Ana Zhang: Vi IS pretty young.
Isolde Byrne: She’s twenty-four! Mum married Dad when she was that age! Anyway, Mum’s done a total 180 and is now obsessed with every detail of the day, even though Maia is looking after all the practical stuff—
Ana Zhang: It’s so awesome that you guys have an actual wedding planner.
Isolde Byrne: I know, right? Anyway, we can barely have one family dinner without Mum making the wedding the sole topic of discussion. The wedding is NEXT year. I’m happy for Violet, but right now, hearing all this ‘happily ever after’ stuff is killing me a little.
Ana Zhang: I wish I was there to give you a hug. This SUCKS.
Isolde Byrne: A bunch of Mum’s friends commented on the Facebook post, saying, ‘I remember first heartbreak, you think it’s the end of the world’ etc, etc. I deleted the post straightaway, but seriously, I’ll die if anyone from school saw it.
Ana Zhang: They won’t have. Who uses Facebook these days? Only old people.
Isolde Byrne: Anyway, I march downstairs and I walk in on Mum mid-Skype session with Maia, telling her to call Taylor to skype with me because he went through that breakup with Natalia (aka That Girlfriend) last year, and maybe he can give me some tips on how to get through it. Like that’s not going to make me feel like the biggest loser in the world.
Ana Zhang: I don’t think Taylor would treat you like a loser.
Isolde Byrne: I feel like one, Ana. So I wound up yelling at Mum, ‘I TOLD you I don’t want to talk about it!’ and Mum, who was facing the computer and hadn’t noticed that I’d entered the room, nearly jumped out of her seat. Even Maia looked completely shocked because how often do I yell about anything?
Ana Zhang: Isolde Byrne, aka the Supreme Represser.
Isolde Byrne: Thanks, I think? Anyway, then Mum gives me this lecture about respect, and right in the middle of the fight, Dad comes racing downstairs and says, ‘Is, I’ve got a stellar feel-good combo for you – the emotive score of Madama Butterfly, followed by a late-night chocolate plate at our fave restaurant. Netflix and KitKats can’t possibly win this one.’
Ana Zhang: I think your dad wholeheartedly believes opera is the ultimate cure-all.
Isolde Byrne: No argument there. But I have to admit, the dramatics of Butterfly did make me forget about the whole Taylor–Skype thing – that was until I checked my phone at intermission and there in my inbox was an email from him . . .
Ana Zhang: Okay, please forward on to me.
Isolde Byrne: Ana . . . some of it’s . . . kind of personal.
Ana Zhang: Come on! At least tell me some of what he said. Have you seen what he looks like now?
Isolde Byrne: How do you even know what he looks like now?
Ana Zhang: We follow each other on Insta. He’s even more of a Major Babe.
Isolde Byrne: I’d almost forgotten that disturbing nickname . . . Ana Zhang: You’re going to write back, right?
Isolde Byrne: I just . . .
Ana Zhang: What?!
Isolde Byrne: It’s been ages, and what he’s written is . . .
Ana Zhang: Spit it out!
Isolde Byrne: It’s really nice. I wasn’t . . . expecting that after what happened.
Ana Zhang: Nice is good. If you don’t want to write to him, I’ll do it for you. ‘Hey, Tay . . .’ *blush*
Isolde Byrne: Yeah, that’s not weird AT all.
Ana Zhang: I guess it would be unnatural if you found him attractive, right? Given your families are so close, plus the fact that you guys used to take those naked baths together . . .
Isolde Byrne: I was four!
Ana Zhang: So he’s like a brother to you, right? Of course he was going to write you a caring email after you got your heart smashed to pieces. Whatever happened with you guys anyway? You never properly told me.
Isolde Byrne: I don’t know, we just drifted apart, I guess. He was travelling all the time for training, and he lives in Queenstown. We haven’t been over there in nearly three years—
Ana Zhang: Why’s that?
Isolde Byrne: Sorry, Ana, Mum’s screaming at me about dirty leotards. I better go.
Ana Zhang: Love you.
Isolde Byrne: Love you too.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Sent: Wednesday 12 September, 10:01pm
Subject: Open me :)
Hey Goldie,
Hope you’re still okay with the nickname – I’m totally aware you’re almost sixteen, and there’s no way I would let Mum call me Tay-Tay any more, especially now T. Swift exists. For all we know, Tay-Tay could be copyright these days – T. Swift’s reign is supreme, after all.
I hope you’re still chill with me calling you ‘Goldie’. If it’s annoying you, maybe think back to where it started.
You have to feel some kind of pity for two-year-old Taylor trying to echo your dad’s faux German accent as he said ‘Is-ZAOL-duh’. As you know, the best I could manage was ‘Gold-duhh?’.
Just in case you are mad about the nickname, let’s consider who’s at fault here – your dad. And your mum, really, for letting him take baby-naming ownership of you and your sis, fully aware that he would want to extend his opera obsession to his offspring. (BTW, I hear your dad is a legit opera reviewer now? What happened to his GM of Marketing gig?!)
Isolde and Violetta – not your average baby names.
I guess I should feel lucky that my dad’s into naming kids (and dogs) after musos. Speaking of dogs, you know we FINALLY got a husky about a year ago? Dad dubbed him Slash (aka Guns N’ Roses) before I even got a chance to consider a name.
Operatic associations and all, your name suits you – it’s one of a kind, just like you. (See how I’m turning this around with a compliment? I’m picturing your unimpressed frown melting into a smile as you think, Ah, that Taylor. Annoying, yet somehow so endearing.) Your name is memorable (again, just like you) and spot on for a famous ballet dancer (which we both know you’ll be).
Isolde Byrne, dancing the part of Odette in Swan Lake . . .
There, I actually said your real name! When you’re here next year for the wedding, I’ll have to take a shot at saying it out loud.
Anyway, what I was intending to say is that I’m sorry to hear about your breakup – Mum said something about a party and another dancer? Okay, for real – I just shivered. That could be because it’s FREEZING tonight, OR, the more logical explanation: I can physically sense that you are fuming at your mum for sharing this with my mum.
You know, I’m not sure if I’ve ever told you this, but I’m kind of fascinated by you when you get angry, Goldie. I actually think your fury is pretty cool (when it’s not directed at me, that is), as it’s evidence of how much intensity you have inside you. When you get angry, it always makes me think of the feeling I get when I see you dance. When you dance, it’s like you are saying (without uttering any words at all, which makes it even more magical) to anyone watching: ‘I can take you to a different world.’
Pretty legendary stuff.
Anyway, I know how much you like to keep things private (you’re the total opposite of yours truly, who leaps into the realm of overshare ALL THE TIME), but your mum is probably trying to help in her own (misguided) way.
If this guy has cheated on you, he must be some kind of imbecile, and you should consider yourself officially ‘winning’ to be rid of this type of bloke.
I know how much it kills to have something that felt solid and real dissolve in an instant. To look back over your time with someone and find yourself doubting every moment that you’d believed was authentic – wondering if they really ever loved you at all, because how does love – real love – go from something to nothing that fast?
Okay, now I feel like a storm-of-the-century is building up inside of ME at the thought of you feeling this way.
I need to know who this jerk is.
PAUSE EMAIL.
Okay, I’m back. I just went to your Ins
tagram page (STALKER alert, Goldie, follow me back and it’s officially just one friend checking up on another, okay?) to try to see what Mr Imbecile looks like, and couldn’t find any pics of him on there (you’ve probably removed them, which is super healthy, props to you), but I did check the pics you were tagged in, which led me to his Instagram account. There’s an old group shot from what looks like a music festival. He looks like the type of guy who loves himself just a little too much.
Who goes to a music festival shirtless? Yuck.
Anyways, what I really wanted to say in this email (besides expressing my genuine sympathy) is that I’m sorry it’s been ages since we last spoke.
I know you tried to call a million times, and you wrote those letters and sent me all that Aussie chocolate (which was epic, BTW), and I pretty much took months to send you a ‘thanks’ text. I still feel like crap about that. You probably thought, Jeez, Taylor’s turned into a total s&*%, which is totally called for.
Not calling you back was an extra-s&*% thing to do to you, given our last conversation was a fight about Natalia. I knew the calls and messages were a peace branch, and I offered a pretty poor one back with the short text.
I guess all I can say is . . . I just couldn’t. I knew if we got on the phone, there would be just silence on my side, because for the first time in my life, I had no words. Things were . . . well, that bad after losing my leg.
Stopping there. This is exactly the stuff that my counsellor (yup, I have one of those now – her name is Claire) wants me to harp on about, and if I’m not doing that to someone who is PAID to hear it, I’m sure as hell not doing it to a friend.
Listen, can we make a pact that we don’t talk about the accident? Like I keep saying to Claire, what happened happened, and there’s nothing I can do about it, and I just want to focus on now.
I really hope you’ll write me back, Goldie. I’ve missed you.
X Tay
P.S. I’ve sent you a playlist. I’ll stick it on Spotify for you. I’m sure you remember how Dad and I have a playlist for everything. (Don’t tell me the Pancake Brunch one doesn’t bring back good memories?)
This playlist is called Wallow in Your Sadness – which I thought you’d appreciate given it’s the OPPOSITE of everyone’s post-breakup advice.
*Disclaimer* – I’ve included some of the songs I played on repeat during the Natalia breakup. I know I’m taking a risk with that because:
1) It might be creepy for you to imagine me crying over breakup songs (you HAVE seen me cry once, when Finn and I were wrestling and he accidentally kneed me in the man-parts, but any guy would have shed involuntary tears in that situation), but try to give me points for being in touch with my emotions, will you?
2) You’ll probably hate knowing that I was broken-hearted enough to cry over her. (Let’s face it, you picked what would happen, a mile off.)
P.P.S. I’m aware there’re some old songs on there – blame my dad for that one, you know he’d disown me if I showed signs of any-song-older-than-last-year-sucks! prejudice.
Wallow in Your Sadness
Say Something A Great Big World & Christina Aguilera
Apologize OneRepublic
Turning Tables Adele
Goodbye My Lover James Blunt
Skinny Love Birdy
Nothing Compares 2 U Anna of the North
Already Gone Kelly Clarkson
Heart Skipped a Beat The xx
Breathe Out MAALA
Think of You MS MR
Same Mistakes Laurel
Moments Passed Dermot Kennedy
Bad at Love Halsey
Isolde’s Mobile
Violetta
Saturday 15 September, 1.15pm
Mum’s just called me. She says you’ve dyed your hair some CRAZY COLOUR???
The breakup, right? You know I did the same thing when Matty (remember Skater Boy, Year Nine?) dumped me. It was hideous but fixable. Yours will be too, so don’t stress.
Oh my God. Mum just called me again. I texted her a picture of the bridesmaids’ dresses – you know, THE ONES WE LOVED AND I ORDERED ON THURSDAY – and now she’s launched into her ‘opinion’ (aka RANT) about the colour.
She’s driving me NUTS! I’m meant to be the one who’s pitching fits over periwinkle blue or whatever, but I’m chilled as anything. She’s obsessed with MY wedding. Seriously, call your poor sister. We have a MUMZILLA on the loose. I repeat MUMZILLA has been spotted!!
Instagram DM Conversation
Saturday 15 September, 1:40pm
Ana Zhang: Are you home? Let’s skype :)
Isolde Byrne: I can’t skype – firstly, because I’m ashamed for you to see me in my current state, and secondly, I’m not at home, I’m at the hairdresser, trying to fix the first thing.
Ana Zhang: WHAT DID YOU DO?
Isolde Byrne: Well, last night at 2am, I was obsessing over the same question I’ve been obsessing over for three weeks straight, which is: why did Aidan cheat on me? And last night’s revelation was that he cheated because he thought I was boring.
Ana Zhang: You’re NOT boring! I’m going to inbox Aidan and tell him he’s a selfish, conceited—
Isolde Byrne: DON’T MESSAGE HIM. Anyway, dyeing my hair seemed like an awesome idea. You know I’ve always wondered what I’d look like as a redhead. Redheads have that whole fiery, sexy thing going for them, whereas right now, I just have this BORING, I’m-way-too-serious-about-everything dark-haired vibe.
Ana Zhang: I repeat – you are NOT boring. Please tell me you went to a salon.
Isolde Byrne: I was broke.
Ana Zhang: Is!!!
Isolde Byrne: Because my hair is so freaking black, the girl at the chemist said I should bleach it first. So I did, and then I applied the toner to colour correct, but my hair is the colour of that weird old McDonald’s character.
Ana Zhang: Ronald McDonald?
Isolde Byrne: Not Ronald. Grimace.
Ana Zhang: I’m googling that right now . . . Oh. That one. YOUR HAIR IS PURPLE?
Isolde Byrne: MY HAIR IS PURPLE. That’s what I ran downstairs yelling, and then I started crying. Mum comes out of the study and she says: ‘Isolde, seriously? What kind of hair-brained decision are you going to make next?’
Ana Zhang: Points to your mum on the wordplay.
Isolde Byrne: Not a drop of sympathy. She told me that I’d have to sort it out myself as she was working, and seeing as I don’t have any money, she was basically saying I needed to make peace with being a 168cm eggplant from here on in. So I yelled, ‘I can’t BELIEVE you!’ Then Mum throws her arms up in the air and says she obviously has no hope of working from home and does NO-ONE recognise that everything is on her to support the family now we’re on one income.
Ana Zhang: Not to be rude, but that one income is like three average incomes combined.
Isolde Byrne: Right? Anyway, Dad comes around the corner and hears what Mum said. I see his face fall – I know that even though he’s making out that the redundancy was a ‘new opportunity’ to explore his passions, his ego has taken a massive blow from losing his job. So Dad says he’ll take me to the salon because he needs a haircut anyway, which he doesn’t, but that’s just the type of sensitive-to-the-situation person he is.
Ana Zhang: Can you PLEASE send me a picture of your hair before they dye it back?
Isolde Byrne: You show a soul and our friendship is done. Isolde has sent you a picture
Ana Zhang: Well . . . it’s definitely not . . . boring.
Isolde Byrne: Let’s never speak of this again.
Ana Zhang: Have you emailed Taylor back?
Isolde Byrne: No. I’m trying to work out what to say to someone that I haven’t spoken to in nineteen months.
Ana Zhang: Right, well work it out stat, or I’m bringing out the big guns: *readying purple-headed Isolde pic to send to Taylor via Instagram DM* So, Taylor, thoughts on Isolde’s new look?
Isolde Byrne: I hate you.
Ana Zhang: Don’t l
et Aidan make you bitter.
Taylor
Saturday 15 September
I almost didn’t write to her. But the more I thought about it, my brain went into hyper-speed, and I found myself having half-a-dozen imaginary conversations with Goldie. After a series of pitiful attempts at distracting myself, I gave up.
And so I sent the email on Wednesday night, and it’s now Saturday afternoon and I haven’t had a reply yet (needy much, Hellemann?).
Fear and neediness aside, the weirdest thing was, I felt lighter after writing to her. Somehow, crapping on about nothing and everything had some kind of effect on me.
Maybe it was knowing that she couldn’t see me. She hadn’t seen me since the accident. Sure, she knew what had happened. But it wasn’t like she was sitting in my bedroom, studying me in ‘before’ or ‘after’ terms, wearing that expression I hated – the nervous one, where people tiptoed around me, worried about saying something wrong or ‘non-PC’ about my injury.
The expression that always made my brain buzz with the thought: No-one is ever going to see me as old Taylor. The type of guy that other boarders admired. The type of guy who was fast and strong and fearless, who pulled things off on the slopes that almost nobody could – tricks that made heads turn and jaws drop.
But with Issy being in another country and behind a screen, there’s this tiny seed of hope inside me that maybe I could still connect with her the way that old Taylor did.
And that – just that – is enough to feel like some kind of saving grace.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Sent: Saturday 15 September, 10:37pm
Subject: RE: Open me :)
Hey Taylor,
Thanks for your email. I know that sounds like a casual opener, but in truth, it means the world to have heard from you. To be honest, I hadn’t expected to, after everything.
The Long Distance Playlist Page 3