In the community centre I introduce Lisa to everyone, and she is bombarded with questions from the women. She glances at me uncomfortably, unsure what to say. I watch the fuss everyone makes of her, the seat that is produced, the drink, the biscuits. I want to share that, at nearly twenty-six weeks, Beanie is the size of a spring onion and is inhaling and exhaling small amounts of amniotic fluid, developing their lungs, but no one ever thinks to ask me.
Tamara is friendlier today, smiling as she presses play on the backing track. Keeping my eyes trained on Lisa it is easy to imagine I am back in that school hall, shimmying and shaking away my adult insecurities, until I am once again the young girl full of hope, full of possibilities. I sidestep, twirl, and my voice has never soared so high, carrying my emotion up to the fluorescent strip lights buzzing and flickering on the ceiling. In front of me Lisa morphs into Jake, and all that I am, all that I want to be, goes into my performance until the last bars fade and I am crouching on the stage, chest heaving. Once again I am aware of Alex telling me I am magnificent. Lisa stands, clapping, and the harried expression she has been wearing is replaced by one of utter joy, and I know she feels it too. She feels Jake too.
My legs are trembling as I step off the stage. Alex proffers his hand, and I take it and when I am back on level ground he doesn’t let it go but I am glad as I lean into him limply.
‘You were marvellous.’ Lisa hugs me. ‘Maria! Finally!’
‘Not quite as glamorous.’ I pull at my T-shirt sticking to my skin. ‘I’m just going to freshen up.’
The toilet is small and dingy. I tug blue paper towels from the dispenser and dab my skin dry before running a brush through my hair. Once dressed, I pull at the door but it is locked. It can’t be. The caretaker opens it when he knows we are coming and locks it after we leave. I pull at the handle again. It’s definitely locked. The room is hot and airless. There aren’t any windows, and rationally I know that I won’t be here forever. Someone will come and find me. But panic rises all the same, and I am sucking in air, feeling the chemicals of the toilet cleaner catch the back of my throat. I am trapped. I feel light-headed. My heart beating rapidly in my chest. And I bang on the doors with my fists, fighting the urge to scream. Fear bubbles and I don’t know what is then and what is now.
‘Please help.’ It was almost a whisper. I had been alone for hours and my throat was sore from shouting. My hands stinging from banging on the door that rattled and reverberated every time I hit it. I have to believe he won’t hurt me, but I’d seen the look in his eye and I wasn’t sure.
‘Please. I’ll be good. Please.’ My hands were clasped together, and I thought I was speaking to God but he didn’t answer. No one answered. It was hot. The air stagnant with the smell of my own fear. My hands flew to my throat. I was drawing in oxygen through short, sharp bursts through my nose and there was a mounting pressure in my chest. I was going to suffocate. I was going to die here. ‘Please!’ I shouted this time, rattling the door as hard as I could. ‘What do you want?’ But even as I ask there’s a horrible dawning realisation, and I know what he wants. I lie on the floor and curl into a ball. ‘No. No. No. I won’t do it. I won’t.’
‘Kat?’
‘Lisa. Thank God. I can’t get out.’ I tug at the door.
‘Hang on.’ There’s a pause. The handle turns and the air cools as the door falls open. ‘It was stuck, that’s all.’
‘I thought…’ My distress rises again.
‘I know what you thought.’ Lisa strokes my hair. ‘I know.’
And I cling to her, grateful she is here.
31
Then
The handle to the locker was pressing hard against my spine but my body was turning numb, the feel of Aaron’s hands squeezing my throat fading away. My fingers clawed at his grip. It felt as though my skull was expanding, a balloon inflating inside my head. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t swallow. My eyeballs ached, the edges of my vision blurred and darkened and I felt myself slipping, sliding. Just as I was surrendering to the feeling of nothingness, light and noise came rushing back. I slumped to the floor where I covered my throat with my hands as I sucked in air.
‘For fuck’s sake, Aaron.’ Lisa was thumping him on the chest.
‘I didn’t…’ I could feel his gaze on me. ‘I wasn’t…’
‘Just fuck off.’ Lisa shoved him. Hard.
‘But if Kat—’
‘I’ll talk to Kat.’
Their words were muffled. My body shaking with shock.
Aaron ran his fingers through his hair and, for a second, I thought he wasn’t going to leave, but he said: ‘you’d better keep her quiet, Lis.’ As his footsteps pounded down the corridor, I tried to stand, but my legs wouldn’t support me.
‘Let’s go and talk.’ Lisa gripped my hands to pull me up, and for the first time I noticed how frail she had become. How awful she looked. Huge purple shadows under her eyes. Skin pale. I’d thought it was the pressure of the exams – what sort of friend had I been?
‘I said I’d meet Jake.’ It hurt to talk. I brushed at my throat, still feeling a pressure there.
‘Jake? It’s always fucking Jake, isn’t it?’ Suddenly she was furious. ‘This isn’t about you, or Jake, or Aaron. It’s about me. For once, it’s about me.’
‘You need help,’ I said in a voice that sounded nothing like mine. The balloon inside my head was deflating, dizziness tilted the floor.
‘For what? Wanting to be thinner? If that’s the case most of the girls in our year need help too.’
‘There are healthy ways…’ I couldn’t think straight, my head swimming.
‘It’s no different to SlimFast shakes or those herbal tablets that promise quick weight loss. You can buy those everywhere. If they were that unhealthy, they wouldn’t sell them, would they?’
‘It’s not remotely the same as SlimFast. Why didn’t you tell me, Lis? I’m here for you.’
‘That makes a bloody change.’ She turned and ran, and I stumbled as I tried to catch her, my shoulder crashing into the metal lockers.
‘Lisa, wait.’
We were halfway to hers by the time I caught up with her. She spun around to face me.
‘You mustn’t tell, Kat.’ It was the first time I was to hear those words that week. The second time… I try not to think about the second time. It’s almost more than I can bear.
‘Lisa, it isn’t just you. What if someone has a bad reaction? Dies? Do you want that on your conscience?’
‘No one is going to die. It’s not heroin, Kat. So yeah, it gives me a bit of a buzz but not in a bad way. It feels good. Happy. You should try it and then you’d see it’s not so bad.’
‘Lisa, listen to yourself.’
‘I have to! You never listen to me any more.’
‘That’s not fair, I—’
‘It’s all about my brother, isn’t it? You don’t care about me.’
‘I do.’ That much was true, but maybe I didn’t care in the all-consuming-centre-of-my-world way I had before. The fabric of our relationship had become unravelled, knitting back together in an entirely different way. The edges no longer seamless. Sometimes it was dizzying keeping up with the ever-shifting dynamics. The vying for attention.
‘Jake. Jake. Jake.’ Lisa spun around slowly in a circle, hands clasped over her ears like a child. It was frightening. I almost didn’t recognise her.
‘Stop it.’ I grabbed her wrists tightly and pulled her hands down.
‘Jake. Jake—’
The slap I gave her stung my palm, cracked like a whip. To this day I don’t know which of us was more shocked. I stood rooted to the pavement long after Lisa had disappeared around the corner, and as I turned and began to walk home, my hand still tingled.
That night I had told my parents I felt too sick to eat dinner. That was true, at least. I texted Jake to tell him that I had a headache and was having an early night. I didn’t know what to say to him. Lisa was his sister and he had a right to know, but she was also my best friend, and my loyalty felt shredded. What should I do? It took me ages to make a decision as I tossed and turned in the heat, kicking the covers off before dragging them back up to my chin again when I felt cold.
At midnight my phone vibrated. Jake.
Do you feel any better? Missing you.
Missing you too.
Fancy meeting in the park – it’s too warm to sleep?
I hesitated. I was going to have to face him some time. Talk things through.
I’ll meet you in 20.