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When I got back to school, the weeks went by slowly. Rachel, Sinéad and I settled into a comfortable routine.
Every time I saw Bradley, he looked at me with a guilty look on his face. Sinéad said, it was a look of longing, but she did not know the whole story. She did not know about the kiss, about the fact I could shift the shape of my body into any living creature until I turned eighteen, or even that Bradley was supposed to look after me, and that I was the girl his mother did not think was girlfriend material. She did not know of the million reasons why Bradley and I could never be together.
Two weeks before the Valentine’s Dance, I took a day off from school. I skipped classes and I walked into the city.
Edinburgh was Scotland's capital and very hilly, thus very exhausting for a walk, but I needed to get away from it all. I was used to quiet and serene surroundings, now it seemed as if the noise never stopped. Even though I could not escape the noise, walking made me feel free when I could feel the nippy cold wind against my skin.
In the city centre, I walked from shop to shop until I found the perfect dress. It was red and it flowed out behind me. It might have been a little over dramatic for my little college ball, but I fell in love with it the moment I saw it. The material was soft and luxurious to the touch. It fit me as if it was made for me.
That night, Sinéad was out on a date with Mark, so Rachel and I were in her room.
After I showed her my new dress, we were sitting on her bed, with our backs against the wall, watching a teen rom-com and eating popcorn.
When the credits started to roll across the screen at the end of the movie, she said, “Why don’t you just ask me?”
She startled me out of my daydream, and I turned to face her, asking, “Ask you what?”
“I know you want to ask me why I tried to kill myself. I have known it from the first day I met you.”
“No. I didn’t,” I tried to defend myself.
She continued, “I know things. Not like talking to the dead or things like that, but I have certain abilities, although I do not know specifically what they are and that is why I dabble in different things from the occult. I am searching, trying to understand this connection I feel with things other people would find strange. It’s the reason why I am interested in ghosts and burning different coloured candles. I can sense what you are feeling and what you are thinking. You are judging me, before you even know my reasons.”
I started to deny this, “I don’t judge you.”
“Parents are supposed to care; you know? They are supposed to protect you and look after you. I thought that if I killed myself, my sorry excuse for a mother would care, but do you know what she did?”
Before I could reply, she continued, “David found me after he broke down the door when I didn’t answer it. He rushed me to the hospital. I was in my hospital bed and when she got there, she was so drunk; she didn’t even know I was her daughter. The next day she promised me she would never touch alcohol again, but the day I was released from the hospital, she had to celebrate my homecoming.” Rachel scoffs. “A homecoming which ended with a clout against my head with a vase in which I put the flowers David bought for me.”
I did not know what to say and as she started crying, I reached for her. I put my arms around her, and I wrapped her protectively in my embrace. I felt my shirt get wet with her tears while I searched my mind for something to say to console her. I could not find anything.
After what seemed like hours, she pulled away from me. Sniffing loudly, she said, “I think I am going to go to bed now. I want to be alone.”
I slid off the bed and then turned back to face her. I asked uncertain, “Are you going to be okay?”
“I said I was fine. Please could you just go.”
I murmured softly, “Sometimes we need to talk about these things, sometimes people are just mean, but the fact that you are here, and there are real people who love you, it makes you larger than life. I’ve never met a nicer person than you.”
“I didn’t tell you so that you could give me feel-good speech,” Rachel said defensively.
“That’s not what it was meant to be. I just wanted you to know I understand how you feel.”
“Whatever.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Everybody is always trying to tell me the same story.”
At first, I was not going to say anything. I stood there for a moment, looking at her, wondering if I should tell her that sometimes when it looks as if another person’s life is perfect from the outside, on the inside it might be a completely different story and they have their own things they are fighting to let go of. Sometimes we lose ourselves, our hearts are broken, and our souls are bruised. Sometimes, we think it will never end, but it does and then we will find that it was worth fighting, we just had to believe, be brave and close the door on all the hurt.
My lips say, “Sometimes I feel as if I am swimming in an ocean of doubt and fears, I grew up without a mum or a dad and I was just left in a tatty basket without a sorry-note. I only found out this past Christmas who my mum and dad was, and why they did what they did. So, it wasn’t just a feel-good speech, I genuinely know how you feel.”
She looked up at me with a little frown between her eyes.
I turned to the door. “Good night, Rachel. See you in the morning.”
