The Yearbook, page 27
“Hi, it’s Polly,” my aunt told me needlessly. “I’ve just got off the train so I’m in town. Look… I’ve been thinking. I need to go see Jane. I have to triple-check she’s safe. Then I’ll be over. Is that alright?”
The words she was saying, the fear in her voice. Everything felt awful again. “That’s fine. I’m at Elijah’s. I’m…good.”
The phone call had the same impact on Elijah. He was listening intently and smiled sadly at what I said.
“I’m so glad you’re not alone. Tell him thank you. And his mum. I’ll be there soon.”
I put my phone back in my pocket – feeling the most contradictory pile of emotions it’s possible to feel.
“She’s just checking on Mum,” I said.
He nodded. “You okay?”
“Yes…no…” I let out a huge breath and put my hand through my tear-wet hair. “Elijah, I’m glad that just happened. I don’t want you to think it happened for any other reason than because I wanted it to.”
His sad smile was still sad, but it was bigger. “I’m glad you’ve said that.”
“Tonight is really weird.”
“Really weird.”
“But good. But also terrible and…”
And, very quickly, the evening regurgitated on me, and I started shaking again. Elijah hugged me tight and guided me back to the chair. I started crying while he shushed me, rubbing my hand and kissing my forehead.
“What’s going to happen?” I asked him, even though I knew he didn’t know.
“You’re going to be alright. You’re going to be safe.”
“I’m so scared.”
“I know. But I’m here.”
“And my mum…”
“Your aunty will make sure she’s safe.”
“We’re supposed to be at the ball!”
“Screw the ball.”
We stayed huddled on the chair. Him stroking my hand, my hair, telling me over and over the story I needed to hear. That it would be alright. That I’d be alright. That he was here. That I wasn’t alone. That I’d been so brave. It became a mantra, and it sank in a little, calmed me enough to get through the waiting.
And not so very far away, Grace Langdon was declared prom queen and given a tiara, while the school applauded. And my classmates were dancing, and kissing, and making memories, and saying goodbye to this chapter of their lives – in floor-length dresses and penguin suits and with smiles on their faces.
But not in this room, this house. Not in my life.
The doorbell went.
“That’s her,” I said, leaping up. I flung the door open, and we hugged instantly.
“Oh, Paige,” Polly whispered, clutching me like I was a life jacket. “I’m here.”
“Is Mum okay?”
“She’s fine.”
“She’s safe?”
“As she can be. As she’ll let herself be.” She released me and held me at arm’s length. “Honey, how would you feel about coming to live with me? Full time? I can’t force you, it’s your choice. But I…I don’t want you back in that house, if I can possibly help it.”
I nodded, blowing out a snot bubble. Nodding into the inevitable. “Yes. Yes. I will.”
She flung herself at me again, while Elijah stood, watching us, silently, patiently. When we broke apart, she turned to him. “So you must be Elijah? Thank you for looking after Paige. Honestly, I’m so glad you were here.”
“There’s no need to say thank you.”
“Well, she’s lucky to have you.”
“The feeling’s mutual.” He reached out and took my hand, lacing his fingers with mine. When he squeezed it, I felt a pulse of joy wave through my body.
Polly noticed our hands, raised her eyebrows, but said nothing.
“Let’s get you home,” she said. “We can talk more then.”
She held out her arm but I hesitated. “Can you just give us a minute?” I asked her, glancing back at Elijah.
Through her strained face, she smiled. “I can give you as long as you’d like. I need to make a quick call anyway. I’ll see you outside.”
She closed the front door and Elijah and I were left, awkward again for a second. The distance between our two bodies was only a metre, but it felt like a mile. With Polly there, our magical little bubble of the last two hours had popped. What had happened? Did we mean it? What was going to happen next?
But he opened his arms. “Come here.”
We hugged and he kissed the side of my head. “I’m sorry this is all such bad timing,” he whispered. “But I am here for you. We have all the time in the world. Don’t worry about us. I’m here.”
I wept into his shoulder. “Thank you.”
“As I said, no thanks necessary.”
We broke apart and kissed clumsily, still getting the hang of each other.
“I’d better go.”
“Let me know how you’re doing. When you get a moment? No pressure.”
“I will, I promise. I’ll see you really soon.”
As I turned to get the door, he called me back.
“Yes?”
“Just keep telling the truth, Paige,” he said. “I know it’s hurting, but it’s working.”
The cats greeted us in the hallway, like they knew we needed them. As we stepped inside, exhausted and deflated, they mewed and rubbed themselves against our ankles.
“Okay, okay, I’ll feed you already. Calm down.”
I stepped into the kitchen as Polly turned on the kettle and tended to her flock. It was so warm in there – the glass from the conservatory wall baking it slowly, the sun still in the sky outside. The weather was taunting me with its gloriousness.
I collapsed into a chair, my dress making a tinkling sound, and felt every limb go heavy. I could hardly take the mug of tea Polly handed me.
“Home sweet home,” she said, sitting on the chair opposite.
“I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be. But please tell me what happened… I need to know.”
So I told her the painful truth of what I’d overheard. Of the violence. The fear. Of the look Mum and Dad had shared when I stumbled in to stop it. At that, Polly started crying.
“When I went over, your mum was fine,” she said. “Like last time.” My aunt paused, her eyes spilling over again. “This won’t be easy to hear, Paige, but…she was blaming it on you. I know that’s so painful to understand, but at least you know she’s as safe as she can be. Both of them said they’re happy for you to stay here as long as you want. Oh, Paige…don’t cry.”
Every single floodgate inside me flung open and I disintegrated into grief. I cried so hard that the cats ran out of the room. I cried so hard the tea went cold. I cried so hard I couldn’t see. I couldn’t do anything other than cry. I cried because they were still my parents and I loved them, but they didn’t love me. Couldn’t love me, for whatever reason. I cried for the years of my life knowing this but not wanting to believe it, for hoping it would be different. I cried because I’d never done anything wrong, and only ever followed the rules, trying to get loved in return. And the moment I broke one rule, I was out, proving the love was never there in the first place. I’d been playing a game that was impossible to win. For a prize that didn’t exist. And then I cried for the kindness that had been shown to me. For the cold mug of tea in my hand, lovingly made by my aunty who didn’t need to take this on, but who did. I cried for Elijah’s hand stroking mine, for him believing in me, and encouraging me to tell the truth, even if it led to this. This now. This present. Because, even though I was terrified and hurt, I didn’t regret it. My life had changed irrevocably and my dreams had been blasted from the sky, but at least I had only the truth left around me. Some of the truths were painful, but others were wonderful. Some hurt. Some soothed. But at least all of my life, in that one moment, was completely true. There was a magic in that.
But Mum…
“I still don’t get it,” I told Polly, when our tears had dried enough for us to be able to talk again. “Mum…she was so scared. She’s so unhappy. Why? Why did she defend him?”
Polly held her own cold mug to her chest and looked into nothingness before replying. “That’s hard for me to say, Paige,” she said. “Because I don’t understand it either…not fully. But…well… I was there when your mother met your dad. I saw firsthand how he dazzled her with this story about how amazing he was, and how amazing they were, and how our school rewarded this story and worshipped them as a couple. I was actually jealous at the time. She went from nothing to everything – because of him. She got a life because of him. She got to be important.” Polly was almost smiling at the memory…almost. “But then it all changed. Within a year, I reckon. The story stopped being about how great they were, but how great he was, and how crazy it was that he would put up with her. It started with jokes and playful digs. Little things, like him always teasing her about how he got better exam results or something…but the story got stuck like that. Over and over, year after year. The narrative was always that your mum was nothing before your dad and she was only something now because of him. Her whole life was only about how she related to him. She had nothing of her own to say… Paige, it was devastating. If only you’d known her like I knew her, the way she was before…” She wiped a tear from her eye and put her mug down as it was shaking. “It’s hard to make sense of it. But I believe that if you’re told the same story over and over about who you are, even if it isn’t the truth, it starts to feel true, and therefore it starts to become true, and then it becomes your own story.”
I stared at the darkening sky through the glass walls. The sun had left a smudge of red across it before it sank for the night, like Elijah’s pen. My aunt’s words rang so true, her wisdom so acute that she should’ve really been surrounded by owls rather than cats. I thought of the story my dad had told me my whole life, about who I was. The story about how I didn’t matter. How I wasn’t important. Didn’t really exist. And I reflected on how, like Mum, I too had made that story my own – had made it come true. No friends, no attention, no achievements – nothing to make anyone notice me. I was told I didn’t matter and so I became the story of not mattering. Until that book, and Elijah… Sometimes it only takes one person to tell you a different story. A person you love and respect. And with hope, and love, and encouragement, you can start to believe a different tale about yourself.
“And Dad?” I asked, still staring at the red smudge stamped across the skyline. “I don’t understand Dad. Why does he do what he does? He also seems so…unhappy.”
“Oh, he is.” Polly nodded. “Deeply. In fact, I think your dad is the unhappiest person I know.” She raised her eyebrows. “Though, of course, he no doubt thinks the same thing about me.” As she said it, Neo mewed loudly, feeling safe enough to return to us now I’d stopped wailing. He jumped on my lap and headbutted my chest until I started rubbing under his chin.
“If it makes him unhappy then why does he do it?” I asked, once Neo had settled, making my lap warm.
“Well, the weird thing about people,” Polly said, “is, so very often, they’d rather feel important than feel happy.”
I reached out and stroked the soft black fur of the cat.
“And they don’t mind ruining other people’s happiness in their quest to be important?” I added.
Polly tilted her head. “Bingo.”
Elijah: Hey, how are you doing? I can’t stop thinking about you. A) because I’m worried of course, and want you to be OK, and B) other reasons x
Paige: I’m actually weirdly OK. Just very sleepy. Can’t seem to get out of bed. I can’t stop thinking about you either.
Elijah: Well that’s a relief. A) because I was worried, and B) other reasons x
Paige: Stop making me smile so much. It’s confusing. And makes my face hurt x
I couldn’t stop sleeping. I became a hibernating bear all weekend, though one who’d set their alarm clock to the wrong time of year. Outside Polly’s window, children circled on bikes under pink snowflakes of blossom, savouring the sun on their face, and the ever-longer daylight hours. But I lay in a ball on my bed in the dark, curtains drawn, my body heavy. Twice a day, I dragged myself down to Polly’s conservatory to obediently eat the food she’d made while the cats headbutted my ankles. She’d also feed me tiny pieces of information about my new life. My parents were happy for me to stay long-term, to “support Polly through her breakdown”. She rang Adam and explained the real story and cover story to him too. He messaged, saying Well done 4 getting out, but didn’t actually bother calling. Then, filled with food and life-changing decisions, I’d return to bed and reread all the lovely, kind, patient messages Elijah had sent, grinning and brushing my fingers over my lips where he’d kissed me.
Other than that, I slept to escape reality. I’d wake up, confused about where I was, my head swimming with questions about what was going to happen next, how much worse Dad would be without me there, and how to navigate the rest of my whole life with two parents who didn’t want me around. So I slept and slept. I slept all through Monday – missing school. Polly stayed home too and let me. “Though you have to go tomorrow,” she said. “They’ll be giving you important revision stuff to do. It’s just the final few days.”
On Monday afternoon, I was woken by Polly’s cool hand on my forehead. “You’ve got a visitor, Paige,” she said, smiling down at me. “Waiting downstairs. An Elijah shaped one. Can I let him up?”
I struggled to drag myself out of sleep. “Elijah’s here?”
I hadn’t washed since before the ball. Hadn’t brushed my hair. Hadn’t worn anything apart from this stinky pair of pyjamas.
“You look fine.” Polly guessed my thoughts. “And, I get the vibe that you could be wiped in excrement and he’d still want to come up.”
“Polly!”
She laughed. “She’s awake,” she called down. “Come on up.”
I only had time to run my hands through one side of my hair before Elijah’s earnest, wonderful face appeared in my bedroom doorway. I broke into a full body blush, and he did too. Polly smiled again, before standing.
“I’ll leave you two to it. Don’t be too long. She needs to rest.” She mock waggled her fingers at Elijah before closing the door behind her. I scrambled up in my covers with my mad hair. We were alone. In a bedroom. These two facts set something off in me, made my blood turn to sherbet.
“How are you?” Elijah said.
“Sleepy. But better. You can sit down.” I gestured to the end of my bed and he perched nervously. The kisses we’d shared hung between us, making everything strange and beautiful and scary.
“I, er… I got you something.” He rummaged in his bag and produced a gift-wrapped, flat rectangle. “I just felt so useless about how to cheer you up, so I thought consumerism might be the answer.”
I touched my heart with one hand as I reached for the box. “Thank you. Um… I’ll unwrap it now, shall I?”
“If you want.”
“Thank you.”
“It’s not much. It’s just…well…open it.”
I pushed my finger under the wrapping paper, which he’d clearly nicked from his mum, and opened it up to reveal a pen. A proper ink one, that needs cartridges. In a luscious deep red colour. “Oh my God.”
“It’s a pen,” Elijah said unnecessarily.
“I can see that.” I lifted it out of its box and found an engraving catching the light. The world Sifter was ornately etched into its side. Inside the box there were also several red ink cartridges. “I can’t believe you’ve got me a…pen?”
He shrugged, blushing as he watched my delight. “Well, I was thinking about that notebook you got for Christmas and I’ve not once seen you actually write in it. Unless you’re using it as a diary to write about how much you fancy me of course…”
I spluttered with embarrassment. “Elijah!”
He went redder at his own joke. “What? So you haven’t been writing in your diary about me? Fine. In that case, use this pen. Use the notepad. Start writing something.”
I ran the pen against my lips, grinning. “Like what?” I thought about that notebook and how I’d only written one thing on the first page – otherwise it was empty. Blank. Patiently awaiting a story to be told.
“I don’t know. Anything. The truth. In whatever form you want to tell it,” he said.
I sat up and pulled him towards me and we toppled backwards onto my bed and kissed, and kissed, and kissed.
“Shall I tell you the truth?” I asked him, when we broke apart to stare at one another in wonder.
“Yes.”
I reached down into the very depths of my courage. “I think I love you.”
The second I’d said it, I felt more vulnerable and terrified than I’d ever felt in my life. Like I’d ripped off my skin and exposed myself to the elements. An awful two seconds passed while I watched Elijah’s face digest what I’d said. They stretched out for hours.
After two years of two seconds, he replied. “Well thank God you said that, because I love you too. I don’t even think it. I know it.” Gold swirled through me, sparklers lit up on my skin. My heart swelled with complete euphoria. “I have done for ages but couldn’t figure you out. Whenever we got close, you sort of clamped up. I didn’t want to be one of those guys who can’t be mates with a girl. And I’ve been worried it will just come hurtling out inappropriately for months now.”
I giggled into his mouth, shutting him up with a kiss. “You love me?” I had to check. I’d have to check a lot.
“Paige, I bought you a pen. A pen?! Like a grandma. I had to google where on earth you even buy a pen from. This is what you’ve done to me.”
“I love the pen.”
“Good.”
“And I love you. I always have, I think. Since that first message I found. Mr Red Pen.”
We fell into kissing again and all thoughts of sadness evaporated. All sense of time evaporated too. There was only warmth in my heart, my stomach. Happiness shining through everything. The sense of being alive, and how gorgeous being alive could be – even if it is only for snatches.
