Tape

by Camden,Steven

  Ameliah scans the room for the old stereos and finds them in the corner under the window. Light from the tall standard lamp warms the floor and she pictures the spare room.

  — I hope you ladies like Italian.

  His voice is trying too hard.

  — Sit down. I mean, please.

  He shepherds them into the room. Ameliah and Nan sit on the edge of the sofa. Nan looks around.

  — Nice place.

  She glances at Ameliah. Ameliah shrugs. Joe looks round the room.

  — Yeah, I mean it’s early days, but I think it’ll scrub up well. It’s got amazing acoustics.

  He swirls his finger like he’s balancing a plate.

  — An amazing what?

  Nan looks confused. Ameliah lays her hand on Nan’s knee.

  — The sound, Nan. He means sounds sound nice in here.

  Joe points at Ameliah.

  — Exactly. I think it’s the shape. I mean most of these old buildings have thick walls so they absorb more and it just gives this kind of, I dunno, warmth, you know?

  He looks at them both, clearly nervous. Ameliah offers a smile. Nan nods.

  — Yes, I’d love a drink, thank you, Joe.

  Joe clicks his fingers.

  — Of course, what will you have? I’ve got beer, wine, vodka?

  Nan smiles politely.

  — A wine will be fine, thanks.

  Joe nods and starts out of the room. He stops himself and looks back at Ameliah.

  — And you? No vodka of course.

  He chuckles. Nan looks at him.

  — She’ll have a soft drink, Joe.

  Joe smiles nervously.

  — Yeah, right, one wine, one soft drink, coming up.

  He slips out of the room to the kitchen. Ameliah breathes out. She stares at the dark screen of the TV, seeing her and Nan’s reflection warped like in the back of a spoon.

  — What’s going on, Nan. Is he OK? What do you think he meant by important?

  Nan’s face looks like she’s thinking two things at once.

  — I don’t know, love. Let’s just see, shall we? Give him a chance?

  She scans the room.

  — Something tells me he’s not exactly used to entertaining.

  Ameliah smiles and nods.

  — People skills. He’s trying though.

  Nan smiles back.

  — Yes, love, we’ll give him that.

  Joe comes back into the room holding a pint glass half full of red wine and a dark mug with white letters on the side.

  — There you go. You’ll have to excuse the cups. I haven’t really had a chance to stock up my cupboards, but a drink’s a drink, right?

  Ameliah smiles as she takes the mug and reads the chemical symbol for water. Nan forces a smile as she takes the pint glass. Joe stands there. Ameliah and Nan sip their drinks.

  — Music! Stupid. One second.

  He reverses away from them and stumbles over the edge of a white sports bag, regaining his balance and carrying on to the stereo under the window. Ameliah watches Nan screw her face up at the wine.

  She feels the need to help Joe out, but doesn’t know how. She pictures him getting ready in the mirror earlier, wrestling his scruffy hair with a comb, then the sound of a saxophone grabs her ears.

  She stares at the tall speaker next to the TV as Joe walks back over holding a wooden chair that looks like he stole it from a school.

  The saxophone breathes out of the speaker like smoke and Ameliah pictures the old stereo back in her room. She thinks about Mom and imagines her lying on her bed, her eyes closed, listening to the music.

  — John Coltrane.

  Joe and Nan both look at her, surprised. Nan’s eyes narrow.

  — You know Coltrane?

  Ameliah shakes her head and shrugs.

  — Not really. I found a tape.

  She watches Nan drift into a memory. Joe coughs roughly and Nan snaps out of it.

  Ameliah sees Joe look at Nan and widen his eyes. Nan looks back at him, her face serious. Joe makes a big deal of rolling his eyes and slapping his thigh.

  — Dessert! I forgot. I’m such an idiot. I meant to pick something up.

  Nan cuts in.

  — Am will go, won’t you, love?

  Ameliah looks out through the bay window. The last of the sunlight clings to the sky. She looks at Nan. Nan shrugs.

  — The supermarket should still be open, on the high street. It’s not dark yet. It’s not far.

  Ameliah hears the word supermarket and pictures the boy with the dark eyes. Nan fishes inside her purse and pulls out a ten-pound note. Ameliah looks across at Joe. He smiles nervously.

  — Course. What shall I get?

  She puts her mug on the floor next to the sofa and stands up, taking the note and stuffing it into her jeans pocket. Nan shakes her head.

  — It doesn’t matter, you choose.

  Ameliah feels light as she walks between them, the saxophone notes floating round her, fading away as she walks out of the room and down the stairs.

  Ryan stared at himself in the small circular bathroom mirror and tried to imagine his face with a beard. He felt his smooth chin with the inside of his fingers and wondered what it would feel like when he started to shave.

  He reached for the toothpaste and his brush and squeezed a small ball on to the bristles.

  As he brushed in the mirror, he remembered sitting on the edge of the bath with Mom, both of them chewing the chalky red tablets that show up how dirty your teeth really are. He looked down into the sink and remembered the red foam that they spat out against the white porcelain. How Mom had said they were vampires back home from a fresh hunt for blood.

  He stared at his frothing white mouth in the mirror as he brushed and thought about the baddies from James Bond films who bite concealed cyanide capsules rather than be captured.

  The door banged loudly. Ryan spat as Nathan’s voice came through it.

  — Hurry up, man! I need to pee.

  Ryan rinsed his mouth and opened the door. Nathan groaned.

  — About time. I was about to just go and pee on your bed.

  Ryan smiled sarcastically.

  — Yeah, right.

  Nathan looked at him.

  — Are you going to bed already?

  — No.

  — So why are you brushing your teeth?

  Ryan shifted his feet.

  — Cos I felt like it. What do you care?

  Nathan shrugged.

  — I don’t. Move.

  He pushed past him and shoved him out of the bathroom, slamming the door and locking it. Ryan held his hand up to his face and breathed out with his mouth then in through his nose.

  He stuck out his bottom lip and nodded to himself as he walked back into his room.

  — I can see you. I’m waving. Across the road.

  Heather’s voice is excited. Ameliah keeps the mobile next to her ear and stares across the road. Heather is waving her arms wildly, standing at the bus stop with Simone.

  — Come over.

  — I’ve got to go to the supermarket. They sent me for a cake or something.

  — You cross the road right now. I’m hanging up.

  Ameliah watches Heather dramatically mime hanging up her mobile as she crosses the road. She feels Simone staring at her as she slips her phone back into her front pouch and pulls her hood over her head.

  — How funny, right?

  Heather beams. Ameliah nods.

  — He does live just round the corner.

  Simone cuts in.

  — Who does?

  Heather looks at Simone.

  — Joe. He’s Am’s friend, well, Am’s dad’s friend. She’s there with her nan.

  Simone looks Ameliah up and down.

  — Hanging out with old men and your nan on a Friday night now, Ameliah?

  Ameliah looks at Heather.

  — I’ll see you later.

  As she goes to walk away, she sees
two older boys coming towards them. Both of them wear New Era caps and dark jackets. Ameliah recognises the boy from the supermarket straight away; his smooth skin and thin body make him look younger than his chunkier friend. Simone and Heather spot the pair and Simone brushes her hair behind her ear, pouting her lips as she moves towards them. The two boys stand at the end of the bus stop. The bigger one lights a cigarette.

  — Let’s have one of your fags.

  Simone’s voice is cocky as she points. The boys both look at her. The bigger one shrugs and holds out the cigarette. Simone takes it and stands next to him, staring at his friend.

  — I’m Simone.

  Ameliah watches the boy from the supermarket shrug. The bigger boy looks at Simone.

  — Hello, Simone, I’m Kyle.

  Simone ignores him and stares at his friend.

  — And what’s your name?

  The boy from the supermarket looks at Simone.

  — You know you shouldn’t smoke, Simone, it’s bad for you.

  He looks at Heather and then at Ameliah. His eyes light up.

  — It’s you.

  Heather and Simone stare at Ameliah. Simone is frowning hard. Ameliah digs her hands into her front pouch, hiding in her hoody. The boy from the supermarket walks straight past Simone and Heather and stands in front of her, an arm’s length away. Ameliah can see his eyes clearly now. His lean face under his dark cap.

  He smiles.

  — You gonna run off again?

  Ameliah looks at him. She can feel Heather and Simone staring. He holds out his hand.

  — I’m Malik.

  She looks at his slender fingers and imagines them playing the piano or wrapping a present. She holds out her hand and lets him take it. His skin is cold and smooth. She smiles.

  — I’m Ameliah.

  Malik’s smile widens.

  — I knew it would be something good.

  Ameliah feels her knees pressing the inside of her jeans as he reaches up and delicately pulls back her hood. She looks down and bites her bottom lip.

  — You shouldn’t hide in that thing. Trust me.

  His voice is calm and deep. Ameliah glances at Heather. Heather sticks her tongue into the inside of her cheek and smiles. Ameliah looks back at Malik, her hand in his the whole time.

  The shell felt cold and smooth as Ryan turned it over in his hand. The light was fading and, as he looked up at the sky, he thought about people on the other side of the world getting ready to start their day.

  He leaned forward and looked through the slit where the fences met. The other garden was empty, the long grass like dirty polar bear fur.

  — Where are you?

  He felt his stomach churning as he whispered. A shaft of light cut down the grass as the white back door opened. Ryan saw a shadow step into the light then everything went dark again. He stood up straight, his blood charged like he was on the starting line of a race. He pushed the shell back into his pocket and waited.

  — You OK?

  Eve didn’t answer. He could hear her breathing on the other side. He thought about how it could happen. Would he have to climb up again? Maybe she could get the wheelbarrow and they could both sit up on the fence. What if they fell? He decided that a kiss would be worth it as he noticed how dry his throat felt.

  — Eve? You all right?

  — Not really.

  Ryan felt himself deflate as she spoke. He stared at the gap and tried to make her out.

  — What is it?

  The fence swayed slightly as she leaned on it from the other side.

  — My mom’s here.

  Ryan thought he heard a sniff. He leaned on his side of the fence and pretended it wasn’t there.

  — That’s good, right?

  — No.

  — Why not?

  He moved his ear right next to the gap.

  — She moved out. They’re finished.

  Ryan looked down as he heard her broken breathing.

  — Are you sure?

  He shook his head at how stupid a question that was.

  — Sorry, I mean that’s rubbish.

  — Yeah. I knew it was coming, but yeah, it is.

  She blew out a sigh and he pictured her wiping tears from her face.

  — We’re leaving.

  Ryan felt his legs go heavy.

  — When?

  — In the morning.

  Ryan thought he might fall over.

  — No. I mean you can’t.

  — Yeah, we can. Mom’s taking me back – there’s things to sort out. She’s in there now watching a film with my nan like everything’s OK.

  Ryan felt a lump in his throat. He looked down and saw the white shell in his hand.

  — Stupid.

  — John Wayne. I hate John Wayne. What did you say?

  Ryan shook his head.

  — I said stupid. Parents are stupid.

  He threw the shell on to the ground behind him.

  — I wanted to speak to you, before we left.

  — What about your tape?

  — What tape?

  Her face was pressed against the gap and Ryan could see her eye looking straight at him.

  — I was going to make you a mixtape. My favourite songs. It was going to be perfect, but now there’s no time.

  He felt his hands balling into fists. He could see the corner of her mouth through the gap.

  — I’m sorry, Ryan. I’m sure it would’ve been the best mixtape ever.

  Ryan shrugged.

  — Yeah, well. I guess the universe is full of it after all.

  — Don’t say that.

  — It’s true. Why throw us together then take you away?

  He heard Eve sigh.

  — I don’t know. Maybe it’s the wrong time.

  He could hear the defeat in her voice.

  He puffed out his cheeks, fighting the tears he could feel forming.

  — Did you bring me a shell?

  — What?

  — A shell, from the sea.

  — Shit!

  He spun round and scanned the lawn for the discarded shell.

  — Are you OK?

  He started to scramble around on all fours, sweeping the ground with his hand like a metal detector.

  — Yes! Hold on! I’ve got one. It’s a good one. Come on, where is it?!

  — It doesn’t matter.

  — NO! I’ve got it! Just wait a second! Yes!

  He felt relief wash over him as his fingertips touched the smooth shell.

  — Here. All the way from the sea.

  He turned the shell on its side and slotted it through the gap. He felt her fingertips on his as she took it from him. He left his hand there, not wanting to let go.

  — Do you like it?

  He felt her hold the end of his fingers on the other side.

  — It’s perfect.

  Ryan imagined ripping the fence out of the ground and throwing it away, over the roof of the house, and wrapping his arms around her.

  — I’m gonna make a necklace with it.

  Her hand felt warm.

  — A necklace?

  — Yeah, you drill a hole and thread the string through. You have to be careful that it doesn’t shatter.

  — And you can do that?

  — Yeah.

  Ryan looked up at the dark sky. He couldn’t see the moon. He thought about Liam, kissing the air in the street.

  — Important.

  He shook his head and felt Eve squeeze his finger.

  — What’s important?

  — No, I mean your note said important and Liam thought, it doesn’t matter, he’s an idiot.

  — What did he think?

  — Nothing.

  — Tell me.

  Ryan scrunched up his face.

  — He thought it meant you wanted me to kiss you.

  He felt his hand moving up the gap as she pulled it.

  — Psssssst.

  He looked up to the top of the fen
ce and saw Eve’s face, her chin resting on the dark wood.

  — How are you doing that?!

  Eve smiled and looked down.

  — I reckon if you get your foot in that gap and push up you can reach me.

  Ryan jammed his foot into the crack in the fence and heaved. He felt the air on his face as he pushed himself up so his eyes were level with hers. He looked at her. She smiled and leaned towards him and—

  — Eve! Eve!

  Ryan felt his body wobble as Eve pulled her hand away. He gripped the top of the fence. He watched the light cut down the lawn as the back door opened. He ducked his head down, still suspended by his foot in the gap.

  — What are you doing out here?

  The woman’s voice was stern.

  — Nothing, Mom. I just, I left something here earlier. I’m coming.

  Ryan watched through the gap as Eve started up the garden towards the house. The woman in the doorway stepped out on to the patio.

  — Come on, sweetheart, we still need to finish packing. You OK? Did you find what you were looking for?

  Ryan watched Eve look back down the garden towards him, the light from inside the kitchen framing her. He saw her hand hold up the shell.

  — Yeah. I found it.

  Ameliah can hear Nan’s muffled voice through the kitchen door, talking to Joe, and she remembers hearing Mom and Dad through her bedroom floor. The pair of them giggling like kids as they watched their film. She stares at the stack of CDs, scanning the spines for the name of a band she recognises. She pictures Simone’s face earlier at the bus stop. Her and Heather watching in amazement as Malik typed her mobile number into his phone.

  — You find anything?

  She looks up at Joe, his face flushed from the wine. His eyes are glazed as he smiles at her.

  — Not yet, maybe you should choose?

  He shakes his head.

  — Come on, DJ, it’s your job. There’s more in that bag.

  He points to a dark holdall near the bookcase with his finger, still holding his glass, then heads to the sofa. Ameliah can hear Nan banging plates in the kitchen.

  — So my dad got you into hip hop?

  She looks over her shoulder at Joe. He sips from his glass and looks back.

  — Yeah. Eventually. We didn’t always get along, you know?

  He takes another sip.