If I Were You

Chapter 40 Flynn

Nerves kick in as I head downstairs in a long green dress with a ruffly bit on the bottom that Amy told me to change into. I can do this, I tell myself. I want to do this. For Amy. Everything feels like it’s unravelling this weekend, but this is my lifebelt. Something in our room clicked between us, a new way of being together, and I felt a strange relief at her taking control of the weekend. It feels nice not to be carrying the stress about things on my own.

The ballroom is cavernous and female voices bounce off the polished parquet floor as I push open the heavy double doors. Overhead tiered chandeliers flash and floral wallpaper shimmers every time the sun shines through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Heads swivel in my direction as I approach. I straighten, repeating Amy’s pep talk as I left our room moments ago.

I can do this.

‘Amy,’ Laura looks up, ‘you go in the front with me. OK …’ She claps her hands and picks up her mobile, scrolling down to select the song.

The hens are waiting in two rows and I go to stand in the middle with Laura. Unbelievably, I discover that Tanya is in the second row. What is she doing here? She met Laura barely two seconds ago and now she is here? My look must have lingered because she smiles and says, ‘Hey. Laura needed a couple more,’ as if she’s read my mind.

Her presence throws me off and, as Laura scoots to stand next to me, I fail to notice the opening beats of ‘Don’t Stop Believin’’. The part Amy taught me. Laura and Amy, opening the flashmob in time with each other.

Laura huffs and quickly runs over to start the song again.

‘Sorry,’ I cringe as she returns. She gives me a tight smile.

This time I’m better, but it’s so fast and I can’t move with all this material. Rucking the dress layers, like fishing netting, into my pants, I go again. I’m beading with sweat and aware that I can’t seem to make this body work the way Amy does. I’m stiff and jerky and Laura keeps side-eyeing me, which only makes me miss more steps. The moves Amy taught me start to muddle the more panicked I become.

‘Amy – we can go again,’ Laura says, blowing her cheeks out.

I clench my tongue between my teeth and nod. I’m sporty – I can do this. It’s just dance.

Tanya is, of course, impeccable. It appears effortless and I can’t help but twist round and watch her, blood simmering, as she moves her limbs fluidly. I forget the next step.

Laura casts me a confused look as she starts the whole routine again. My arms flail, less a dance move and more a cry for help. I want to show Tanya I can do this too. My movements become wilder as my competitive streak kicks into gear.

Laura sidles over to me. ‘Ames, what are you doing?’ she asks out of the side of her mouth.

‘Something new.’

‘Well, don’t. You told me you had it down.’

‘I do,’ I protest, thinking of the hours Amy had put in perfecting this routine in her living room.

‘Did you even practise?’ Laura looks hurt and my cheeks burn as some of the other hens look round.

My shoulders sag. It’s impossible.

‘And again,’ Laura calls out. I’m letting Amy down.

I just can’t seem to get into a natural rhythm, tripping over nothing, jerking my hips, waving my arms. The body works with the mind, and never has this seemed more obvious than now.

How can I get out of this? I need time. Time to get this right, or time to find a decent enough excuse not to do it.

‘Ow.’ I stop and clutch my side. ‘Muscle. Pulled,’ I say, which could be true – some of these moves have definitely stretched this body in ways I’m not confident it can stretch. Laura can’t disguise the flash of annoyance as I stumble inauthentically to a cushioned chair lining one of the walls, collapsing in it.

‘We can wait,’ she says.

I wave a hand, ‘No, please, I can just watch. It’s my … my groin,’ I say, hoping that will stop further questions and covering my crotch with one hand. ‘Groin pull,’ I add.

Laura nods tightly and starts up the music. How do I navigate this relationship? I don’t have siblings and it seems fraught with complications. I’m unused to seeing a complex side to Laura; she and I get on fine. In Amy’s body I seem to be walking through a minefield, unaware when and where I’m about to blow it all up.

I don’t dare stand up again. I have a new respect for Amy and what she can accomplish in this body. If I’m being honest, I’d always dismissed her dancing as frivolous. Sport is important, our culture places it front and centre: it takes skill and effort and fitness. But as I watch these women pull off these moves, I realize it requires no less skill or dedication to do what they’re doing. I get a flash of sadness that I can’t join in without exposing how much work I have to do. I need help, I need Amy.

Finally the time is up; the tennis tournament will start soon and some of the women are playing doubles.

‘Well, thanks everyone,’ Laura says as people go to leave. ‘It’s so nice to see people have made a real effort to make this a special surprise.’ Then she turns and faces me, ‘You all know how important it was for me to do this one thing for Jay.’

Tanya gives me a sympathetic grimace which only makes me feel worse.

What am I going to tell Amy when I see her? Can I pretend it all went well or is it another thing I need to keep quiet about?

Swallowing, I stand, walking to the door, only just remembering at the last moment to limp. It’s too late – Laura has seen.

‘Groin pull all fine now then,’ she calls.

I close my eyes, wondering just how many secrets I can keep from Amy in one weekend.