Melt My Heart

by Bethany Rutter

  ‘Really?’ I ask, defensively.

  She pauses like she’s trying to figure out the kindest way to say what she wants to. ‘You are the best person in the world but you are not a doer, by nature. You are totally capable of taking action, but you have to feel like it’s something only you can do. You have more power and agency than you realize, I think.’

  ‘Huh. Well. Today’s new thing can be sorting something out myself for once. If he shows up.’

  ‘Speak of the devil,’ she says, and I whip round to see him approaching the stand, solo. ‘Oh my god, what a way to begin our working week!’ Cassie’s breathing heavily, electrified with the impending drama. She reaches out and grabs my hand to squeeze it but I yank it away like I’ve been burned.

  Cassie doesn’t have time to react because Tony’s walking quickly, approaching the stand and looking over his shoulder every few steps.

  ‘Hello, Tony,’ I say flatly.

  ‘Look, can I have a word?’ He tugs at his collar and I can see he’s sweating even though the temperature is pleasantly bearable.

  ‘Alright,’ I say, pulling off my baseball cap and slinking out from behind the stand. ‘I won’t be long, Cassie.’ She looks disappointed not to witness the exchange.

  We walk in silence to the other side of the green. ‘So?’ I ask.

  ‘Look,’ he says again. ‘I know what I’ve done is wrong, I know that.’

  ‘Good. Do you want a medal?’

  ‘No … I just wanted to say, it was stupid of me. I’ve never done anything like it before. I was just … bored. I didn’t really plan on meeting anyone on the app, and then I started talking to your mum and she’s just so … brilliant and beautiful and I was so bored at home.’

  ‘I honestly don’t care what your reasons are, all I care about is that you’re going to stick a pin in this,’ I say, looking him right in the eye.

  ‘I will, I will, I’m sorry,’ he grovels. ‘But please, if you see my wife around town … I’m begging you not to say anything.’

  I exhale furiously. ‘She doesn’t deserve this. And you don’t deserve her. But I’m not going to get involved in someone else’s family drama.’

  ‘Thank you,’ he says, looking like he’s about to collapse with pure relief. ‘Thank you so much. It’s been a nightmare trying to juggle this … hotels, lies, feelings.’

  ‘Don’t try to get me to sympathize with you. You’re a grown man. You’ve made your bed. Now I have to get back to work,’ I say. ‘Just let my mum down gently, she’s a person too.’

  ‘I will, I promise. I swear.’

  ‘Alright. Bye, Tony. Hope you enjoy the rest of the summer without your mango sorbet.’

  ‘Jesus, I hadn’t even thought of that …’ he says as he turns to walk back towards town.

  I head back to the stand and recount the details to Cassie.

  ‘God, what a snake!’

  ‘Do you think I was wrong to agree not to tell his wife?’

  ‘No, not at all. It’s not your family. You’ve done your bit for your family.’

  A family with four kids turns up at the stand in search of ice cream, all different flavours and configurations of cones and cups. I go to pick up the scoop but Cassie reaches for it at the same time and I’m just left holding her hand like an idiot. I look up at her and she’s laughing and I realize I should laugh too, so I crack a smile and hope that’s enough.

  Having this stuff going on with my mum has been a convenient, if all too brief distraction from the fact that things aren’t really working for me and Cal. But I don’t want to throw it all away because I just like him so much. He’s so good and kind and fun to spend time with and hang out and watch films with and, honestly? He’s hot as hell and that counts for a lot! Plus, he’s leaving at the end of the summer anyway. And as long as I’m with Cal it means there’s no reason at all for me to think about Cassie as anything more than a friend. He’s like the world’s hottest safety net.

  A few times throughout the day, I get the feeling Cassie wants to say something to me, but every time she opens her mouth to speak, she shuts it again and then comes out with casual chat a moment later. But nothing we talk about today is enough to stop my mind from wandering. I crave distraction. The word homesick keeps swirling around in my head. It sounds childish, not something an eighteen-year-old should be thinking about. But do we ever really outgrow our families? It’s like all the unhappiness has started already and is piling up on top of me. I don’t even get to enjoy this time I have left because all I can do is worry about the future.

  I take a different route home than usual, wanting to drag it out a bit. It takes me past a bus shelter, and pasted on one of the walls I notice another one of those fascist posters. I tear it down, rip it in half and shove it in the bin next to the shelter, and I feel the anger bubbling inside me at the way Tony thought he could behave with brilliant, beautiful women. At the way Crystal’s owner was driven out of her home by an abusive man. At the way people like my uncle and Mark and … well, me, have to be afraid on the streets of their town. At the way anyone would feel empowered enough in their own disgusting beliefs to put up something like this.

  When I get home, I run upstairs, nearly knocking Daisy over in the process, and throw myself on my bed. I lie face down, buried in my pillow, and let myself cry and cry and turn everything over in my head and really let myself think about how much I don’t want to go away to university next year and how much I don’t want to stop painting and how much I don’t want to leave Cassie. I lie there for a while with my face in the damp pillow, heaving with ragged breathing. Over my panicked sobs, I’m sure I can hear someone calling my name.

  ‘Lily!’ I realize it’s my sister calling impatiently from the garden. At least this time I know she’ll just want to find out if Tony showed up today, rather than yell at me about something I’ve done. ‘Lily!’ Actually, it sounds urgent, so I hoist myself out of bed and make my way downstairs, through the kitchen and out the back door. I take care not to let Crystal out before remembering Crystal is gone, and I try not to feel sad about it, instead remembering to feel happy that she’s back with her real owner who probably missed her loads.

  ‘What?’ I ask, which comes out slightly impatiently.

  ‘Look,’ urges Daisy. And I see what it is that she wants me to look at. The little garden is absolutely full of painted lady butterflies. Some are beating their wings in the air, others are resting on the flowers in bloom. Their black-dappled red wings are glowing in the evening light, and the sight of them all together is just extraordinary. ‘It’s the buddleia, that’s what’s attracting them,’ she says, pointing to the purple bush in one corner of the garden.

  ‘It’s amazing, Daisy. It’s so beautiful,’ I say, and I really mean it. ‘You did this!’

  ‘Nature did this, I just helped it all on its way.’ She blushes.

  ‘Well, it’s really cool. Thank you,’ I say, pulling gently on her long dark plait that’s resting on the back of her old, oversized T-shirt. We stand in silence and watch the butterflies swirl and land and lift and fly away until one by one they’re all gone. I feel my eyes fill with tears at all the time I’ve wasted this summer arguing with Daisy, at all the things she could have shown me, told me, taught me in that time, all the things I could have talked to her about. She turns to look at me and when she sees me, she almost looks hurt herself. Wow, my eyes must be pretty bloodshot.

  ‘Are you OK?’

  ‘Yes,’ I say.

  ‘Well, that’s a lie.’

  ‘No, I was not feeling great before, but I’m … a bit better now. Don’t worry about me.’

  She pauses for a second. ‘Did he come to the stand today?’

  ‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘And he didn’t bring his wife with him this time. It was like he knew what we wanted him to do.’ I give her a quick recap of what was said at Palmers’.

  ‘I feel so bad for Mum, she seemed to really like him.’

  ‘There are plenty more
fish in the sea,’ I say.

  ‘You would say that.’ Daisy rolls her eyes.

  I choose to ignore her. I guess we’re still not quite right yet. ‘It’s just rubbish timing, isn’t it?’

  ‘With Crystal going back? Yeah.’

  And as if saying Crystal’s name could summon Mum, we hear the front door close. We look at each other nervously and head inside.

  Mum’s flopped on the sofa, jacket and shoes still on, with Crystal’s empty cat carrier next to her.

  ‘What a day,’ she says. ‘What a day!’

  ‘Are you alright?’ Daisy asks, trying to sound neutral.

  ‘Well, Tony’s gone, for starters,’ she says.

  ‘Oh no!’ I say, bracing myself. ‘What happened?’

  ‘He rang me up. He told me that actually, he was married, and that actually, he just joined the apps because he was bored, and actually wasn’t expecting to like me so much and that actually, it’s all my fault for being so damn charming.’ She sounds more irritated than upset by it, like he’s a mere inconvenience. ‘Sometimes you try something new … you know,’ she says, looking at me gently. ‘And sometimes it works out and sometimes it doesn’t. I guess it’s the trying that’s the important part. The feeling of letting yourself do something new, even if it feels scary. Even if it ends in a slightly unfortunate way …’

  Suddenly the air is punctuated with a squeak.

  ‘Oh my god, what was that?!’ I ask, clasping my chest.

  ‘Well,’ says Mum, gently lifting up the cat carrier, which we can now see is not empty at all. But it’s not Crystal. It’s a tiny little version of Crystal, all white fur and bright blue eyes. ‘The local cat shelter had kittens that they were struggling to rehome because there were just so many of them. So on my way back from meeting Crystal’s mum at the service station, I thought I would relieve them of one.’

  Daisy looks like she’s going to cry. ‘Mum, this is the best thing that’s ever happened.’

  ‘She can keep me company when you two are away,’ Mum says, opening the carrier and letting the tiny white furball trot out. I gasp with unadulterated delight.

  ‘I could die! It’s so cute! Is it a girl or a boy?’ I ask as the furball sits nervously just outside the cat carrier.

  ‘She’s a girl. Aoife at the shelter said they’ve been calling her Princess. I figured we’ve still got all the cat stuff from Crystal. Not that she’s a replacement for Crystal. I just realized how nice it had been having her around.’

  ‘I guess we can call her Princess,’ Daisy says with a shrug, kneeling down on the floor to stroke her.

  ‘She does look like a Princess,’ I agree. I lower myself down to join them, looking into her enormous blue eyes, extending a finger to induce her to come to me. Daisy and I stay down there while Mum makes dinner and puts out kitten food for our new friend.

  ‘Mum,’ I ask as we’re eating dinner and Princess is still cowering in the living room, ‘can Cassie come round and meet Princess?’

  She thinks for a moment. ‘I don’t see why not.’

  Cassie’s at ours an hour later, playing with this sweet, perfect baby. Princess is shy and nervous but not averse to being held, and even works up the courage to chase a ball that Cassie rolls away from her. Cassie’s so gentle with her that it almost breaks my heart to watch them. I feel all soft and squishy inside. It’s funny how a day can turn around, just like that. Or, it’s funny how someone can turn your day around, just like that.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  By Friday, everything has calmed down. A bit. I’m trying to just … wait out my feelings for Cassie. Just riding it out until it’s all over. Until I’m shipped off to Leeds, and I have to leave her behind. Only six more days until results day and all chances of escape are taken from me. I’ve realized that this is pretty much my default state: waiting. I’m a coward. I’m essentially in a relationship with someone because I’m too scared to properly confront the fact that I’m in love with my best friend. And it’s not like I can just avoid her, or simply push everything to the side and enjoy my time with her. I’m with her every day at Palmer’s Ices, and it’s getting harder and harder to remember how to keep things light when I’ve got so much going on in my head, and the person I most want to talk to about all of it is part of the problem.

  At least Mum doesn’t seem too badly knocked by the whole Tony thing. Plus, last night I saw her swiping on an app again which can surely only be good news. Unless there’s another cheating scumbag just around the corner, which I truly pray there is not. Not one I would recognize. Princess is settling in nicely and has become less nervous around us. She also makes a very good selfie companion, especially when you put a ridiculous filter on her.

  But I can’t think about any of that now, because Cassie is right next to me on the stand, in another dazzling Cassie creation, being generally lovely and I’m just kind of standing here.

  ‘What can we get you?’ I perkily ask our latest customer.

  The young man at the counter pushes his sunglasses onto his head, showcasing the huge tattoo of a rodeo horse on his forearm. He pensively scratches the stubble on his sharp jawline. ‘Dark chocolate, I reckon.’

  Even though I’m serving him, Cassie pipes up beside me, ‘One scoop or two?’ The silver scoop is already in her hand, ready to do his bidding.

  He squints down at the change in his hand, then glances at the prices written on the inside of the glass. Back at the change in his hand. ‘One. Thanks.’

  But Cassie picks up a two-scoop cup. ‘Oh, don’t worry about it,’ she says, getting to work. ‘It’s on me.’

  The guy blushes as Cassie passes him the cup with a wink and he says, ‘Cheers!’

  As he walks away, he looks back over his shoulder and gives her an appreciative nod. Does she like him?

  ‘What was that about?’ I ask, trying to keep my tone light but, obviously, failing.

  ‘I thought his tattoos were cool, and then I felt bad because he clearly didn’t have enough money.’ She shrugs, looking at me in confusion. ‘We never give anything away for free, I figured one little cup wouldn’t hurt.’

  ‘I guess …’ I say quietly.

  ‘What?’ Cassie asks, looking me in the eyes, as if daring me to say something more.

  ‘No, nothing.’

  Great. Now I’ve caused weird vibes with Cassie because I can’t just be normal. I can’t even act normal. Half an hour later, after serving another flurry of customers, though fortunately this time without incident, my gaze is caught by Cassie fiddling with something in her hands. I try to catch a glimpse of it but she senses me looking and turns away. Fine. She can be like that if she wants to. I stare fixedly at the sea for a couple of minutes, neither of us saying anything. Finally, she turns to me, palm outstretched, on top of which sits a Palmer’s Ices napkin contorted into the shape of a swan.

  ‘A gift from me to you,’ she says. ‘I realized I was watching too much pointless shit on YouTube so decided to teach myself something useful for once.’

  ‘I genuinely love and admire your perception of useful,’ I say, beaming.

  ‘You think it’s cute? You think I’m talented?’ Cassie asks, hopping from foot to foot.

  ‘I think you’re cute and talented,’ I reply, before realizing that wasn’t what she said at all. She stops hopping. We look at each other awkwardly, but I don’t attempt to clarify what I meant. It would only make it worse. She adjusts her baseball cap and turns to serve our next customer.

  Finally, when some of the knotty awkwardness from earlier has dissipated, we take our lunch in shifts. ‘I made my mum stop the van on the way here this morning,’ Cassie says to me from the nearby bench where she’s eating her peanut butter bagel. Always crunchy, never smooth. ‘I saw another one of those racist posters and had to take it down.’

  ‘Ugh, I thought they were all gone.’

  ‘It looked like it had been there a couple of weeks, so fingers crossed that’s the last one.’

&
nbsp; ‘I hope there aren’t more to come …’ And then I think to myself: you know what would be really out of my comfort zone? Doing something for once in my life rather than sitting back and being a passive observer of everything that’s going on around me. I think of Cassie feeling unsafe in the town she comes to work in every day. I think of those men I heard spitting out bile about my sister and her friends.

  It’s like she’s read my mind. Cassie nibbles her lip and looks out to the glittering sea. ‘I want to go one better. I want to make my own.’

  ‘Your own?’

  ‘My own posters. Tearing them down used to be good enough, but I’ve been thinking about it and I want to make my own. Let’s call it a … public art project.’ Her face looks focused, determined. I know nothing can stand in the way when Cassie sets her mind on something. And why should it, especially something like this?

  ‘Do you want a hand?’ I ask, half expecting her to say no.

  She looks at me, as if sizing me up. ‘Yeah, why not?’

  ‘Do you want to come back to mine after work tonight? We can use all my art stuff to get it done. Plus my mum will leave us alone.’

  She thinks for a moment. ‘Hey, we spent two years working next to each other in the art room and we never did anything collaboratively. I guess that makes it … a new thing for you.’

  ‘New thing! New thing! New thing!’ we chant together, glad to have a sense of purpose.

  ‘I love it when a plan comes together,’ she says.

  Almost as soon we step through the front door, I’m struck by a sick jolt of horror: the painting. My portrait of Cassie. So transparently the work of someone looking at their subject overwhelmed with love. And it’s sitting right there on my windowsill.

  ‘Just a minute!’ I call down over my shoulder, leaving her standing in the hall as I run up the stairs, two at a time – no mean feat.

  ‘What are you doing?!’ Cassie yells back, bemused.

  ‘It’s a mess up here, just give me a second to throw some stuff in a cupboard!’