Holly drew her hand back and pushed her hair behind her ear. ‘Anyway, I have to go,’ she said. Fake-bright. ‘I have, you know, classes to go to. These are great.’ She tapped one of his oversized tarot canvases as she turned to leave. ‘She’s gonna love them.’
‘Trinity,’ he said, a frown cleaving two lines between his eyebrows.
‘Honestly, I have to go.’ She walked out of the art room and didn’t look back.
2.31 pm
Mr Clavis was the guitar teacher.
Holly hadn’t realised until this moment how much the guitar took her away from her thoughts. The music echoed inside her chest while at the same time filtering through her ears into the very core of her being. Her sense of touch was busy with the strings, her sight focused on the music sheet in front of her. The smell of the resin filled the music room. The taste of each note soaked into her tongue.
All five senses, occupied.
This girl. This guitar. Truly a joy to spend time with.
3.16 pm
‘Lewis said you had a look at his photos at lunchtime?’ Aprilmayjune said as they trundled along the footpath towards her house, schoolbags hoicked onto their shoulders. ‘What did you think of them? And the canvases he’s going to give to Susie Sioux – pretty cool, huh? She’s gonna love them.’
Holly didn’t want to think about Lewis. What was she supposed to do? Kiss the guy? It would be all kinds of wrong. Or would it? She was this person, Trinity, living this life. That was who he’d been moving towards. Maybe it was okay to kiss the boy? She really didn’t know, and she really didn’t want to think about it.
‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘They’re great.’ Conversation closed. Moving on.
‘I mean, when I looked at them, the photos …’ April continued. ‘What’s going on with you two?’
Holly flicked a guilty look at her. ‘Nothing. Why?’
‘Come on. They’re like sex on a stick.’
‘They’re photos of my neck.’
‘Technically,’ April said, clearly not believing her at all. And Holly understood why. She’d seen the photos. The sexiness of them was right there for anyone to see. ‘But come on, tell me there’s nothing between you guys.’
‘There’s nothing.’
‘Yeah, but there is.’
‘He’s just a friend.’
‘You’ve always said that,’ April said. ‘But the past few weeks? Something’s changed.’
‘Nothing’s changed.’
April slid a sceptical look over at her friend. Holly looked away.
Nothing to see here.
3.29 pm
April’s house had a massive fuck-off front fence, behind which hid a huge front yard, where there was a big old oak tree, the one Holly and April and Sooz had spent many, many days climbing and sitting in and swinging from when they were kids.
Not Holly. Trinity.
There was an enormous pool in the backyard, where they’d spent just as many days. A tennis court. In-built trampoline. This house was almost as familiar as her own. April’s dad was some kind of plastic surgeon, and when you were a plastic surgeon in LA, that meant a fuck-off front fence, tennis court, pool, trampoline, and all the rest of it.
On the front doorstep, along with a waiting Susie Sioux and Heather, was a single roll of toilet paper. April leant down and picked it up, then unfurled the first couple of sheets to reveal a handwritten note on the tissue-thin squares. Her face fell as she read it.
‘What is it?’ Susie Sioux asked.
April didn’t say anything for a moment, then started reading out loud.
‘Dear April,’ she said, her voice not betraying any emotions. ‘Consider this my official break-up letter. Written on toilet paper, because I think it’s appropriate. You’ve treated me like shit these past few weeks, so it’s only reasonable. Feel free to use the rest of this roll in the way it was originally intended. Carl.’
Holly looked over at April, trying to gauge her feelings. She was offended on April’s behalf. But on the other hand … Good for you, Carl. Don’t take shit from anyone. The fact that April had been considering breaking up with him because he’d had his hair cut – well, really, she couldn’t be too devastated about it. ‘Are you okay?’ Holly asked, putting her hand on April’s arm.
‘That’s awful,’ Susie Sioux said.
‘What an asshole,’ agreed Heather.
‘I mean, seriously,’ Susie Sioux went on, ‘dumped via toilet roll …’ But then she didn’t say anything further, her hand up to her mouth as she tried to smother the laugh that was spilling through her fingers. ‘I’m sorry, April, but it’s just that …’ And then more laughter, which triggered Heather, and rippled over to Holly despite herself, before finally even April started laughing too. Tears rolled down all of their faces, none of them able to speak from sheer, unbridled, breathless laughter.
‘I almost want to get back with him now,’ April decided when they’d finally managed to regain their composure. ‘Except he’s still got that bad haircut.’ Setting them all off all over again.
5.14 pm
Holly walked down the driveway of her house, past Trinity’s mom’s car. She could feel something at her back, that prickling sensation you got when someone was looking at you. She turned around just as a long white boaty American car sped past and drove down the street away from her.
5.16 pm
Holly walked upstairs to her bedroom and took the sweater off the typewriter. She could feel the heat radiating off the keys – there’d be a letter in there from Trinity, she was sure of it.
She rolled in a piece of paper.
Hope
She got one word out, the start of Hope you’re okay, I’ve got so much to tell you, before the typewriter exploded.
Hope you don’t mind but I’ve just dumped your boyfriend. This is how it went.
Him (turning up on front porch): Hi.
Me: What?
Him: You okay?
Me: No.
Him: (something boring, can’t remember what).
Me: goodbye (going to shut the door).
Him: Wait. What’s going on?
Me: I’m flying to LA on Monday. Have a good life.
Him: (something else boring, can’t remember, wasn’t paying attention).
Me: Shutting door in his face.
Just checking off boxes. By the way, I mean seriously, what a dweeb. Even YOU could do better than him, and that’s saying something. Oh. Also. The head of art wants to have a meeting with you tomorrow. Something about not being happy with the way you’re behaving at the moment. I mean, sure, maybe you don’t know how to swap us back, or maybe you do. I’m just saying, if I was you, I’d get this show on the road.
Holly stared down at the page. It was the injustice of it all that got to her. She had been trying so hard, even though it was like she was treading water and liable to sink at any moment. She was exhausted. She’d messed things up at the hospital with Frances and Nathan; she couldn’t possibly go through all the Kings in the telephone book and find him, there was no way; and now Trinity had dumped Michael and it seemed Holly might not have a job by the time they swapped back.
Holly angrily scrolled a fresh piece of paper into the typewriter and started banging words up onto the page.
You know what, Trinity, she jabbed at the typewriter keys, if I could get out of your life, I would. It’s not like your life is so perfect. You don’t need to go getting all …
She searched for the right word, but couldn’t find it… . whatever with me. We’re both struggling. If you think I’m happy living your stupid life, you’d be wrong.
But then she stopped typing. The truth was, she was happy here. The mom was downstairs, getting dinner organised. Loolah was sitting on the couch watching The Brady Bunch, the volume turned up to maximum. Driving lessons with the dad. Susie Sioux. Aprilmayjune. Heather. Lewis.
Her life in the future was filled with empty holes. Grannie Aileen had died. Zoe had died. Frances had
died. Evie was still around, but she was busy with her husband and her kids. Michael was … Trinity was right. He was a dweeb.
She compared that to what she experienced here. This was a life that she had to approach at full tilt. Guitar, friends, family, running, softball, even shoplifting, even hitchhiking – Trinity had grown up knowing that she was safe, that she could be unafraid, that life was worth living. She was free to make mistakes, because her life didn’t depend on getting everything right; her mom and her dad and her sister and her friends would all love her and take care of her no matter what.
The red-hot anger melted away. Trinity was just living a Trinity-type life, but in a Holly setting. She was stirring things up, messing around, not caring too much. Holly had to admire that. She thought about yesterday afternoon with Frances and Nathan. Trinity probably would have handled it better than Holly had. Something about Trinity would have made them stay and listen.
All this time, Holly had been acting like she should be taking control since she was the adult here, but now she realised she was wrong. Trinity had a different way of approaching things – one that worked better sometimes. They should be working together. Holly put her hands back over the keys and started typing again, more slowly, less enraged.
I’m sorry, I’m all over the shop. I saw my parents yesterday. Frances and Nathan.
Something in her chest jolted at putting those two names together.
You already know some of this, but other stuff I haven’t caught you up on yet. I was born at St Anne’s. Your mom was there – she helped deliver me. You and I, we’re both born ten weeks prem. Both Rhnull. Both broke our collarbones, even. I went to St Anne’s yesterday and donated blood. To myself. It blew my mind. And while I was there I saw my mom,
Oh. That was weird. She’d automatically put ‘mom’ instead of ‘mum’.
Frances, with my dad, Nathan. All my life I’ve been told he died before I was born, but there he was. Both of them, together. So everything I’ve ever been told is a lie. I think that’s why we’ve swapped: so I can fix things and have a better life second time around.
It’s not about you. It’s me.
But when I saw them yesterday, I messed up. I didn’t fix anything. I need to find them, go talk to them again. But I don’t know where they are. And I don’t think I can find them on my own.
You’re there in the future, with my laptop and the internet and everything that makes finding people so much easier. All I’ve got here is the phone directory with thousands and thousands of Kings to trawl through. So I was thinking maybe you could look up Nathan King on the internet? If you could get in touch with him, you could ask him what his address was in 1980. Even a suburb would help. If you say you’re a friend of Frances Fitzgerald, he should get back to you.
By the way, you’re right: Michael is a dweeb.
Also, your life? It’s pretty perfect.
From Holly
8.47 pm
The typewriter remained silent all night.
Holly had eaten dinner in her room after telling the mom she had too much homework to do. She’d played her guitar, read some Asher Lev, even attempted some math. But the typewriter’s keys stayed cool and quiet – there wasn’t another letter in there yet.
It was as she heard Loolah getting ready for bed, brushing her teeth in the bathroom, that Holly sensed a change in the typewriter. She went over and looked down at it. She was starting to get the hang of this. It seemed that all she needed to do was type a single something, and that would set Trinity off.
She took a punt. Tapped at the letter ‘I’.
Trinity took over from there.
I don’t care about your mom and dad, whether he’s alive or not. I want to be home, in my bedroom, back with my mom and my dad and Loolah and Susie Sioux and April and Lewis and Heather and all my friends and going to school like I’m supposed to.
I can’t remember what number my locker is at school. I can’t remember the name of our neighbors (not Lewis’s family, obviously, but the other side). I’m starting to forget things.
But then there’s a photo on your bookshelf of you and Zoe and Evie. Zoe reminds me so much of Susie Sioux – they don’t look the same, but there’s something about her. Have you noticed? And the weird thing is, I remember when that photo was taken. You were in Bali. You were sitting at this bar that was cut into a cliff and just after the photo was taken this enormous wave came and drenched you all and washed your drinks off the table and you couldn’t stop laughing, and I remember all of it, even though I wasn’t there.
I’m frightened that I’m starting to remember your life more clearly than mine. I just want to come home. So I’m getting on your computer right now. I’m not leaving this house until I find Nathan King. And when I do, I’ll let you know.
‘Hon?’ the mom stood in her doorway.
The typewriter was still, but Holly rested her arm on it just in case. ‘It’s okay, I’ve finished,’ she said.
The mom came over and gave her a kiss goodnight. Smiled. Patted her hair. ‘Night, sweet pea,’ she said.
‘Night … Mom,’ Holly replied.
For the first time, it felt right.
Day 7
THURSDAY, 6 MARCH 1980
7.12 am
Holly had a dream that lagged into her first waking moments. She’d been walking through the corridors of St Luke’s. Except she wasn’t Holly inside, she was Trinity – young, sixteen years old, walking the halls with the other teachers and passing students in their uniforms. Her hair was chopped short, and she was wearing a pair of paint-spattered canvas runners on her feet that matched her paint-spattered overalls.
When Holly woke up, she knew how Trinity could quickly and simply find Nathan’s 1980 address. She pushed a fresh sheet of paper into Brother Orange’s carriage.
In the hallway cupboard, where you got my overalls from, is a box. It’s brown leather, on the top shelf. Inside, you’ll find a photo of Frances and Nathan together in Morocco. Under the photo are a couple of letters written to my mum from Nathan, while she was travelling around Europe. One of the letters, I’m pretty sure, has his LA address. This is it, Trinity! If you send me the address, I can go see him. He holds the key to us swapping back, I’m sure of it.
She sat back in her chair and re-read what she’d typed. This was it. She was going home. As soon as Trinity sent her through the address, they’d be swapping back.
Holly thought about Susie Sioux and Aprilmayjune and Heather and Lewis and all her friends at school. The mom, the dad, Loolah. She was going to miss them. She could feel everything coming to an end.
Today might very well be her very last day in 1980. Forever.
7.48 am
There was an awkwardness between Holly and Lewis as they walked to school together – an uncomfortable something that had its roots in yesterday’s art room situation.
As they walked along the footpath, Holly’s new Lotus Strat banged against her leg. Lewis reached over and took it out of her hand.
‘It’s fine,’ she said. ‘I can carry it.’
He ignored her and shifted it over to his other hand, away from her. She wondered whether to feel insulted or glad. It was heavy, so she was glad, but on the other hand, he was implying that he was stronger than her, which was insulting. But also correct. She decided, on balance, to be glad she didn’t have to carry it all the way to school. Not that she would ever tell him that.
‘So you’ve got rehearsals round at Susie Sioux’s tonight?’ Lewis finally said. ‘For the party?’ There was a hollow tone to his question, as if he didn’t really care.
The thing was, he already knew the answer. He’d been the one to remind her to grab her guitar before they left the house (again), and when she’d brought down her acoustic guitar, he’d said she needed her electric. He was just making mindless conversation, acting like everything was fine between them when it wasn’t.
He’d taken hold of her hand in the art room and she’d taken it back. He
’d received the message, loud and clear.
Except he was wrong about the message. If she could have, she would have given him her other hand too.
12.15 pm
Softball training felt good. It was a relief to slip into neutral and not think.
Before Holly had come to training she’d been mulling over what Trinity had said in her letter about having forgotten her locker number and not being able to remember the name of the neighbours. Holly was noticing the same thing. She still couldn’t remember the game Grannie Aileen had played with her girlfriends every Thursday. She was almost certain it was mahjong, but it could have been bridge. She couldn’t say for sure. She niggled at her other memories like a kid with a loose tooth. Evie’s children were Hope and … something beginning with ‘M’. Marcia. Marcie? The students in her classes: Bianca and … Luce. Tildy. Leila. Audrey. Della. But there were others, names just out of reach – maybe … no, she was coming up blank.
But she didn’t need to think about any of that during training. Softball was purely about catch and throw, run and slide. Her job was to reach up and catch the high balls when they came to her; pitch the ball into the target of the other girls’ gloves.
It felt like hope and joy, and even a little bit like mercy.
And then she remembered: Mercy. Evie’s eldest was called Mercy.
3.52 pm
Holly, April and Susie Sioux walked through the front gate into Susie Sioux’s front yard. A grove of camellias stood on one side of a shallow pond, and a single perfect maple next to the wooden double front doors was starting to shoot fresh green leaves.
The three of them took off their shoes and left them arranged at the front door, then walked barefoot down the corridor towards the kitchen at the back of the house. The seagrass matting felt pleasantly scratchy under Holly’s feet. The kitchen had plain wooden slatted cupboard doors, and a large pot bubbled away on the stove. There was a sense of serenity and calm over the entire place. They grabbed some snacks out of the pantry and continued into the back room, which had sliding glass doors looking out over the long backyard, where cherry blossoms were starting to bud. Over in the corner, April’s drum kit was already set up.
It's Not You, It's Me Page 13