The Making of Us

by Debbie McGowan

  “D’you reckon I’ll freeze if I go surfing in a t-shirt and shorts?”

  Just the thought made me shiver, but we’d been intimate enough for me to appreciate where Leigh was coming from. No matter how body-positive you were, people were damn rude and stared when you were a different size or shape.

  “You could always wear them over a wetsuit,” I suggested.

  “Wouldn’t that look silly?”

  I gestured at Matty, because, now I thought on, his outfit was a lot like a t-shirt and skirt over a wetsuit. Leigh’s laughter was a good indication they could see it, too.

  “I’m gonna have a go,” they said. “Tomorrow.”

  I kissed them to show my support, and because kissing Leigh was one of my all-time favourite things to do. “Awesome,” I said.

  * * * * *

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  After lunch, we split up. Leigh and Matty went on the Tarzan Trail—an adventure playground in the woods—whilst Noah and I hit the Dragon Maze. Gotta say, when you’re six-four and six-six, a four-feet-high topiary maze isn’t exactly a challenge to navigate, but it was worth the brief tedium just to see Leigh’s and Matty’s breathless excitement when they emerged from their rope-swinging and tree-climbing, or whatever they’d been up to. They were gabbling too fast to pick out more than an odd word here and there.

  Our conversation about surfing seemed to have reinvigorated Leigh’s adventurous side, and it dawned on me then, how much they’d adapted to my sedentary way of life. Back in summer, it had been hard to keep up with Leigh and Matty—trying to was how I’d got fitter and lost weight. Whether Leigh was doing it on purpose, I couldn’t say; knowing how considerate they were, it was likely. Either way, I planned to address it when we got back from the zoo.

  But first, the tropical house, which we’d missed on our reverse circuit because it was next to the monkey walk. The other three nodded noncommittally when I pointed that out, and I almost didn’t bother, but Leigh insisted we should go.

  The trouble with the tropical rainforest is the animals are experts in camouflage, and we had to look really hard to find any of the birds and reptiles within. I say ‘the trouble with’—I was only there for the plants, but I wasn’t going to admit that out loud. The plants, the soundscape of chirrups and running water, the green, earthy smell, the heat and humidity—I’d never figured out how it was that I didn’t care how hot and sweaty I got in a hothouse when I usually did everything I could to avoid it.

  Back out in the cool, fresh air, Matty called his nan, and we took a quick look around the gift shop while we waited for her to come and get us. I bought my mum a tiny zebra—it was a running joke from when I went on school trips and always came back with a tiny plastic animal for her. It was a rubbish gift, but the shameful truth was I’d have spent all my money on sweets and junk food.

  Anyway, she had a draw full of tiny plastic animals, around eighty percent of them zebras. Seriously, pulling that drawer open was like looking down on a miniature stampede. Needless to say, I was proud that this time, I could afford a box of fudge for her as well. Noah and Matty went halves on a sketch of two lions for Adam and Sol, and Leigh bought a print of the emperor tamarin for their aunty because she’d find it funny, too. By the time we’d paid and made it out through the barrier, Hazel had arrived, and we headed back ‘home’, where, instead of waiting for an opportunity to talk to Leigh, I created one.

  “Want to see the door to the piskie cave?”

  “I guess?”

  I led Leigh by the hand, up the stepped path at the side of the pond, to the top of the waterfall. “See down there?”

  They crouched and peered under the foliage. “Oh, yeah. That’s cute.”

  “It is,” I agreed and forged straight on. “I want to talk to you about something.”

  “I thought so.”

  “You haven’t been for a run this week.”

  “No.”

  “And…well, I might be making something out of nothing, but…don’t stop doing the stuff you enjoy because of me.”

  Leigh slowly stood up straight again. “I haven’t.” They frowned. “Have I?”

  “I was thinking back to how active you were in the summer, and with us spending so much time together… I’m pretty much a lazy slob.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  “I don’t work out, or run, or jog. I don’t even walk that much.”

  “Jesse…”

  “Like you said, I’m always online.”

  “Or doing uni stuff.”

  “Yeah, but I mean, I’m not physically doing anything.”

  “OK.” Leigh tugged hard on their lip stud—not the usual thinky-thoughts jiggling, but a firm action, accompanied by an angry glare. “First up, you’re right. I haven’t been running this week. I was planning to ask Matty if he fancied coming out with me this evening. But the rest of it? I am doing what I enjoy. I’m spending time with you!”

  I took a breath to argue, but all I’d got was ‘yeah, but’, so I let it go again.

  “And for the record, you’re not a lazy slob. You’re always doing something. OK, so it’s not always physical. So what?”

  I studied my feet. “Are you gonna go for that run?”

  “Yes, but not because we’ve had this conversation. I haven’t stopped doing the stuff I enjoy because of you. I’d just rather be with you than go for a run. Got it?”

  “Got it,” I mumbled.

  “Pardon?”

  I looked up and grinned sheepishly. “Got it.”

  “Good. Now give me a kiss so I can get that run over with.”

  ***

  The next day, once again, proved to be no good for surfing—at least, Noah and Matty braved the rain, contending they’d be getting wet anyway, but Leigh cried off. I was glad about that, because I would’ve had to go with them. OK, maybe not had to, but I’d have worried the whole time if I hadn’t been there. I told them as much while we did our laundry, and then we went back to the camper van to make some more.

  In the evening, Hazel and Stuart took us all out to dinner to celebrate Noah and Matty’s engagement, and we had ‘the tasting menu’, which was crazy expensive, or would’ve been for us students, but it was clear, from both where Hazel and Stuart lived and how they lived, that they were well off. I tried not to contrast that with what I knew of Matty’s past. If time travel were possible…well, I’m not convinced I’d have interfered, because as Noah had said, they might not have met, and if they hadn’t, would Leigh and I? Selfish, I know, but I wouldn’t have wanted Noah and Matty to miss out, either.

  “A toast,” Stu announced, glass raised at the ready. “To Matthew and Noah.”

  The rest of us lifted our glasses and chanted ‘to Matty and Noah’. Leigh’s gaze met mine—were they thinking the same as me? That one day this would be us? I hoped so, but they were only nineteen, and I was only twenty-one. Still, two years wasn’t much of a difference, and why not marry when you’re young if you’re sure it’s what you want? After all, Noah and Matty were the same age as me and they were doing it. We should probably leave it until we’d been together a bit longer than four weeks, though.

  In the meantime, I’d have plenty to deal with as Noah’s best man. It was obvious why he’d chosen me—aside from us being best mates. I was the only one who could talk him down when he got in a state, which was guaranteed to be the case on his wedding day.

  Wedding day.

  Suits.

  Crap.

  It was time to seriously get down to the dieting, and…

  Actually, no.

  No. Nope. No more.

  “Jesse?” Leigh waved in front of my face.

  “Hmm. Sorry. I was wedding planning.”

  “Already?”

  “I like to be prepared.”

  “OK. Do you want a dessert?”

  “Yes. Yes, I do.”

  Chocolate torte with caramelised cherries and whipped cream. All those calories! All those fucks not giv
en!

  And Leigh had ice cream. Of course.

  ***

  The dead jellyfish was gone. It was the first thing I noticed when I walked along the beach, alone. I turned and looked back to where Leigh, Noah and Matty were standing at the shoreline, boards at their sides. From a distance, I could barely make out the difference between Leigh and Matty—he’d put on a t-shirt and shorts, too. God, I wanted so much to be out there with them. I couldn’t do it. Not yet. But when we got home, I was going to make studying Noah’s dad my life’s work.

  Keeping my three companions in my sights, I walked back along the beach, stopping when I was level with them. No rain today, but it was cold enough for me to have dug my giant hoodie out of my bag and brought it to the beach with me, although not quite cold enough to put it on. I spread it on the nearest big rock, sat, and took out my phone.

  I was kind of disappointed to find I had a signal. Other than posting about my eyebrow piercing and chatting with my mum, I’d avoided going online as much as possible, and steered well clear of Twitter and the Pride Facebook page. One week until the election. I’d tried hard not to think about it, even though it was constantly niggling at me. If I looked now and it was really bad, I’d have time to come to terms with it and figure out my strategy before I got back to uni. And if it was good, maybe I’d be able to properly push it to the back of my mind and enjoy our last two days of holiday—not that I hadn’t enjoyed it so far.

  Knowing I was going back on my ‘no election speak’ rule—although, technically, this wasn’t speaking about it—I loaded the Pride page and spent a few minutes reading and rereading the pinned post.

  Dear all,

  It is with regret that I have decided to step down as president of Pride.

  On Friday, I had a severe asthma attack and spent the night in hospital. As this is my fourth attack since the start of the academic year, my doctor has advised me to take some time off uni and try to reduce my workload. Sadly, that means I won’t be around to fulfil my duties to Pride.

  Thus, for the benefit of our society, I have signed over my responsibilities to Carlos Machado and Jazz Stephens, until such point as the new president is in place. I’d like to take this opportunity to thank you all for your wonderful support and hard work and wish our election candidates and all of you the very best.

  ~ Sarah Willis

  It wasn’t that I’d doubted what Matty had told me, but seeing it there in front of me really pushed it home. Sarah had stepped down, and I was gutted, but I wasn’t sure why. It certainly made a liar of me. Her post was a typical, bland, political notice, yet I knew how much she’d loved leading Pride. Stepping down would have been a last resort, and I believed her absolutely when she said she’d done so for the good of our society. It made me respect her more now than ever.

  Scrolling down the page, I discovered the candidates for the other positions had taken up the gauntlet, and there was a recorded stream of a debate between those vying for the role of publicity officer, as well as discussions started by the social secretary candidates, asking members about their favourite events and activities. Finally, I reached the polls for each of the committee positions. The candidates for president, secretary and treasurer all had the same pattern of one clear loser and level pegging for the others. Inclusion officer…

  “What the hell?”

  Danny was in the lead. OK, only by two votes, and this was only an indication of how people would vote on the day, but were they all insane? They’d seen him in action. He had no idea what he was talking about, nor what was involved in the job, and, as far as I could tell, no interest whatsoever in the well-being of our members. I loaded Twitter. Ah, yes. More of the same underhanded tactics.

  No president? No problem. At this crucial time, I haven’t abandoned you, unlike others, no names.

  I was gonna kick his arse. Next week, I was gonna hunt him down and—

  “Alright, mate?”

  I jumped and nearly dropped my phone. “Yeah,” I said, quickly locking the screen and trying not to look shifty. My heart was hammering. “You had enough?”

  “Keep getting cramp.” Noah stretched down and rubbed his calf, stood up again and tugged the wetsuit away from his neck. He was very red in the face.

  “Are you all right?” I asked.

  “Yeah. Nearly throttled myself, is all.” He reached behind him and unzipped his wetsuit, peeling it down to his waist.

  “Now you’re just showing off,” I said. He had a hell of a bod on him. Toned, a hint of a six-pack. He saw me admiring and struck a ridiculous pose, which made us both laugh.

  “I’ll go get my kit on in a sec. Too cold not to.” He perched on the end of my rock and resumed rubbing his calf.

  “What’s going on, Noah?”

  He froze mid-rub. “What d’you mean?”

  “You and Matty. You’ve both been cagey all week. I thought there might be election stuff going down, but that’s what I was looking at on my phone before, and it’s not that bad. But there’s something.”

  Noah sat up and folded his arms. “Honestly? We were worried how you and Leigh would take our news.”

  “Why? We’re both really happy for you.”

  “Not that news.” His gaze settled in the distance, beyond Leigh and Matty. “We’ve decided, after we’ve finished our postgrad studies, we’re gonna move here.”

  The ocean’s roar compensated for my silence. I was digesting the words, working through my thoughts, not sure any of them were the right thing to say.

  Noah continued, “I hate Norfolk. Always have. I didn’t want to move there in the first place, but I had no choice, and I was set on moving back to London, but when we were there in June…you know the rest. Matty didn’t cope well. But here…” He turned his head and looked me in the eye. I nodded.

  “I know, mate.”

  “All I’ve ever wanted is to see him happy. And Hazel and Stu… They’ve lost so much time.”

  “Makes sense,” I said, wondering how I could sound so matter-of-fact, but then losing all pretence of being so when a tear rolled down Noah’s cheek. “Ah, fucking hell.” I laughed through my own tears. “I’m gonna miss you.”

  “Me, too,” Noah said and wiped his nose on the back of his hand. “It’s not for another three years, though.”

  That made me laugh—and cry—all the more. When I finally recomposed, I said, “At least we’ll always have somewhere to come on holiday.”

  “My door’s always open for you, Jess.”

  “Ha!” I bumped his shoulder. “I bet you say that to all the boys.”

  “Only the good-looking ones.” He bumped me back and stood up. “Gonna get rid of this suit and board. See you in a bit.”

  “OK, mate.” I watched him limp all the way to the hire shop and then returned to watching Leigh and Matty. I was heartbroken, could hardly see through the blur of my tears, but I knew, as certainly as I knew Leigh and I were meant to be together, that it was the right move for Noah and Matty. And I’d get over it.

  * * * * *

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Our last evening: after a day of walking—ten miles along the coastal path and back—we were drunk again. Not, like, shitfaced drunk, but unsober enough for Leigh to come back from the pub loos with a mischievous grin that told me they knew something I didn’t.

  As soon as Matty and Noah went to buy more drinks, Leigh tapped my arm, whispered, “Look what I’ve got,” and pulled something a little way out of their pocket, keeping it concealed in their hand.

  Condoms.

  I was too bamboozled to do anything but stare at them—so bamboozled I agreed to a game of pool against Matty, who was a pool shark. Shark pool? OK, maybe I was drunk. Whatever, he beat me, then Noah, then Leigh, then some Australian guy who was definitely drunker than I was.

  When we finally made it back to the camper van and tumbled into bed, I waited until we were both settled before I asked, “Why did you buy condoms?”

  “Because�
��we might get carried away?”

  Words and images and just general confusion swooshed around my brain, leaving squiggles before my closed eyes. “Are you—” I cleared the huskiness from my throat. “Are you saying you want penetrative sex? Only, I don’t really…I don’t know…” I shoved the words around in my head until they looked like they were in the right order and tried again. “I have zero experience. Sex ed, which was crap, and…I’ve never watched porn.”

  “All those hours on the internet…” Leigh teased.

  “I’ve seen some, obviously, but I haven’t…studied it?” I wasn’t sure if that sounded more or less whacky than admitting pornography made me anxious, which had nothing to do with the sex. Of course I knew porn was fake and unrealistic, but groaning, moaning skinny women and muscular men with penises you could hang flower baskets from were about as far from my reality as it was possible to get and still be an earthling.

  “It makes me hate myself even more,” I confessed.

  “Even more?”

  “It’s kind of my default position? Or it was.”

  “Do you still feel like that?” Leigh rolled onto their side to face me, tracing a spiral from the centre of my bare chest all the way down to my belly button. It gave me the shivers. If someone had told me in advance I’d be lying here half-naked and feeling totally OK about it, I’d have laughed and said, ‘Nah, you’ve mistaken me for someone else, mate.’

  “No,” I answered.

  “Good.” There was a pause like where it said [beat] on Matty’s scripts—I’d done a few read-throughs. “Because I love you, Jesse.”

  [beat]

  “I love you, too.” My voice wavered a bit. The vodka amplified the effect of Leigh’s words. That was all it was, not Big Jesse getting all choked up…who was I kidding? I could easily have sobbed myself to sleep, but what a waste of a night that would’ve been. Instead, I concentrated on the erotic spirals.

  “I didn’t necessarily mean penetration,” Leigh said, “but you never know where we might end up. Even if we don’t go there, we need to be careful, because it’s not totally impossible for me to get pregnant. I mean, sperm are tiny, and they swim, don’t they? And we’re getting closer and closer to naked, so…”