And then she’s there, on the screen.
‘BEST costume EVER,’ Goldie says, grinning.
She sounds exactly the same. I feel my face stretch into a huge smile.
‘I can’t take credit for the spider – it was Dad’s genius.’
‘Is that a SPACESHIP behind you?’ Issy says, staring.
‘Also Dad’s work.’
‘What are you wearing?’
‘What am I wearing?’ I say in a silly voice. ‘Goldie, don’t you think that’s a bit suggestive?’
‘Oh MY GOD.’ Is rolls her eyes. ‘You’re full of yourself, as always. What I mean is, what costume are you wearing? You’re standing in the dark, I can’t see the details.’
‘Wait a sec.’ I move closer to the fairy lights that are near the side of the house. Dad put them up for Christmas yonks ago, but they’ve become a permanent fixture.
‘Now I can see you,’ Is says.
She goes quiet, and then I’m looking at her, looking at me. She’s sitting on her bed, wearing a pink leotard. Her cheeks are flushed, so she must have just finished a class or a practice session. Her eyes are even bluer than I remember.
Both of us are still looking at each other, and suddenly I don’t know what to say at all.
‘Hey,’ she says, and the little dimple in her right cheek appears. When I was little, I used to press my finger into it because that little dent, which only appeared when Issy was smiling or laughing, fascinated me.
‘Hey,’ I say back. All of a sudden, it feels like the only word I’ve ever learned.
‘You look different, it’s throwing me,’ Is says, shaking her head.
‘Different good, or different bad?’
She giggles. ‘Just different. Older. Taller, I think?’
Issy turns her head at an angle.
‘You can’t tell if I’m taller that way.’ I laugh. ‘You look different too.’
‘Not in a bad way, I hope.’
‘Same as you said – older. Taller. Brighter, maybe?’
‘Brighter?’ Is looks confused.
‘Can’t explain it,’ I say, because I can’t. It’s like even though she’s far away, she’s more vivid than all the other people here in the yard. ‘You look really good though.’
We both laugh.
‘Awwwwwkward,’ Is says, an old catchphrase from when we were little. We’d always say it in a cartoonish voice in the hope it would break the ice and make her parents, or mine, start laughing.
It works as usual – we both smirk on cue.
‘Totally awkward,’ I say.
‘Had to be, right? It’s been a while.’
‘I wish you were here,’ I say, because every time I look at my phone screen, I want to reach in and pull her out, like a magician lifting a rabbit from a hat.
‘I wish I was there too,’ Is says. ‘It looks like an awesome party, as always.’
‘You haven’t seen half of it,’ I say.
I start a video tour of our yard. Dad and a bunch of others have started jamming by the outdoor fire pit. Dad’s leading Eric Clapton’s ‘Layla’, but he’s changed the name to ‘Maia’. Mum’s shaking her head, but she’s grinning at Dad all the same. The song finishes and everyone cheers. I put the phone back on me.
‘Nothing’s changed here, obviously,’ I say, but what I mean is, they don’t change. Dad. Mum. How they love each other.
Issy nods. She understands.
‘The way your dad looks at your mum,’ Is says, ‘It’s . . .’
I only just make out the words, her voice is so quiet. I make my way back to the fairy lights, where I can hear Issy better.
‘It’s?’ I encourage.
‘Everything,’ Is says.
For a minute, she looks sad, and I think of her emails about her parents.
We fall silent again, then I hear someone shouting in the background of Issy’s phone.
‘I better go,’ Is says. ‘Dad and I have to leave for The Barber of Seville in half an hour and I haven’t showered yet.’
‘You should hang up, then,’ I say.
‘I’ll email you,’ Issy says. ‘I’m glad you picked up.’
‘Me too,’ I say.
We say goodbye, and I cross the yard and join Finn, who’s sitting around on the deck in our lawn chairs with his brother, Lee, and a bunch of girls I don’t know. I take a seat on one of the stools. Finn’s talking about how he’s going to do Movember this year. Lee lets out a groan, saying no-one wants to see Finn’s attempt at a ranga Santa beard, and he’d rather sponsor him NOT to do it. We’re all laughing and Finn’s looking peeved, when this random guy stumbles over and says to me:
‘Hey, are you the dude with the missing leg?’
The question is so loud that everyone stops laughing.
‘Nathan.’ Lee is shooting the guy daggers. ‘Shut up.’
I look at the guy, who’s only a few years older than me, and realise he must be one of Lee’s friends.
‘Sorry, man.’ Nathan’s breath smells of alcohol, and the words come out slurred. ‘I’m not trying to be rude, but someone told me you’re the one who lost your leg and I got curious and all.’
And BAM – here I am in the exact scenario I’d imagined every single time I’d considered saying yes to a party.
My chest tightens. Everyone in the group is looking at me, and all I want to do is get the heck out of this situation, but all the muscles in my body feel like jelly.
This is the moment that I should have a prepared answer ready to go, but my mind’s been wiped clean.
‘Seriously, Nathan, shut up,’ Lee says quietly.
I know he’s trying to help, but it just makes me feel even worse, like I can’t speak for myself.
‘Can I see it?’ Nathan blurts out, and before I can say anything, he puts his hand on my right leg.
Nathan’s hand is just below my knee, about ten centimetres from where my stump is, within the prosthesis. He’s not actually touching it, but it feels as if he is because I’m hyperconscious of that whole area. It’s basically the most private part of me, the part I’ve only ever let the doctors or physios or my prosthetist touch. No-one else to date because that’s the scariest thing to me.
I’m so shocked at what Nathan’s done that it’s almost as if I mentally check out of my body for a second. I’m standing outside myself in the corner near the fairy lights, and I’m back on the phone with Is again, telling her about this idiot who’s bugging me, and like a clap of thunder, the old Taylor kicks in. The one who never struggled for a comeback.
The shock lifts off me, and I look Nathan right in the eye.
‘I wouldn’t touch my leg if I were you,’ I say. ‘After all, the doctor’s still not sure if they’ve got the flesh-eating bacteria completely under control.’
The words come out so fast that I wonder for a millisecond if I’ve actually said them. And then Nathan’s hand freezes and he stares at me, wondering if I’m having him on.
‘Crazy to think about, hey?’ I say. ‘Those things were like invisible piranhas. Once they latch on to you, they move fast. One day I had a leg and the next day all the way almost to my knee was gone, like BOOM!’
I say the last word super loud, as loud as his original comment had been, so the whole group can hear it. Nathan jumps away from me, like I’ve thrown a piranha at him.
I see Finn’s face, which has What the hell? written all over it, and that’s the moment I go from feeling horrible about this situation to having some fun.
‘Make sure you soak it in some antiseptic tonight,’ I say, gesturing at his hand and putting on a concerned face. ‘If you start seeing any rotting flesh, or you pick up a really bad smell coming from the skin, get it checked out quick smart.’
After that last comment, I head for the house because I know I can’t keep a straight face any longer. I reach the bathroom, Finn on my heels, and I just manage to shut the door before we both start howling.
‘His– his– face.’ Fi
nn can barely talk. ‘When you said once they latch on to you . . .’
‘BOOM,’ I just manage to get the word out between laughs.
‘Make sure you soak it in some antiseptic!’ Finn splutters.
Finn pretends to douse himself in a bottle, and we both grab onto the side of the sink to keep our balance because we’re close to falling over from hysteria.
‘I feel kind of bad,’ I say after a few minutes, wiping away the tears from my eyes.
‘Stuff that,’ Finn says. ‘What gives him the right to think he can demand to see your leg? Or touch it! Idiot might think twice next time.’
Your leg. It’s only two words, but they leap to the front of my mind, like they’ve been typed in bold.
My leg, I think. Part of ME. Stuff saying the ‘right thing’. I get to say what I want about it. If I want to crack a joke, or make up an over-the-top, utterly false story to take the pressure off, that’s my call. If I want to open up or give information, that’s my decision. If I don’t want to say anything about it, I don’t have to.
I know this isn’t some magical turning point where I’ll never feel anxious or self-conscious again. That I’m now suddenly able to stroll into any social situation and feel like the king of confidence. But I feel a little more at ease heading back into the party. I wasn’t expecting to feel that way at all tonight.
Finn and I walk outside. Dad and the band are still playing – right now it’s a Santana song full of wailing guitar and people are dancing around.
The party finally winds down around 1am, and everyone heads home except for Finn, Mum, Dad and me. Instead of cleaning up, we lie on the rug in the living room and listen to The Jimi Hendrix Experience’s Are You Experienced? album because Dad thinks it’s the best record that ever existed. I close my eyes and feel the bass pulsing through the floor and into my bones. I can feel Mum smiling. I open my eyes and turn my head to look over at her. I’m right – the smile goes right up to her eyes, like it used to, before Dad got sick.
I smile as well because right then, every part of me is glad we had this moment – and this night.
Taylor’s Mobile
Sunday 28 October, 12:04pm
Isoldebyrne started following you on Instagram.
Isoldebyrne commented on your video: For reals, BEST. COSTUME. EVER.
Anatheballerina commented: You guys are finally following each other!! About TIME!
Instagram DM Conversation
Sunday 28 October, 2:32pm
Ana Zhang: So . . . about that follow . . .
Isolde Byrne: You’re doing that waggle-your-eyebrows thing, aren’t you?
Ana Zhang: I’m doing the waggle-your-eyebrows thing AT HIS PHOTO, that’s for sure. Admit it, he’s killing the broad-shouldered-woodsman look.
Isolde Byrne: You have a thing for fairytale men, you know.
Ana Zhang: You’re so trying to change the subject.
Isolde Byrne: No, you are. Admit it.
Ana Zhang: Whatever . . . anyway, was Tay’s photo the reason you finally started following? I know you profile-stalk BTW.
Isolde Byrne: Um, NO I DON’T and NO, that wasn’t the reason. We were video-chatting last night.
Ana Zhang: And you’re only telling me this now?! Was it weird? Good?!?
Isolde Byrne: It’s like you’re asking me about my first kiss . . . you’re making way too big a deal out of this.
Ana Zhang: IS, YOU HAVEN’T VIDEO-CHATTED SINCE YOUR FIGHT LAST YEAR. Of course I want to know how it went. And FYI, you’re the one making a big deal out of this by being all cagey about Taylor.
Isolde Byrne: I’m not being cagey!
Ana Zhang: Yah-huh . . .
Isolde Byrne: Cue Ana-sarcasm. FINE. We spoke and it was . . . Ana Zhang: What?!
Isolde Byrne: I’m trying to think of a word to describe it . . . funny, I guess?
Ana Zhang: As in ha-ha-ha funny?
Isolde Byrne: As in, it was funny because it felt like old times, but not as well. When I looked at him, like really looked at him, it threw me.
Ana Zhang: Because he’s even hotter than he used to be, right?
Isolde Byrne: NO. I mean, yes, he is even more attractive—
Ana Zhang: I thought this day would never come. You owning up to the fact that you find Taylor attractive?!
Isolde Byrne: Ana, he’s my best guy friend. Me saying he’s attractive is just a fact.
Ana Zhang: Is it?
Isolde Byrne: Oh. My. God. He’s a good-looking guy, okay? He always has been. It’d be weirder if I didn’t admit it. Anyway – back to what I was saying. When I looked at him, I was thrown because he looks . . . I don’t know . . . more grown up, maybe? Like he’s taller, and his mouth is fuller . . .
Ana Zhang: You were staring at his lips?
Isolde Byrne: Um, yeah, because he was talking, and the background noise at the party was LOUD. I was basically amateur lip-reading.
Ana Zhang: Yah-huh . . .
Isolde Byrne: Stop saying that. Anyway, it was a good conversation. The type where five minutes after you hang up, you want to call the other person right back because you’ve just thought of something else you want to tell them.
Ana Zhang: Like you and me.
Isolde Byrne: Exactly. After that, it felt stupid not to be following him on Insta, so I hit ‘follow’ this morning.
Ana Zhang: And cue the Insta interactions. You know I’m going to be stalking you guys being all, ‘nawww, look at you two, all cute and stuff!’
Isolde Byrne: Please don’t.
NOVEMBER
Isolde
Friday 2 November
I tell Ana about the call, of course, but I don’t tell her about how I feel after it.
It’s weird because right after Taylor and I hang up, I only feel happy. He told me I looked brighter. Brighter, which means the world to me when all I’ve been feeling the last few months is faded.
The high of talking to my friend stays with me all through the show at the Opera House. I can feel myself swaying in my seat to Figaro’s aria, and I laugh so hard at the antics on stage that my stomach hurts.
And then I wake up the next morning, and I feel like something is missing. I feel sad, but it’s not quite sadness.
Why do I feel sad after talking to him? I ask myself for the next two days.
It takes me till Wednesday to pick the feeling apart.
It’s not sadness, it’s homesickness. That weird ache inside my chest – it’s longing to be somewhere else. It’s the exact same feeling that always used to hover around me for at least a week whenever we’d fly back to Sydney after being with Taylor’s family.
My whole life, their house was my favourite place to be. And after seeing Taylor, and Maia and Tobi, and Queenstown, alive on my phone screen – all I want is to be over there in the yard with them.
I think of Taylor’s house, and there are layers and layers of memories, as far down in my mind as memories go.
I’m ten years old, some friends of Maia and Tobi’s, a couple I’ve never met before, are over for dinner, and they’re asking Taylor’s mum and dad how they met.
I’ve heard their story a million times, but I love whenever someone asks the question because Maia and Tobi always tell it the same way. Taylor and I sometimes turn to each other and mouth the next line on cue with them.
Tobi’s dad always starts first.
‘It was the late nineties. My band, Atoms from Galaxies, was yet to crack the tough nut that was the US music scene. So we rented a big bus and toured from New York to LA.’
He always turns to look at Taylor and me at this point.
‘This was the nineties, you guys – there was no Spotify or YouTube. Gigging was the best way to try to get radio stations to play the single. Anyway, our manager, Bob, wanted Aussie behind-the-scenes crew—’
‘And I was the Kiwi chick who loved music and talked her way into getting the job.’ Maia always cuts in at this point in the story.
‘A coup
le of hours out from the first show, we were messing around with a dodgy speaker on stage, and in walks Maia. Before we’re even introduced, she tells me to “put that lead down NOW before you electrocute yourself!” She grabbed my hand to take it away, and this massive jolt went through me, like I had touched a live wire. It was nothing to do with electrical currents, of course, it was just her. Anyway, she walked away, and I couldn’t breathe for a second. She was not interested in me.’
‘I assumed he’d be up himself.’ Maia shrugs. ‘What with all the girls backstage after the shows, hanging off his every word. I’d seen way too many band guys with big egos back home.’
It’s weird to think of Tobi that way, because to me he’s just Taylor’s dad, not the young guy on the posters Mum has folded up in binders back home in the spare room.
‘Midway through the tour, we were invited to be one of the acts at a Sony Music Halloween bash,’ Tobi says.
‘The band went off to change for the party,’ Maia interjects. ‘The room was full of people in these elaborate costumes – basically anything that screamed cool. And then out strolls Tobi, dressed as a Vegemite jar . . .’
We all start laughing.
‘I thought it would be memorable!’ Tobi protests. ‘We were an Aussie band – what’s more Aussie than Vegemite?’
Maia shakes her head, giggling. ‘Anyway, I burst out laughing and thought, Maybe this guy’s alright.’
Tobi shakes his head at this point in the story. ‘Eight weeks before she let me kiss her. The tour had wrapped up by week four of this, so I had to follow her all the way to Auckland in the hope I might have a chance. Then she wanted to road-trip the South Island over the Christmas break, so I got dragged along for that too.’
Maia always raises an eyebrow here. ‘I seem to remember YOU showing up outside my apartment in a campervan, saying, “Are you going to show me Kiwi-land, or not?”’
‘Three weeks later, I was head over heels for her AND the country. All I wanted to do was marry her and build a place in Queenstown, because both of them had me hooked.’
The Long Distance Playlist Page 9