27 | Move on
~LILO~
Del does my hair on the night of the play.
Matt wanted to do it, but Del kicked him out of her room within minutes of his arrival. Or maybe I should say our room- I've been top-and-tailing with her for the past two weeks. Del and I have been friends for years, but these fourteen days have caused our relationship to blossom into something more sisterly. I cry sometimes, in the middle of the night when I can't get to sleep. I cry for my Dad, who I haven't been able to bring myself to visit for fear of what I'll be met with. I cry for my Mum, and the baby in her belly who she will always love and look after and never leave. I cry for how uncertain my life has become, and how I don't even properly have a home at the moment and I don't know how long I can go on like this before-
One time, I cried so hard I gave myself a headache and my face was all raw and snotty and my whole body was burning up. I wasn't sure what it even was I was crying about. I think it was everything. My parents, Khan, and everything. I tried to be quiet, but I must have been louder than I thought because I woke Del. For a few seconds, she just looked at me. Then she got out of bed and disappeared into the bathroom. Moments later, she reappeared with a cool, damp flannel, and placed it over my forehead to stop the fire inside my skin. She sat beside me and held the flannel to my temples, just being there. Existing with me. It was like applying balm to a deep wound.
The pain was still there, but in the moment, it felt less significant.
Del has emptied all of her hair cosmetic products onto her bed, and has sat me down on the carpet as she swings her legs from her mattress behind me. Her fingers are hot as they sweep through the strands of my hair, wet with various products and lotions. I have her phone in my hands, and am flicking through different hairstyles on Pinterest at her insistence.
"Del, no one is going to see me," I say for the hundredth time, and I hear her exasperated sigh above my head. "I'm going to be in the tech box, behind all of the rows of seats. Scotty Leprechaun probably won't even want me to go onstage at the end to bow."
"Oh, hush," my friend silences me, "It's not about whether or not you'll be seen, it's about how glam you feel. You can't create razzle-dazzle lighting without looking razzle-dazzle yourself."
"I think I can, actually."
"It's all about the mind-set you put yourself into, princess! If you tell yourself- No one is going to be looking at me, I'm unimportant and irrelevant- that's how you're going to feel. And the lights will suffer. Cymbeline will suffer. Scotty Leprechaun will suffer. Do you want to bear the weight of that responsibility, Lilo Lasting?"
I allow myself a laugh. Del has begun to put elastic bands into my hair. "Don't think I've forgotten about the mess you made of my hair on the night of the party."
Thinking about the party feels like reliving a distant memory. It's one that I don't like to relive. It brings up a recollection of green eyes in my mind, a recollection that I don't want.
Khan and I destroyed whatever we had together. I don't even think it was that night in the kitchen alone, when he shouted at me that I'd never understand, so he couldn't be with me. Because despite how much his words hurt, and how much I hated him and hated myself for them the first few nights following- he was right. He still is right. How can I ever understand him? Khan has lived as two versions of himself ever since he came to England. I still don't know which version I told myself I was in love with.
But I'm not going to be the Lilo I was for two years after Matt and I fell apart. I'm not going to be weak and believe myself to be unworthy. I'm going to rebuild, and it's going to be with the help of my friends rather than the help of a boy. And I'm going to start by doing an absolute bomb job of the lighting for this stupid, inconsequential school play.
"Okay," I sigh, giving in, and Del squeals with delight, "Make me look gorgeous, then. Do your thing, fairy godmother."
"You always look gorgeous," she says, "I can only make you look more glam. You're so beautiful, Lilo. Have I ever told you that?"
"Honestly? I don't think so."
"Well, you are. Almost as beautiful as me, actually. That's the highest compliment I can pay you. Hey, you know how people say that they like the sound of their own voice, and that's why they talk? Well, it's actually true for me. I love the sound of my own voice; it's a great voice. So I'm going to keep on talking as I make you into a glam queen. Have you decided on a do yet?"
I swipe at the phone screen half-heartedly. "They all look like they're going to weddings or MET galas."
"Your trouble, my friend, is that you never like to stand out. Fine, I guess I'll just make you look mediocre-glam then. And don't worry- I've gotten better at using gel since the party! Trust. Okay, so. On with using my beautiful-sounding voice. I think I'm crushing on your friend Phil. He's super cute, plus he's actually smarter than he looks-"
"And acts."
"He?"
"He's also smarter than he acts. He acts like he has no brain cells, but he's actually pretty clever. He'll be a good influence on you, Del-Del."
"Pfft. I don't want a guy to be a good influence on me- I want a guy who will take me out for a fun night out, and then do my homework for me when we get back! Oh- and also preferably soft on the eye. Which Phil is. Very. Have you noticed what a nice ass he has?"
I snort with laughter. "Del, I don't really notice the asses of my friends. Especially if they're Phil, and I've known them for three or more years."
"Well, take my word for it. His ass is really nice. Do you think I should wait for him to ask me out, or I should throw caution to the wind and do it myself? We aren't in the nineteenth century anymore, after all. Elle Woods proposed to whatever that wet guy was called in Legally Blonde, so why can't I?"
"...propose to Phil? It's a bit early-"
"No, dummy, I meant make the first move. Someone's got to do it, and my man is taking a bit too long for my taste. We've already exchanged spit, so what's the delay?"
I'm laughing so hard, I can hardly see straight for tears in my eyes. "Del, that's a bit too much information. I don't need that visual in my mind."
"Ah, Lilo, at least I've made you smile."
There are a few moments of relatively comfortable silence, during which Del twists and pulls at different locks of my hair, and lotion runs into my eyes and makes them sting. As I reach for a tissue to wipe them, Del says in a quiet, tentative sort of voice, "I really thought he'd come round, Lilo."
I don't need to ask who she's talking about, though I wish I did. I wish she hadn't brought him up. Not now, when we're having so much fun.
"We're different people, Del," is all I can think of to say, "He made that clear."
I haven't given anyone the full details of our argument in his aunt Anoushka's kitchen. I feel like that would be too raw, too personal. Khan presents one side of himself to everyone at school, and it isn't down to me to break the illusion, even to my best friend. That's for him to do on his own.
All I've told her is that Khan and I tried a relationship, and quickly realised that it wasn't going to work. I also dropped that he wasn't going to be doing the lights for the play with me anymore. I ended up having to tell Mr Scott that, which was awkward for me. He ran his hands though his thinning hair and sighed as if the world was ending, before saying forcefully, "But you're going to continue, aren't you, Desiree?"
Ignoring the fact that he didn't even know my name, I knew from his voice that he was telling, not asking. I'm not sure if I would have continued if he hadn't. I guess it doesn't matter, because I'm doing the lights alone and that's that.
"Yeah, but you two were the ultimate ship!" Del persists, "You were going to have the most beautiful children, I could see it already-"
"Del!" I turn around and stare at her, incredulous. "You were picturing mine and Khan's kids? Jesus, we were never even serious!"
My idiotic best friend just pouts. "I was seeing myself as an auntie and everything."
I sigh as I turn back around, allowing her to get on with whatever she's doing to my hair. "Let's please not talk about Khan. I don't need him in my mind on my big night. Doing lights. In a tech box. Where nobody can see me."
Del is quiet for a second, and then she squeezes my shoulder. "We're not doing this for other people. We're doing it for you. Because you, my lovely friend, are going to do an ace job whether there is a boy in that box with you or not. Remember that."
"Cow crap."
"No, that's being kind. I'd say it looks more like a wasp's nest."
Matt and I are standing in front of the mirror in Del's hallway, making observations about my hair. A few feet away, Del is wrestling with a pair of cute shoes that she insists still fit her. I have no idea why she's making an effort to look nice just for a fifteen minute walk to school at 5 in the afternoon- she and the rest of the maids are going to be in long skirts and aprons of the time that will hide her shoes, nomatter how 'darling' they are- but she is determined. I guess it's like me having my hair done to hide in a box full of technology. It's about feeling amazing on the inside.
I don't even feel amazing on the outside, though. I can safely say that my friend's hairstyling skills have not improved since the night of the party.
"Del, I'm sorry, but I'm going to take this out, okay?" I raise my voice so she can hear me over the sound of her groans of irritation.
"I'll admit it wasn't my best work," she hollers back, hopping around in a frantic way and clutching her foot. "Damn the big feet genes in my family! I don't want to be not like other girls with size thirteen feet. I want these!"
Matt and I raise our eyebrows at eachother, and I turn away to hide a giggle. Over the past week or so, the two of us have been making an effort to rebuild our friendship into something a little like it was before. The kiss dare at Del's probably helped in breaking the ice. It hasn't happened again, though. Sometimes, I catch myself wondering if I'd mind if it did. I remember just how hurt I was when I thought Matt stopped caring about me, but I know now that we'd just both grabbed the wrong ends of the stick.
We could work. Maybe. We did once before, after all.
If only I could forget that first time I ran into Khan in the shop, when all I could think of on the way home was Caroline and Matt, my old friends, laughing at me.
He's not like that anymore, Lilo. You know he isn't. He's a nice guy. He's good to you.
Before Khan stopped coming into school, Matt and Phil and Bryan would hug me or dap me up if we passed eachother in the corridors, or collided in the playground. Khan just sort of hung at the back, both of us caught up in a contest of don't-look-at-the-other-person. I could tell he wanted me to smile at him. I wanted to, too. I'm just not ready yet. Every time our eyes accidentally meet, it's like the well of hurt is reopened.
I don't know if he's still doing that protest thing. I guess he must be, if he's dropped out of the play. It occurred to me the first day he didn't show up at school that maybe he was staying away to try and give me space, but I quickly dismissed the thought. If he cared about me that much, he wouldn't have dumped me the day after he kissed me in his hospital bed, surrounded by beeping sounds and flashes of light as irregular as both of our heartbeats in that moment.
We could have worked through the misunderstandings. That's what I thought, at first.
Now?
Now, I need to distract myself from thinking about Khan before I ruin my mood for the whole evening.
"Why the long face?"
Matt asks in an imitation of the shrunken head from the third Harry Potter film. I guess her's trying to make me laugh. I manage a smile as I look at both of our reflections in Del's hall mirror.
"I'm just... thinking."
"About him?" Matt gives me a small, knowing smile. I wonder if that's sadness I see in his eyes. I push that thought away.
"No," I lie in an attempt at a breezy voice, "I'm thinking about the play. Hoping I don't mess it up and that. I don't want to bear the brunt of Scotty's anger."
"Naw, you don't need to worry about that. You've been fantastic in the rehearsals- especially the tech."
I've certainly cleaned up my lights act since that first, disastrous rehearsal with Khan. Whenever I find myself thinking about Khan, or my parents, I just pick up my phone and search websites about theatre lighting, reading up. Getting new ideas. Mr Scott has been pretty impressed with me in our latest rehearsals, especially with my idea of using smaller lights positioned about the stage to act as torches of flame in Cymbeline's castle. I never thought this would be something I'd be interested in, but I'm having more fun than I would have thought possible.
Maybe there's a technician in me yet. Dad had faith when I first told him about the play, after all.
Dad. I know he would have loved to see Cymbeline. I told him about how it was coming along on the phone two nights ago. They've allowed me to call him, though his voice is still slightly slurred and I have to listen extra hard to catch what he says sometimes. I haven't been to see him since I took the trip with Khan, though. I could probably name the reasons why if I thought about it, but I try not to dwell on Dad too much. Or either of my parents. Instead, I've been focusing on the two things I have actual control over- this dumb Shakespeare play, and myself.
"Well, what can I say..." I fake over-confidence to make Matt laugh, "I'm extremely talented."
He nudges me with his shoulder. "That you are, Dills."
There's a moment of silence. I don't find it uncomfortable, but beside me Matt is shifting from one foot to the other, almost as if he's gearing himself up for something. There have been a few moments like this, whenever we hang out. I always manage to get him onto some new conversational subject before he can come out with whatever it is he wants to say to me, but I'm not sure how much longer I can hold it off for. I'm not sure why I'm so nervous. This is Matt- Matt, who I've known since kidhood.
"Lilo," he says, in a tentative voice, and I'm surprised. Matt has never called me Lilo, only 'Dilly' or 'Dills'. "After the play, would you...um... would you like to-"
"We're ready!" Del yells from the base of the stairs, where she has finally managed to squeeze her feet into the shoes. They look very strained. "Mission accomplished. Phil, are you done in the loo yet? How long can someone take a shit for?"
"Language, young lady!" Del's Mum, Ramona, has come out of the kitchen to see us off, dusting flour from her hands. "I'll thank you to keep a clean tongue in your head whilst you're living nder my roof, Delilah Roscoe. Now, are you all ready? Got your coats, and your phones charged?"
"Mum," Del complains, "I know you're my mother, but you can't tell the others what to do! They're not unfortunate enough to be your offspring!"
Ramona makes a sharp noise with her tongue and flicks a tea-towel at her daughter. "Make sure to get a seat close enough to the stage, so you don't strain your eyes-"
"Mum, shush! I'm sixteen, not six."
The sound of flushing can be heard from the downstairs toilet, closely followed by Phil's appearance. He wipes his hands on his jeans whilst grinning arounf at us all, oblivious to the delay he's caused in our leaving. "Right, I'm back. Who missed me?"
"No one, stupid boy," says Del, slinging an arm around his shoulder in the way I'm used to seeing her and Phil together. "What are you, constipated?"
"Del-Del, let's not go there," I groan, "No one wants to have this conversation. It's nearly five, we have to go or we'll be late. The performance starts at half past."
"Bye, Mrs Del's Mum!" Phil beams in a silly voice, before looping his arm around Del's back and leading her out into the chill of the late afternoon. It's not even evening yet, but the sky is beginning to darken. I can tell it's not going to be a warm night.
"Bye, Mrs Roscoe," says Matt politely, and he steps outside, looking at me to follow him. I nod at him to go on, implying that I'll follow soon. He nods back and follows after or friends, leaving me alone with my best friend's mother.
"Mrs Roscoe, I just wanted to say thank you-"
"Hush, sweet child." She holds a hand up to stop me mid-flow. "First of all, it will never be Mrs Roscoe to you, Delilah- please, call me Ramona. Second of all, there's nothing to thank me for. It has been an absolute pleasure having you stay."
"But you've let me sleep with you for these weeks, giving me food and-"
"Delilah, baby, please stop right there." Ramona leans forward and wraps her arms around me, warm and safe. It feels like being hgged by a mother. I'm shocked to find that there are tears in my eyes. "You've been like a second daughter to me since my girl first brought you home for a play-date. Del may act tough, but she needs a quiet friend like you to soften her and keep her grounded. Thank you for being the good, steady influence she needs. You stay here as long as you need, honey."
I just nod, melting into the warmth of her body. I'm too overwhelmed to speak.
"Lilo, we need to go!" Del's voice comes from outside. "Mother, stop hogging my best friend. Come on, or we'll be late for your big night!"
And we let each other go.
"School is looking surprisingly flash for... well. School." Del observes, as we hop off the bus outside the school gates and cross the playground to the reception. She's not wrong. It's not yet that dark, but the windows of the school building are lit up in different colours, and there's a banner strung up on the gates reading 'Cymbeline!' in bubble-writing. The school receptionist welcomes us in, all smiles and greetings and 'good luck's to me and Del- neither Matt nor Phil are performing, just watching. Del and I warned them that they wouldn't understand a word, but they wanted to come anyway.
"It will be fun to heckle you," Phil said to Del, and she swatted him. Matt just smiled at me. That smile.
"Yeah? I think it looks like the trashy shithole it is," says Phil, not bothering to lower his voice. The receptionist hears him, and I hide a splutter at her disapproving face. I hardly didn't recognise her at first. She's dressed in a tight red dress- maybe a bit too tight. She has her veiny legs on show too, but you do you, I guess. At least she's made an effort. Even if she's a bit too old for Marilyn red.
Mr Scott meets s at the entrance to the drama hall, where the play is taking place. He looks oddly flustered, face red, hands flapping about the place as he ticks mine and Del's names off of the register.
"We have Delilah R and Delilah L... boys, the audience are only due to come in at about twenty past," he says, in a stressed-out voice, "You'll have to make yourselves useful backstage, helping members of the cast warm up or get into costumes and makeup. Can you do that?"
"Sure thing, boss," says Phil, mock-saluting. It doesn't lighten the mood. Mr Scott just nods absently and hurries off, flipping frantically through the papers attached to his clipboard and muttering something under his breath about missing three maids and a court jester.
"Jeez, why is he taking it so seriously?" Phil mutters, "It's just a daft school play. Half of the audience won't even understand what's being said half the time!"
"Oh, and Delilah!" Mr Scott calls from the end of the corridor, and both Del and I turn around, startled. "I meant Delilah L. My manager of lights. The tech box has been unlocked- you can go in and get yourself set up, get all the controls where you want them for the opening scene. Will you be alright to get set up by yourself?"
By yourself.
For some reason, the words sting more than they should. I'm not sure why I still had a kernel of hope in me that Khan would turn up- he made it totally clear that he had another engagement. I take a deep breath, clasping my hands together to stop them from shaking. Nerves? Disappointment?
Pull yourself together, silly girl.
"I'll be alright," I call back, and my voice hardly trembles at all.
It's time to forget Khan Farid, and move on.