If I Were You

Chapter 45 Flynn

I feel a visceral longing to be out there, not watching from behind this fence. The thwack of tennis balls, the shouts, the cries all remind me it’s my happy place. The back and forth, the rules, the simplicity, the ritual: I know where I stand. It’s not shifting, I know who I am out there. Now that I’m not in my body it’s like a drug; I’m craving the endorphins sport gives me, the release.

It’s also harder than I thought to watch Amy lope about, swinging the racket wildly, eyes rolled in panic. Or worse, duck, which she has done a number of times. Patty has started to streak across to her side and cover for her. Every now and again she glances my way, sweat beading, anxiety showing, and I can do nothing but grimace or give a thumbs up. The thumbs up is strained and over the top every time I think of Laura’s words. Is Amy really considering breaking up with me? Are my worst fears coming true?

‘Flynn’s not on his game today,’ a voice says from behind me.

Geoffrey has found a scone from somewhere, a dollop of cream just next to his lip.

‘Hi, Geoffrey. Yeah, he’s … he’s struggling to find his form. A bit.’

At that moment Amy ducks and squeals when someone serves at her. Geoffrey’s head tips to the side. ‘Flynn is certainly being a gent, letting others win.’

‘Yeah, yeah. He did say he might … might do that.’

‘He’s a nice guy.’

‘Thanks, Geoffrey.’ I give him a wide smile and he frowns.

Trish waves from the other side of the court, two proseccos in hand.

Geoffrey falters, suddenly standing very close, his voice low. ‘If you want to talk to your mum this weekend about anything, Amy, you should. And if Flynn says anything about seeing us, well, no matter, just make sure you and your mum have some time together, alright?’

He gives a furtive look over his shoulder and I can’t help the confused laugh. ‘You alright there, Geoffrey? What have you and Trish been doing?’

This is all a bit peculiar; I have no idea why Geoffrey’s being so cloak and dagger. Normally our conversations revolve around sailing, sport and global warming. He’s never normally cryptic or personal. Perhaps this is how he talks to Amy?

‘Nothing, nothing, just wanted to check in, see what had been said, if anything, but clearly he hasn’t, not that he should have—’

My confusion deepens as Geoffrey tugs on his collar. ‘I just think you could talk to her, your mum, that is, she’d like that.’

‘Right, Geoffrey, OK mate. Well, I’ll be sure to check in with her.’

It’s Geoffrey’s turn to look confused as I go to slap him on the back and turn it into a sort of strange rub that I imagine Amy might do. ‘Thanks.’

The dollop of cream is still on his lip as he melts away.

I’m still thinking about the exchange as I make my way to the pavilion, wincing as I knock a hip into a table on the way in. Will I ever get used to this new body? The disconcerting feeling that mind and limbs are not in tandem? It seems so obvious to me that I’m not Amy, and yet Geoffrey just accepted that is who I am.

The walls are lined with huge wooden boards, the names of past captains glittering in gold; the air smells musty like unaired rooms and old socks. It’s the smell of PE lessons and for a moment I feel an overwhelming longing to be back at school, when life was structured and simple and I understood the rules.

I push open the toilet door to see a man at the urinal.

Eddie turns.

‘Oh hey,’ I say from the doorway, realizing staying would look strange, but leaving meant entering the Ladies, a terrifying place I could only imagine smelt like perfume and sunshine.

He’s in his tennis whites, a grass stain on his shorts, an alarmed look on his face. ‘What the—’

‘Sorry,’ I say, turning to leave. My hand is on the door when, almost as an after-thought, he calls out.

‘You need to tell your boyfriend to stay away from my girlfriend.’

I freeze before turning slowly back around. Eddie’s blonde eyebrows are knitted together, his chest jutting, chin tilted. What is he saying? What has happened?

‘He wouldn’t want to go near her,’ I say, unable to stop the disdain dripping from every syllable.

‘Well, he has, and he scared her.’

‘Scared her. What the …’ Scared? My nerves jangle despite the strange laugh I’ve just emitted. What’s happened?

‘Just tell him to leave her alone. He needs to get over it. Typical Flynn, trying to be everyone’s favourite boy.’

I’m shocked how Eddie is speaking to me, or rather to Amy too, as though he barely likes me.

Favourite boy! Over it! This is unbelievable. I haven’t talked about Tanya, and I’ve barely thought about her, these last few years. If I have, I’ve forced myself to shift those things, shuffle them to the back along with all the other stuff I’ve shelved.

‘He is over it!’ I don’t mean to shout that last line and I don’t mean Jay to appear in the room at that moment either.

‘Amy?’

‘I … oh, for fuck’s sake.’ I push past him and into the Ladies, relieved to see at least they’re empty. Despite my frustration I also can’t help noticing they do smell of perfume.

What the hell was that all about? What has Tanya told Eddie? Why would Eddie say that stuff? I remember all the small moments Eddie has thrown comments my way – is it that? Or is it something more? My stomach drops. Worried, I glance back outside. Geoffrey’s odd behaviour, Laura’s ominous words and now this. What has happened?