I tilted the windscreen mirror so I could see what was going on. Lenny had his hand on Dylan’s shoulder.
‘You don’t understand. I feel like I’m trapped,’ he tried to explain. ‘I need to be free.’
Dylan shook his hand off. ‘No, what you need is to show some responsibility for the first time in your life.’
‘Dylan…’
‘No, don’t try and talk your way around it,’ Dylan snapped wearily. ‘You can’t bail out every time things get difficult. Estella thinks the world of you, though I don’t know why, and you have two sons who need a father.’
Lenny’s shoulders slumped; he looked defeated. ‘I thought it would be fun. A bonding thing.’
Dylan looked unimpressed. ‘It’s too late for us but it’s not too late for you to go back to that bloody trailer and start acting like a grown-up.’
Way to go, D.
Dylan got back in the car and Lenny leant in at the open window. ‘Don’t hate me too much, Dylan,’ he said with a wry smile. ‘And don’t forget about me.’
Dylan clasped Lenny’s hand in an awkward grip. ‘There’s no danger of me forgetting you, Lenny,’ he said wearily. ‘We have to go, if Edie doesn’t eat some fresh fruit and veg soon she’ll get scurvy.’
I waved half-heartedly at Lenny. ‘Well, bye then. Take care,’ I said comfortingly. Be nice to Estella, I added to myself.
Lenny smiled at me. ‘I hope you two work it out.’ He banged on the roof of the car. ‘Go on, get out of here.’
For the second time, we drove off.
I squirmed round on the seat so I could share a horrified glance with Dylan.
‘Did that really happen?’ I exclaimed in a bewildered voice.
‘Oh yeah,’ said Dylan.
‘Are you upset?’
Dylan considered the question for a moment and then pulled a surprised face. ‘Actually, no. I feel really relieved that we’re out of there and I feel really good. Like, I’ve got rid of some of my demons.’
‘Some of them?’ I asked in a mock-scared voice. ‘You mean there are more?’
‘You’re a real comedian, Eeds,’ said Dylan sarcastically. ‘A lot’s happened, most of it my fault but I know the rest of the trip is going to be pain-free.’
‘Why did you go and say that?’ I snapped. ‘You’ve jinxed us.’
‘Whatever, Miss Glass Half Empty!’
Bossier City, Louisiana
22nd August
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Edie where are you? We’re all freaked out and worried about you. Especially Poppy.
Please, please get in touch.
Lots of love Grace xxxx
PS: Your phone ain’t working!
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Hi Grace
It’s Edie. The lesser-spotted Edie, that is. I am so sorry about disappearing on you. A long, long story. Stuff got really intense over here, hence stricken phone call to Poppy. There’s no good way to say this so I’m just going to come right out with it: Me and Dylan have split up. Lots of reasons but mainly we’re not the same people that we were when we first started going out with each other. But it’s not all bad. We’re really good mates and maybe we just mistook close friendship for something else. I’ve laughed so much in the last six days and we’re more relaxed with each other than we have been in ages. The days before that were distinctly lacking in laughage, let me tell you.
We were in Mississippi, but the schedule’s so out of whack that we tailed back to Memphis so we could go to Gracelands. It looks nothing like your bedroom! We bought loads of really tacky Elvis merchandise and our Elvis karaoke CD is the current in-car entertainment favourite.
Now we’re cruising through Louisiana and should be in Texas tonight. We had to give New Orleans a miss but the guidebook says that it’s the mugging capital of the States and Dylan reckons that we’ve managed to get this far without being involved in a drive-by shooting and it would be stupid to tilt the odds now.
I hope you are well and having a rockin’ good time on tour. How’s things with Jack? Have you snogged him yet?
Love you tons. And tell Poppy I’m sorry about phoning her. And that I love her tons too.
Edie xxx
PS: I’m writing this from a place called Bossier City. That’s a funny place-name isn’t it? Or have I been stuck in a car for too long?
Austin, Texas
24th August
Texas is big. The largest state in the union to be specific and men wear cowboy boots and stetsons with their business suits and not a hint of irony. And everyone says ‘y’all’. As in ‘Y’all have a nice day.’
Dylan and I have been having nice days. Lots of them. Now that the itinerary is gone, we meander from one place to another, enjoying the getting there as much as the being-there-and-getting-to-have-a-shower. But I was kidding myself if I thought we could be friends. We’re not friends. We’re two people who have split up and are trying to put a brave face on it.
’Cause even after all the crap that Dylan’s put me through, I love him. And although rationally I realise that you can’t be with someone who shuts you out all the time, I miss all the little things. Like Dylan driving with his hand resting on my knee and the way that we’d share a big, gooey ice cream but I especially miss the hot nights in those motel rooms when Dylan was all around me, the smell and taste and feel of him. And I’d go to sleep in his arms with the sound of his heartbeat being the last thing I’d hear before I fell asleep. I ache with longing.
We sit opposite each other in diners and the brush of his leg against mine under the table makes me lose my appetite. And at night when we’re lying in our twin beds and I hear Dylan’s slow, even breathing and steal a glance at the smooth lines of his back and shoulders, I itch to creep across the room and touch him. What’s even worse is when Dylan leans against me to change a CD. Or when the heat gets too much and he decides to pull off his T-shirt and drive bare-chested and he asks me to put sun cream on his back.
We don’t talk about us though. We talk about everything but us. And when I hear Dylan talking about his art and how the trip has inspired him or even hear him spend half an hour musing on what kind of food he wants for dinner that night, it makes me love him even more. No, Edie! These are bad, bad thoughts.
El Paso, Texas
25th August
Dylan decided to teach me how to drive. Let me recount the many ways in which this was a stupid idea: I have very low concentration levels, even less co-ordination skills and I can’t talk and do something else at the same time.
‘I’m worn out from all the driving,’ Dylan whined when we were still 200 miles from El Paso, Texas where we were meant to be spending the night. ‘You have a go.’
‘No,’ I gasped. ‘I don’t know how to. I’ve never had a lesson in my life.’
Dylan looked unconcerned. ‘It’s easy. It’s a straight road so you don’t have to worry about steering, you put one foot on the accelerator pedal and when you want to stop, you press down on the brake pedal instead.’
‘But what about the gear shift?’ I asked in a terrified voice. ‘No, I didn’t say that. I’m not driving. We could get pulled over by the police. We’d get deported. My mum would kill me!’
Dylan stopped the car. ‘It’s OK. It’s automatic – you just stick it in “drive” and then you don’t have to do anything else. Come on, we haven’t seen another car for miles. There isn’t another town for miles so we have to get to El Paso and I have killer backache.’
‘I could rub it for you,’ I offered weakly. If I don’t have to touch you while I’m doing it.
‘Oh come on Eeds, don’t be a chicken.’
I glared at him. ‘I’m not being a chicken,’ I protested. ‘I’m being serious.’
‘Bock, bock, bock,’ said Dylan softly.
‘Fine,’ I snapped, unbuckling my seatbelt. ‘But if
we wind up dead then don’t blame me!’
Driving was horrible with added bits of horribleness. There were loads of things to remember and it was boring.
Dylan made lots of encouraging noises but all I could concentrate on was the vast grey expanse of road in front of me. Dylan meanwhile propped his feet on the dash and leaned back in the seat luxuriously before putting on the Hank Williams CD he’d bought to remind him of the demon spawn that was his half brother.
‘Turn it off,’ I demanded. ‘Put on something I know really well, otherwise I can’t concentrate. New sounds, driving; too much to take in. And don’t keep talking to me.’
‘You were the one who was talking to me,’ Dylan protested.
‘I said don’t talk to me!’
After 100 miles, Dylan took pity on me and we swapped over again. Secretly I was quite proud of myself. Driving was so grown up. But all that tense concentration had left me with a raging headache. I massaged my neck and closed my eyes.
The next thing I knew we were in El Paso and Dylan was driving into the car park of a Best Western Motel.
I slowly opened the car door and slid out, almost falling over. Dylan was at my side in a flash.
‘You all right?’ he asked in a concerned voice.
‘Tired and headachey,’ I mumbled. ‘Let’s check in and find somewhere to eat so I can go to bed.’
I lay on the bed and wondered why all motels came with a regulation brown floral quilt while Dylan brought our suitcases in. I felt very odd, almost as if I was floating.
The bed dipped as Dylan sat down. ‘Edie? I just asked you three times if you were all right,’ he said, pressing a hand to my forehead. ‘You’re very hot.’
I sat up and tried to ignore the rush of dizziness that almost sent me sprawling back on the bed.
‘I’m hot because it is hot,’ I grumbled. ‘Can we just go and have dinner?’
Ignoring Dylan’s outstretched hand, I got to my feet rather shakily and walked to the bathroom to splash my face with cold water.
He’s having a shower now and I wish he’d hurry the hell up. I feel really icky…
27th August
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Hi Shona
It’s Dylan here. I know we said we wouldn’t get into the whole email thing but I really needed to talk to you. Even though you’re not here. So I guess I’m going to put it all down in this email because that way you won’t interrupt and I can make some sense of what’s been happening over the last few weeks.
First thing that’s causing me so much angst? Edie collapsed the other night and is in hospital. They don’t know what’s wrong with her. I feel so guilty. I made her drive the car because I was tired and even though she really didn’t want to do it she showed willing. When we got to El Paso (that’s in Texas, I know you’re crap at Geography), she was acting weird. Disorientated and complaining of a headache. We went out to get something to eat in this Mexican place. I should have known something was wrong right then because she hates Mexican food. Well, she pushes the food round her plate and can’t quite hold a conversation, her replies are distant and not exactly in the right places. But when I ask her what the matter is, she gets all mad.
So we’re sitting there when she suddenly says she doesn’t feel well and wants to go to bed. So we walk across the road to our motel and I’m practically holding her up by this stage. Which is another sign that something was seriously wrong because we have this whole ‘no wrong touching’ rule (but oh, you don’t know about that – I’ll tell you about that later). We get to the motel room and she falls on to the bed so I decide that she’ll be all right after some sleep. I’m just cleaning my teeth when Edie suddenly lurches into the bathroom, doesn’t even make it to the loo, throws up all over the floor and then suddenly falls to her knees and slumps forwards. When I get to her and pull her up, I realise that she can’t even see me. Just before she lost consciousness, her eyes were trying to focus on me but rolling right up so all I could see were the whites.
She’s in hospital now (thank God we have medical insurance sorted out). She’s not in a coma or anything but she’s not making a whole lot of sense. Keeps drifting in and out of sleep and is pretty much incoherent most of the time. The doctors are doing tests, they’ve taken vials and vials of blood but no-one seems to know what’s actually wrong with her. At one stage they thought it might be meningitis and, in one of Edie’s rare moments of awakeness, gave her a spinal tap, which was just horrible. She cried all the way through it because it hurt so much. Now they’re talking about allergies and viral infections.
She looks very small and frail. The hospital gown’s too big for her and she’s got a drip in her arm. I don’t know what to do, Shona. When she passed out, her breathing was so faint that I thought she was going to die.
I had to phone her mum who wanted to get on the first flight available but her dad talked to me and realised that there wasn’t much they could do. I promised that I’d look after Edie before we went and all I’ve done is cause her physical and mental anguish.
Mental anguish? I can just picture you giving me one of your disapproving looks. Because before all this happened, I acted like a grade one arse. I had this stupid idea that I was going to find my dad. I think it was in the back of my mind even when we first started talking about going to the States. I mean, I knew that he’d been in Chicago. But instead of telling Edie, I just embarked on this wild goose chase around most of the Southern states. And I got all scary and closed off. I even scared myself. I wouldn’t tell Edie what was going on. In fact, I more or less stopped talking altogether. All I could think about was finding him and I couldn’t let anything get in the way, not even Edie. I just kept telling her to trust me. Because I really thought I could do this and then clear it all up with Edie.
I was awful, Sho! I’d just dump Edie in these strange towns and tell her I’d pick her up in a couple of hours and then go to look for my dad. The day that I did find him, I left while she was still sleeping and didn’t get back till it was almost dark. I’ve never seen Eeds so angry, she started beating me up and then held me so tight I thought my ribs were going to break.
That night she broke up with me. I’d said that I was sorry and tried to explain but she started banging on about how I didn’t trust her and I didn’t love her in the right way. It would have been better if she’d flown home but she decided that we’d be friends and she was going to stick around. But I don’t think she ever loved me. You can’t go from being lovers to friends as easily as she has if you really loved someone.
At first I thought she’d come round, get over it once the dust had settled, but she was serious. While we were staying with my dad (I’m getting to that bit) we had to sleep together in a single bed and I’d spend most of the night gritting my teeth and trying not to think about touching her. I’d find ways to touch her anyway, little sly brushes of her leg when I’m driving, I’d ask her to put sun cream on me and half hope that she’d be so overcome with lust that she’d pounce on me but the girl’s mind is made up.
So my dad? Laughing Lenny. I’m glad that I found him but only because it made me realise that I was better off without him. He’s involved with this really mad woman called Estella, huge plastic boobs and huge blonde hair, not the brightest bulb in the box. And I have twin half brothers called (and you’ll love this) Hank and Johnny. Edie thought they were devil’s spawn and kept telling me that they probably had 666 marked on their heads. Lenny hasn’t changed, still a self-obsessed loser. Can’t settle in one place or in one job or with one woman. He told me he had another girlfriend in the next town and he wanted to come with me and Edie when we left. I told him to go back and make things all right with him and Estella but I get the feeling he won’t be there for much longer. I was always worried that I was going to turn out just like him but I don’t think that any more. It’s like I’m in charge of what happens to me, not him. But having said that, I wouldn’t h
ave lost Edie if I’d been more honest and open with her. How can she think I don’t love her when she’s the only person who means more to me than I do? What meeting Lenny really proved is that family isn’t the people who you’re related to by blood and all that, it’s the people that you choose to love. And Edie’s my family.
So that’s the whole sad story. I could tell you about all the places we’ve been but, hey, read a guidebook. I’m going back to the hospital now and I guess I’ll see you when (if?) we ever get home. You’re going to see Mellowstar’s last gig in London, right?
Sorry for over-sharing
Dylan x
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Diary of a Crush: Sealed With a Kiss Page 16