B L A I R E
•
The sky is a pale shade of hopeful blue on Sunday morning as Sukie and I walk along the lake shore, listening to seagulls caw as they swoop in from the Inner Seas and watching the grey-green water rippled with the breeze. I've been staying with her for four full days now, and I know it's time to go back. I have to face my fears, and Elizabeth.
"I listened to episode seventy-one last night," I say. We're walking side by side with no destination in mind, that I know of. Sukie suggested going for a walk today, on her day off, and I leapt at the chance to spend some time alone with her.
"Did it give you any brainwaves?" Her hands are buried in the loose pockets of her long hoodie, swinging at her sides.
"No. It did make me think that Betsy had a pretty shit life, though."
"Yeah." Sukie sighs. "I cried the first time I read about her, when I realised just how much she lost while she lived here. I don't know why, it hit me hard."
"It's heavy," I say. "I guess, at the very least, it made me thankful that I don't remember my dad. God knows how I'd cope with losing two parents."
Sukie glances over at me. "You did lose two, though."
I press my lips together and shake my head. "I never knew him. There were times I used to get sad about never knowing him, or it'd upset me any time Mum mentioned him because it made her cry, but I can't miss him."
"When did he die?"
"2002. I was two and a half."
Sukie goes quiet for a moment, contemplative. "Do you mind me asking what happened?"
Talking about my father's death doesn't feel real. It doesn't feel like I'm talking about my dad when there's no-one in this world I've ever called that; there's a degree of separation that makes it almost easy. "He killed himself," I say.
"Oh, god, Blaire..."
"It's okay. I mean, it's not okay, but I'm fine. I only know him from photos and anecdotes. Mum told me he struggled with his mental health, like, a lot. He really struggled. And eventually it got too much."
"I'm so sorry. That's awful."
It is what it is, I think. I can't afford to dwell on it because if I dig too deep and find a new well of grief to contend with, I'll crack. So I keep my dad at a distance, too far away to hurt me with his absence.
"What about you?" I ask, shifting focus. "What's the deal with your dad?"
Sukie snorts, pulling a face. "Just a regular deadbeat wanker. Well, he could be a lot worse, I guess, but I can't forgive him for what he did to Mum."
"What'd he do?"
She shrugs. "The usual. He cheated and lied and tried to make her think she was guilty, like she wasn't good enough for him. Then he pulled out the grieving dad card and acted like it was too hard to stay in the town where Kieran died, even though he'd been dead for over a decade."
"Fucking hell. He sounds like a right ... well, yeah. A deadbeat wanker."
"Mmhmm. Class A man material, my father. And all this shit went on for years, until I turned twelve and he finally fucked off back to Huddersfield."
We follow the curve of the lake at a meandering pace, watching the glimmering sun skitter across the surface.
"Do you ever see him?"
Sukie shakes her head. "Don't have any desire to. Not after all the shit he put Mum through. I couldn't care less what he's up to with Zoe or Chloe or whatever his new girlfriend's called."
"Even though you've got a half-sister?"
"Mum's my family," Sukie says. "She's all I need."
I know that feeling all too well, and her words sting like a hot poker sliding deep into my eyeball and searing my brain. When I don't say anything for a minute, Sukie pulls me to a stop, her hand on my elbow.
"Blaire, I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking."
"You don't need to censor yourself to spare my feelings," I say, managing a tight smile as I try to swallow down the burn of sorrow. "Your mum's amazing. There can't be that many people who would let me stay in their house for so long after knowing me for, like, a week. Here I am, trying to ease a few words out of my aunt, and you and your mum are so open and welcoming. How?"
Sukie wears a proud smile, deep dimples in her round cheeks. "The Watanabe Way," she says. "Treat everyone with kindness. Treat people the way you want to be treated."
"It's easier said than done."
"It's important." Her eyes meet mine and linger there for a while, I feel a slow heat ebb and flo beneath my skin, the spread of redness creeping to my neck and chest and face. "My grandma was insistent, she said the best thing a person can be is kind, and that I should always be the friendly face in the crowd, the kind of person who welcomes newcomers."
"You're doing a great job," I say. "Your grandma sounds like a wise woman."
"She was. The strongest, wisest woman I ever knew." Wrapping her hoodie around herself, Sukie scuffs the toe of her boot in the dusty, sun-dried mud. "She came here from Japan right after World War Two, when relations between Japan and the UK were pretty shit, and she didn't have it easy."
"I bet."
She holds up her index finger. "One kind neighbour made all the difference. Sobo said that in a town full of NIMBYs and racists, there was one kind neighbour who treated her like a person and made her feel at home in a strange country."
Turning to me, she smiles softly. "I endeavour to always be the kind neighbour."
"Thank you." It's all I can say without getting choked up. Sukie squeezes my arm and loops hers through my elbow as we start to walk again.
"As your friend and kind neighbour, can I give you some advice?"
I nod, already knowing what she's about to say.
"I think you need to go back to Elizabeth's. There are so many enormous holes between the two of you but until you actually talk it out, and you confront her, you're never going to get any answers."
"The moment I ask why she has a photo of me, she'll know I was in her room."
"I'm afraid that's just something you've got to face," she says. "You need to go and talk to her, and force her to sit down and be honest with you, because neither of you are getting anywhere by tiptoeing around each other."
"I know." It's hard to admit, but I know. I can't hide away from her forever. At some point I have to go home and face my demons, and I have questions that only she can answer. About my mother, my family, her. There's this hazy cloud surrounding family, something I know so painfully little about, and here she is, a blood relative.
"She's your family. Your only family," Sukie says. Her voice is soft and sad. We come to a clearing at the south end of the lake, twenty minutes after we started walking from the jetty, and she leads me to a decrepit, wind-worn bench that looks like it will collapse the moment we sit on it.
"I want to love her," I say once I've eased myself onto the creaking bench and it hasn't given way.
"Then you have to make the effort. You guys are at a stalemate right now, and Elizabeth seems like a bit of a weirdo, so it's gotta be you."
"I'm going to try talking to her today," I say, staring out at the lake. I don't notice Sukie's hand slip over mine until the contact makes me jump and when I look at her, I'm greeted by a warm, radiant face that reflects the sun.
"I think you'll feel a lot better once you do," she murmurs. "You need to be able to talk to each other and trust each other. And if it goes tits up for whatever reason, you know you can come straight back to me."
Her steadfast presence is a weight off my shoulders, reassurance that no matter what Elizabeth does or says, I'm not alone.
"Thanks, Sukie." I let out a shaky breath, my toes twitching with too much adrenaline that roars through my body at the thought of facing up to Elizabeth.
It's surprisingly warm today, and when Sukie shrugs off her hoodie, my eyes drop to her bump. If I didn't know better, I'd think she was bloated. She drapes one hand over her stomach, idly stroking it.
"I'm sorry for getting in your head," she says. "It's probably the last thing you want, surrounding yourself with superstition and disaster."
"It's okay. Turns out it's exactly what I've needed," I say.
Aside from the reversal of time, of course.
I would do anything, give anything to be able to go back to that morning in the hotel, when I sleepily told Mum to stay with me and get room service breakfast, and she told me she wanted to do twenty laps and she'd be right back. I'd do anything to unhear that scream, the one I passed off as just London noise, until I heard sirens that stopped outside the hotel.
I wish I had stayed in my room. I wish I hadn't raced down to the pool, a fire in my gut telling me to be scared, in time to see my mother's wet, lifeless body lying on the side of the pool. I wish I hadn't heard the crack of her ribs as a paramedic tried to bring her back to life. I wish I could forget the gutteral scream that ripped itself from my gut, the paramedic's hand on mine; later, the sombre-faced doctor who broke the news I already understood.
I'm sorry, Liberty. There was nothing we could do.
My eyes are leaking. Tears are streaming down my face and there's nothing I can do about it, my body anchored to this bench that groans when a sob lurches from my body, and I can't hide away from Sukie. She's right here, bearing witness to my breakdown.
She doesn't say anything. She doesn't need to. What can she say when I'm bawling my eyes out because I let my guard down, let myself think about Mum? Instead, she wraps both arms around me and holds me tightly, humming soft shushing noises as grips me in a powerful hug and rocks me like a child.
It simultaneously helps and makes things worse. It's overwhelmingly comforting to be locked in her arms, but there's something about someone else's sympathy that triples my emotions. She's holding me and I'm sobbing against her shoulder out of nowhere, and she isn't asking what happened, what set me off. She's just holding me. I can smell her gently floral perfume, and the subtle waft of coffee and fresh bread that lingers on her skin.
I don't know how long we sit there, how long she holds me. We stay there in that patch of warmth until the sun dips its head behind a cloud and the air takes on a chill, and the rain comes out of nowhere. Sukie shrieks when the first fat droplets hit our heads and we're a mile from town, surrounded by nothing but trees and more water.
"This way!" Sukie cries, tugging her hood up. She grabs my hand and pulls me to a thicket of trees, their spring leaves shielding the worst of the rain. There's something about crying and getting drenched that feels refreshing, in a way. Like I've been cleansed. Or I made the sky cry.
"Oh my god, that came out of nowhere!" She shivers and zips up her damn hoodie, pulling the sleeves over her hands and folding her arms. "I'll call Mum and see if she can come and get us." Wiping her phone on the inside of her jumper, she pauses before dialling her mum. "Do you want to come back with me? Or do you want a lift to your house?"
"What I want and what I need are two very different things." I want to go back to Sukie's and curl up on the sofa with her and watch a film, drinking her mum's incredible hot chocolate. I need to lay my tangled thoughts and feelings in front of my aunt and ask her to untangle them.
"I need to see Elizabeth," I say, with bitter resolve. "I need to go home."
*