| 5 |
THE PASSAGE OF TIME
"Happy Birthday!!!" Camilla cooed down the phone line. Tich creased her brow in pain as the weekend lie-in she'd been so abruptly woken from fought back. Only Camilla could say words with such excitement that you could hear the excessive punctuation slotting right into place. "I've got the best surprise for you," she said avidly. Tich wriggled up against the pillows until she was more upright than horizontal. Camilla's surprises could be a little over the top if you didn't mentally prepare for them. "Davy Croakley is having a house party this weekend and we're going!"
"Do I get a choice in this?" She didn't feel particularly strongly about it one way or another, but she was interested to know Camilla's response.
"Nope!" Tich could hear her grinning down the phone. She yawned. She really wanted to get back to bed.
"Night then." She went to hang up the phone, but Camilla's voice brought her back.
"Yeah, and!" Camilla interjected quickly. Clearly there was more to share. "Mark's still here. Something about someone persuading him to stay...?" She paused expectantly. Tich could hear her anticipation. Tich looked off to the side.
"Really?" she asked, feigning boredom. "So, the guys want an excuse to get out of the house?" She pursed her lips, and fiddled with the corner of the bed sheets. She wondered how Camilla even knew about this. "Does that mean we're babysitting Jim too?"
"Don't be silly!" Camilla laughed. "So what if he's fifteen - who cares? The guys can look after each other. That's not our job. We're just going to have a good time. Whoop whoop!" That was Camilla. Totally responsible, but only for the people she cared about. Never mind that people would recognise Jim. Tich also thought that Camilla was the only person she knew who would actually shout whoop whoop. "Annnnnd, Al says we can crash at his later if need be, but I figured it might be easier to square with your mum if you tell her you're staying at mine tonight. We can share a taxi." Tich nodded. Then remembered Camilla couldn't see her.
Tich hesitated. She got swept along by Camilla so easily.
"Tich?" Camilla checked. "You know, I'm respecting your wishes by not throwing you a birthday party...and I know you probably have a lot of mixed feelings about this. About celebrating. But if it's okay, I think it would be good to give yourself a break. Just an evening, when you don't think about how shit everything is. And I love you. We all do. You know that, right?"
"Yeah." Tich's voice broke. The sudden wave of grief and sadness crashing over her. She'd completely lost her composure. She was glad Camilla couldn't see her. Although her voice would clearly show the strain. She swallowed, and really tried to get herself under control. "Yeah. Sounds good."
She didn't even know if it did sound good. Or how she felt about that. She just wanted the conversation to end.
"Oh, honey. I love you so much. I can't wait to see you and give you a big hug. I'll come pick you up later. Let's say six thirty? Else you know your mum'll get suspicious!" she sang and promptly hung up. Camilla was the only person Tich knew who never said goodbye.
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You could tell which house was the destination of choice for the kids their age by the crowds. Whole swathes of people fought their way towards the house with loud music blasting out of the door every time it was opened, which was pretty much constantly. Al and the others got a lot of attention as they entered. Davy, whose house it was, drunkenly sauntered up to greet them, looking thrilled enough to wet himself. As if they'd come there for him. Tich shook her head and shared a look with Al who rolled his eyes. He got this treatment all the time. They made a beeline for Helen and Marilyn who were lingering by the drinks table, each clasping disposable cups.
"I think I saw Bethany making out with a girl," was Helen's first report of the evening. She didn't even stop to say hello.
"Hello, where was this," Victor stepped in, throwing an arm around the two girl's shoulders, making up for Helen's rudeness with a crudeness to match. Marilyn giggled but Helen wriggled out of his grasp, leaving Victor grinning down at Marilyn. She didn't even blush. She knew what she was doing.
Camilla shoved a drink into Tich's hand.
"No more analysing," she demanded.
"Yes," Tich mused. "Instead I'll let my liver break down. Fantastic." But she drank the drink anyway. She liked alcohol. She'd only said it to be funny, and was gratified when the guys laughed.
"Where can I get me one of those," Jim butted in. Camilla rolled her eyes, as Victor handed the fifteen year old a bottle. She was about to ask the others what they wanted, but realised with some surprise that the other three had already supplied themselves with drinks in record time. Mark took one look around them and grimaced as he poured himself a coke. Mark didn't drink. It was a pity, because in Tich's opinion, he could have done with one. Al caught her eye.
"Let's go dance," he said, and dragged her away.
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The girls at the party seemed to be going steadily mental with Al and his friends in their midst. In fact, Mark and Tony's presence seemed to have kicked the hysteria up to a whole new level. Tich pulled a face when she spotted Victor deeply in mid-flirt with Paige, who seemed a lot less shy under the influence of alcohol. As she watched Victor leant in and the two started heavily making out in front of everyone. Not that other couples weren't doing the same. Marilyn was a couple of metres away from the pair, batting her eyelashes at some rugby stud from another school. Knowing her, she'd be in mirroring them in five minutes. Camilla laughed and leant in to whisper to Tich as they surveyed everyone from their sofa. An island in the sea of the ridiculous.
"I think," she confessed. "That he's trying to make Marilyn jealous." Tich looked at Marilyn's oblivious face and snorted a sip of her most recent mixer. Victor and Marilyn? Where did that come from?
"I think," she confessed, spinning the same weight into her words as Camilla had to hers. "You're talking out of your arse, my dear. How much have you had to drink?" She reached over to confiscate Camilla's punch as Camilla giggled and pushed her away.
"No, no!" She shrieked with laughter. "You're only saying that because you can't deal with subtleties. For example, you'd never guess that I like Al." Tich's mouth dropped open.
"What?" she guffawed, getting to her knees in order to reach better. "Milly, stop-"
"No, I'm serious!" Camilla whined, putting her drink down on the table behind her, since Tich was in danger of climbing on top of her. "I like him, and I think he likes me too." The laughter faded from Tich's face. As soon as she realised Camilla wasn't joking, it started to really bother her.
"Really?" she whispered, sinking back onto her heels.
"Oh," Camilla said, her own good humour sinking in tandem with Tich's. "Oh, don't look like that. I'm sorry. I won't get in the way. You know I love you. Nobody will ruin that."
Tich was hit by a strong sense of nostalgia. A wanting. Another wanting for Sylvia. Their love had been boundlessly unconditional. For no reason other than they were best friends. Where as, as lovely as Camilla was, Tich knew her friend was simply trying not to step on her toes. It wasn't that Camilla didn't love her. It wasn't even that she didn't love Camilla. It was just that Camilla wasn't Sylvia, and so, even though the conversation was the same, the outcome would be different.
"You still like him?" Camilla said, testing the waters. She'd never been able to deal with an awkward silence. Especially not whilst drunk. Tich stared at her, searching. Her friend was so beautiful. So confident. So unique. But she would fall on her sword for other people at the drop of a hat. It would be so easy to tell her to stop.
But how could she do that? When she was confused about her own feelings. When the very idea of still having feelings felt like some kind of a betrayal.
"How could I?" she asked, sadly. The alcohol loosening her tongue. "When I loved her so much." But she had liked Al. She really had. A huge amount. She didn't want Camilla to like him. Or really, she didn't want Al to like her. Camilla's expression was very sad. She hugged Tich, jogging Tich's glass so that small splashes speckled the sofa.
"We all loved her," she whispered. "Please, I know you two were best friends. But I loved her too. Don't forget that. Don't think you're alone in feeling the absence in the room."
The absence in the room. Sometimes Tich felt it so strongly it was as if she could still hear Sylvia's voice. Her laughter. Her sarcastic comments. Her annoyance. It wasn't fair.
Tich closed her eyes. Of course, she knew she wasn't the only one suffering. She knew her friends were going through their own grief. And she wasn't so self-centred as to think her feelings were the only ones that mattered. But her feelings were the only ones she could feel, and she felt them deeply, and what she felt the most was her own inability to cope.
That was the problem, lying unspoken in her mind. Her friends would move on eventually. Naturally. They had to. It was the only way to survive. To let time numb that pain.
But Tich couldn't imagine a time that she ever would. Whenever something happened, her first instinct would be to ask Sylvia what she thought. How could there ever a time when that wasn't the case? Tich couldn't recognise that version of herself. That would be a stranger.
"Tich," Camilla cooed into her ear. "I love you so much. I'm sorry this has happened. I don't know what to do, to stop you from pushing us all away. And I don't want to put that on you either. I know you don't want to talk about it. I know you need time, and space. But I just want you to know that I'm here for you if you ever need me. For anything."
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Tich couldn't stop the tears building in her eyes. She pulled away from Camilla and wiped them quickly from her face. Gasping for a breath as her throat tightened painfully on her words.
"Sorry," she whispered, brokenly. "I didn't mean to not say anything. I just can't right now." Camilla nodded.
"I understand."
But Tich wasn't sure that she did.
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Jim couldn't remember where Al had said he was off to as he wiped his mouth, flushed the toilet, and exited the bathroom. He'd just thrown up. But rather than worrying about that, or his missing friend, his first thought was to find another drink. Maybe that would disguise the taste of bile in his throat.
He was unsurprised to spot Victor making out with some hussy across the room. What was surprising, a moment later with the change of angle brought by descending the stairs, was that she turned out to be Marilyn. He muttered something about lucky bastards, and a random girl nearby giggled. He threw his best smile in her direction but kept on walking. He really wanted that drink. It was hard being in a room of strangers. It was harder when you felt like you stuck out like a sore thumb. That wasn't even taking his insecurities over his friends being more popular into account. But it was hardest being here when it felt forced. This was some kind of weird stage in the grieving process he'd never heard about. In fact, he'd thought that drinking was one of the worst things to do in this kind of situation.
It was Tony who'd said that for someone like Al, who couldn't really speak about his feelings, a little lubrication might help. Maybe that was the same for Tich? He'd noticed how quiet she got sometimes. Like every other sentence reminded her of a different life. She didn't really talk about it. Or fuss in the way he'd expected. She was just... sad. Sad the same way Mrs Holmes was. Drifting about the house like a ghost from time to time. Honestly, it scared Jim a little bit. He'd never really had to deal with grief. He'd been fortunate enough to have never lost someone.
Looking over the crowd he spotted Tony talking to Helen. His friend looked like he was in distress, and Jim pitied him. He'd go bail Tony out, but he didn't want to go anywhere near Helen. She always glared at him, like she was offended he was breathing. Besides, Tony didn't need to hit on women. He had a girlfriend. Maybe that was why Helen didn't seem to be as vicious towards him. He'd thought she hated men. But maybe she felt threatened instead?
Tich was at the drinks table. She laughed, and swayed back slightly.
"I've lost Milly," she announced. It was the most animated he'd seen her. She didn't seem too upset about losing her friend. Jim nodded and focussed on trying to find a bottle opener for his beer. "She likes Al, did you know?" Jim stared at her. Tich took another drink.
"Okay. Where'd he get to anyway?" Jim was struggling with the bottle in his hand. Why was it so difficult to open? What he really wanted was a nice cold wall to slide down until the world stopped spinning.
"Don't know," she said. Then she spotted Victor and Marilyn. "Wow." She pointed them out to Jim, who'd seen them earlier and didn't particularly want to see them again. "Look at them go!" A wave of nausea overtook him.
Jim dropped the still unopened beer, and sprinted back to the bathroom.
Tich watched him run and wondered what on earth he was doing, then spotted Al and Camilla talking over on the other side of the room. She watched her friend. Happily chatting away, laughing. Tich knew Camilla was a good actress, but you'd never have thought she'd lost anyone. Al was staring at her intently as Camilla told another joke. Tich's stomach twisted with anger and jealousy.
Camilla could keep him entertained so effortlessly. She could support him.
What could Tich possibly offer anyone at this time? How could she make anyone else happy, when she knew she was miserable by herself?
But what she wouldn't give, to have switched places with Camilla. For a moment. To be able to lose herself in Al's eyes. In his arms. In his lips.
She recognised how unfair she was being. To herself. To Camilla. To Al. She grabbed her drink and went in search of the only other listless person in the room.
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Al had to really focus on Camilla's face as she tried to talk to him. It was the expression he got during nights out when he was trying to read a text message and had to piece the words together one letter at a time because the whole sentence was too blurry for him. He wondered if Jim was okay. He'd spotted him running past them a minute ago and wondered if he was throwing up again. He'd certainly looked ill.
"I think," he interrupted Camilla. "We should go check on Jim." She wrinkled up her face. She didn't like Jim that much. For some reason, few people did. But Al had always found him to be a loyal friend. Endearing.
"Do you like Tich?" Camilla asked, as she followed him through the crowd. "I think she likes you." Al closed his eyes. Why did people insist on putting ideas like that into his head? He didn't want the added drama. It felt like all anyone wanted was to make out. But a brief moment of passion wasn't going to make him feel better. Least of all with Tich, who was so obviously in pieces. Maybe that was why is was so much more comfortable to be around her. He didn't have to pretend to be okay. He didn't have to be strong. He could just take a moment to be quiet, and forget everything.
"That's nice," he muttered, trying to work out what the appropriate thing to say would be. Girls always played mind games, but for the most part, they didn't make sense. Like they investigated other people's dramas over their own. For all he knew, Tich could have told Camilla to tell him that. But he found it more likely that Camilla was saying it on her own. He closed his eyes again briefly. The alcohol was making it hard to think.
They were distracted on rounding the corner because they found Jim standing over a fresh puddle of sick on the floor. Some girl was having hysterics over her shoe, which had been caught in the blast. Al pushed her away and focused on looking after his friend. Camilla joined them, suddenly all concern.
"Are you okay?"
He liked the way she did that though. She could really look after people. Mother them. It would be easy to let her take care of him. That was what she wanted. But letting go like that, letting someone else take the burden - it didn't sit right with him. Tich was the same. She carried the whole weight of the world on her shoulders with hardly a complaint.
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Mark Laton looked like he wanted to kill himself. Girls kept crowding him, and he leant expansively against the armrest of a sofa, trying to take up as much room as possible so that he gained a little extra space. He brightened up a little bit as he saw Tich, and even went so far as to move up to make room for her. She carelessly collapsed into the space beside him, raising her glass so it wouldn't collide into anything as she sat. He misunderstood the gesture and clinked his coke against her glass of punch. Some of the girls slinked away, muttering under their breaths. There were plenty of attractive enough people in the room. With the presence of alcohol, those who weren't attractive enough soon would be.
"I'd ask if you wanted to dance," Tich said, merely making conversation because she'd never actually try to dance with him. "But I think you'd step on my feet."
"I would," Mark said. "Deliberately." She couldn't help a grin. Mark had a way with words that she envied. A simple comeback like that expressed that he hated the implication of being asked to dance but also that he actually knew how to dance perfectly well. Mark was funny in understated ways.
"So you're not having the time of your life?" He shook his head, an unnecessary response to her sarcastic comment that left her wondering whether he'd gotten the joke. She yawned. "Join the club."
"Not much of a birthday celebration," he muttered, referring to her lack of friends. She laughed. It wasn't exactly like that. She'd done her celebrating. She'd danced with Al and the others for hours, and she'd drunk an awful lot. It was just that it was almost twelve now, and she wanted to go home, even if the party did go on till three.
"I've had worse," she said. "This one time, Sylvia planned a surprise party. She invited all our friends, booked a venue, all that. But she forgot to check if I was free. I'd had a dentist appointment that morning – one of my baby teeth needed to be removed, my canine was growing at an odd angle, you see. I'd had the anaesthetic, but my lip was swollen up and I was in quite a lot of pain, so a birthday party wasn't exactly high up on my list of priorities."
"You talk about her a lot," he said. She didn't apologise. She wasn't sorry for talking about her friend.
"When someone's your best friend, they inevitably end up in most of your stories," she replied with a shrug. "Don't you find that?"
"I don't have stories," he explained, blankly. She grinned.
"Not a single story? What about from your old team? I thought you were close to Ralph Morrison?" Mark was so startled he almost dropped his coke.
"What on earth makes you think Ralph's my best friend?" He sounded so horrified that she laughed.
"Well, it's obviously not Al, and I can't think that I've ever seen you spend quality time with anyone else. Besides, you always seem happy in your matches with him. Even when you lose." He grunted something, and she grinned. She caught sight of Camilla again and was surprised to see her dragging Jim onto the dance floor. She wondered what had happened to make Camilla take Jim under her wing, and looked for Al. She spotted him at the edge of the room, watching them and sipping from his drink.
"Why are you sitting here?" Tich blinked. She didn't bother turning back to Mark, but she was confused. He'd moved up for her after all. If he hadn't wanted company he could have said so.
"What do you mean?" Mark indicated Al with an inclination of his drink, a gesture she managed to catch out of the corner of her eye.
"Alan isn't like Victor. I doubt he'll shove his tongue down some random girl's throat, but your friend isn't ugly, boring or unfamiliar. Why are you spending quality time with me, when your friend's going to get her way?" She thought about that for a minute. Was it really so passive aggressive? Mark watched her think, and decided to step in. Her slowness was irritating him. "It's not because of Sylvia is it?" Tich blushed. It told him all he needed to know. "That's depressing."
"What would you know?" she asked. She wasn't that angry. She didn't bother to shout. She just wanted to know what made him so pompous. "And I'd hardly call this quality time."
"Touche." He smiled, unable to help it. "I lost my grandmother a few years back. It's different, of course. But I learnt you're going to feel things regardless of whether they're here or not. Because there are other people in the world." She frowned at him. He was sharing. He was sober. He was actually treating her like a human being. She wasn't sure what to do with that. But she also really wasn't in a place to be hearing what he was saying. She didn't want to acknowledge any of that. She didn't want to think about Al, or Camilla, or anyone else's feelings. Sylvia was the only one that mattered. "Or did you plan to just ignore them?"
She realised then that Mark might be the sort of person who enjoyed getting under everyone else's skin. She opened her mouth to make some cutting remark, although it probably wouldn't have affected him in the least, and had to suddenly backtrack mentally because he leant over and kissed her. It was brief. Less than a second. Barely a kiss at all, really. Only, it had been her first, and more than that, it had been Mark Laton, and he was Sylvia's.
"See?" She didn't.
"Why did you do that?" she demanded, her misplaced sense of guilt guiding her to her feet. She was outraged. It must have been confusing for him. He was probably used to fans swooning at his feet. But she didn't recognise that. She was too busy rejecting him as loudly, and vehemently as possible. So there could be no mistake. Not for anyone watching. Not for whatever ghost of Sylvia might remain in the world. Because she'd just kissed Mark Laton, and she could never take that back. "What's wrong with you? Sylvia liked you. Why would you kiss me?"
That remark angered Mark, more than the rejection. It proved that Tich had completely missed the point. But more than that, it was a horrible thing to say. He remembered Sylvia. Vaguely. She'd been a nice enough girl. Not that he'd really spent any time with her when she visited Al with her family. But what was he supposed to do with that knowledge. That a dead girl liked him. It sent a shiver up his spine.
If he'd been less angry, he might have responded differently. But he was already on his feet in response to her. Towering over her, because she was so short.
"Who cares? How was I supposed to know? And why should that matter? It was just a kiss."
"She's my best friend!" Tich shouted, riled up at the injustice of it all.
"She's not," he shouted back, suddenly glad for the loudness of the party all around them. True, some people were interested and looked over, but only a few heard what he followed up with. "She's dead!"
He regretted the words immediately, and didn't dare to look and see whether Al was watching.
Tich went very white. She turned and fled from the room, and Mark, now incredibly angry because he felt guilty himself, stormed in the other direction and out of the front door.