One True Thing (23 page)

I spend a restless night considering everything that's happened. Luke's swimming carnival is on today, but his race isn't until the afternoon. Dad's staying for the whole day, which he announced with careful delight, but Mum had a couple of stops before lunch. I told her I'd meet her at the pool centre in time for Luke's event.

After breakfast I email Mr Campaspe to tell him that we're definitely going ahead, that the band is as committed as ever and that nothing will stop us from playing our best at the audition. That we'll be at rehearsal like we'd scheduled.

I hope reality doesn't prove me a liar.

Tyler's stepdad opens the front door and beams when he sees me. ‘Frankie! How are you?'

‘Good thanks, Mr Goldstein. Is Tyler around?'

He smiles kindly but shakes his head. ‘She's out. Like I told her –' he searches the wall a moment for the right word – ‘friend.'

‘Kessie?' I ask hopefully.

I have no idea whether he knows about Tyler and Kessie's relationship – whether he even knows that Tyler is gay. But the fact that Kessie hasn't given up is good.

He looks relieved. ‘Yes.
Kessie
. I'm not sure where Tyler is, but she said she'd be home for lunch.'

Maybe Kessie found her and maybe they're okay already. The idea that they might have made up, and that neither has called to tell me, stings in ways I can't quite explain, but I'm determined to be a better person here. There's no point worrying about what they don't tell me. I haven't earnt it yet. Not their secrets, or their trust.

It's the same with Jake. Both of us have let down someone we care about, or were supposed to care about, putting our own stuff ahead of the people who matter. I remember that kiss in our kitchen and feel the beginning of hope flower in my chest. Can I trust it? And if I can't, do I deserve to be trusted again any more than he does?

‘Is she still …?' It's my turn to scan the wall for an end to my sentence. I look at him. ‘How did she seem?'

‘Are you asking if she's angry?' he says gently.

I nod and force myself to say it out loud. ‘I haven't really, um,
been
there. Much.'

He waits for me to continue.

‘But I want to be,' I say, and mean it. For the first time, I really mean it.

‘You should find her then,' he says, smiling. ‘I know someone called about a record she'd ordered.'

I head up Grantham Street and weave through the pedestrian traffic, pausing at the entrance to Words&Music. I spy Tyler in the Nineties section and think about what I want to say, but she sees me and the only thing I can do is walk in.

‘Hey,' I say, leaning against a table of albums.

Tyler hangs back and watches me carefully.

‘Has Kessie been here?' I ask.

Tyler frowns. ‘Let it go, Frank.'

‘Can't do that.'

‘It's too hard,' she says. ‘You were right. Kessie and me – it can't end well.'

I stare at her, feeling the rapid increase of my heartbeat. I don't know why. This was what I wanted. To go back to how it was. Except it isn't what I want, and we can't go back.

‘We need you.'

‘The band? Yeah, you do. That's why it's best.'

I shake that off. ‘Not just the band. I mean, definitely the band. But Kessie needs you too.'

Tyler raises an eyebrow. ‘Kessie doesn't need anyone.'

I hesitate because that's kind of true. Or it used to be. I mean, Kessie needed
me
. Still does, I hope. But this is different. ‘Maybe once,' I say slowly. ‘Not now.'

Tyler can't look at me. Her hand is resting on the ‘O' in the L–Z section. Liam Gallagher's face is peering out at us from the cover of
Familiar to Millions
. I would have made fun of Tyler for hanging around the Oasis section on any other day.
Dude! It's never that bad. I'd rather you roughed it with The Stone Temple Pilots than lose all dignity with Brit Rock.

Not today. Will I ever feel that lightness and ease towards her again? I sigh. I don't know. ‘I'm sorry,' I say finally.

Tyler studies me. ‘I don't understand,' she says. ‘You know she's gay. You always knew. You didn't care.'

I feel the heat in my cheeks. It's one thing to admit to yourself that you're worried you're losing your best friend. It's something entirely different to admit it to someone else. ‘Yeah. I guess this is different, though.'

Tyler's steady, even gaze refuses to react, but her fingers squeeze the divider, and suddenly the ‘O' sign is looking a little squished and broken.

‘She was always mine,' I say quietly, focusing on the mangled ‘O'. ‘None of the girls before ever had a chance.
None of them mattered.' I force myself to look at Tyler, and feel the colour darken my cheeks. ‘They were silly – all fluff and giggles and sunshine, but Kessie would always come back to me and that would be that.'

‘So what's changed?'

I face her squarely. ‘You. You're the difference.'

‘Not much I can do about that, Frankie. Or want to.'

‘I'm trying to explain.' I search for the right words. ‘For a start, you're my friend too. But also? No Politics is my band.'

Tyler looks angry but she keeps her voice calm. ‘It's
our
band.'

I cringe. ‘I know.' I stare at Liam Gallagher, wishing he would tell me what to say. ‘But that's not how I felt before. Like the band, I thought Kessie belonged to me. That Kessie was …
mine
.'

Tyler's gaze narrows, realisation dawning.

‘No!' I breathe in. ‘Not like that – not as my girlfriend. My best friend. My
always
friend. With the others, it didn't matter. But you're different. She loves you.' It's so obvious I can't believe I didn't see it all along.

Tyler's expression eases, just the smallest bit. ‘She's all talk. She gets carried away.'

I shake my head. ‘No. I mean, yes, she does. She has.' I shove my hands in my pockets, then pull them out again. ‘But you're different. You're a keeper.'

Tyler's mouth trembles.

‘I mean it. This is the real thing. She
was
just mine once and now she's not. And I can see that, and I don't know what to do with it. Do you understand?' Tears sting my eyes. ‘But that's my problem. You two need to be together.'

‘It's going to be different,' she says. ‘The band.'

‘We're better together. The new song is proof we can do it.' I smile, feeling the truth of it. ‘It might be a little messy sometimes and it might come to us in pieces, but it will come. We'll make it.'

Tyler takes a deep breath. ‘I don't need your permission. With Kessie? I don't need it.'

‘No. You don't. You don't need anyone's permission. But for what it's worth, you've got my blessing.'

Tyler blinks. Her expression softening.

‘And I've got your back.'

Tyler shakes her head. ‘Dude, you need to write that down.'

I laugh. ‘I can't remember what I said.'

She laughs too.

Relief rushes out of me. ‘We're okay, right?'

Tyler gives me a lopsided smile. ‘I guess that depends on whether my girlfriend will ever talk to me again.'

I remember the broken, desperate look on Kessie's face. ‘I wouldn't worry about that.' I check my watch. ‘But right now we have rehearsal. I told the others we'd be there. Kessie was looking for you. Maybe to see if you'd show?'

Tyler squints at me. ‘Maybe.'

We both stand there a moment. Do we hug? We've never hugged before … But she laughs and gives me a shove, and we both head out of the shop.

I follow Tyler into the studio. Kessie, Van and Mr Campaspe are already there. Van is his ever-watchful, moody self, his whole body turned towards the music like always. I wave at Mr Campaspe and smile at Kessie. She looks a little lost, but when she sees Tyler with me, her expression is caught between disbelief and confusion.

Tyler walks right past Mr Campaspe and stands before Kessie, grinning. Then she leans in and kisses her on the lips, hovering there just long enough to make sure we all know she'd like to continue. Then Tyler takes her seat on the drum stool, looks back at Kessie, who's still staring bug-eyed, and says, ‘Okay, doll?'

Kessie half-laughs, half-sobs. ‘Yeah, Ty. Just great,' she says, a slow, beautiful smile creeping across her face.

Mr Campaspe clears his throat. ‘Guys? We only have an hour today or my wife will leave me. And I really like her,' he says, ‘so that wouldn't be cool.'

I pick up my guitar and wait. Van takes his position, strums the first chords of ‘Love Song', then bends down to adjust the amp.

Kessie tilts her head. ‘What did you say?' she asks quietly.

I wink at her, cross my heart.

She frowns, not ready to forgive yet.

I reach out, squeeze her hand and say, ‘I'm a selfish cow. I am. But I'm a really,
really
sorry selfish cow.'

Kessie looks at me, not convinced, but she half-nods. I've still got some work to do. Kessie's always been there for me. Always. But that doesn't mean I don't have to work for it.

On the tram ride to the pool, I flick through my emails on my phone and find the Ticketmaster receipt. I study the Pearl Jam tickets. Tonight, finally, I get to see Eddie Vedder live. Finally, I can hear him play in person, watch him command the stage, and feel every beat, every chord, every note in the pit of my belly, reverberating from the floor beneath my feet like only live music can.

I take a deep breath, press ‘forward' and start to type.