Chapter 18
Eighteen
Obi and Victoria sat beneath a blanket on one sofa while Stefano lounged beside me on the other, his hairy legs encroaching ever more boldly beyond the borders of our designated seat cushions.
When we’d arrived back at the house earlier, Stefano had stretched his damp socks out along the radiator.
His bare feet edged closer to me now. I glanced sideways at them, at the pale bumps and blue veins that snaked along the knuckles of flesh.
I shifted imperceptibly; the feet slid closer.
‘Does anyone want anything from the kitchen?’ I said, getting up.
Victoria shook her head. ‘No, thanks. I might turn in.’
‘Me too,’ Obi added.
Grandma had changed the sheets in my room earlier. She said I could share her bed – if she ever got back – so that one of my friends could take the single.
Victoria stretched her arms above her head and stood up. ‘Mind if I take the bedroom?’ she asked, to which the boys replied that they weren’t bothered.
‘Are you sure you want to go to bed so soon?’ I asked her. The drama of the day, along with the copious amounts of champagne I’d consumed, had left me feeling jittery and awake. ‘It’s still early. We could play a board game or put a film on or something.’
Victoria knelt down in front of me. ‘Goodnight, darling,’ she said firmly, taking my hands and placing a kiss on my forehead. ‘Go. To. Bed. And dream sweet dreams.’
‘Fine,’ I sighed. ‘Goodnight, V.’
She went upstairs and Obi headed to the bathroom to clean his teeth, leaving Stefano and me alone.
‘I’ll stay up with you,’ Stefano said.
I faked a yawn. ‘No, V’s right. We should probably get some sleep.’
‘Your call.’ He turned off the TV, and I grabbed the linens piled in the corner from the previous night. His phone buzzed.
‘It’s my brother.’ He turned the phone around. His smiling family crowded the frame. ‘He says they’re all there and they miss me.’
I arranged my face into a smile and replaced some Christmas cards that had fallen from the mantelpiece. ‘That’s nice.’
‘After I get married, I want a big family. Do you?’
‘I don’t know.’ I hesitated. ‘I don’t even know if I want to get married.’
‘What?’ Stefano laughed. ‘That’s crazy. Every woman wants to get married.’
‘Well, I don’t.’ I picked at my jumper, at a loose thread clawed free by the cats. ‘I mean, I don’t know if I want to yet.’
He laughed again. ‘You’ll change your mind. A woman’s greatest gift is being a wife and mother. You’ll want a family eventually.’
‘I guess,’ I mumbled. My cheeks reddened and something unnameable flared up inside my chest. I felt mortified but I couldn’t say why.
It was as if some part of me had been denied, as if my thoughts, the words that came from my mouth, were mere suggestions, raw ingredients not yet baked by more perceptive minds.
He came up behind me and began massaging my shoulders. ‘You just need to relax, Shannon.’
‘Maybe.’ I slipped out from under him and went to turn off the convector.
‘Hey, did you hear anything more from your grandma?’ he asked.
I shook my head.
A coy smile spread across his face. ‘Look, you’re wide awake; I’m wide awake. Why don’t we keep each other company, just the two of us?’ he said. ‘Until she gets back, of course.’
The radiator clicked. Warm air rose between the greyed fabric of Stefano’s socks, making the room smell sour. I opened my mouth to answer, but just then Obi re-entered the room. ‘I used a blue towel that I found in the airing cupboard, I hope you don’t mind.’
‘That’s fine,’ I said, relieved at the interruption. I edged past the two of them and into the hallway. ‘I’ll see you both in the morning. Goodnight.’
I LAY CURLED UP in Grandma’s bed. I could hear the wind keening in the chimney, the walls and floors creaking and complaining with age.
At what must’ve been around 4 a.m., I thought I heard footsteps in the hallway and then a door opening, whispers, something falling to the floor.
I sat up and pressed my ear to the wall.
‘I couldn’t sleep.’
‘Don’t worry.’
It was Obi and Victoria, with just one thin membrane of plaster between us.
‘Come here.’
I remained where I was, still and silent.
My heart knocked against my chest. My eyes felt heavy.
I waited, listening for more, listening for furtive gasps and metal springs, for him, for her, for words of love, for bodies pressed together, lips against torsos, legs twisted, the scrape of fingers through hair, for salt, for sweat, for wet, for hard, for soft, for soft, for falling, falling—
‘Shannon?’
I stirred.
‘Shannon?’
‘Hmm.’
I opened my eyes to find Victoria staring down at me. She was wearing a long white T-shirt and little else.
‘Come with me to the bathroom.’
She took my hand and pulled me out from beneath the covers.
We crept along the landing.
She led me inside the bathroom and carefully clicked shut the door. I stood awkwardly by the bath as she pulled her knickers down and sat on the toilet. The porcelain sink glowed like polished bone in the darkness. She dropped her head and pissed. I looked away.
‘Are you embarrassed?’ she asked.
I shook my head.
‘I went to boarding school. No manners. Sorry.’
She flushed and padded towards the sink. I noticed she was wearing Obi’s sports socks.
She leaned forwards and inspected her reflection. She brushed her fingers through her hair, pinched her cheek, sighed.
‘What’s wrong?’ I asked.
‘Hmm? Nothing. Just checking I’m still real.’
I came up beside her. The Victoria in the mirror leaned her head against my shoulder. I turned slightly and buried my nose in her hair, breathing her in. She smelled sweet, smoky, faintly bitter.
‘Here we are,’ she said.
‘Here we are.’
She continued staring at her reflection, at mine.
‘How’s Obi?’ I asked, immediately regretting the question. The words tasted wrong on my tongue. Victoria noticed. She raised one eyebrow.
‘He’s fine, I believe.’ A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘No reason.’
She laughed. ‘You know I love you, Shannon, don’t you?’
I nodded at the pale ghost in the glass.
‘You know I’d do anything for you?’
I nodded again.
‘We’re sisters, you and I.’
I shivered.
Her hand brushed against mine and a bolt of electricity rippled through my skin.
She turned to face me. ‘These boys,’ she said, as if picking up the strands of some long-discarded conversation. She shook her head. ‘These silly, silly boys.’
I waited for an explanation, but it never arrived.
She came closer.
I shut my eyes. And she kissed me.
Her lips were dry and chapped, but human and throbbing with life.
I didn’t know what to do.
I felt frozen by the warmth of her.
But then something in my body replied.
An ache pooled in the curve of my belly. I pressed against her. My tongue found hers.
She grabbed a handful of my thigh. She pushed me up against the sink and slid her hand under my vest. She pulled down the elastic of my shorts. I gasped and arched my back involuntarily as her fingers slid inside me.
Fireworks.
Explosions.
Blindness and light.
Everything, everything leading to this, this moment, this bliss, this ecstasy.
But then she stopped.
‘What is it?’ I asked, my heart racing beneath her cupped hand.
‘I—’ She shook her head.
‘Please, what is it?’ I begged her. ‘Tell me.’
She lifted her chin and looked at me. ‘Don’t send me away, Shannon,’ she said, her eyes two damp ponds.
‘You know I won’t.’
‘Let me pretend with you.’
‘Why are you pretending?’ I whispered. I searched her eyes for an answer. Not finding one, I kissed her again, running my tongue along her lips, pretending the wetted flesh beneath it were my own.
She pulled away and her face twisted into something different, a smirk.
‘You know why I’m pretending.’
My heart, afraid. Knock knock.
‘Come on, Shannon . . .’
‘What?’
‘This is silly.’
‘I don’t understand.’
I tried to pull away, but she held me fast.
‘We’re both pretending.’ She released her fingers and brought her mouth to my ear.
‘I’m pretending to be real. But I’m not, Shannon.
I live in your imagination. I’m a collection of lines, a smattering of remarks, of sinewy memories.
I’m someone you once knew, your half-baked remembrances.
I’m a slight and an insult, a careless word.
I’m jealousy and violence and the chaos that spreads.
I’m a lie, a character. I’m not real, Shannon. None of this is real.’
She pulled away and looked at me. And then she laughed in that familiar Victoria way, whooping and careless.
And so I laughed as well, and we cackled in the darkness like two witches, finally cracking beneath the burden of ourselves.
Because why not. Why not laugh and enjoy the whole damn performance of it.
And then I gripped her wrist, lowering her hand again, stretching her fingers back – beckoning her to – begging her to—
Knock knock.
No, let me stay.
Knock knock knock.
Jolly.
Knock knock knock.
Let me dream.
‘Shannon, we’re back. Your grandma wants to know if you want eggs?’
I wake up.