If I Were You

Chapter 21 Flynn

We’re both completely soaked and freezing by the time we return to the car. I attempt to put an arm around Amy but of course I can’t reach so loop one round her waist. It makes me immediately feel diminished, like I can’t protect her.

Everything about this is completely insane, and Amy is quiet on the walk down. Defeated, she stands next to the car, puddles glistening around us as the sun makes a weak attempt to appear. A car sprays brown water as it passes, not pausing to stare at the strangest couple in the world.

‘Amy,’ I say, distracted for a moment by the sight of our reflections in the driver’s window. Without my body I am less confident, less in command of my thoughts. ‘Amy, let’s get to the place and work out what to do.’

It’s the same expression I’m used to seeing on her face, this troubled brow, only it’s on mine now.

‘Amy,’ I repeat. ‘We’re so close, and we’re drenched and we’re cold. Let’s go.’

At this she seems to wake, turning a horrified face to mine. ‘We can’t go there,’ she says. ‘There’s no way. We can’t. Not like this.’

‘What else can we do?’

She flings her hands up in the air, ‘Literally anything else. Stay here. See a doctor. Call 999. I don’t know, Flynn, but we can’t turn up to my sister’s wedding weekend, the wedding weekend she’s been planning forever, the wedding weekend that I need to go perfectly, like this. “Oh hi, Laura, sorry we’re late but I’m just STUCK IN FLYNN’S BODY RIGHT NOW.”’

She is panting as she finishes the sentence, pacing now, mud splattered up the diamond socks, every muscle clenched. I can see she is going to lose it again, and that thought makes me stressed too. But I take a breath, suppress the feeling as I always do.

‘We need to just get there and figure out what to do,’ I repeat, unable to help clamping my arms around my body to try and stop shivering. ‘I need a jumper,’ I say, wanting to at least fix one problem. ‘And so do you.’ I might not look like me but I can still be practical, still try to fix things and help Amy. If I don’t do something, I feel I might spin out of all control. Focusing on other people has always helped me to forget my own troubles.

I move to the boot and open it up, unzipping my suitcase and pulling out a bottle-green jumper. ‘Put this on.’

Amy looks at it for a moment and then takes it, peeling the polo shirt away and replacing it with the jumper. I take out my navy sweatshirt and wiggle into it, the sweatshirt coming down to my knees.

Simply being warmer has helped calm me. ‘We can’t stay here,’ I say, gesturing to the muddy road and fields around us. The air smells of manure and aside from the field of cows there seems to be nothing around for miles.

Amy is quiet, taking long, slow breaths through her nose, her lips pursed together.

I take hold of her hand, which feels so peculiar, the palm coarser and about double the size. ‘Ames. We need to go. Please.’

Her ringtone breaks the silence and fresh panic crosses her face.

‘Oh my god, what are we going to do?’ she says, head in her hands.

‘Maybe this thing, whatever it is, will wear off, maybe, if we just get there, it’ll work itself out.’ I’m grabbing at straws, panic swirling once more.

Her phone is still going and I can see her dithering with indecision.

‘Amy, what else can we do? We just need to go somewhere and think. We don’t have to say anything yet; the actual wedding’s not for another two days. We’ve got time.’

Amy bites her bottom lip. I can see she is relenting.

‘Whatever we do,’ she says, ‘Laura cannot know. It’s literally the last thing she needs. She’s been so stressed and I know how much she wants things to go well. I cannot be the one to screw that up.’

I nod, wanting to get off this road, away from the buzz of flies and the smell of manure. Moving is best, otherwise we’re just trapped here with our thoughts, and that has always scared me.

‘Flynn, you cannot say anything,’ she stresses.

‘I won’t,’ I promise. ‘Maybe we’ll wake up tomorrow and it’ll just be a bad dream,’ I add hopefully, really wanting to believe that will be true. ‘And worst case we can see a doctor or dial 999 or electrocute ourselves on Monday. Deal?’

‘OK, but you have to promise me you won’t give the game away.’

‘I won’t.’

‘I’m serious, Flynn.’

‘I know. You can trust me, you know,’ I say, feeling a familiar frustration flare up inside me.

‘If this is going to work we’ve got to work together, we’ve got to listen to each other,’ Amy says.

Uncertainty nudges at my insides as I nod an agreement. We can work together: we’re a couple, a team. Of course we can pull this off. Can’t we?