Chapter 18

Thursday

Kelly

"Are you alright?" Mum was waiting just inside the door for me when I got home.

"Yeah, why?"

"Just... asking."

"I went shopping with one of the girls from school for a dress for the Spring Ball tomorrow, that's all..." This is her in full-on over-protective mode.

"You didn't have any trouble, did you? Not that you should, but..."

"Mum, really, it was fine."

"Are you hungry?" she settled, which told me I'd snapped a little harder than I probably should have, but it's just so frustrating. If I'd been at home when they asked she'd have ended up coming with me.

"No, we ate while I was out."

"Oh."

"I did tell you that on the phone." I pointed out.

"I know... so you're ok?"

"Yes, really. I'm fine. People go shopping every day, and nothing bad happens." Except the clothes they buy for their children, apparently. I managed to resist the urge to say that.

"Can... would you come and talk to us, then?"

"Us?"

"Your dad and me, we're worried about you." There's a surprise. You know, there are probably people out there that would get a warm, fuzzy feeling inside from hearing their parents say 'we're worried about you'. I mean, eventually, obviously... first reaction would just be to blow them off, that's what kids do with their parents, after all. But it's all I ever hear, they're always worried, always concerned, always peering over my shoulder.

It's not like I don't appreciate it, but I just want to get free a little, find my own space. I don't think they get that.

"We're in the dining room." My dad called, when it took me a few seconds to hang my coat up.

"I know, I can hear you." I won't get exasperated, I won't get frustrated, I won't shout...

"What's up?" I tried to force some lightness into my tone as I found a chair and dropped into it — a little heavily, I'll admit.

"You alright, you look a little wobbly?" Dad was hovering, suddenly.

"It's just been a long day, that's all." I tried to reassure him, but he was still hovering. "Dad, sit down, I'm alright. People get tired, you get tired when you get home from work."

"Well, I know, but..."

"But nothing! I'm allowed to get tired for God's sake!"

"What's wrong, Kelly." Mum cut in — at least she was still sat in her seat. "It's not like you to argue like this, and, well... this whole nude in school thing..."

"It's naked in school."

"Whatever." Dad cut in, edging back to his seat with shuffled feet like I was going to drop out of the chair suddenly. "It's still... it's out of character, Darling."

"No, Dad, it isn't..."

"You've never done anything like this before."

"No, but..."

"What brought all this on, Darling?" Mum cut in.

"IS THIS A TALK OR A BLOODY LISTEN!" The silence after that just seemed to go on forever. You want out of character, shouting at my parents is out of character. "I'm sorry, it's... I'm still sorting some of this out, but I'm fed up with hanging around at the back waiting for something to happen to me. Something's already happened to me, and I have to play catch up."

"Do you have to play it naked?" Dad blurted out, which got a chuckle. Sometimes — only sometimes — he actually manages to catch the mood just about right.

"No... yes, yes I did. Look, I had to do something. People have gotten into the habit of not really noticing me beyond getting out of my way. I don't want people to just see me as a walking bollard, and this has started it. I don't want to be part of the scenery. It's time for me to make my own place." I'd not said that out loud, before. I knew, deep down, but sat there, with the words on my tongue, it suddenly seemed such a stupid way of doing it. Why not just join a club, talk to people, be more active on the social scene?

"Couldn't you just have, I don't know, taken a part in the school play or something? Aren't their clubs you could have tried." It's true, when you're blind you become psychic. But... it made sense, but it felt wrong. I couldn't have just made a bit of an effort, it was all or nothing.

"I'm sure things will settle down again next week." And that was why. Because things would settle down next week, if I let them. Things had been settling down for years because it's so easy to just let them, so easy to think that it's easier to let people help, let people's concern slow you down, and then you find that you're not living a life at all, you're just being helped through surviving.

"I don't want things to settle down, though." I could feel the blush fly up across my face, I knew what they'd be thinking. "I want to... I don't know what I want to do, to be honest, but I want to be out there finding out."

"It's a bit... drastic." Mum was obviously more upset than Dad, but she's like that. She doesn't let go of things — me, for instance — easily, she frets over them. "We're worried something's going to happen, people are going to rush you into something... sort of..."

"Sexual?"

"Well, yes."

"Welcome to the twenty-first century... that's not actually a bad thing, nowadays, you know that. I've been sensible, I've had the shot, I've..."

"You've WHAT!" Even Dad sighed at that.

"I went and got the shot. I figured it was better to make that decision early."

"But... are you intending to..."

"I didn't know, to be honest." I admitted. It didn't look likely, now, with only a day to go, but back on Monday it had all seemed vaguely possible. "Safety first, after all."

"I don't like this, you're thinking about... that... You're only a child, you're..."

"DON'T SAY IT!" I knew where she was going, where she always goes. "I'm not even a child, any more, but the other... that's never been a good excuse for not going out there and trying."

"You're blind, Kelly." she went there.

"I KNOW! It's pretty fucking obvious!"

"Kelly, mind your language, please." Dad cut in. "Go to your room, I'll be up in a minute."

"Oh, fine, end of discussion... Thanks for 'listening'." My storming exit would have been more impressive if Tim's tennis bag hadn't been in the hall.

"See, Kelly, see... that's what happens when you aren't careful! You can't just run around like other people."

"THAT DOESN'T MEAN I CAN'T RUN AROUND AT ALL!" I screamed back down the hall. And then fell over the contents of the bag that had spilt out. "FUCK!"

When Dad knocked on the door I was still crying on the bed.

"What?"

"Can I come in?"

"Why, haven't you said enough?"

"No, I don't think so."

"Fine, come in. You'll forgive my listening skills, I'm sure, but I've not had a good role model." He chuckled slightly at that, as he closed the door, which caught my attention. Normally that sort of attitude would get an even worse response, but Dad just makes you see the funny side of things sometimes.

"Your Mum is trying to look out for you, you know. She worries, and she cares."

"I worry, I care, but I want to actually be doing something that might be worth worrying or caring about... like living."

"It's not easy for a parent to let their child grow up, you know. It's easier for men, I think, we kind of try and teach our kids to stand up to the world and fight, we expect a little independence. Your Mum just wants to make the whole world treat you well — you especially."

"Because I'm the disabled one."

"No. Well, yes, but also because you're her little girl. Because she remembers all the horrible things that happened when she was a little girl — she's never been a little boy to know what Tim has to go through. And she has no personal knowledge of being blind... but you know all this already." He sat down on the end of the bed, creaking the springs as he did.

"Yeah, I know. I know she cares, but... she needs to let go a bit. I need to find my own life. What's she going to do if I want to go to University?"

"She'll try and pressure you into going to North Holt, because then you can live at home."

"At home!"

"Shhh. I didn't say she'd get her way, I said she'd try. Then she'll think about moving and get all upset because it'll mean taking Tim out of school and away from his tennis coach and all the rest. Then she'll spend the first month or so crying and worrying and trying to visit you every weekend and asking you if you're wearing clean underwear and all the rest... and then she'll come to terms with what she's already realised: you're capable."

"She hasn't realised that at all, she's..."

"No, Kelly, that's what she's finally worked out. You can do this... she's always been half-afraid that you'd never find your feet, and half-afraid that you would. It's lose-lose for her, she thinks. Once you're out there, she'll be proud, but she thinks she's losing you."

"I'm not dying."

"I know, but... the little girl is. Like it or not, your Mum's put a lot of time into you, over the years, and..."

"That's not my fault!"

"I know it isn't, that's not the point. She's put the time in, she's gotten used to looking out for you, doing things for you. It's a big change for her, too, just like it's a big change for you. You got to choose when it was going to happen, though..."

"I'm tired of being different."

"You're always going to be different."

"No. I'm always going to be blind, I don't have to be different any more."

"That's not an easy distinction for us to get our heads round."

"People see me as the blind girl, right."

"Perhaps, some of them."

"Most of them. Well, that's because that's how I've seen me. I've hidden behind it, I've not challenged it like I should, because I didn't need to."

"Because your Mum coddled you, is that what you're saying?" I didn't want to say that. It fit, but... it didn't. No-one had forced me to just take it, to just let her do things for me. I'd just sort of complied, it was easy. It was nice once upon a time. Now, though, there were things she just couldn't do for me.

"Yes... and no. She did, but it's not her fault... I let her. Encouraged her, I guess, sometimes. I've not challenged me enough, or I haven't stepped up to the challenges. I've trained her to look out for me as much as she's trained me to sit back and let people do things for me."

"Don't look now, Pumpkin, but I think you might just be growing up!" he ended it in a conspiratorial whisper.

"Really?"

"Maybe... we'll have to wait and see if you're ready to stop being a little girl and start being a woman, yet."

"Well, I've not become a woman properly, yet, but..."

"I DON'T want to know the details!" he cut me off, suddenly alarmed, and I couldn't help but laugh. "You aren't rushing into anything though, are you?"

"Define 'rushing'?"

"Kelly, please... I know... I remember being keen and desperate and all the rest — vaguely, it was a long time ago now — don't do anything you'll regret. If you think you're old enough to choose to go around school naked, then so be it. I can't stop you any more, I suppose... but I can still worry, and so can your mother."

"And if things go pear shaped, you'll have to help pick up the pieces." I realised.

"Yes."

"Then I'll try and be sensible, I promise."

"Thanks, Pumpkin." He kissed my forehead like he used to do when he came home from work late and I was already in bed, and headed for the door.

"Dad?"

"Yeah?" He stopped, half-in and half-out.

"Now that we're letting me choose my own life a bit..."

"Y-eees?"

"Could you stop calling me Pumpkin?"

"Oh? Sure... Why?"

"Have you ever felt a pumpkin? They're fat, bulbous, dimpled ugly things, really."

"I... they... I suppose they are." He admitted. "Good night... well, just goodnight, I guess."

"G'night."

Marissa

I've never had a massage before, that I can remember. If they all feel like that, I can see me having more in the future. I wasn't really asleep, just dozing, detached from the immediacy of it all and floating beside the action, listening to what was going on. I was just ghosting along on the sensations, feeling him breathe gently behind me, the firmness of his arm underneath mine where it was pinned against the back of the couch.

"Dinner's ready." He whispered in my ear, and I didn't really want to get up. It was safe there. For just a while he could make it all go away. In fact, I think if I asked he could probably make it all go away for a long time, and that was seductive, in its way. He'd look out for you, look after you, and that's reassuring. But he was uncomfortable with it, too. Once he'd spoken he seemed to realise where I was — I was quiet aware of it — and he tensed up.

He shifted as soon as I started to get up, which tipped me off balance, but as soon as that his arm was there against my waist again... God, I could get used to that.

I was kind of quiet through dinner, mulling it over. It was nice to feel like this, but it was kind of scary, too. I mean, it wasn't as though we'd talked at all. You couldn't get him to talk, not about himself or what he liked or wanted. Mum had said that he either didn't know how to talk about it or he was frightened, but neither of those seemed to fit. He'd walk into hell for someone, he'd walked into the line of McBride's friends on Monday without so much as blinking. And yet, the other option was even more ridiculous. If he wasn't such an obviously good guy he could get away with anything, he knows how to talk to people, how to read people. So what was he afraid of?