The Forevers

by Chris Whitaker

  Stella turned back to her egg.

  Mae didn’t notice the side gate was open till the dog walked in.

  Skinny, with large patches of fur missing.

  ‘What’s that?’ Stella said, turning her head.

  Mae swallowed. ‘Nothing.’ She stared at the dog, willing it to turn and leave.

  ‘I can hear something,’ Stella said.

  ‘Squirrel.’

  ‘Paint what you can see.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You never say no. It’s not fair.’

  Mae sighed heavily. ‘I see the apple tree and it’s too bright and the apples are blue today. And the house is purple and the sky is burnt.’

  Stella set her fork down and listened. ‘And?’

  Mae closed her eyes because she knew what would come. ‘And there’s a dog and it’s the ugliest dog I have ever seen and I think it has mange and possibly ticks and fleas and might well die in the next few minutes.’

  Stella’s mouth dropped open as she whispered, ‘Jesus. Oh, sweet Jesus.’

  Mae hissed at the dog, who ignored her and went on sniffing the ground.

  Stella attempted a clicking sound, then a small bark. The dog ignored her too.

  ‘Is it pedigree?’

  ‘It’s barely breathing.’

  ‘Should we feed it?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Stroke it?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Bathe it?’

  ‘I’ll turn the hose on it if you want.’

  Stella placed a hand on her chest. ‘How long have I wanted a dog, Mae?’

  Mae ignored her, thinking of the times they’d applied, the rundown charities that no longer answered their phones.

  Mae hissed, then clapped her hands loudly. ‘Eff off.’

  ‘You can’t say that to a dog.’

  ‘Eat your egg and stop talking.’

  ‘She sounds hungry.’

  Raggedy tail in the air, it tracked the ground all the way to an old crab apple long since rotten. A single lick and then it went on.

  Mae was so distracted she didn’t notice the egg sail past her head till it splattered on the ground.

  She turned slowly.

  Stella kept her eyes down on the empty plate.

  ‘Stella, what just happened?’

  ‘Sounds like an egg fell from a nest. Poor mother bird must be saddened.’

  ‘Stella …’

  The dog began to eat the egg.

  ‘Can we keep her?’

  ‘What do you think?’

  ‘I think yes.’

  ‘It’s not even a bitch.’

  ‘Stop swearing in front of the dog.’ Stella was up on her feet and instinctively found her way to the dog and began to stroke its bony head.

  ‘You look nice,’ Stella said to the dog. ‘Do you have a name?’

  Their grandmother appeared by the kitchen door, glanced at the sky then stepped away. ‘I need you to pick up bread and milk. Do you think you can manage that?’

  Mae nodded.

  ‘We can’t keep that dog. We barely have enough food as it is. I suppose you two ate the bacon.’

  Mae took a breath and nodded again.

  ‘I’ll share with her,’ Stella said, petting the dog so hard its eyes began to bulge. ‘Her name is Lady.’

  ‘More like the tramp,’ Mae said.

  Stella covered the dog’s ears with her hands.

  The dog followed them to school. Mae did all she could to dissuade it, shouted and threatened and made to kick the thing, but still it followed.

  Eight thirty and her shirt clung to her, the heat so thick she could barely breathe.

  ‘Tracy Kent is a leaver,’ Stella said.

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Scotland. They have a house by a loch. She said she saw the monster once.’

  Sometimes the dog forged ahead, sometimes stopped to sniff the air and raise a single paw.

  ‘Is she tracking?’ Stella said. ‘She might have bloodhound ancestry. Probably worked for the police at some stage. What is it, girl? A bomb?’

  The dog pissed on a tree then moved on.

  Down Ocean Drive.

  Sail stood by the white-house gates.

  ‘Who is it?’ Stella said to Mae.

  ‘No one, Stella. Just a boy I hate.’

  ‘Boys make everything worse.’

  Sail clutched his heart, then dropped to his knee and carefully took Stella’s hand. ‘Nice sunglasses.’

  ‘They hide my blind eyes.’

  ‘Well, you look very cool.’

  Stella pulled Mae down ‘Paint him for me,’ she whispered.

  Mae reluctantly whispered back.

  Stella raised an eyebrow. ‘I can see why you hate this one.’

  Mae watched the water.

  ‘This is my new dog,’ Stella said.

  ‘New?’ Sail regarded it. ‘He’s beautiful.’

  Stella smiled. ‘She’s called Lady.’

  Sail scratched his head, glanced at Mae and mouthed, ‘The balls on it.’

  He walked with them.

  ‘So you live in the white house?’ Stella said, as she took his hand.

  Stella did not take people’s hands. Not the dinner lady who chaperoned them across the street each morning, not their grandmother.

  ‘Yeah, you can come see it …’ Sail caught himself then, looked so distraught that Mae fought the urge to tell him it happened all the time.

  ‘You can paint it for me,’ Stella said.

  ‘Paint it?’

  ‘Mae paints the world for me, except sometimes I know she makes it more fun.’

  ‘I’d be honoured to paint it for you, Stella.’

  ‘So you’re not a vampire?’ Stella said, mildly disappointed.

  ‘Afraid not.’

  ‘So what are you, Jack Sail?’

  Sail dropped to his knees again, this time in full view of the morning mothers sipping their coffees and frowning at him.

  ‘I’m just a boy, kneeling in front of a girl, asking her not to hate him.’

  Stella grinned at Mae, who shepherded her sister through the gate.

  ‘What about Lady?’ Stella said.

  Mae looked down at the dog, who sprawled out by the gate. ‘She’ll be fine.’

  It took a lot to make Stella cry, but right then Mae saw the tears brim in her sister’s eyes.

  ‘I’ll watch her,’ Sail said.

  Stella hugged him tightly.

  ‘That was stupid,’ Mae said, as they walked towards Sacred Heart, the dog trailing them, glancing back now and then like it was looking for Stella.

  ‘So … I’m stuck with your dog?’

  ‘Stella’s dog. And you better look after it, or you’ll break a blind girl’s heart.’

  Sail looked back as the dog headed towards the beach.

  ‘Don’t be late,’ Mae called.

  In science Liam stood at the front of the class. ‘Listen up. Someone damn near burned my girl’s house down last night.’ He pointed at Candice. ‘She says she thinks it was some boy wanting to ask her to the Final.’

  Mae glanced at Felix, who slumped low in his seat.

  Liam held up a muscled arm and pointed it around the room. ‘I will find out who did it. Her mum had drawings and shit in there.’

  ‘Paintings,’ Candice said. ‘The summer house was where she painted. Some of the paintings were of me as a child. They meant a lot to her.’

  ‘And your bush,’ Liam said. ‘He desecrated your bush.’

  Mae raised an eyebrow.

  Candice nodded sadly. ‘The rose bush in my garden.’

  ‘Ah, that bush,’ Sally said.

  ‘My grandmother’s ashes were scattered under that rose bush.’

  Felix looked desperately at Mae, his eyes wide.

  ‘Whoever did this is dead. And I don’t mean that … like, I’ll beat on them.’

  ‘Gross,’ Sally said, wrinkling her nose in displeasure.

  ‘Shut up, fat
so,’ Lexi said.

  ‘Fatso is so retro I kind of like it,’ Sally said.

  ‘I mean actually dead. Dead,’ Liam said.

  ‘Dead dead?’ Felix said.

  ‘Dead isn’t dead enough,’ Sally added.

  ‘Selena dead,’ Liam said for clarification, then took his seat as Mr Starling walked into class. Before he could begin, the speaker above told Mae to head to Counsellor Jane.

  As she walked down the school hallway she ignored the posters on the walls: the Final, an art project depicting a new civilisation, a couple of papers looking at the best of mankind’s creations.

  Mae stopped at the door, pressed her head against the cool wood and closed her eyes.

  How are you feeling?

  Is there anything you’re worried about?

  What do you think happens when you die?

  She sat, ignored the flicker of the candles and tried not to gag on the incense. It was then she looked up, and saw the mess that was Counsellor Jane. She was pale, her eyes shot with blood, heavy bags beneath them. Instead of the beige suit, she wore an old T-shirt and faded jeans.

  Mae could smell cheap wine.

  They sat in silence for ten minutes.

  Counsellor Jane broke first. ‘You should know that these sessions are no longer being recorded.’

  Mae looked over at the empty space where the tape recorder once sat.

  Counsellor Jane coughed. ‘Being scared is natural. After Abi Manton, and the two other children who sadly left –’

  ‘James and Melissa. To hang like that though, it takes a level of forethought that makes me feel something. Sad, despairing, I don’t know. Whatever.’

  ‘You can talk here, Mae. That’s what these meetings are for.’

  ‘I thought they were to keep us from freaking out. So the teachers can maintain some semblance of control.’

  ‘You think the teachers have lost control?’

  ‘I don’t think we should be here.’

  ‘So where should you all be? On the streets? Causing more trouble? If they do what they say, if they stop Selena –’

  ‘Then we’ll just carry on. If I wake up on July twenty-first, will I be happy? Does anyone really want to die? I mean, people want to stop living, like when they’re depressed or sick or old. But there’s a fundamental difference between wanting to die and not wanting to live.’

  ‘And what is that difference?’

  Mae looked at the clock and imagined the constant second hand, the ticking so loud it shattered the glass windows and let the sea air in.

  ‘Passivity,’ Mae said. ‘We could all choose to die, any of us, there’s a hundred ways we could end it. But … no one chooses life. It’s thrust upon us like some godawful responsibility. Make your life count. How about I make my death count?’

  Counsellor Jane had taken to making notes on index cards, shorthand, like their feelings could be summarised so succinctly.

  Depressed.

  Anxious.

  Rebellious.

  ‘How do you make death count? You tattoo a word on your wrist and hope that others do the same? And then you won’t die alone?’

  ‘You don’t get it.’

  ‘I spoke to Sergeant Walters. He’s worried about the Forevers.’

  ‘There is no Forever. Haven’t you heard?’

  ‘Everyone in town has read it. Someone posted it online. It’s noble but … Mr Silver wants you to calm things down. I have students in here talking about getting tattoos. Young girls.’

  ‘I don’t know how we got where we are. Looks, gender, sexual preference. Race. We want total blindness. Total acceptance.’

  ‘It’s not that simple.’

  ‘It is. On this it is. Enlightenment is empowerment. I simply choose not to live in your world. I’m as blind to you as you are to us.’

  They sat in uneasy silence.

  ‘A lot of the students that come in here, they want to talk about Abi Manton,’ Counsellor Jane said. ‘They’re scared.’

  ‘Last I heard, suicide isn’t contagious.’

  ‘And yet three children are dead’

  Mae looked up at the clock. ‘Self-absorption. Self-pity. Self-flagellation. I talk and you listen. There’s an imbalance.’

  Jane opened her eyes again, like she’d forgotten where she was. She sniffed. ‘I don’t know what I’m doing here. We should stop.’

  ‘Are you okay?’

  She shook her head. ‘I thought I could help … I don’t know … the responsibility. I don’t sleep. It was supposed to be a favour to Mr Silver, but Abi … now … I think I’m done here.’

  Mae glanced at the clock again, tried not to roll her eyes as she spoke. ‘There’s a boy.’

  Jane breathed, finally on familiar ground. ‘You like him?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘But?’

  ‘He doesn’t look at the sky. He just looks at me.’

  ‘And how does that make you feel?’

  ‘Like I’m seen.’

  ‘And that’s a good thing?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Do you think that’s why Abi did it? And James and Melissa? Because they wanted to be seen.’

  ‘No, I think they wanted to be forgotten.’

  Counsellor Jane looked like she was searching for something to say when they heard the shouting.

  She was up and over to the door. In the corridor Mae saw two boys about to go at it.

  ‘You’re dead,’ Felix said, and then he pushed Sail.

  Sail pushed him back.

  Felix looked like he was about to swing a punch when Jane stepped between them.

  Mae crossed the office quickly, flipped open Counsellor Jane’s notepad and fired off a dozen shots with her phone. She didn’t know what exactly she was looking for but guessed Abi Manton would be the trending topic over the past few days.

  When it was done Mae met them outside, by the old chapel. ‘You took your time. I had to bare my soul in there.’

  ‘Did you get it?’ Sail said.

  ‘I’ll look over it tonight and then report back tomorrow,’ she said.

  ‘What’s tomorrow?’ Sail said.

  Felix deflated. ‘My birthday party.’

  21

  ‘They made me wear a goddam tie,’ Felix said.

  He stood in his back garden. A barbecue smoked away in the corner. Balloons hung from string draped between two trees. Plastic tablecloths, crêpe paper decor, a home-made banner tacked to the back of the house.

  HAPPY SWEET EIGHTEEN FELIX.

  ‘Sweet eighteen? There’s no such goddam thing.’

  Mae stood there and held a small gift in her hand.

  He snatched it from her. ‘I see you went all out this year. Is it wrapped in tin foil?’

  She grabbed a beer from a paddling pool filled with ice cubes and popped the cap with her teeth.

  ‘Cufflinks?’

  Mae nodded. ‘What do you get for the boy who’ll be dead in a month?’

  ‘Anything but cufflinks, I’d imagine. You know I don’t actually own a proper shirt.’ He studied the cufflinks carefully. ‘I’m sure I’ve seen Mr Silver wearing these exact ones.’

  ‘A popular choice in these parts.’ She avoided his eye, instead focusing on the colourful piñata hanging from the oak at the bottom of the garden.

  ‘Please don’t tell me you stole these from the head teacher?’

  Mae shrugged. ‘I’ve spent a lot of time in his office lately.’

  A cluster of elderly women emerged through the side gate and charged at Felix.

  Mae took a step backwards and watched as Felix’s great-aunts smothered him with lipstick kisses while he scowled from the centre of them.

  The cluster drifted towards the food as Felix pawed the prints from his face.

  ‘Happy birthday, Felix.’

  Mae turned to see Sail, who held out a gift, expertly wrapped.

  Felix hugged him, taking Sail by surprise.

  ‘He’s had a glass of Jesus
’s blood,’ Mae said.

  Felix unwrapped the present. ‘A sleep mask. Très amusant.’

  They took their plates to the bottom of the garden and sat side by side on the grass. Behind, the sounds of music and laughter drifted through the warm summer air.

  ‘I heard my mother on the phone,’ Felix said. ‘She told the family there’s to be no mention of Selena today.’

  There were games set out on the grass. Mae saw Stella playing chess with Felix’s grandfather, the old man grinning as Stella manoeuvred each piece carefully, locked in straight-faced concentration. The girl played to win.

  ‘You ever have a day where you forget?’ Felix said, watching Stella.

  ‘Some days I wake up and it’s normal, for a few seconds. And then I remember. But those seconds …’ Sail said.

  Felix raised his beer.

  Mae nodded. ‘I had it before … you know?’

  He nodded. He always knew. Mae didn’t speak of her parents and Felix didn’t ask. He’d come to the funeral, sat alone at the back and didn’t speak to her the whole day.

  ‘My father hasn’t said it. Happy birthday, he hasn’t said it. You ever wonder when that point is, when you stop being a kid and turn into a … I don’t want to say an adult. When I was a kid he’d say it, he’d see me and …’ He swallowed, then loosened his tie. ‘My Auntie Nia is drunk.’

  They looked over and saw a big lady dancing alone, holding a hot dog and staring longingly at it.

  ‘Her husband’s a leaver, didn’t take her with him. She prays for him every Sunday at church. I know we don’t talk about it, especially not today, but you ever think about all the things we’ll miss out on?’

  Mae smiled into her bottle. ‘Never.’

  Felix laughed and clinked her glass. ‘The fantastic Forevers, too strong for all this self-reflection bullshit.’

  ‘I can finish that off for you,’ Mae said, looking down at Felix’s wrist.

  ‘You know what, I’m still trying to figure out exactly who I am, Mae.’

  ‘You’re brilliant as you are,’ Sail said.

  Felix smiled. ‘You want to tell my father that?’ He stood, offered Mae and Sail a hand each and pulled them to their feet. Together they walked slowly back.

  ‘You know all these kids?’

  ‘The Reverend invited the Sacreds,’ Felix said. ‘Let’s hope this party doesn’t get too wild.’

  Sally Sweeny sat at a picnic table. In front of her was a mountain of food. Burgers, hotdogs, steak, pork chops. She ate like she was possessed.