After Nothing (4 page)

My summer holidays were always long, but this one was definitely the longest. Every day I went over to Kane’s and sat on the concrete outside his room. It was always locked and he was never there. A couple of times I cried. Once I cried uncontrollably for what felt like hours. By the end my head was pounding, and on the bus home people kept giving me strange looks, so I knew my eyes must have been all red and crazy swollen.

I bought my first cell phone. I was so angry at myself for not taking one of Kane’s when he’d tried to give it to me. Worse was the fact I’d never gotten his number. When he’d offered to write it down for me I’d asked him why I’d need it. He’d gone all silent, but then made me give him my home line. He’d never called me though. Not before the summer break and not now.

Silence was the abnormal normal in my house. The phone rarely rang, and if it did it was usually someone conducting a survey or trying to sell something.

I can list the sounds of that summer. Doors and cupboards quietly opening and closing. One of the toilets flushing. Taps running. The hum of Dad’s radio. The neighbors’ cars coming and going on either side of us. The turning over of Mom’s car engine and her acceleration down the driveway.

The sound of absolute quiet.

Slurred words from Dad.

My own voice.

My mother’s voice, intermittent and mean.

What comes back to me most of all is the sound of the television; almost continuous in the background in the years that followed Lisa’s death.

My mom spent most days watching TV. She didn’t work. She’d been an at-home mom, then she’d been Lisa’s nurse, and then when Dad had his stroke the insurance payout was enough to clear the mortgage on the house, and I guess we were living off whatever was left over. None of us lived expensive lives. My bus fares were my only constant expense, and I paid for them out of the same allowance I’d had automatically paid into my bank account since before Dad’s first stroke. Whatever else I spent came out of a dwindling amount of money my English grandmother had left me when she died.

The TV was an oversized flat-screen, too big for our living room, which Dad had got on sale. While Lisa was dying I had watched way more TV than any kid should: cartoons, sitcoms, movies, music videos, more cartoons. After Lisa died Mom must have clicked on to the same idea: she seemed to take up permanent residence in front of the television. She watched the morning shows with lots of cheesy interviews and infomercials in the morning, then the cooking shows around midday. In the afternoon there were soaps and talk shows, and at night she watched the news, followed by programs in which houses were renovated and redecorated or antiques were valued by an American talking with a fake English accent.

You might have thought she would have sometimes mentioned a story she’d seen on the news to me. Or that the cooking shows might have inspired her to create something other than the same meals we had week in and week out. Maybe even that the renovation and interior design shows might have induced her to make some changes in the house. But that didn’t happen.

Everything stayed how it had been when Lisa died, except that the carpet at the top of the stairs got a little more worn, and a bit more paint chipped off around the handle of the cupboard where the glasses were kept.

And we changed. I grew taller. My hair was longer. I developed breasts, and I didn’t talk as much. Dad became stooped and grey. The paralysis had him favor his right side, and gone from his face were the constant stream of expressions that used to announce his thoughts before he spoke them.

Mom’s face seemed the same as always, but liver spots appeared on the backs of her hands, and the knuckles of her fingers widened and twisted a little. She still wore her short hair in the same style, but now she dyed it with black supermarket dye to hide the grey. I always knew when she’d done it, because the color would cling to the skin around her hairline for days afterward. Sometimes the grey would start coming through again before that dye had worn off from her skin.

After Kane disappeared from my life I felt more and more claustrophobic in that house. One night, unable to sleep, I crept quietly into Lisa’s bedroom. I knelt down by her bedside table, opened the top drawer and noiselessly removed her Discman. It was purple. Seeing it again after all these years sent a memory swarming toward me. Wanting it. Wanting it to be mine, and being told by Dad I was too young to have one.

The batteries were dead, so I went downstairs in the dark and took the ones out of the television remote control. The same Alicia Keys CD Lisa had last listened to was still in the Discman; I lay in my bed and played it from start to end. Some of the words I knew, and I whispered them into the night.

I fell asleep with Lisa’s earphones on and my left hand pressed between my thighs, my palm covering her tattooed name.

An abrupt voice startled me. I looked up and then stood up.

‘He ain’t here,’ said the heavily muscled, heavily tattooed man. ‘And he ain’t gonna be here anytime soon. Got it?’

‘Are you Wayne? Kane’s uncle?’

I got a cold stare in return.

‘I’m Natalie. I’m just wondering where Kane is. Do you know where he is?’

‘Yeah, I know.’

‘He’ll be coming back then?’

‘He lives here don’t he? But that ain’t an invitation for people to come here. Kane knows it.’

I could feel the heat rising from my chest, up my neck, to my face, the blood burning in my cheeks. I apologized, which seemed a pretty stupid thing to do; apologizing for Kane bringing me to his own place. But Wayne just looked that angry about it all. I hadn’t really thought too much about Wayne, but if I had I don’t think I would have pictured him so young, or so intimidating.

My apology didn’t exactly work wonders. If anything, it made Wayne look a whole lot more hostile.

‘Could I have Kane’s phone number?’ I asked.

Wayne raised an eyebrow.

‘If he ain’t given you his number there’s a reason for that. Get out of here, and stop coming back.’

I changed my posture when I went into the city library; straightened my shoulders and added a subtle sway to my walk.

I knew I looked the most feminine I’d ever looked. I was dressed in everything Lisa. A pair of Mary Jane flats, a blue skirt with pleats and a yellow buttoned-up cardigan. There was even a yellow headband in my hair – hair that I’d spent an hour straightening using Lisa’s hair straighteners.

I went to the classics shelves in the literature section, because that was Lisa’s thing. I took
Frankenstein
off the shelf, only to remember Lisa’s tastes and swap it for
Little Women
.

I was concentrating on sitting as straight as I could at one of the graffitied plastic library tables when a chair was pulled out beside me. Turning, I came face to face with a girl. A girl I knew; had in fact known a long time.

‘Hello,’ she said.

Melissa Patterson. We’d been at the same kindergarten, the same elementary school, and now the same high school. She was outspoken and popular, and considered rich – for our school at least. Her mom was editor of the city newspaper, and her dad was a journalist on a news program that aired once a week. I didn’t watch it. Melissa was also fiercely intelligent. Of all the classes we’d shared over the years, she’d always been at the top.

‘Hello Melissa,’ I said, because that’s what Lisa would have done. Greeted someone, even if she didn’t want to speak to them.

‘Where has “Natural Natalie” gone? I nearly didn’t recognize you with your hair straightened.’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘Are those heart earrings? And what are you doing in the library?’ She looked at the cover of the book I was holding. ‘
Little Women
? Really? You won’t even read books for English class.’

I forced a smile. ‘I’m trying new things.’

‘Yes, like talking and smiling,’ replied Melissa. ‘Actually I don’t think we’ve talked since Taya Thompson’s birthday party. You remember that?’

‘You pushed me over during musical chairs.’

‘That
is
how the game is played,’ said Melissa.

‘You won by cheating.’

‘Yes, but I won.’

A smile lit up her eyes. She was attractive in her own way. Her makeup was always immaculately done, and she always dressed in the latest style. But her face was a little too full and long to be considered pretty.

‘I wanted that Princess Jasmine doll, Natalie,’ continued Melissa. ‘But, if I’d known you were going to hold a grudge for so long I would have … no, actually I wouldn’t have. I really wanted that doll.’

‘It wasn’t the doll. You made our whole class think I wasn’t Black.’

‘No, I didn’t.’

‘We were doing family trees in Miss Shelby’s class – ’

‘I remember,’ interrupted Melissa. ‘What I said was that your dad was English. It was Jordeisha who said that meant you weren’t Black.’ Melissa frowned. ‘And told everyone else in the class.
I
put it right. I told everyone your Dad was Black. I spent months lecturing people about it.’

I stared at her stonily.

‘Natalie, it was five years ago. I know you’re over it or you wouldn't have talked to me just now.’

I remembered Lisa and gave a short nod.

Melissa smiled. ‘Does talking to me mean you’re done with the whole “fuck off and don’t come near me” thing?’

I had to search a moment to find Lisa’s response.

‘Yes.’

‘Not just to me,’ said Melissa. ‘I mean to everyone?’

‘Yes, I’m done being like that to everyone.’

‘Okay. Now, don’t get me wrong. Your hair is good, and it goes without saying that how you look is unfair to every other girl at school. But, Natalie, your makeup is bad today. Why are you wearing that lipstick? Who told you it was your color? It makes you look like you’re twelve.’

‘It was just one I found at home.’

‘Throw it away,’ said Melissa. ‘Are you a lesbian?’

Her question momentarily stunned me. I said no, because I was pretty sure Lisa wasn’t a lesbian. I hadn’t actually gotten round to contemplating it for myself though, so I might have looked a little confused.

‘I’m just asking,’ said Melissa, ‘because no one owned up to that vampire bite you had a while back. It went around school that a girl did it. You didn’t hear that?’

‘No, and it was a guy.’

‘Who?’

‘If he didn’t own up to it, I’m not going to.’

I was back to being me. Defensive. Mean-sounding.

‘So he goes to our school?’

I tried to start over. Placed Lisa in the forefront of my mind.

‘How are you, Melissa?’ I asked, as sweetly as I could.

‘That’s so nice of you to ask, Miss Kempe. Especially seeing as we’ve had so many classes together, and yet never in the past ten years have you inquired after me.’

‘You talk so much, it’s hard for anyone else to.’

That was not a jibe Lisa would make. I sighed in annoyance at myself, but Melissa just shrugged it off.

‘I’m important. People like to hear what I say.’

‘That’s true. You make everyone else too scared to speak up because no one’s as smart at you.’

I was being Lisa-honest and trying to give a Lisa compliment at the same time: I’d got it wrong. Melissa’s reply was also honest.

‘Fuck off, Natalie.’

‘That came out wrong. I meant, you’re so brainy no one else can keep up.’

Melissa looked at me through narrowed eyes for a long time, and then seemed to make up her mind about something.

‘Does the new you want to come to a party with me tonight?’

I
was screaming ‘No!’ But the Lisa in me said, ‘That sounds fun.’

‘Fun? For you? I doubt it, but come anyway. Come over to mine whenever; we can get ready together.’ She took her phone out of her bag. ‘What’s your number?’

Melissa was how easy it was to become part of my peer group again. For so many years I had been out, but one party with Melissa had me back in. My new Lisa-driven personality helped with my reintegration into ‘normal’ society. I was nice to everyone. Sometimes
I
even wanted to be around me. The other thing that helped was my own Natalie appearance – especially with the guys. Letting them actually talk to me opened up a previously unknown world. Guys wanted me. Like, in a really obvious way. Some of them would straight up tell me.

I had choices. I had choices of other girls’ boyfriends. The first time that happened it was Natalie, not Lisa, who was shocked. While I was still reeling, Lisa stepped in and gently, with a smile, and a little bit of flirting so he wouldn’t be offended, turned him down.

I don’t know what I thought would happen.

For two weeks, my phone had constantly been ringing. Every day I got invitations to places, to parties. Dates with guys, which I said no to; shopping dates with girls, which I said yes to. We’d talk – a lot. And about nothing. We’d paint each other’s nails, read trashy magazines, do online love quizzes together, try on each other’s clothes, Instagram shitty selfies. Make popcorn. Laugh. Text. And text. And text. Lisa loved it. But it wasn’t easy shutting me down – silencing my negative thoughts and looks and observations.

It wasn’t like everyone pretended the pre-Lisa version of me hadn’t existed. Some did, but the more honest ones didn’t. There were joking comments made, and serious ones as well. Some people said how glad they were that I was feeling better about myself.

Melissa was the only one who did not buy into me as Lisa. The weekend before we started back at school, when we were hanging out in her bedroom painting our nails the same soft pink, she said to me, ‘I don’t think it’s that easy to change who you are, Nat.’

I didn’t answer. I was feeling tired, and my Lisa reserves were low.

‘You know that, right?’ added Melissa. ‘Just don’t fall big.’

‘I won’t,’ I said.

Junior year. I looked for him that first morning. The seniors were back the same day. I was hoping and hoping that he’d be at his locker, but at the same time I was telling myself he wouldn’t be.

He wasn’t.

For the first time in all my years at school, I was sitting at a table in the cafeteria with a group of people who wanted me to be there. They were talking to me as though they knew me and I belonged with them.

But Kane’s absence had changed it. I didn’t want to play the stupid Lisa game anymore. That’s all it was – a game. I picked up the apple on my tray and thought about throwing it at something.

Then one of the girls said, ‘Check it out. There’s that’s kickboxer. I’ve never seen him in the cafeteria before.’

‘Oh my God, he is so fine,’ said another of the girls.

‘Yo, that guy is badass,’ said one of the boys.

‘No shit,’ said another. ‘I’ve seen him in a street fight. He was fucking king. Took out three guys, one after the other.’

It was Kane. Tall, dressed in a grey t-shirt, black low-riding shorts, and black and white Air Jordans. They were new. A fresh buzz cut had his hair close to his scalp, and he was scouring the cafeteria with his eyes. They locked on mine, and his expression changed from tense to angry.

‘Holy shit, is he coming over here?’ said someone.

‘Nat?’ questioned Melissa, as Kane approached, his jaw set and his eyes still locked on me. The rest of the table suddenly looked at me, and Melissa said my name again. I was watching Kane though. I looked up at him as he came around to my side of the table. Leaning over me, he planted a hand beside my lunch tray and stared into my eyes.

‘Who the fuck are
you
?’ he said.

‘Hey, leave her alone, man,’ said one of the boys, standing up.

The boy who said he’d seen Kane in a street fight grabbed him and dragged him back down, saying, ‘You don’t want to do that, dude.’

Kane glanced at them for a brief moment, and then no one said anything. He looked pretty threatening. First off, he was angry as hell. And then there was the cut above his left eye, and the bruising underneath it. His bottom lip looked like it had been split not so long ago and was only just starting to heal. I didn’t feel threatened though, just glad to see him, and happy that he’d come to find me.

‘You’ve been away,’ I said to him.

‘Get up,’ barked Kane.

I got up.

He picked up my bag and slung it over his shoulder, before taking my hand and leading me outside.

He stopped walking a dozen feet out into the quad. He dropped my bag and said, ‘What the fuck are wearing?’

I was wearing a baby pink blouse that had belonged to Lisa, with a grey and pink checked pleated skirt, and a pair of ballerina shoes. I had long gold earrings in my ears, freshly reapplied makeup on my face and a pink headband in my straightened hair.

The last time Kane had seen me, my hair had been an unkempt mess that was a cross between curls and knots, and I’d been wearing a fake leather miniskirt, a ripped black cotton top that hung off one shoulder and scuffed black boots that laced up to my calves. My only makeup had been black eyeliner.

‘Lisa …’ I began, quietly.

Kane swore, and walked a couple of steps from me. Then, coming back, he said, ‘Nat, you gotta cut that shit right now.’

‘Okay.’

‘Can’t handle that shit.’

‘Okay, I’ll stop.’

‘These her clothes?’

‘Just this,’ I said, plucking at the blouse. ‘I bought the rest.’

‘And you sitting with them, why?’

‘Because Lisa would have.’

‘You are fucked up, girl,’ he said softly.

‘Can we go somewhere else? Everyone’s watching.’

They were: both in the quad and through the cafeteria windows.

‘You wouldn’t give a shit about that,’ said Kane, studying my face.

‘I do a bit. And I mean me, Natalie. It’s nothing to do with Lisa. Please, Kane. I just want to talk to you without anyone else around.’

We went to the storage room at the back of the gymnasium. The squeak of shoes, the bounce of the ball on the old basketball court and the calls of the players reached through the wall, muted but audible in the dusty air.

‘I got a cell phone,’ I said to Kane.

‘What’s up with you?’ he replied.

‘I don’t know.’

‘Wayne said he saw you. Said you were outside my room every day till he told you to go away.’

‘I wanted to see you. Were you away fighting?’

Kane nodded.

‘Doesn’t Wayne go with you?’

‘He on parole,’ said Kane shortly. ‘Can’t leave town. You been with any of those guys?’

‘One,’ I said quietly.

‘You fuck him?’

‘No. Just kissed. I didn’t like it anyway. I’m sorry. It’s just … Lisa would have liked him.’