| 2 |
REMEMBRANCE
"What do you reckon they're talking about?" Jim asked. He looked vaguely in the direction Al had headed after Tich.
"What do you think?" Helen asked, a little too snidely. Jim threw her a filthy look. He really hated that that kind of sudden animosity. He hadn't done anything to her. It was bad enough they'd had to come to this school in the first place without being randomly attacked by someone he was being forced to hang out with.
He took a breath and pushed the thought away. Al needed this. As his friends, they wanted to help support him however they could. Even if that meant putting up with some obnoxious teenage girls.
"Memories?" Camilla suggested, and the two boys looked at her. "Tich knew Sylvia best. I'm guessing the two of them have a lot to talk about, considering." Victor bit thoughtfully into his baguette.
"He always planned to come visit home, but things kept getting in the way."
"He put it off," Jim interrupted. When he frowned a single line appeared on the bridge of his large nose. Victor kicked him before he could dig up Al's life history and share it round the group. Jim yelped, and shoved him in retaliation. Marilyn giggled, and edged closer to them.
"So, you guys play tennis. Do you work out?" Helen snorted and went back to her pasta salad. Camilla shook her head and, unable to suppress her grin, she looked away. Victor seemed at a loss for words at this sudden change of subject, but Jim stepped right up to the challenge, flexing his arms like a body builder.
"You don't think these guns appeared all by themselves, do you?" he asked with a grin, and Marilyn's giggling grew unbearably shrill.
"Is she always like this?" Victor whispered, mostly to Camilla who seemed the least hostile of the other two, but Helen was the one who replied.
"No, usually she's worse. Just be glad she hasn't forced you to sign her breasts yet." Victor swallowed, and tried very hard not to think about Marilyn's breasts. She was very forward but she was stunning, with luscious long legs and an impressive amount of cleavage. Amazingly, she was into him. The issue was, she was into everyone else as well. Happy to share the love, so to speak.
"How long are you guys going to be staying here?" Camilla asked, rapidly changing the subject. Victor was pensive.
"For as long as Al needs," he said. Jim shifted his attention away from Marilyn for long enough to put his oar in.
"But we'll be gone by the next tournament." Camilla looked sharply back at Victor. Something about her unwavering gaze held him accountable, and he shifted his weight awkwardly, unsure what to say.
"Did she... you know, have someone she liked?" Al asked through the door. Tich frowned, and pulled her sports T-shirt over her head. She was in the changing rooms, and he was loitering outside to talk to her.
She spared a moment to wonder what that would look like to anyone - a minor celebrity hanging around the changing rooms. Sylvia would have marshalled him away. She'd also have told him to mind his own business.
In all honestly, Tich wasn't even sure about the answer. Of course, Sylvia had giggled about Mark Laton, and other celebrities. But as for real people? If she had, she'd never said so. The answer probably lay somewhere in her diary. But the guys in class had always teased Sylvia about having a brother complex, and that had meant she was often ranting and raving at them. She'd been popular enough that they'd wanted to tease her.
"No." She made quick work of buttoning up her school shirt, pushing her tracksuit bottoms down and kicked them off of her ankles. She'd never claimed to be graceful. "She never had a boyfriend, if that's what you mean." Sylvia had never been kissed that Tich knew. Never fallen in love. Never had sex. Never would. Al digested that for a while, and Tich put on her tights, rolling the material up past her thighs as she thought about that. Tich hadn't done any of those things either. It had never felt all that important before. They were supposed to have all the time in the world. Their whole lives ahead of them.
"Did she have other hobbies?" Other than dancing, she assumed he meant. She wriggled into the school skirt and fastened it at the side. For a ridiculous moment she thought about rolling it up. About checking her hair in the mirror, to make sure she looked okay. It was Alan who was waiting for her. He still made her nervous. Irrationally. She bit her lip, and cursed herself. What was she thinking? She didn't have time for that kind of stupidity. Neither did he. He was only talking to her because he wanted a connection to Sylvia. "What did she do for fun?"
"What do you think?" she whispered. How did he know so little about her? Sylvia had always talked about him, to the point where Tich felt like she knew him even though they'd never met. She knew what type of foods he liked. She knew he hated rollerblading, and that he'd once been so angry with Sylvia for breaking his skateboard that he'd told her he wished she'd break her leg. Tich knew because she'd paid attention whenever Sylvia had brought him up. She'd shared everything with Tich. The good and the bad, mixed together. It pained Tich to realise that Al hadn't felt the same. He'd barely noticed the sister he'd left behind. The sister he'd lost for good.
It was too late to pick up the pieces.
She blinked back tears.
"Sorry?" He hadn't heard her. She shook her head, and reached for her shoes. She was irritated. He should have known. He shouldn't have to ask her these things. She bit her tongue and rested her head against the wall, trying to calm down. She didn't need an emotional outburst on top of everything else right now. She didn't want to be sent home. She needed the distraction that school gave her. The reassurance of knowing that other people also cared about Sylvia. That they missed her too. She needed 'positive thinking' – that's what the counselor had said. She should remember the good things about her friend. Remember and share all the wonderful things that had made Tich love her so. "Please," Al whispered – she heard him quietly through the door. "I wasn't here as much as I should have been. I want to know what she was like... whether she was happy."
Tich caught her breath, and brushed the tears from her eyes.
"She liked horses. She'd go riding when she could, but there aren't many stables around here or anything, so that wasn't exactly often." She straightened up from her laces, and collected her things. "Apart from that, I guess we just did normal things. We went shopping, drank coffee in small cafés, went to the cinema, met up with friends, and went ice-skating. When we wanted a laugh we tried playing tennis." She was face to face with him on opening the door. His blue eyes were a little wide. She'd never really looked into his eyes before. "What?" she asked.
"I thought she hated tennis," he said, shaking his head. "When she came to visit, she didn't want to join in." Tich looked to the side.
"She didn't hate it. She was terrible. That's why we did it together. We were both equally bland. But she loved it. She loved watching your tournaments on TV. She used to talk about you a lot." He nodded awkwardly, now seeing that Sylvia had probably been too embarrassed to play in front of him or his team. Tich bit her lip. "Hang on a second," she said. "Come with me."
She led him back towards the school again, and quickly navigated to the year 11 cloakroom. She moved to her locker and moved all the books out of the way so that she could shove her gym stuff in, then slammed the door and opened the locker next to it. Sylvia's locker. They hadn't cleared it.
Apparently there had been flowers on the floor and the locker for weeks afterwards. Then the flowers started to wilt, and the school had set up a memorial for her instead. Sylvia's locker looked like all the others again. The world had moved on. Tich was reminded of it every single time she came here, and it made her bitter all over again.
The combination was Al's birthday. Right at the back behind the exercise books Sylvia would never need to use again was her abandoned tennis racket. Totally average. No professional would ever dream of using such a cheap racket, but she handed it to Al anyway.
"Sylvia's," she explained, carefully not looking at his face as she closed the locker door again. One day soon, they would have to empty it. But so far, the school had been quite understanding. "I'm glad it's still here."
"Thank you," he said, although she wasn't sure if he was really too happy with the gift. If she'd been in his position, she probably wouldn't have known what to make of it. He was used to handling quality stuff. The idea that his sister was using a piece of junk like that probably depressed him.
"If you don't want it," she said quickly. "I'll take it back. It's a good memory." She didn't want his disapproval to taint it. Even though they weren't good, they'd had fun pretending. She couldn't count the number of times she'd watched Sylvia impersonating Al, and doing the commentary of her favourite news clips.
"No," Al said, shaking his head and closing his fingers around the racket's handle. "No, I want it. Thank you." She met his gaze and gave him a brief half smile. She was relieved. Sylvia would have wanted him to have it. Tich was overwhelmingly relieved that he didn't misunderstand.
Al looked at the locker again.
"I should probably do something about that." Tich stared at him. His jaw was set in a grim line, and his eyes were serious. He was tense. Maybe he felt like he was under a lot of pressure. Tich knew she shouldn't be blaming him for not being around. She wondered if he was doing enough of that for the both of them already. "One less thing for mum and dad to worry about."
Tich's chest felt tight.
Even in this situation, she really liked this boy.
She hated herself for it.
Tich felt a sickness take root in the pit of her stomach when she saw Sylvia's house. Al's house.
His friends had exchanged some weird looks when she started walking home with them. But Al had been silent, and Tich had appreciated that. It was pleasant walking along, not talking about anything. She'd been trying her hardest not to think either. Not to notice she shape of his hands and arms as they accidentally brushed against hers. Or the way this lips curved into a smile when Victor shoved Jim into a puddle and the younger boy chased him up the hill.
"I'll go find mum," he said, heading off around to the other entrance of the house. Tich had to pause on the doorstep and swallow. Unable to move. Unable to see past her memories of this house. Victor tactfully held back, but Jim pushed on past, muttering about time wasters.
"You alright?" Victor checked. Tich nodded. It was fine. She could deal with it. "Do you need something to drink?"
She gagged, and ran to the downstairs bathroom, retching into the toilet.
Victor followed and hovered awkwardly by the door. If she'd had long hair, he would at least have known to hold it back for her, but since Tich's was shorter than his own, he was stuck for what to do. He didn't really know her well enough to start rubbing her back.
"Can I-?"
"Sorry," she whispered. Her eyes were streaming. She was such an embarrassment. She wasn't going to throw up every time someone asked her if she wanted a drink. But saying that here, in this house - it was little wonder when she was reliving that day. "I'm alright now." She wiped her mouth and stood up, flushing the basin even though she hadn't actually thrown anything up. There was bile in her throat and it stung. She swallowed it down, feeling nauseous but forcing her body under control. Victor nodded.
"I'll bring you something," he said, before disappearing. She was glad of the excuse not to go in the kitchen. Leaving the bathroom, she glanced up the stairs towards Sylvia's room. A part of her almost expected to see Sylvia running down them. Eager to see her. Tich shook her head. The TV was on in the living room. Jim had the TV on full blast, playing some kind of cartoon. From the doorway she could see there were sleeping bags all over the room, and realised Al's friends were sleeping on the sofas. Al had a room upstairs, opposite Sylvia's. She was relieved to see that they hadn't touched her room, even though it was none of her business, and they could probably do with the space.
"Tich?" Mrs Holmes looked thin and tiny in a dark cotton dressing gown. Tich swallowed again. She wasn't used to seeing her like this. She walked over to Sylvia's mum, and hugged her tightly back when the woman embraced her. "It was good of you to come." Tich thought she understood why they'd wanted to see her now. The house must not have seemed real with Al and his friends back. It must've felt like Sylvia was on holiday. They'd needed to see her to help reinforce their daughter's loss. "Will you come upstairs?" She nodded stiffly, and let herself be led away. She didn't look at Al's face as they passed him on the stairs. She knew where they were headed. Left at the top of the stairs, and immediately left again, into Sylvia's room.
It looked different. The bed linen had been stripped away, and a lot of empty boxes rested on the barren mattress. Tich closed her eyes. She'd been wrong. As much as Sylvia's parents might have liked to see her to help them move on, they were also trying to help her move on as well. The therapist had talked on and on about the five steps of grief – denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. Tich hadn't had anything so clear cut. She fluctuated from one step to the next and regressed into the earlier ones from time to time. Depression and melancholy cast a constant shadow, as she warred internally between the denial and bargaining. Mostly what she came back to was anger. Outrage. Over Sylvia's death. Or over stupid, trivial things. Everything irritated her. Nothing felt right anymore. How could it, when Sylvia was gone?
She wasn't anywhere closer to acceptance. In her eyes, it could never be okay. Her best friend had been taken from her, and she didn't plan on moving on any time soon. The therapist had talked to her parents for a long time after that admission.
Mrs Holmes smiled a wobbly smile. Tich wondered where she'd gotten to in those stupid five steps. She wondered if it was ever actually helpful to hear about them when you were living the grief.
"I was wondering if you could help me," Mrs Holmes said, gesturing around them as if she was lost. "I don't know if there was something she would have wanted to give to someone in particular, or if there were things she wouldn't want me to see, or what wasn't important to her in the slightest." Tich thought Mrs Holmes was very brave, and she wondered how any parent boxed their child's possessions away. "Of course, if you want anything, for a memory, or a keepsake, you're welcome to it. She would have wanted you to have it. I'm sure. You two were best friends, after all. She always said." Even if Sylvia hadn't said, Tich considered, they were round each other's houses enough for both of their parents to have long since worked it out.
Tich looked at the books on Sylvia's bookshelf, and the clothes in her wardrobe, and the papers on her desk. The jewellery. The hair ornaments. The odd souvenirs. The pictures on the walls, and the posters of horses, and Al and his friends. She knew, behind that poster, was a smaller poster just of Mark Laton.
"Yeah," she said. She didn't know where to start. "Maybe, we can put all the books in a box for now, and all the clothes in another box, and ask Marilyn, Camilla and Helen if they want anything." If she saw something while they were moving, she could always take it, but she didn't think any piece of clothing or a book would ever be enough.
Saying that, before they were even five minutes into the task, she'd already claimed Sylvia's favourite hoodie. Victor brought them both camomile teas, and on seeing what they were doing, he'd back-pedalled from the room as quickly as he could. Hardly pausing for breath in explaining it was Tony's turn to cook supper tonight.
"Oh." Mrs Holmes's exclamation caught Tich's attention. She turned from emptying the desk into two piles – schoolwork and creative musings. She was holding Sylvia's diary - the purple glitter was unmistakable. Tich's heart sank. She'd been hoping never to see it again. Never to be tempted by it. No matter the contents, they could never live up to Tich's imaginings of what those last words could be.
She didn't want it, but she didn't want Sylvia's mum to have it either. Maybe she could bury it somewhere? She couldn't give it to Al, or Camilla, or even Helen. They would read it too, and if anyone was going to read it, shouldn't it be Tich?
She shook her head, recognising that she was having crazy thoughts. Maybe Marilyn? But she couldn't tell how Marilyn was at the moment. Marilyn wasn't very good at expressing herself. She didn't want to. That was why she threw her energy into other people or ideas. To hide.
And what if Marilyn became absorbed in the idea of the diary?
"I'll take it," Tich offered. "I think... maybe I'll give it to mum. To hold onto." If there was anyone Tich could trust to keep something away from her, it was her mum. Not that their relationship was very tense. They just wound each other up sometimes. Tich's screaming was an extension of her love, the same way her mum's overprotective streak was an extension of hers. "I think she'd have wanted that."
Mrs Holmes very reluctantly handed the heavy book over to her. It was padlocked, but Tich knew where Sylvia had kept the key. Without thinking, she walked to the music box on the window ledge and took that too. The key was hidden under the packing foam in the lid, but she didn't want to tell Mrs Holmes that in case she changed her mind and tried to take the book back from her. She didn't know what kind of secrets Sylvia had in there.
Probably nothing terrible. Probably they were normal insecurities and confessions, but Tich didn't want to take the risk. Sylvia would have been mortified to have anyone read her diary, let alone her mum.
Tich added both items to the hoodie, and forced a smile before turning back to the desk's papers again. Mrs Holmes moved onto her jewellery, and Tich's pile gained the other half of the best friends necklaces they'd shared, and all the friendship bracelets they'd made over the years.
Tich was glad when Tony came to summon them for supper. She would be gladder still to leave them all when the day drew to an end.
"Thanks for coming," Al said, walking her home. "I think it meant a lot to them, and I know Mum appreciated the help." Tich clutched at her newly acquired belongings. She was just glad Sylvia's dad had been drinking so she didn't have to sit through the awkward car journey home making small talk. Walking with Al was to be infinitely preferred. Sylvia's mum didn't feel quite ready to leave the house. "I know this must be difficult for you too." She rounded on him, suddenly.
"Don't you find it hard?" she demanded. "Moving here, changing your life, losing her – how can you be so accommodating? Aren't you upset, Al?" His expression hardened into a grim line.
"I can't play anymore." Her mouth dropped open. Not from shock. She was appalled.
"What?" Her voice had never sounded so unfamiliar. So angry.
"I can't focus," he tried to explain. She'd have ranted if not for his face. So what if he couldn't play tennis? Had the circumstances been different she'd have hit him. Screamed what made him so bloody self-important, but she sort of understood what he was trying to say.
He wasn't good with words. Nor was she for that matter.
Meanwhile, she was being aggressive again. She swallowed thickly, and looked away. He was upset. Of course he was, and he couldn't even do what he loved to escape from the feeling of despair. It was awful of her to challenge him like that. Just because he wasn't whinging about it all the time, didn't mean he wasn't suffering. Camilla would have known what to say. She always knew what to say in moments like this. Tich thought of Helen and Marilyn, and then disjointedly remembered what she and Al had been talking about earlier.
"Do you have other hobbies?" she asked as they neared her street. It had always been a blessing that she lived so near Sylvia. Al's lips parted in surprise, and Tich looked at him wearily. "Maybe you could de-stress using one of them?"
He smiled wryly, and she looked away, annoyed with herself for still being a teenage girl. She hated that her heart beat in the same way that it had back then. Before Sylvia died, she'd liked Al. Not seriously, it had just been a crush, but she felt that she should feel differently now. Closing her eyes, she walked towards her front door. He watched her go. She supposed he wasn't the type to wave.
"See you tomorrow," he called.
She slammed the door before she could look at his face.
Patreon
