Sometimes I Lie(58)

She stood up and walked off and I was scared I had upset her and that she was leaving but she didn’t. She stopped at the roundabout and lay down inside one of its quarters. She looked silly so I laughed. Then I ran over and started to push as fast as I could, running alongside, and she started to laugh too. When the roundabout wouldn’t go any faster, I jumped on and lay down in the opposite quarter to Taylor. We were both still laughing and I reached my hands up to touch hers through the bars. We held on to each other, laughing and spinning until I was dizzy, but I didn’t care. I wish we could have stayed like that for ever.

Later, when we had stopped spinning but were still lying there, Taylor told me this funny story about her friend Jo. She said Jo was really good at going to new places and meeting new people, that she was brilliant at listening and keeping secrets. I started to feel a bit jealous of Jo, I think that as Taylor and I are the best of friends, she shouldn’t really need anyone else. I didn’t like the sound of Jo much at all actually, until Taylor told me that she wasn’t real, she was an imaginary friend. I laughed so much. She said I could borrow Jo when I moved if I wanted, that Jo would keep me company when I was scared or lonely and that I’d always have a friend wherever I went. I told her I didn’t need any other friends so long as I had her but it was like she didn’t hear me. She said Jo could come home with me for the night, just to see if we could be friends too. I said no thanks. Taylor got all weird then and said that Jo was sitting on one of the empty swings and not to hurt her feelings. I looked over at the swings. There was nobody there. I started to think Taylor was a nut job, but when it was time to go home I agreed that Jo could come with me, just to keep Taylor happy. Jo is here in my room now, watching me write my diary. She’s got blonde hair and blue jeans and we like all the same stuff. She keeps whispering things in my ear. I don’t know whether we’re going to be friends or not yet, but she can hang around for now.





Now

New Year’s Eve, 2016


Paul leaves my room and I wait for Claire to say something. Even if she doesn’t believe I can hear her, I know she won’t be able to resist.

‘Thirty-five years old and you’re still making up stories about your imaginary friend? Seriously?’ Her laugh is unkind. ‘I suppose the real question is who have you really been with when you’ve been telling Paul you’re with Jo?’

The door opens and I’m so grateful for the interruption.

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,’ says Edward.

My sense of relief dies instantly.

‘You must think I’m crazy, sitting here talking to myself,’ says Claire.

‘You might be crazy, but you’re not talking to yourself, you’re talking to your sister. It’s good to talk to coma patients. Good for them and good for you.’

‘I don’t think we’ve met before. How did you know I was her sister?’ asks Claire. She’s got him, Claire can see through anyone.

‘You look like sisters,’ says Edward. ‘I just need to . . .’

‘Of course. Doctor . . .?’

‘Clarke.’

I thought he told Paul he was a porter.

I listen for a while, as my captor and sister make polite conversation. She doesn’t like him, I can tell by her tone. I try to hold on to the shapes of the words, no matter how mundane. Their voices become quieter, as though someone is turning the volume of my world down until I can barely hear anything at all. I don’t know what it is, but I know that it’s coming. The silence always chooses me back because I chose it first.

Time slows itself down. I can still hear Claire in the distance, but only just. My eyes and mouth are closed, so the quiet fills my ears until I am completely deaf as well as dumb and blind. When I can no longer hear her voice, I open my eyes and see Claire standing right in front of me. We’re in her hallway and she is frozen still, like a living statue. It’s as though she has been paused mid-sentence, horror etched on her face, refracting off her glistening eyes. I follow her stare and look down. I can see blood running up my legs until it disappears completely, as though I imagined it. I already know I don’t want to see any more but I can’t close my eyes now that they are open. I want to hit stop, but instead my mind continues to rewind the image. Claire is shouting at me, I can’t hear what she’s saying, everything is mute. I reverse through her front door and walk backwards down the drive, she closes the door as I get into the car. She had been waiting, she was expecting me. Before I can process what that means, I turn on the engine and drive Paul’s car backwards down familiar streets and then I’m outside our own home. Paul is standing on the driveway shouting as I reverse to a halt. I open the car door twice before getting out, my cold, wet fingers clinging on to the key so hard it hurts my palm. I crouch down on the gravel, ignoring the pain as it engraves the skin on my knees, and let go of the key beneath the shadows of the car. Things seem to unravel in reverse. I stand up to face Paul while we shout at each other in the rain. I can’t hear what we’re saying, but I watch the shapes his mouth is making. He’s waving his hands in the air, but my initial interpretation is wrong, his face translates into fear, not anger. It’s raining hard and everything slows down again until time is almost still.

I can see it all so clearly that my surroundings start to feel real. Because they are real. This is a memory, not a dream, I’m sure of it. I look down and see that my new cream dress is soaked and clinging to my skin, but there is no blood and I know that the baby is still there, she’s still alive inside me. I place my hand on my stomach. I wonder why I’m not wearing a coat and realise that I must have left in a hurry. Paul shakes his head and walks backwards into the house. I stand alone in the rain. I’m quite sure that this part is wrong. I didn’t stand in the rain like this, but now it seems important that I should be frozen in time and space until I can remember, until it makes sense. The rain is so heavy now that it hurts my face. My vision blurs and I realise that some of the water on my face is my own. I hear Paul’s voice pouring down with the rain from the night sky above me.