Am I Normal Yet?

by Holly Bourne

  My face crumpled in on itself and I let out such a hollow empty sob that it didn’t even sound like me. My sob drained slowly down the white shiny tiles of the empty bathroom before dissolving into the thudding music of Guy’s band.

  Another sob erupted in my throat and tumbled from my mouth. I doubled over, clutching my stomach, twisted in knots of nerves and disappointment and feeling lost – just so lost – and there was only one way to make it go away…

  I used the back of my hand to push tears back into my eyes and walked slowly to the nearest basin.

  I washed my hands again.

  It felt so good. So so good.

  I finished and smiled at myself in the mirror. There – all done, Evie – out you go now, go back and have fun with your friends.

  BAD THOUGHT

  Touch the tap of every basin six times and then you’ll have a good night.

  The tears sprang back. I watched my reflection cry – this wretched girl staring madly at the mirror, her arms wrapped around herself.

  “No, I won’t,” I told the girl in the mirror. It came out like a whimper. If anyone came in they would’ve probably sectioned me, straight away.

  BAD THOUGHT

  Go on, it’s just touching a few things. Then you know you’ll have a good night.

  I was too exhausted to fight. I watched myself as I moved from basin to basin, tapping the taps, counting under my breath.

  The relief settled in my belly once more. I was all done now. I was going to have a good night. I was going to go out there and be with my friends and listen to the not-very-good band and pretend yes-they-are-actually-okay, just like everybody else.

  I fluffed my hair, blew myself a kiss and went to – finally – leave the bathroom.

  Just as I pushed open the door…

  BAD THOUGHT

  You’ve made your hands dirty touching all those taps. Go and wash them again. Go on, just once more. Just. In. Case.

  I cried for ten minutes before I gave in again.

  I missed most of the set.

  I missed yet more of my life, because of myself.

  And yet, when I emerged from the bathroom, my make-up was perfect.

  Thirty-two

  Guy and co were on their last song. The crowd were…umm…sort of into it. There was a bit of a divide. Some hardcore metallers, i.e. Joel and Guy’s mates, had claimed the area in front of the stage. Some actually held onto the edge as support as they tried to dislodge their brains through their noses using violent force…or “head banging” as it’s otherwise known. The rest of the hardcores had started a mini mosh pit – swooping around in a violent circle, pushing and grabbing each other’s T-shirts. Lottie and Amber stood reluctantly on the edge of the pit, trying their best to look after Jane, who kept flinging herself into the centre of all the unnecessary violence, screaming, “Joel, I love you.”

  But the rest of the crowd appeared bemused, or plain unimpressed. There was a long queue for Teddy’s bar, and the cafeteria was much emptier than when The Imposters was playing.

  My eyes travelled to the stage. To Guy. His eyes were closed, his fingers gripping the microphone. My stomach dived in on itself. I stopped really hearing the music, which is just as well because, of all the things I fancied about Guy, His Music wasn’t one of them.

  I was just contemplating joining my mates – weighing up how likely it was I’d be splattered with a stranger’s sweat, when I was poked on each side of my ribs.

  “Hey.” I spun round to see Ethan. His stubbly face glowed with post-gig high. His smile was more contagious than norovirus.

  “Hey, stranger,” he said, lighting the entire northern hemisphere with his grin.

  I couldn’t not smile back, even with our history. “All right, sex maniac? Great set by the way.”

  “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that.”

  “WHAT?” Guy’s drummer attacked the cymbals repeatedly for some sort of “interlude” and I could hardly hear a thing.

  Ethan leaned in close, his black tie hanging undone around his neck. “I SAID I WANTED TO TALK TO YOU ABOUT THAT.” He cupped his hand over my ear, his breath tickling my hair. “I wanted to say sorry. I was a douchebag. Not a sex addict.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m over it,” I yelled back.

  “I can see that. You’re looking good, Evie.” He cocked his head, cockily.

  “You should’ve seen me ten minutes ago,” I said, knowing only I would get the joke.

  “Why, were you touching yourself?”

  “Yes,” I deadpanned. “That’s what girls do. The moment boys leave the room, we all start touching ourselves up, just to spite you.”

  He laughed so wide I could see he had two fillings, which helped put me off him a bit.

  “I’ve missed you, Evie.”

  “I’m still in your sociology class.”

  “Yeah, but you’re always scowling at me. Whenever I hear about an odd mental condition, you’re the first person I want to tell about it.”

  I suppose Ethan wasn’t to know that was hurtful, so I smiled at him. “Gee, Ethan, and whenever a boy doesn’t boff someone else on a first date, you’re the first person I want to tell about it.”

  “Did you just say the word ‘boff’?”

  “What’s wrong with boff?”

  “Not even my mum uses the word ‘boff’,” he said.

  “Well, maybe if she had, you wouldn’t have such an urgent need to boff people. People who aren’t your date. On a date.”

  He laughed so hard, I could see another filling on the other side of his mouth. “You dating anyone at the moment, Evie?” He asked like a friend would, but he’d now put his sweaty arm around me.

  “Umm, not really.” But my eyes instinctively went to Guy.

  He was staring right at me. From the stage, a grim look on his face. Our eyes met before his went to Ethan. Then Guy turned his back so I couldn’t see his face.

  Ethan saw it all. “Wow, what’s going on with you and that guy?”

  “What guy?”

  “That crappy singer you just eye shagged.”

  “He’s not a crappy singer. And, nothing. What’s it to you, anyway?”

  Ethan wiggled his eyebrows. “I can help you make him jealous?”

  Guy was looking right at me again. “Huh? What? How?” I half-asked, distracted.

  “Like this!”

  He tugged my waist and spun me round and Ethan’s lips were on my lips, just like that. I’d always worried my lips wouldn’t know what to do but they kissed Ethan’s right back and I didn’t even think about germs or when Ethan would’ve last brushed his teeth.

  Until afterwards.

  I pushed him away. Hard. Though it had felt nice.

  “Ethan, you can’t just kiss people!” I yelled. “That’s sexual assault.”

  He grinned and shrugged. “No it’s not, it’s me repaying the karma I owe you.” He grabbed me once more and spun me. “See, it worked.”

  The band was finishing their last song and Guy’s face was dark, his eyebrows screwed up. His fingers shook on the microphone and he missed a note, wrecking the climax of the song.

  I couldn’t bring myself to make eye contact with him. I was shaking. “Ethan, what the hell have you done?”

  He shrugged once more. “You. A favour. Promise me you won’t go after him. Let him come to you.”

  “Are you writing self-help books, as well as molesting people?”

  “Whatever. I’m off to win this stupid competition and then take my pick of the girls here.”

  “You may not win,” I called after him, but he’d already become part of the massive crowd.

  My hair was pulled from behind. It was Amber, grabbing my head into her.

  “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING KISSING ETHAN?!”

  Thirty-three

  “Oww, you’re hurting me.”

  “I don’t care,” Amber replied, still dragging me by the hair back to her spot near the stage. “W
hat are you doing? It’s Ethan! The sex maniac. He’s supposed to be dead to you, remember?”

  “He kissed me,” I grumbled.

  The last throngs of metallic chords vibrated to a standstill. The band was finished. Amber let go so we could join in the lacklustre applause. I clapped, desperately trying to make eye contact with Guy but he’d stormed off the stage.

  Good thought

  He’s jealous? Ethan’s sexual assault…worked?

  We clapped and walked at the same time, arriving back at the side of Jane, who was screaming and wolf-whistling.

  “WOOOOO, YOU GO, GUYS!”

  The rest of the pit joined her, yelling “ENCORE”. Joel stood right at the front of the stage, drinking it in. He ripped off his T-shirt.

  “I LOOOOOOVE YOU, JOEL.”

  I looked behind us to see everyone else in the cafeteria had stopped clapping politely.

  “No one else is clapping,” I told Amber.

  “That’s because they sucked. My ears have taken a restraining order out against me. I mean, I know it’s not my kind of music anyway, but they were much worse than in that church hall. Did you hear how many notes Guy missed?”

  “No…I was…”

  OCDing the hell out of the college toilets.

  “Attaching yourself to Ethan’s face?” Amber suggested.

  “I told you. He kissed me!”

  “Yeah yeah. I can’t keep up with you. Or Lottie…who apparently isn’t heartbroken any more.” Amber pointed. To the bar. Where there was a queue. And no Teddy.

  “She went to get another round in and never came back. Leaving me with Courtney Love here.” She pointed to Jane, who was throwing devil signs and was the last one screaming. “I wish you two would stop running off and leaving me alone like an actual spinster rather than a reinvented spinster. It is bad enough being six foot and ginger, without standing around like Loner Lonington of Lonersville.”

  “I’m sorry. I just got…held up in the bathroom. And then Ethan attacked my face.”

  “Well, if it was to make Guy jealous, it worked.”

  IT WORKED!?

  “You think?” I said.

  “Well he’s stormed offstage, hasn’t he? I watched the whole thing. Because that’s what I do, watch other people find one another attractive.”

  I gave her a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. “Please don’t tell me you’re jealous of Ethan attacking me.”

  “Please don’t tell me you’re going to do anything about Guy.”

  “I…”

  “He’s bad for you, Evie.” She said it with such venom I felt I was being told off.

  BAD THOUGHT

  It’s just because she’s jealous.

  NASTY THOUGHT

  It’s just because no one wants to kiss her.

  BAD THOUGHT

  She’s trying to control you.

  “You know what else is bad for me?” I snapped. “Having you ALWAYS telling me what to do.”

  Her mouth fell open.

  “Evie…come on.” Her auburn eyebrows drew together in hurt. “I’m just looking out for you.”

  “Well stop!” I turned on my heel to leave.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I’m getting some air.”

  “You are coming to the Spinster Club meeting tomorrow, aren’t you?”

  But her sad voice was lost in the air.

  Thirty-four

  Guilty guilty guilty.

  Horrid horrid horrid.

  I was a horrid person. I should feel guilty.

  I was also SO angry.

  Why did she keep going on about Guy? Why did they keep teasing me about him? I just wanted a boy to like me, one that I liked too. It was such a normal thing to want – why did they keep barging in? All judgy? If they were so judgy about this, then imagine how awful they’d be if I ever told them about me.

  I wormed my way through the crowd. I needed to get out of that stuffy cafeteria.

  I imagined my friends’ reactions to me… I got mad just picturing it.

  What Amber would say

  “Oh, Evelyn, snap out of it. Just don’t wash your hands – simple.”

  What Lottie would say

  “Sorry, Evie, we were going to invite you, but you can’t…handle that sort of thing, can you?”

  What everyone always says

  “Pull yourself together.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense.”

  “You’re only doing it for attention.”

  “Just stop. It’s easy.”

  By the time I stepped out into the cold night air, I was almost gasping. I ran around the corner of the cafeteria and found a dark patch. I leaned against the wall and took five giant breaths.

  In, out, in, out. Come on, Eves, don’t cry now. Remember what Sarah said… If you get into the habit of falling apart, it’s a hard habit to break.

  Stupid Sarah. Stupid Sarah with her stupid normal brain. I hated her.

  I dropped my back against the wall, sliding downwards until I sat on the cold wet grass.

  Don’t cry. I wasn’t even sure why I was upset.

  “Well, fancy seeing you here.”

  I jumped at the voice. His voice. Guy’s angular face emerged from the blackness.

  “Guy, you scared the hell out of me.”

  He walked closer, more of him coming visible as the lights from inside hit him. He had a roll-up hanging out his mouth and a can of beer in his hand.

  “What are you doing sitting here by yourself?”

  I looked around. I was basically in a hole in the wall – I could’ve asked for a PIN number and dispensed cash. There was no reasonable reason to be wedged into a hole in the college wall on a Saturday night.

  I answered truthfully. “Hiding from the world.”

  He smiled – a sad one – and sat down next to me, putting the can of beer between us.

  “And why would you want to do that? You seemed to be having a good night…” His voice trailed off. It was as sad as his smile. He picked up the beer and offered me the can. I shook my head.

  “I’ve had enough.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “Ethan kissed me. I didn’t really know what was going on.”

  A slight nod of his head showed he’d heard it. He didn’t answer. Not right away. He stubbed out his cigarette and took a swig of beer – looking out into the blackness.

  I couldn’t help but stare at the side of his face – it was mesmerizing. I’d already forgotten all about yelling at Amber, and wondering what Lottie was up to, and stressing about my malfunctioning brain. When I looked at Guy, it was like my brain was on a dimmer switch and the rest of the world was twisted down to mute.

  Finally, he spoke. “I wish I didn’t care.”

  “You care?”

  Silence descended once more and I tried to find the darkness as interesting as Guy. Then he sighed and reached out an arm. It dropped around my shoulder and pulled me into his body. My whole right side was touching his left side and it sent bursts of static rushing through my body. I could smell him, all smoky and honeylike. My face was nudged into his neck.

  “I care,” he whispered.

  Guy’s hand found my face and pulled it to his. My lips were quivering. And then, in a crevice of a college outbuilding, my lips met a boy’s for the second time. Everything around me went hazy. Guy’s kiss was soft at first but his lips got harder and harder. His hand reached to the back of my hair, pulling my face right into his. Then he moaned and effortlessly grabbed me and put me onto his lap. Instinctively, I wrapped my legs around his waist. When his tongue strayed into my mouth, I didn’t even worry about it. In fact, I let out my very own small moan.

  Kissing Guy made up for every kiss I missed out on over the past three years.

  Kissing Guy was like all the good bits of a hundred okay kisses, piled into one amazing one.

  Kissing Guy made me feel like I wasn’t Evie any more. It marked the end of All That and the start of Normal.
/>
  Or so I hoped, I hoped, I hoped.

  A loud clang of opening chords broke us apart – by lips only. Our faces were still crowded into each other’s. I turned in the direction of the college cafeteria, and saw the lights dim once more through the giant floor-to-ceiling windows.

  “We’re missing the last band,” I said.

  “I don’t care.”

  He kissed me again – raining them down on my cheeks and my nose and my neck. He pushed back my hair to gain further access to my skin. I loved the look on his face – like he couldn’t believe his luck that he got to kiss me. That he was trying to make the most of it. I laughed and pulled back.

  “Don’t you want to go back and see if you win?”

  His face dropped slightly and my stomach with it. “We won’t have won.”

  “You might’ve. You were really good.”

  “How would you know? You missed most of our set.” I looked up at him and a twinge of pain danced behind his eyes. “Because you were with that bloke.”

  “I wasn’t!” I protested. “I was…in the bathroom…

  I drank too much. I felt a bit sick.”

  Guy twisted his body away and leaned back against the wall.

  “Whatever.”

  Instantly I went into panic stations.

  BAD THOUGHT

  You’ve screwed it up. Of course you have, you always screw it up.

  BAD THOUGHT

  You missed his set because you were OCDing in the bathroom. Because you’re a massive freak.

  BAD THOUGHT

  Why did you think you could be normal? Why did you think you could have something good?

  “I…I…” I didn’t know what to say. Guy used silence as punishment. My tummy tightened with the need to make it better, to make it right again. My hands already missed him and wanted to claim back their permission to touch him. My eyelids blinked in overtime, working hard to repress the tears banging on the door.

  Please make it better, make it better, make it better.

  He wouldn’t look at me. Before he could see me cry, I stood, dusting the mud off my jeans. “I’ll go back inside then,” I said.

  “Whatever.”