. “Show me our dressing room.”
***
Except I can’t gather my thoughts at all. I keep seeing Tyler’s face when he said that, and when we were lying on the grass, and when he told me I was pretty. Which means I keep hitting all the wrong notes and singing the wron
g words at the wrong times. It’s all a mess. I’m a mess. And I literally have no time to pull myself together, as we’re already late as it is. We leave the stage 30 minutes before the doors open and I still can’t remember the lyrics to that Hacks stupid song.
“Did you actually forget it?” Pete asks as he follows me to our dressing room. “Or are you trying to be funny?”
I shoot him a murderous look. He only shrugs.
“Becky!” someone squeals as I open the door and then hugs me. Again. “Finally, you’re here!”
“Hi, Linds,” I hug her back. She smells like cupcakes. “It’s good to see you.”
“You, too! How is your grandma? How was the trip? How are you doing?” she asks all at once, with a serious face, looking me in the eye. It makes me smile.
“I’m fine. Tired, but fine. Grandma is fine. The trip was fine,” I say.
“I thought you said it was crazy,” Pete argues behind me. I fight the urge to shoot him yet another psychopathic look.
“Good crazy or bad crazy?” Lindsey squints her eyes.
“I… I don’t know yet,” I answer, not sure if I want to go over it right now.
“Well, tell us everything in detail and then we can decide together,” Pete says, putting one arm over his girlfriend’s shoulders.
I stare at them, noticing how cute they look. How happy they look. I don’t think they’re fighting anymore. I think they made up. What does it mean for Tris, then? I can’t tell if he looked upset during soundcheck, I was too distracted to notice anything else. Anyone else.
“I need to relearn that damn song,” I say, taking my phone out and looking it up online. “We can talk later.”
Pete doesn’t complain or insist, which already raises a red flag for me. I don’t mention anything, either. He helps me with the song while Lindsey watches and in no time we’re called to be onstage.
The show ends up being our worst on the tour. In my opinion, anyway. The venue is too big for the crowd that turns up, and the people that do come seem to be having a mediocre time. Possibly because we’re being mediocre musicians. Much like it happened during soundcheck, our sets are full of mistakes and forgetting lyrics, which stresses everyone out and messes up the experience for the crowd.