Four
The change is comin’
This change is really summin’
No more wasting time, pretending it’s fine
And now we’re here, intertwined
‘This Change’ from Roses
The next day the sign appears in Ollie’s front garden: SOLD. As if it had just popped out of the ground from the seventh circle of hell.
Mum pats me on the shoulder.
‘Did you know this was happening?’ I ask her.
‘Meredith told me, but we wanted Ollie to tell you. The house has been sold for the past month, but they had been refusing to let the estate agents put up the sign until Ollie told you.’ Mum shakes her head. ‘It looks like the estate agents want the advertising now.’
Mum and Meredith are old friends. It’s how Ollie and I became so close. Two next-door neighbours with children the same age. We did absolutely everything together growing up. From sleeping next to each other in a cot, to holding hands taking our first steps.
And now he’s stepping right out of my life.
Tears start burning in my eyes again. ‘I want him to stay.’
‘Maybe you should tell him that,’ she says. ‘It might not change anything, but it could help give you some closure.’
Damn, she’s perceptive. I have a strong feeling Mum might know I’m in love with Ollie, but I’m not about to confess it to her. Not when I’ve not even confessed it to him.
***
A week later, it’s the last flavour of the summer at Annie Banannie, and the day before Ollie moves away. Ollie and I pay for our pink-grapefruit sherbet ice creams and receive the final stamps.
‘Time to hand them in,’ says Kristy. ‘A full stack.’
Ollie and I look at each other. This is what we’ve been working towards all summer. Every week, coming here, collecting stamps, spending time with each other. These cards feel like more than just an entry into a competition.
‘I want to keep mine,’ blurts out Ollie.
‘Are you sure?’ says Kristy, looking at him confused. ‘You do know you need to give it to me to enter the competition?’
‘I like having all the stamps,’ he says.
‘Yes,’ she says slowly, as if she’s talking to a seven-year-old, not a seventeen-year-old. ‘But the point of collecting all the stamps is so you can enter the competition to win the ice cream.’ She points at the faded flyer behind her.
‘I’m sure,’ he says.
‘I want to keep mine too,’ I say.
‘No, you should enter, Selena,’ he says.
‘Nah, I can’t eat all that ice cream myself. And you won’t be here to help me with it,’ I say lightly. Plus, winning would only remind me of Ollie and make me sad. And potentially give me diabetes. At least now I can keep the stamp card as a memory.
‘This is wild. You both were in here every week!’ says Kristy.
‘Ha, you do remember us,’ I say. ‘Why did you act like you’ve never seen us before?’
Kristy shakes her head and wanders off, muttering something about teenagers.
‘Let’s get out of here before the ice cream melts,’ says Ollie, nodding towards the door.
We walk outside.
‘You didn’t want to enter just in case?’ I say. ‘I’m sure they would have sent the ice cream to Manchester.’
He shakes his head. ‘The card feels more important right now. Our final summer.’
Our final summer.
We walk in silence for a bit, making our way home. From tomorrow, it’ll no longer be his home. I need to tell him.
We face each other when we get to the front of our houses.
‘Well, this is it,’ he says, stuffing his hands into his pockets, ice cream finally gone.
I meet his eyes. What if he rejects me and moves away tomorrow?
The thought burns into my mind, outweighing the need to tell him. I can’t bear the thought of him leaving and breaking my heart. What if he doesn’t want to talk to me when he moves, because I’m so embarrassing and he doesn’t feel the same way? Maybe closure is overrated.
‘We’ll say goodbye tomorrow,’ I say softly.
‘Come on, let’s go sit in the garden,’ he says, nodding his head. ‘Got to have as much time as I can with you.’
It turns out there’s no preventing heartbreak in this situation, as I can feel mine start to fracture at his words.
***
I stand on the curb, rocking backwards and forwards on my feet, feeling like I might fall over at any point. It’s the day the Pointer family moves out.
Ollie walks over to me, dressed in tracksuits and one of his dad’s freebie work T-shirts. It’s a long drive up. He places his hands on my shoulders.
‘So this is it,’ he says.
I swallow, nodding.
‘Come here!’ says Mum, pulling us into a hug. ‘I remember when you two were small babies. You would throw your food at each other and then hug, making the mess worse.’
What a weird thing to get sentimental about.
‘Mum,’ I say, pushing her off.
‘It’s the end of an era,’ says Meredith, walking over. ‘I don’t know how I could have survived the last seventeen years without Kajal.’
I look at Mum, who is clasping her hands together, looking tearful. She might have said she was fine with the move, but looking at her now, I think she was saying that for me. Classic Mum, always trying to make me feel better.
Ollie grabs my hand, pulls me aside. He looks at me tenderly. A small part of me shrieks, This is it! Confess your love. But it is overruled by the more rational side of my brain which is shouting, You can’t confess your love in front of your mum!
He touches the side of my face. ‘I guess this is goodbye, Selena Pia,’ he says.
‘But not forever,’ I say.
‘No, not forever,’ he says, kissing the top of my head. ‘Just for now.’
He squeezes my hand, lets go, and heads back to his family.
For my whole life our two families have been intertwined by friendship and shared history, and now we’re about to be ripped apart.
The Pointers get into the moving van.
I take a deep breath and say goodbye, and watch the van take them away. And a little piece of my heart with it.