Island Skye

by Fox Brison

  “You’re selling yourself short, Skye.”

  “Hmm. You’re sweet, but how can I put this? Oh yes. I suck at relationships.” Natalie laughed at my brutal honesty. “I do! In fact, if they made greeting cards for the world’s lousiest girlfriend I’d have a drawer full. I’ve never made it anywhere near a year before now. I start with good intentions, but what is it they say? About the road to hell?”

  “Oh, you can’t be that bad.” She looked at my innocent, yet at the same time incredibly guilty, face and guffawed.

  That’s right, she guffawed at my ineptitude.

  “I’m sure you just haven’t met the right person yet. If you’re anything like the Skye I remember from school, anyone would be lucky to have you.”

  “School? Christ, Nat, are you taking the piss?” I asked incredulously.

  “What? Why? No, of course not. I remember you were kind and generous, always the first to volunteer, the one to rally the troops both on and off the hockey pitch.”

  “I guess we have different memories of high school.” I stood and walked around the kitchen island, uneasy with the direction the conversation was heading and wanting it stopped. It wasn’t Natalie’s fault, not by a long shot, but mixed up with my altruism was the instinctual fear of the bullies that made leaving my home town the only option to save my sanity. It wasn’t as if I had the support of my family. In fact my father helped pack my bags. Or rather he filled several bin liners and left them on the doorstop. I rinsed out my coffee cup, watching the inky liquid swirl its way down the plughole, wishing my memories could be swallowed up in the same indomitable manner. School had been a nightmare, but I’d rose above it, far above it. Yet the memories… they still caused me sleepless nights.

  “Skye?” Natalie half stood. I think she wanted to comfort me, however, she quickly sat back down realising it wasn’t what I needed, or in fact, wanted. “C’mon what was so bad? You were in the school team, aced every test. You had good friends…” I had a friend, one, her sister, and if it hadn’t been for Sara pulling me, kicking and screaming I might add, out of my shell, I would have been seen as even more of a weirdo. I sat back down and tried to avoid catching her eye. Despite years of keeping my feelings securely locked up, I mean seriously Fort Knox had nothing on me and my emotions, this morning I possessed an unstoppable compulsion to purge.

  Damn hangover.

  “What was so bad? Hmm. Let’s see. Could it have been the innuendo, the scathing looks, the fizzy drinks spilt over my homework, the trips? Or was it the names? Goosey grey shirt was actually the kindest. The worst was in the changing rooms after matches. It was as if they knew before I did. The hiding behind shirts and the comments. You know the sort. ‘Watch out, goosey grey’s about.’”

  “I didn’t know,” she protested.

  “Really Natalie? Really? You heard Allison and Melissa, you heard the name calling!” I accused her angrily. I don’t know if it was the residual alcohol in my bloodstream, what happened with Stacy or my mother’s upcoming anniversary, but I felt as raw as I did when I was sixteen. “Yes, I was in the team, and yes I was in the top sets. Do you think that made it any easier? Do you know how many times I heard clever dyke instead of dick?”

  “Of course I heard some of the names they’d call you, but c’mon they called everyone something.” She scraped her stool back, angrily and raked her hands through her hair. “What should I have done? Jesus, Skye, I was only a kid.”

  Natalie hung her head with shame and I grimaced. Why was I taking this out on her? I was an asshole, that’s why. “I’m sorry, Nat. It’s just been a shitty few days and I’m taking my frustrations out on you. To tell you the truth, I feel so utterly useless right now,” I choked back my tears.

  “It’s okay-”

  I shook my head and interrupted her. “No, it’s really not.”

  “Honestly Skye, I understand, I totally do. It’s the domino effect. When one thing goes pear shaped, everything else seems to follow suit, and let’s face it, being dumped is never a good experience-”

  “How do you know I wasn’t the dumper?” I asked defensively.

  She raised her eyebrows and chuckled. “I was there last night, or have you forgotten? I mean I don’t know who was more shocked when you announced to the bar that Stacy would miss your ‘awesome sexy time’, Uncle Tam or Millie Winters.” She took my hand and held it gently. “You always seemed really strong at school, like you didn’t give a shit. I really admired you for that.” I tried to shrug off her compliment, but Natalie was having none of it and she held firm. “No, really. And I admire you even more now knowing how much it was hurting inside.” She looked pensive, a slight narrowing of her eyes as if something important had just hit her, something unexpected. She bit her bottom lip.

  Maybe I wasn’t the only one affected by both our physical and emotional closeness.

  Our obvious moment was cut short by several sharp beeps. “Damn. Skye, I’m sorry, I don’t mean to eat, purge and run,” she cocked her head, “that sounded like I have an eating disorder. I don’t, by the way. But I do have to run, I’m due at rehab in,” she looked at her phone, “less than an hour. Bollocks, I’m going to be late.”

  “Oh. Right.” I was disappointed. Before phonus interruptus I think I was about to take her in my arms and kiss her softly, yet with a depth of emotion I’d rarely felt. I hadn’t experienced a connection this strong with another person in forever and I didn’t want it to end. I felt like I could actually be myself with Natalie without fear of judgement. She was a surprising package of contradictions that I wanted to unwrap. And this time it was nothing to do with my libido. “Oh. Wait. Can I give you a lift?”

  “No, it’s okay, it’s in Newcastle and anyway, I’m pretty sure you’d still be over the limit.”

  She was probably right. The two sheets had become one, but it was still a half a sheet more than was legal. “Maybe we can do this again? Well, not the drunken monkey exhibition, nor the condemnatory morning after, but the coffee and a slightly more polite conversation?”

  “Sure, Skye, I’d like that.”

  And then she was gone.

  Chapter 9

  Natalie

  I rushed over to my parents’ house, ignoring the twinging in my knee warning me to take it easy. I needed to change, grab another coffee to go and then hustle. I didn’t like being late and I really didn’t want to be late for rehab. Sara’s car was parked haphazardly in the small drive. Great. There was no way I was going to get out of here without an interrogation. I stopped and made a quick call, ensuring that my one pm appointment was put back until two thirty.

  “Hey Sara, you feeling as hungover as Skye?” I asked with a chuckle. They’d both necked it last night and I’m surprised she was even awake.

  “Erm, I don’t think so,” Sara replied. She was wearing sunglasses in the dull light of the kitchen.

  Yeah, so not hungover.

  “Can’t stop, I slept in and I’m running a bit late.” I headed along the corridor to the room Sara and I used to share. It was now a guest room, one in which I’d been living for the past three months whilst I recovered.

  “Dare I ask?” Sara followed me and lay down on the bed whilst I began looking for my training kit. I could sense a little tension in her voice. From the late night? I didn’t think so.

  “Not now, Sara,” I said quietly. I wasn’t in the mood for her banter, nor her chastisement.

  “Yes, now. So last night?” she persisted.

  “I was a gentlewoman. Alright?” I snapped. My knee was beginning to really annoy me, almost as much as my sister. “Look, we did nothing but catch up. I forgot what good company Skye is.” I didn’t mention just how great the tenuous bond between us felt, I wanted to mull that one over for myself a little while longer. I never connected with women, not on an emotional level, anyway. Physical, sure, no problem. Cerebral? Yeah, I usually ran a mile. My career was too important.

  Yet suddenly I was making excuses to rehab and runn
ing late because I wanted to have a long lazy brunch with an old school friend.

  “That’s it? No more details?”

  Okay now I was really getting annoyed. “Honestly, nothing happened. I helped her home, we slept, I woke up, showered and we had coffee and scrambled eggs.” I pulled on my jogging bottoms. I was actually very proud of myself; Skye had been giving off all the right signals before she’d drunk the bar dry, but I wasn’t the type to take advantage of a situation like that. If I’m honest, when I’d seen Skye the previous morning my immediate thoughts were how gorgeous she looked and how I wouldn’t mind a summer fling.

  But this morning all that changed.

  Something happened and I’m not just talking about our cathartic trip down memory lane. So now… now I was glad I was heading to Newcastle. I needed time to process like any good lesbian should, to gather my feelings together, sit them down, and have a good long chat.

  “Nat, you have this image of Skye from when we were kids and that image has been photoshopped to within an inch of its life. Besides, you never really knew her when we were younger, you just thought you did.”

  “Harsh!”

  “But true. Skye’s complicated, she’s sensitive and she keeps a huge part of herself to herself. She isn’t someone you play games with. You can’t,” Sara was now as testy, her voice rising. “Listen, Nat, she’s not one of your usual one night stands or fuck buddies. She isn’t even a friend with benefits type of woman. I love you, kiddo, but you are a player, and not just of football. In a few months you’ll be fit and back on the mainland and Skye Donaghie will be left with a broken heart and she won’t even have her best friend to help pick up the pieces because she’ll hate the sight of me.”

  Wow. Just wow. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, sis, but where the hell do you get off? I mean, okay, I’m young free and single and yes I have played the field, but I’ve never hurt anyone, not on purpose. They all knew the score.”

  “I’ll tell you something for nothing, I won’t see her get hurt. Skye has been the most amazing, loyal and trustworthy friend I could ever have asked for. She’s been there for me through thick and thin.”

  “Skye’s a grownup-”

  Sara lay back on the bed, her eyes closing as her voice softened through tiredness. “Please, Nat, please don’t. A few years ago I was going through a hard time, post-natal depression. Without Skye I’m not sure I would have made it through. She was there for me and Andy, and for the kids too. She even turned down the chance to lecture in Canada to support me.”

  “You should have said something, I would have…” ah shit. I sat next to her on the bed and pulled her close. She looked so forlorn, something I rarely saw in my big sister. She and Skye made a right pair, both so strong on the outside, yet fragile little beings on the inside. “That’s when I was first called up to the England squad, wasn’t it?

  “Aye…” I saw a tear slip down her cheek. “Mam doesn’t know, although she suspects. Nat, I’m sorry but in time you’ll see I’m right. You’re both in the wrong place emotionally.”

  At the right time, I sighed to myself. “Relax, Sara, I don’t intend to seduce Skye, especially if…” I thought about the last conversation I’d had with my agent, “You don’t have to worry, okay?” I looked at Sara expecting to see condemnation, but instead I saw understanding and compassion.

  “I couldn’t bear it if you hurt her,” she said softly, no trace of anger in her voice now, just a tremble of pain, which made me feel damned guilty, but Christ she was like a dog with a bone. What did she want, a promise written in blood? I grabbed my keys and my kit bag.

  “I know what you think, but, hell, I only spent the night on the woman’s sofa, I didn’t take her fucking virginity!” I left without saying goodbye. I was more than a little hurt myself; it wasn’t nice discovering your own sister thought you were a heartless, unfeeling lothario. Granted I had the tendency to leave most relationships before they even got to half-time.

  But this one felt like it had legs for the full ninety minutes.

  Chapter 10

  Skye

  I’d hardly seen Natalie since she’d ran out of my house heading for rehab, apart from the occasional meeting on the street, brief hellos from which I’d hurried away, pretending to be urgently needed elsewhere. She looked, I don’t know, disappointed maybe? Relieved? In fact, it was getting to the stage where I couldn’t tell if I was avoiding her or if she was avoiding me.

  I thought back to those pivotal thirty-six hours, thirty-six hours which knocked me for six and totally spun my world on its axis. Nothing substantial happened between Natalie and I that night, and nothing had happened since, nothing that could reek of anything but casual indifference and nodding acquaintance anyway.

  But that fateful morning was a totally different story.

  Despite my mini breakdown and the unleashing of horror stories from my closet which were enough to send anyone running for the hills, there had been a spark between us, a quick flare of potentiality that I was quick to examine and even quicker to snuff out. I mean really, what could come of it? It would be a summer fling at best, then we’d go our separate ways. And I’m not going to lie, the fact that Natalie was in rehab concerned me, not that there was anything wrong with someone getting help to deal with their demons, whatever they may be, but I wasn’t the right person to aid in anyone’s recovery. I had my own monsters to slay.

  Sara had invited me out, several times, but I cried off with feeble excuses. I sensed the frustration in her voice the last time I begged off pleading tiredness and too much work. She knew something was up and I knew she’d be like a bloodhound, stopping at nothing until she found out what it was.

  Yeah right. Like I was going to spill that it was her little sister who was troubling my sleep.

  I strolled along the quiet roads, the slightly overcast day a blessing, it matched my melancholic mood. I had just taken some very atmospheric pictures of the Priory, the bruising clouds providing a menacing background to the stone ruins left to wallow in grief, whilst over the bay the silhouette of the castle poked out of the angry sea. The waves were spitting high today, a sure fire sign the storm the weathermen reluctantly forecast was a comin’.

  The Priory was at its most beautiful early in the morning, before anyone desecrated it peaceful serenity. Then like Viking raiders, the tourists would arrive, hordes pouring like an invading army through every arch and over every last ruined remnant. The last few days had been the worst; it felt like every school in the county descended and I’d had my fill. I’d given talks, held sticky hands and answered incredibly stupid questions. Seriously, how do you tell an eight year old brought up on a diet of Marvel superheroes that Cuthbert couldn’t fly, didn’t wear a suit made of red and gold iron, and no he wasn’t invisible, without making him sound really boring? I liked children, usually in small doses, so with a game smile I pointed out places of interest and helped tie shoelaces, but now my throat was dry and a little scratchy. I wasn’t sleeping well, so recognised the signs; I was coming down with an insomnia cold, one I usually caught when I had too much going on in my mind and no way to still my racing thoughts.

  Thankfully it was finally Saturday and if there was any children visiting, they would either be local or with their parents; not that that was always easier, but it meant I was less responsible for entertaining them.

  I waved to Mrs Jeffries, who was standing outside the post office talking sixteen to the dozen, and then some, to a tourist, the Nikon hanging loosely around their neck a dead giveaway. After she’d sent them off with directions (which from their bemused expressions they clearly didn’t understand) she headed in my direction.

  “On your way home from the Priory, pet?” she asked. She wore a pair of tan slacks and a white shirt, both covered by a Union Jack apron which read ‘Spice Up Your Life.” A sign? Not really. Sara and I attended a Spice Girls reunion show a few years back, and in a drunken stupor after we’d sang ourselves hoarse and danced like fo
ols, we purchased the pinnie as a joke. Mrs Jeffries, being Mrs Jeffries, treasured it.

  “Part of my sabbatical included me volunteering at the visitor’s centre,” I explained.

  “I saw Angela last Thursday,” Mrs Jeffries kept her tone neutral, but I felt waves of something I couldn’t determine emanating from her carefully controlled features. Would that Mrs Jeffries come with her own weather warning, I might have been able to read her thoughts. Anger? Concern? “She had no idea you were going to be on the island all summer.”

  “I meant to email her,” I said, contritely. Angela was my sister-in-law; she’d married my older brother, Robbie, not long out of school and they had two wonderful children, James and Malcom, or Jamie and Malky for short. Angela was the only reason I still had any contact with the boys, not as much as I would have liked, but a little was better than nothing. If Robbie had his way, his children would never have known I even existed.

  “Email? Oh Skye, why don’t you call, or go visit? I know Angie would love to see you. And… well she said your Dad was poorly.” What was it with these Jeffries women and the ripping open of old wounds? This was a conversation I didn’t particularly want, and definitely not in the middle of Holy Island’s main drag, such as it was. I was surprised Mrs. Jeffries even mentioned his name, as she more than most knew how I felt about my father – and exactly why I felt it.

  “Look, I’m really sorry, Mrs Jeffries, but I have to run, I have a delivery arriving and I need to sign for it. I’ll pop in next week and we’ll have a proper chat. Talk to you later.” I waved towards Sara and Natalie who were approaching from the nearby car park and hurried down to my cottage, suppressing the regret and anger even the slightest mention of my father raised.