No Filter

by Orlagh Collins

  ‘Guess I’d something of a head start.’

  She thumps my chest.

  ‘How the first time your eyes searched mine, at the risk of sounding like a complete spanner, I knew.’

  She’s picking at the grass underneath us again and scattering it over my sweaty head. ‘You do this thing, where your eyes linger for a split-second longer ...’

  She looks up at me, on cue.

  ‘Like they’re doing now! It’s like you see under my skin. But it’s not just me – it’s how you watch the whole world. Does that sound mad?’

  She shakes her head.

  ‘You’re real, Em, and that stuff surrounding you is fake. It’s just the distance in between you’re struggling with.’

  She’s thinking; I can see it in her eyes.

  ‘Since that first night,’ I say, placing the heel of my hand gently on the curve of her left cheek, ‘I’ve wanted to find out –’

  ‘What?’

  ‘– what it is you’re searching for.’ A flock of dark, indistinguishable birds swoop down into the rocks from the dim sky and she huddles her body into mine, whispering something I don’t hear. Suddenly my limbs and lids feel heavy. I turn to look at Em but her eyes are shut. I close mine too, just to feel how good it is to lie here, curled up against each other.

  EMERALD

  It happens so quickly

  Something is buzzing under me. Where am I? Where are we?

  ‘Liam, Liam,’ I say, shaking him. ‘Your phone’s ringing!’

  He sits up and rubs his eyes. ‘Huh?’

  We both fumble around under the sleeping bags. I notice he’s only searching with one hand, he is holding mine with his other. He throws his head back and laughs. ‘It’s only the alarm!’ he says, clamping his hand on his chest. ‘Must be half four. C’mon, sun’s gonna rise any minute.’

  ‘Ohmygod, I thought it was your dad or something,’

  Still holding my hand, he pulls on it. ‘D’you sleep OK?’

  This is only the earliest I’ve opened my eyes ever! My teeth are chattering and my right hip hurts from where I’ve been lying on the lumpy, hard ground. ‘Not sure, really.’

  I remember the night draining to its last few per cent. Sleep, once it hit, was instant and absolute. Liam reaches for the zip in the tent floor and gradually peels it open. At first all I can see is the light: bright and holy, puncturing our darkness. Then I feel the air, cool and new, recharging my cold, limp limbs and sleepy head.

  ‘It happens so quickly,’ he says, pulling me to the front of the tent. We lie on our bellies and watch as the tip of the yellow sun cracks the horizon. As it rises steadily, burning into the navy sky like a fireball, I almost forget about how badly I want my duvet and something resembling a toothbrush.

  A tunnel of light carries across the water to us, flooding our faces with its honeyed hue. I don’t know whether I’m half asleep or dreaming but I can only watch as the perfect, circular sun reveals itself. I steal a look at Liam’s pale skin, which looks like it’s been ironed in the night and next thing I’m tilting his face towards mine and despite everything I feel about morning-breath, I start to kiss him, slowly.

  He suddenly breaks away, breathless. ‘Feels like I’m under a spell.’ I know what he means. Everything about this morning is sprinkled in a fairy dust I don’t believe in, but for some reason I don’t answer. ‘Say something, Em.’

  I feel his eyes on me as I close mine, relishing the healing heat of the sun on my face. ‘It’s so nice.’

  ‘What is?’ he asks.

  ‘The silence. It makes me feel new.’ I open my eyes. ‘I just mean it’s honest. Real.’

  ‘It’s making me nervous,’ he says.

  ‘The silence or the honesty?’

  He laughs. ‘Right now, probably both. And then, as though this moment couldn’t get any dreamier, he starts to hum, soft and indistinguishable at first, but then louder; slow, deep and beautiful. It’s another one I know. It’s that Elvis one about the wise men. Suddenly he stops, turns and looks at me, like he’s watching the realisation unfold. I’m expecting him to laugh again but his brow is all furrowed, bottom lip clamped under his top teeth. I think he’s holding his breath.

  ‘That’s another one of my dad’s favourites.’

  A smile explodes all over his face. ‘Serious?’

  I nod. ‘Elvis is legit punk-rock in his book.’

  ‘We’re gonna get along, so,’ he says, nudging me.

  I can’t meet his eye but I roll over happily like I’m in a chocolate advert and all newly caramel-centered. ‘You were right, you know …’

  ‘About?’ He loops his middle finger around mine and pulls me closer. ‘Right that I’ll get on with your da?’

  I shake my head. ‘No. I mean yes. For sure you’ll get on, but not that …’ Our eyes fuse. ‘You were right that it happens so quickly. I never knew.’

  ‘OK … please tell me you’re not talking about that sunrise,’ he says, pointing his finger back towards the horizon.

  I take his hand and circle it, between us. ‘I mean this.’

  We never got to see the wallabies this morning, but I didn’t mind. It was, without doubt, the loveliest waking-up of my life. We made it back to the marina on time. We left the boat moored in the same spot as if nothing had happened. We’d been gone less than ten hours but it may as well have been a week. Watching the sun rise like it did this morning made me feel that anything is possible.

  When I got back to Grandma’s I climbed straight into bed and pulled the heavy blanket over my head, hoping to re-dream what had just happened. As I drifted off, I thought of her waking in the hospital, oblivious to how my world has changed. I slept soundly until the phone rang. I was sure it was Grandma but instead a cheery-sounding woman asked to speak to me and now I appear to have my first proper babysitting job at seven thirty tomorrow night.

  I got back into bed after, bringing my laptop in with me. It took only one search before I was on to him. The Elvis song was there in my head as soon as I crawled back under the sheets. I opened SoundCloud and typed it in. Only the most covered song of all time. I had to scroll through a gazillion other Elvis covers to find him, but there he was: Undercover Cop, Dublin, singer, songwriter, musician, ninety-six followers, four tracks. A Lego man in an American police uniform and handcuffs as his profile pic.

  Undercover Cop, Between the Bars (Elliot Smith cover). 1 year

  Undercover Cop, Sweet Thing (Van Morrison cover). 1 year

  Undercover Cop, When the Stars Go Blue (Ryan Adams cover). 1 year

  Undercover Cop, Can’t Help Falling in Love (that Elvis guy). 4 days ago

  Four days ago! The night we were on the dunes. I thought my heart would detonate when I hit play. His voice! Hearing him sing again, I was right back there, dancing in the moonlight.

  Liam sings like he talks. All low and scratchy and drinkable like water. It’s all him, laid bare. The hairs on the back of my neck stood tall and I felt my whole face and body burn like the sun was rising from the wardrobe in front of me. His Elvis cover had ninety-four plays when I started; it had one hundred and seventeen before I’d even got out of bed. I listened to the other tracks after that, none of which I knew. Great as they all were, he’d recorded those last year, not the same freaking night that he first kissed me!

  I decided to bake a cake for Grandma. Just a basic Victoria sponge but I had to put my insane joy into something solid, something I could touch and share.

  ‘Welcome home!’ I said, taking Grandma’s suitcase and heaving her weighty plastic bags into the hall. ‘You’ve been shopping?’

  Without answering, she turned to me. ‘You’ve been baking?’

  ‘Don’t get too excited.’

  ‘Oh, Em!’ she cried, barely inside the door and hugging me to her so tight. When she pulled away I saw her eyes were all teary, that way they go. We moved into the kitchen and sat down, me wearing her stained apron and her with her damp anorak still zipped. ‘What bro
ught this on?’ she asked, unfolding her glasses as I poured the tea.

  It was simple really. I wanted her to feel how I felt when she made me that banana loaf. ‘I want to thank you, like you had thanked me, for taking me out of myself,’ I said, handing her a plate. ‘That’s all.’

  ‘Well, it’s wonderful, is what it is,’ she said, before making light work of the slice of sponge on her plate. On her last bite Grandma stood. ‘I picked something up from the shops,’ she said, rummaging in her bags on the counter. She handed me a DVD of The Fault in our Stars. ‘It was on offer by the checkout.’

  ‘Grandma!’

  ‘You’ve seen it?’

  ‘No!’

  She practically jumped. ‘Well that’s it, we’ll watch it tonight.’

  Tonight? I was hoping to see Liam tonight but I knew I couldn’t say that now. ‘But you don’t have a DVD player.’

  ‘When I recognised their faces from the cover of your book,’ she said, sliding a small DVD player out of its box, ‘I decided it was the perfect excuse for me to join the twenty-first century.’ She looked so pleased with herself. I hadn’t the heart to tell her no one buys DVDs any more, hence the bargain buckets by the supermarket till.

  ‘You sure you’re OK, pet?’ It’s the third time Grandma’s asked since the credits rolled. She’s followed me out to the garden and we’re sitting together on Granddad’s bench under the apple trees.

  I’m not sure if I’m OK. I’m not sure at all. I was expecting to cry movie-tears of course, but I didn’t expect to feel like this. I can’t stop the tears coming. I’d been preparing for the beauty and the pain of Hazel’s story to come alive on screen, I was ready for that, knew I’d bawl my eyes out, but still, I wasn’t prepared for this.

  Grandma shifts in her skirt. ‘It’d take a heart of stone not to sob at that,’ she says, inching closer to me. ‘Of course you must have known from the book.’ She taps her hand lightly on my leg, glancing up at the sky before eventually turning to face me. ‘Still, you do seem so very upset, love.’

  ‘Does expecting a blow make it less painful?’

  Grandma shrugs.

  ‘Sorry, I’m fine. It’s just …’ I break off and blow my nose as I consider whether or not to keep going. I don’t know what I’m really feeling, or what I’m crying for. ‘I guess I wasn’t expecting –’ Oh God, can I do this? ‘What I mean is …’ I say, choking up, my breath now emerging as scrappy sobs. ‘I hadn’t expected to feel like the mum.’

  She sits forward on the bench, facing me. ‘Whatever d’you mean?’

  I grab another tissue from my pocket and sniffle into it. ‘You know the scene where Hazel gets a reply from the writer guy?’ Grandma nods again. ‘She’s so excited and she shouts out from her bedroom, “Mom!” And her mother comes racing up the stairs in a total panic, fearing the worst for her sick daughter, thinking something dreadful has happened?’

  ‘Yes,’ she says, ‘I do.’

  She puts her hand on my knee. I must have skipped over that part in the book because I was totally unprepared for the landmine that was buried in this scene of the film. I can hardly recount it for Grandma now. I’m afraid I’ll disintegrate into tiny wet lumps, small enough to slip through the cracks of the hard wooden seat beneath us. But now I’ve started, I can’t hold anything in. ‘Do you remember the mother’s face?’

  Grandma slowly bows her head.

  ‘I knew her expression because it was mine. That’s how I feel with Mum. That’s how I run upstairs. That’s exactly how it was when I found her after school. That dread, my palms slamming against walls to get there quicker without falling over. That was me. That’s how I felt. That’s how I feel, Grandma.’

  And that’s it, my weeks of stoicism blown. Every orifice on my face is leaking and every limb trembles. I didn’t know I had this many tears trapped for so long. Surges of pain erupt out of me in violent, crashing waves. I dab my running nose with my scrunched-up tissue. Grandma leans over to me and holds me in her arms.

  ‘I don’t want to be like the mum any more.’

  She pulls me closer, burying me in the folds of her woollen shawl. ‘I know, sweetheart.’

  ‘I don’t want to be her mother.’

  She rocks us back and forth ‘Shush … shush, darling,’ she says. A steady stream of cars glide past in the distance, as though nothing is happening. I stare up at the stars and imagine the sky slowly falling, covering us like a blanket.

  LIAM

  Trying so hard to hold back

  ‘Hi, it’s me,’ I say, sitting my arse down on a trolley and kicking my feet up on to a crate of Monster energy drinks. There’s nowhere else to sit in this poxy stockroom. Suddenly I’m all in a panic about the potential for another ‘me’ in Emerald’s life.

  ‘Hi, you,’ she says.

  I allow myself to relax down into the uncomfortable plastic seat. ‘Where are you?’

  ‘In my room.’

  ‘Whatcha doing?’

  ‘Nothing,’ she replies cagily, as if she’s afraid I’m going to pop out from behind her bedroom door or something. Then I hear her laugh.

  ‘Sorry, I’m trying to picture you.’ I instantly wish I hadn’t said it like this. ‘OK, forget that came out of my mouth.’ She doesn’t say anything. ‘How was the film?’

  ‘Oh God,’ she sighs. ‘I can’t even …’

  ‘Did you have a boo-hoo?’

  ‘Don’t!’ she says. ‘I feel better though. As therapy, I’d give it five stars.’

  ‘And as a movie?’

  ‘Devastating! Even Grandma cried.’

  I’m struggling to picture Emerald really crying. Maybe it’s easier for her at home with her grandma than on a dark windswept cliff in the middle of the sea? ‘So whatcha doing tonight?’

  ‘Oh, you know … YouTube, probably. You asking?’

  ‘Yeah, I’m asking.’

  ‘Go on then.’

  ‘Kenny, Fiona and the lads are going to Moloney’s. Wanna come?’

  ‘Wait,’ she jumps in, ‘I’m babysitting, I almost forgot!’

  ‘Oh?’ My heart drops. I need to see her. I get up and pace the dusty floor, desperate not to let another night go by. ‘Is it an actual real-life family this time?’

  ‘Yes!’ she says and I picture those eyes of hers turning to heaven. ‘Her name is Helen. Just one little girl, who’s three –’

  ‘Let me guess. Number 11, The Briars?’

  ‘Yes! How –’

  ‘She’s Turbo’s sister, the nurse. The one I nearly called for you the night of Fiona’s party. Helen’s cool. She’ll laugh when she sees me.’

  ‘Hang on, are you … planning on joining me?’

  ‘If you’ll have me?’

  ‘I’d love it, but … you don’t think she’d mind?’

  ‘Nah. Sure, I know Lily well. You watch your carpool karaoke, I’ve got this whole child-minding thing down.’

  She laughs. ‘OK, let me ask her when I get there. I’ll call you.’

  ‘Oh, and Em?’ I say, taking a deep breath. ‘I’ve missed you,’ I whisper before quickly hanging up.

  *

  Despite the fact this is now the third time inside of a week I’ve joined in the whole babysitting lark at Helen’s house, I still can’t get used to being on Turbo’s sister’s couch with Em. Turbo held court at the beach last night, telling us all how Helen’s been cooking up any excuse to leave the house so she can have Em mind Lily. Told us all she hopes if they spend enough time together Em’s classy accent will somehow rub off on her daughter. Her latest ruse, he said, is a night class on decluttering, in Italian. Em took the slagging well, to be fair.

  It seems impossible to find time alone with Em, so to be able to kiss her like this on the soft, warm couch again feels amazing. She feels amazing. I’ve worked a shift at the Metro every day this week and even though we’ve hung out at the shelters together practically every night, we’re surrounded by the lads every feckin’ minute. Lily’s conked out upstai
rs but, as usual, Em’s refusing to have the TV or any music on, in case we don’t hear her crying, so it’s only us and the sound of our increasingly urgent breaths.

  I can’t stop myself. I’m afraid of what I want to do with her now. I’m panicking I’m ahead of her. The way she flows underneath me; I’m sinking into her. Is she afraid too? I hope she is. I’m terrified. I’ve never felt desire like this. I’m not sure I’ve even understood desire could feel like this. I definitely never suspected the pain that comes with trying so hard to hold back.

  ‘Stop, Liam,’ Em whispers. I hear her voice but it seems far away. I’m trying to work out where it’s coming from. It’s only when she pushes her hand into my chest that it really registers. ‘Liam! I hear the car. Helen’s home,’ she says, pressing my body off her and sitting up. She fixes herself and quickly stands up, shuffling the cushions around. Then she looks at me. ‘Y’OK?’ She’s smiling.

  I pull my T-shirt down. ‘Uh huh.’ It’s all I can manage.

  Now we’re huddled together, stomping up the hill towards the village. The pace is partly to do with the cold and partly to do with a shared ambition to hit the chipper before the pub crowds. We pass the Scout Den where kids spill out on to the street after some kind of junior disco that’s just ended.

  ‘It’d be good to go to the island again,’ she says, out of the blue. I stop in the middle of the road. ‘Sorry, forget it,’ she says, shaking her head. ‘It’s a terrible idea … I just thought –’

  I pull her back to me. ‘No, hold on. Wait! It’s not a terrible idea.’ A car beeps us out of the way and I shunt us both to the footpath on the other side. ‘I’m … surprised, that’s all.’

  ‘It’s just that it’s, you know … nice,’ she says, leaning against a lamp post now and sucking in her cheeks for some strange reason. ‘Being alone. Just us.’

  I almost laugh but I’m suddenly deadly serious. ‘That’s something of an understatement, but yeah, it is.’ I can’t help but lean in to her, desperate to feel the length of her body against me again. We stare at each other for a few seconds, silent under the strange bright light. ‘How though?’