Undone(57)

Sorry if that bit’s looking a bit blotchy now. I didn’t mean to get all heavy there. That’s about the least helpful thing I can do, and it’s the exact opposite of what these letters are for. Don’t be getting maudlin now, my precious Jem.

Anyway, my love, whatever it is that you’re doing, I hope with all my heart that you are happy. You deserve to be happy. Because I say so. And I’m always right about these things. So there.

Until next month.

Big, huge, fat bear hugs to you,

Kai

xxx



He’s chipping away at my heart with every letter and he doesn’t even know it. Wishing he wasn’t gay. That’s not Kai. He didn’t think that way. He didn’t. Not until they humiliated him anyway. They will pay for making him think that way.

He knew how I felt about him. He knew. I don’t feel the hot flush of embarrassment that I would have expected. I’m actually glad. I’m glad he knew that someone loved him like that. It must be nice to know that. He knew I adored him in every possible way. It doesn’t matter that he didn’t feel the same. (Why couldn’t he have felt the same? WHY?) I can’t help feeling sad that no one will ever love me the way I loved Kai. I’ll never, ever know what that feels like. Still, it didn’t exactly do him any good. It wasn’t enough to keep him here.

This kind of thinking really isn’t helping. Even though everything I’m doing is for Kai, thinking about him really, really doesn’t help. If he could see me now . . . I can’t even . . .

Yes, I’ve done all the things he asked me to, but I’m kidding myself if I think he’d be happy about what I’m doing. He wouldn’t have wanted this. But I can’t let myself think about that. All I can do is hope that he would understand why I have to do this. Why I have to take them down.





chapter thirty-four


Looks like the Dinner of Awkwardness might have to be postponed. I’m ill. Like, properly ill in a way I haven’t been for years. Never in my life have I been glad to feel so bloody awful, but it feels like this virus or whatever is a gift from God.

I wonder if the thought of being Lucas Mahoney’s girlfriend is so horrific that my immune system has revolted against it. Maybe this illness is my body rejecting Lucas like an organ recipient rejects a donated kidney or something. Whatever it is, it feels like someone’s been at my throat with a cheese grater and my brain is suddenly two sizes too big for my skull.

Mum comes in before she goes to work and does the old feeling-the-temperature-of-my-forehead thing that mothers always do, complete with a look of serious concentration. ‘Hmm … I think we should call Janice.’

My panicked ‘No!’ is followed by a strangled coughing fit.

Mum purses her lips so tight they disappear from view, then checks her watch. ‘She’ll be coming off shift now and I’m sure she wouldn’t mind … just to put my mind at rest, you know.’

I sit up in bed and somehow manage to ride the undulating wave of extreme dizziness that crashes over me. ‘Mum, I’m fine. It’s just a cold or something. Please don’t bother Mrs McBride. She’s always knackered after her shift.’ I can tell she’s wavering. ‘Besides, she’ll just say it’s a virus. They always say it’s a virus, don’t they? I’ll just rest up today and I’m sure I’ll be fine by the time you get home.’

I say a silent prayer to the god of mother–daughter interaction. The thought of having to talk to Mrs McBride, having to see her sad pale face … I briefly consider leaping out of bed and doing star jumps to prove I’m fine.

Mum sits on the edge of the bed and takes my clammy hand in hers. ‘OK … but I worry about you, Jem. If anything happened to you, I can’t even …’ She shakes her head and takes a deep shaky breath. I reckon she might be about to cry.

‘Mum, nothing’s going to happen to me! It’s just a cold. Now stop fussing and get yourself to work. If it’ll make you feel any better, you can text me on an hourly basis or something.’

She squeezes my hand but says nothing. This is getting a little weird. ‘You’re right. I’m just being silly because … yes. OK, I’m off, but you’d better reply to those texts – unless you’re asleep – but try not to leave it too long …’

And then she’s gone. Finally. I pull the duvet over my head, feeling twice as exhausted as when I’d woken up. It wasn’t as if she had to spell it out. There’s only one reason for her new-found concern/paranoia: Kai.

The crazy thing is that she’s right to be concerned. She’s right to be paranoid. Just not about me getting ill.

In the end, Mum stays home from work for the next two days to look after me. It isn’t just a cold – it’s some hideous killer virus from hell which has basically killed a good chunk of my summer holidays. On the plus side, it means the awkward Lucas dinner hasn’t happened yet. On the negative side, I feel like crap and can only eat ice cream and soup and melon. (The ice cream should probably shift over to the plus side.)

Lucas wanted to visit me, but there’s no way I’m letting him see me like this – unwashed, pale and clammy. I don’t want him to think I’m vulnerable, someone who needs looking after. And I definitely don’t want him seeing me in my pyjamas. I texted and said I’d let him know as soon as I’m back in circulation, fit for public viewing. He made some crap joke about coming over to play doctors and nurses; all I could muster up in reply was a smiley face. He texts me every morning to ask how I’m doing; it’s kind of irritating.