Undone(25)

Everyone thought that things were getting back to normal. They had no idea that normal didn’t exist for me any more. Normal had been smashed on the rocks beneath the bridge.





chapter sixteen


I opened the second letter two days before Christmas.



Jem,

Are you decking the halls with boughs of holly? Are you jingling those bells? Are you feeling goodwill to all men?

Hmm. Maybe not. Nevertheless, I would like to wish you and your family a very happy Christmas. I hope Noah gets lots of presents, I hope your mum isn’t too stressed, I hope your dad doesn’t get drunk like last year, and, most of all, I hope you get everything you wish for left in peace, I guess.

I can’t help wondering who sang the solo at the Christmas concert and whether it was as brilliant as the time Melanie Donkin sang the whole of Away in a Manger (ever so slightly flat, remember?) before she realized her skirt was tucked into her knickers. Last year was good though, wasn’t it? I know you said you hated every minute, but I could tell you liked it a little bit because I saw you smiling whenever you thought I wasn’t looking. I hope Melanie gets a chance to redeem herself before we you leave school. It’s not fair that all anyone can think about when they look at her is her underwear … but honestly, who would have had her pegged as a red-lace sort of girl ?!

How’s the whole ‘geting on with your life’ thing working out for you? Better, I hope. And did you blondly go where no Jem has ever gone before? I’m going to go out on a limb here and guess that you DID... in which case: YAY! Thank you. I bet you look fantastic and I bet you love it even though you tell yourself that you don’t care and you only did it because it was practically my dying wish (no pun intended).

The whole emo look was perfectly lovely, but I never quite thought of it as YOU, you know? (I’m so glad I’m not there for you to hit me right now.) And all that kohl around your eyes really doesn’t do them justice. So here’s your next mission: try going easy on the eyeliner for a while. Let’s be clear ... I’m not forbidding you to use the stuff – I’m not a total monster! You are fully within your rights to ignore everything I say and I promise I won’t come back and haunt you. I won’t even send one of my new poltergeist chums to freak you out by moving stuff around your room.

This is your life and you can do whatever the hell you like with it. But I am BEGGING you to live that life and try to enjoy that life and try to see the good in people when they’re making an effort to be nice to you in that life. This is most definitely a case of DO AS I SAY, NOT AS I DO.

But if you are up for a challenge, why don’t you try going the next month without the emo make-up? Just until my next letter. And if it hasn’t worked out for you, by all means go back to plastering on the kohl. But let me tell you this: it makes it really very hard to tell how pretty your eyes are. And you do have very pretty eyes, my dear. Forgive the amateur psychology here, but you know what I think? I think that’s the whole point. You don’t want people to notice how pretty your eyes are. You don’t want people to notice you at all. But maybe now you need people to notice you, you just don’t know it yet. Jem, I want people to notice you, and I want them to see you for who you really are, not for who you pretend want them to believe you are. I was lucky enough to see you and know you and my life was so much better for it.

Anyway, I’d better get on. Ten more letters to write and my wrist is starting to hurt already. Email would have been so much quicker, right? But there’s something so lovely about a good old-fashioned handwritten letter in an envelope. An unopened envelope holds a certain promise. Anything could be in there ... anything at all. Well, anything as long as it’s a letter. But the letter itself could say anything! It could be a declaration of love or an apology or a get well soon card. I suppose these letters count as all three.

I hope Father Christmas is good to you, but don’t let him anywhere near your chimney – he’s such an old perv.

I love you, kiddo.

Kai

xxx



This one was easier to deal with. It still hurt, but there was something comforting about it too. It was like hearing his voice. And I missed hearing his voice so much I found it hard to breathe sometimes.

I had no idea who’d sung the solo at the Christmas concert, because I hadn’t gone. He should have known that I wouldn’t have gone without him.

As for the ‘mission’, it was all getting a bit like one of those TV makeover programmes I never watched. I was sort of pissed off that it seemed like he was trying to change me, but he was right about one thing: I did like the new hair. It suited me. I’d even booked another appointment with Fernando to sort out my roots before I went back to school in January.

The truth is, I’d already realized that the heavy-on-the-kohl panda eyes didn’t exactly look good with my new hair. They didn’t match somehow. So either the hair had to go back to black or the make-up had to change. Neither was a particularly appealing prospect.

The first time Mum ever saw me with the eye make-up she burst out laughing and asked if I’d been in a fight. It didn’t amuse her quite so much the second time or the third time or all the times after that. It’s not like we argued about it – not exactly. But I knew she hated it, and that was enough to make me want to keep it. The hair was more of an issue with her – probably because hair is the one thing she’s vain about. She goes to the most expensive salon in town every four weeks. If she’s a week late because of a holiday or something, she gets really antsy. It’s pretty funny.