I Was Born for This(58)

‘If you want that so badly, then why don’t you just go hook up with Mac, then?’ I say, but want to take it back immediately.

She says nothing for a moment.

‘Is that what you think I want to do?’ she asks.

I splutter as I talk. ‘I-I don’t know! You leave me to go off to other bars with him, spend a whole night with him when we were supposed to be hanging out at the meet-up together, you invite him in the first place without telling me! And –’ I feel my eyes welling up. Fuck. I don’t want to cry. Not now. Not today. ‘And he’s your special internet friend that you’ve been talking to your nan about all this time.’

‘You were the special internet friend.’

I don’t say anything.

‘But I could have been anyone because you don’t care about my life or anything about me,’ she continues. ‘You don’t care about anything or anyone apart from The Ark.’

I stand up.

‘How are you going to go through your life loving nothing as much as you love a boy band?’ she says.

And she hangs up.

I lost my meet-and-greet ticket but my concert ticket is thankfully still in my bag. I go inside without stopping at the merch table. Even if I could afford it, I don’t think I’d want to get anything. Just not in the mood to queue up and talk to people.

I’m in the standing area but since I haven’t been queuing for eight hours, I’m not very close to the front. I weave through as much as I can (one advantage of being alone). The gaps between bodies get smaller and smaller the closer I get. At the front, despite it being still an hour and a half before the supporting act comes on, younger fans are stumbling from side to side, being moved by the pull and flow of the crowd. I think I should be able to see them okay, which is what matters.

This is the point where I thought I’d be jumping up and down, shaking Juliet by the shoulder, both of us grinning with excitement. But there’s no one next to me and I don’t feel anything.

My phone is on twelve per cent battery so I shouldn’t use it to check Twitter any more. I don’t have a charger with me. I turn my phone off and zip it into my bag.

It’s dark in here. There are a few spotlights zooming around, and occasionally they flash over me, but then they’re gone, and I’m plunged into darkness again. I try not to look at anyone around me. The last thing I want is anyone talking to me. They’re all chatting and laughing. They’ve been waiting for this day for a long time. Just like I have.

I stand for the next hour and a half until the support act arrives, trying to absorb the excitement of the people around me, but the more I hear it, the faker it sounds.

I try not to think about anything but I end up thinking about everything. Juliet, angry on the phone. I’m going to have to leave tomorrow and go home. Jimmy, broken and crying on the floor, Rowan covered in blood. The fans tearing at them, reaching out for them, rising from the flood.

I’m sure that when The Ark arrive, I’ll feel happy.

I know that when The Ark arrive, I will feel happy.





I’m sure that when we start playing, I’ll feel happy. I always do. Even if I’m nervous, no matter what – I always, always enjoy playing our music.

I’m watching the supporting act from backstage. He’s a YouTube musician. Trans guy too. My suggestion. I started chatting to him on Twitter a while back after he tweeted me, asking for advice about trans guy voice changes. I get a lot of messages from trans guys about that sort of thing. It’s one of the few things I like about being on the internet.

I start checking Twitter while we’re waiting and Rowan is going through the set list with Lister for the fourth time. My notifications are spammed with what happened earlier. Most people are telling me they hope I’m okay.

I hate that they all saw me like that.

But it feels freeing too.

I don’t want to have to smile all the time.

I wonder whether Angel is going to post about what happened.

‘You all set, Jimmy?’ asks Cecily, standing near me with her arms folded. She glances pointedly at my phone.

‘Yeah,’ I say, and put my phone in my back pocket.

And that’s when I realise.

My knife is not there.

It’s gone.

Cecily sees the immediate change on my face. ‘What? What’ve you forgotten?’

‘N-nothing,’ I force out.

No.

No.

It must have fallen out in the dressing room.

When I was sitting down, or – But it didn’t, did it?

I never picked it up when I was escorted out of that bathroom.

I need to go and get it.

It’ll still be there, right?

I have to go, now.

They can’t start without me.

I start running.

There’s a moment, and then everyone is shouting after me. Someone starts running too, I don’t know who, but I’m already out of the backstage area and down the corridor and past the dressing rooms and at the conference rooms and through the door, thank God it’s open, and it’s empty, crushed bottles and tickets and a couple of posters littering the floor, and I’m pulling the door to the disabled bathroom open and dropping to the floor, but there’s nothing, it’s empty, there’s nothing there.

It’s gone.