by Sara Barnard
‘Pandarific,’ I say, smiling. She looks fantastic. ‘Karam will love it. Everyone will.’
When we were kids, Tem and I went through a phase where we were both obsessed with pandas. Tem decided they were like us in animal form – black and white; cheeky and shy; lovers of food, sleep and play – and that was all it took. I got a panda dressing gown for Christmas; she got the pyjamas. For three Halloweens in a row, we dressed in matching panda onesies.
Unfortunately, we’ve both outgrown those particular onesies – both in size and maturity level – so we’ve had to make our own costumes this year. Tem has pulled out all the stops. She’s wearing black skinny jeans, a tight white vest under a black leather jacket and a panda-ear headband. I, on the other hand, am wearing leggings, white hightop Converse and an oversized panda hoodie that I bought on eBay. It has a hood with ears on it.
‘I like it,’ Tem insists when I make worried-face at her. ‘You look adorable.’
Staring at the two of us in the mirror – her beaming, me with a slightly more wobbly smile – it occurs to me that we don’t look like a matching set at all any more. Once we were the same height, but now in her heels she towers over me. She has managed to make her panda outfit sexy; I still look like a child playing dress-up.
And yet we’re both going to this party to meet our maybe-one-day-could-be boyfriends, I remind myself. In this, we’re still the same.
At five o’clock the two of us take Davey trick-or-treating. He’s wearing a full fairy outfit, complete with a curly blue wig and silver glitter on his cheeks, and he looks so brilliant I pick him up to cuddle him close.
‘Panda!’ he shouts happily, pulling on my hood.
‘Fairy!’ I shout back, jiggling him so his wings flap.
We’re only outside with him for about half an hour, but that’s enough for all three of us. Davey gets tired, I get stressed and Tem is just impatient to get to the party. Still, we have to wait until 8 p.m. before we can actually go, so we end up being stressed and impatient in her kitchen instead. We eat fajitas straight out of the pan, take selfies with the pumpkins we carved earlier that day and try to tell ghost stories that tail off midway. Tem redoes her make-up three times. I eat an apple.
‘So this is what a social life feels like,’ I say.
She throws a Celebration at me and it bounces off my face.
We get the bus to Karam’s house at quarter to eight. Tem plays with the zip of her jacket and drums her fingernails against the window. She keeps pulling out her phone to check it, then sighing.
‘Does Karam know I’m coming?’ I ask.
‘Oh yeah,’ she says. ‘He’s looking forward to meeting you.’ She smiles at me, a flash of normal Tem on her face, before she returns a furrowed forehead to her phone.
When my phone beeps, her head jerks instinctively and I roll my eyes, waving it at her to show that it’s mine. It’s Rhys.
Rhys:
I think I’m here. Are you inside yet?
‘Rhys is there already,’ I say, anxious. I look out of the window, as if that will somehow let me know how close we are to a complete stranger’s house. ‘Are we almost there?’
‘Five minutes,’ Tem says. ‘Tell him to go in and wait for us.’
‘He literally knows no one,’ I say, swallowing a shot of irritation. ‘Not everyone can just make friends like you can.’
‘He made friends with you,’ Tem points out. ‘But fine. Whatever. Tell him to wait outside for us.’
When we get to Karam’s house, Rhys is leaning against the front wall, doing the whole fake-reading-a-text-message thing that I’m pretty sure has fooled no one since 2003.
‘Oh my God,’ Tem says, thrilled. Her voice is light with joy. ‘That is the best costume I’ve ever seen in my life. That’s him, right? Oh, please tell me that’s him. It’ll make my life if it’s him.’
Rhys is dressed like a mime. An actual French mime, complete with a painted white face, white gloves and a bowler hat.
‘That’s him,’ I say, grinning. What I want to say is, He’s mine.
When I reach his side, I poke his arm to get his attention and his head jerks up. A huge grin breaks across his face when he sees me, his eyes flicking up from my face to my feet, taking in my costume. He takes hold of one of my panda ears and tugs it playfully.
Hello.
Hi!
He kisses my painted black nose, softly so it won’t smudge. You look amazing.
Thanks! I take a step back and gesture to Tem, who is watching us in the same kind of way a bird would after its chicks had managed to fly for the first time. ‘This is Tem.’ I say the words out loud and sign them.
‘Hi!’ Tem says, bounding forward.
Rhys grins. ‘Hi,’ he says out loud. To me, he adds, Panda number two?
I laugh. ‘I’m Panda number two. Tem is number one.’
He shakes his head. Not to me.
It’s cheesy. It’s silly. But I beam as if my whole body has been filled with happy juice.
‘Shall we go in?’ I suggest.
Tem looks at me as if I’ve just sprouted wings right in front of her. ‘Since when are you so keen?’
Rhys takes my hand and smiles at me, nodding his head in the direction of the house. Yes, he is saying without words. Let’s go in.
‘Come on,’ I say to Tem. My bubbling happiness comes out as laughter. ‘We don’t want to miss the party.’
My bravado fades as soon as I get inside the front door. The house is almost humming it’s so loud, with music pumping from somewhere further inside. There are people everywhere, all of them total strangers, drinking, smoking and talking. Talking loudly.
I pull my hood up right over my head and peek out under it. My heart is pounding inside my throat.
‘Holy shit!’ someone shouts, and for a second I think they’re talking to me. But of course they’re directing the words at Tem. ‘That is some fucking costume.’
Tem grins. ‘Oh, this old thing?’ She reaches out both her arms and the guy who spoke – he’s dressed as Elsa from Frozen – lifts her into an elaborate hug.
‘Damn,’ he says, putting his hands on her hips and surveying the whole outfit. ‘When you said panda, I thought you meant, like . . .’ He searches for the word, spots me and clicks his fingers. ‘Like that!’
I want to raise my eyebrows and say sarcastically, Thanks, dude. But I can’t. The words just aren’t there; that’s what it feels like. As if the words I form in my brain have got stuck there instead of zipping down the neural superhighway to my mouth.
‘That’s what I was going to wear,’ Tem says, filling my silence as always, so naturally no one who wasn’t me would notice anything unusual. ‘But Steffi got there first, so I had to make do. Max, this is Steffi.’
‘Ah, the famous Steffi,’ Max says, beaming at me. ‘You make a very fine panda.’
I give him a thumbs up to cover the fact that I can’t reply and he grins, amiable.
‘And this is Rhys,’ Tem adds, gesturing.
‘Awesome costume.’ Max nods.
‘Thanks,’ Rhys says. I feel his hand take hold of mine and give it a quick squeeze before letting go.
‘Where are the drinks?’ Tem asks.
‘Kitchen,’ Max says. ‘Follow me, my lady.’
‘I can’t believe you’re wearing that,’ Tem says as she starts to follow him. Rhys and I glance at each other, then fall into step behind her.
‘Elsa is queen,’ Max says. He throws a grin over his shoulder. ‘And so am I.’
The kitchen seems to have more people in it than the rest of the house combined and it’s suddenly hard to breathe. I wonder if I can pour myself a glass of water without attracting any attention, but when I turn I find Rhys standing next to me, carefully pouring a can of Coke into a cup for me. He presents it, smiling.
Thank you. I make the sign as pronounced as I can for emphasis.
He puts his bottle of cider on the counter to free his hands, then quickly asks,
Shall we go outside?
I nod, then reach out a finger to poke Tem. ‘Want to come outside with us?’
‘Sure,’ she says gamely. ‘See you later, Max.’
‘Where’s Karam?’ I ask her as we go.
She shrugs. ‘I’m sure we’ll find him soon.’
We do, eventually. After about half an hour of the three of us sitting on a blanket laid out on the grass and making a three-way conversation about mimes and pandas, her whole posture suddenly changes and she stops mid-sentence.
The boy she’s looking at has appeared on the patio with a couple of other guys, a beer in hand. He has the easy command of everyone around him, the way some people seem to be able to do effortlessly. His dark hair is messy, but in a constructed way, and the stubble on his chin makes him look older than the eighteen years Tem described. Even though he’s smiling there’s a seriousness to his face, a perma-crease in his forehead. As he walks in our direction, flanked by friends, I see a thin silver chain round his neck, falling beneath his plain T-shirt.
He doesn’t look like a boy, is what I mean. He looks like a man.
‘Oh, hey,’ he says, pausing as he passes us, spotting Tem. ‘You made it.’
‘Hi,’ Tem says, her voice higher than usual. She jumps to her feet to stand beside him, but neither makes a move to kiss hello. ‘Come meet my friends?’ There’s a hopefulness in her voice that surprises me, as if she is steeling herself for a no.
‘Of course,’ he says, smiling as he turns to us. He drops casually to his knees on the blanket. ‘Hiya. I’m Karam.’
‘This is Steffi,’ Tem says, pointing at me.
‘Hi,’ I say, and she beams at me as Karam nods and shakes my hand. See what I mean? Like a man.
‘And this is Rhys,’ she adds, gesturing to Rhys.
‘All right, mate,’ Karam says, shaking Rhys’s hand. ‘Awesome costume.’
‘Thanks,’ Rhys says. He coughs a little, and I realize suddenly that he’s nervous, maybe even more nervous than I am. ‘What’s your costume?’
His volume is all off and my stomach twists on his behalf, but Karam just looks down at himself and grins. ‘I’m one hundred per cent Karam Homsi. Accept no substitutes.’
‘Not a zombie doctor?’ I ask. Wasn’t that what Tem had said?
‘Nah, couldn’t get the gear,’ Karam says casually. ‘So these are the panda costumes, then?’ He appraises me, smiling, as I hunch down under the hood for effect. ‘That’s cute.’
‘That’s what I was going for,’ I say dryly. Something about Karam’s easy manner has relaxed me, and my voice has returned.
‘And you,’ Karam says, turning to Tem, his smile widening into a sharp grin. ‘Wow.’
Tem’s whole face lights up. ‘That’s what I was going for,’ she says.
‘How are you guys doing for drinks?’ Karam asks, looking back at Rhys and me.
‘We’re good,’ I say, looking at Rhys for confirmation.
‘Tem?’ Karam prompts.
‘I’m empty,’ Tem says, holding up a glass that I swear was half full just thirty seconds ago. ‘I think I need a refill.’
I expect Karam to go and get drinks for them both, but she disappears off with him, leaving Rhys and me on the blanket. Before she does this she glances at me, her whole face a hopeful question, and I nod a little so she knows it’s OK.
There’s a slight pause as Rhys and I look at each other, suddenly a little awkward alone in the dark at a party where there’s alcohol and dancing and expectation. But then he shuffles a little closer to me, his mouth bumps up against mine and we’re kissing.
Kissing, I’m discovering, has its own time zone. I have no idea how long Rhys and I spend on the blanket, lip-locked, before we’re interrupted by an amused-sounding ‘Hello’ from above us.
I break away from Rhys, blinking. Tem is back already and she’s standing above us, hanging on to Karam’s arm, a roguish grin on her face.
I cough. ‘Uh. Hi.’
‘Oh, don’t let us disturb you,’ Tem says grandly. ‘Please continue your disgraceful PDA.’
Rhys glances at me, a clear request for a translation on his face. I roll my eyes at him. Tem just thinks she’s being funny.
‘What did she tell you?’ Tem asks immediately. She settles down, cross-legged, on the blanket. I notice that the glass she’s holding has been filled to the brim.
‘She said you’re very funny,’ Rhys says, straight-faced.
‘Oh.’ Tem is pleased, oblivious to the joke. ‘Well, that’s true.’
I turn my head just slightly away from Rhys so he can’t see my mouth. ‘Make sure you look directly at Rhys when you talk, so he can read what you’re saying,’ I say quickly to Tem. Even though I’ve turned away, I still lower my voice instinctively.
Tem turns obediently towards him. ‘What are you drinking?’ she asks, enunciating.
‘Magners,’ Rhys replies, turning the bottle so she can see the label.
Tem makes a face. ‘Ugh.’
Rhys points at her, eyebrows raising. You? he is asking.
‘Vodka and lemonade,’ she says. ‘Drink of champions.’
I look at Karam, who has sat down beside Tem. ‘So how’s the party going so far?’ Ask open questions, my CBT has taught me. Invite people to talk about themselves. It’s a bit of a non-question, but it’ll do.
‘It’s cool,’ Karam says, nodding. ‘Some people really made an effort with the costumes. Did you see the C-3PO?’
I shake my head.
‘Keep a lookout. And Gay Max came as Elsa.’
I hesitate. ‘Gay Max?’
‘There are two Maxes,’ Tem puts in. ‘Gay Max and Short Max.’
‘Right,’ I say. ‘So you call the gay one . . . Gay Max?’
‘He came up with it after watching Big Hero 6,’ Karam says. ‘So if it’s offensive, it’s on him.’
Rhys is watching us, looking baffled. When I meet his eye he fingerspells, M-A-X? and I smile and shake my head. Costumes. I’ll tell you later.
‘Tem told me you’re studying six subjects,’ I say. ‘Wow.’
Karam laughs and gives a modest shrug. ‘Yeah. I want to be a doctor. Taking more subjects gives me the best chance of getting into the best medical schools.’
‘He’s basically a genius,’ Tem puts in.
‘I just work hard,’ Karam says. ‘But it’ll be worth it.’ He takes a sip of beer. ‘I came here when I was nine years old. Did Tem tell you that? From Syria. I’m going to become a doctor and go back. Help everyone who didn’t get all the opportunities I had.’
I squash the uncharitable thought that he sounds like he’s given this speech more than once and smile. ‘That’s very noble.’
He frowns. ‘It’s just luck that I’m here and so many aren’t. I want to pay it back.’
‘Well, maybe by the time you’re qualified they won’t need so many doctors,’ I say.
I realize what a stupid thing this is to say the second after I’ve spoken, partly because I hear the words come out of my mouth and partly because Karam makes a face like I just vomited into his lap.
‘Rhys wants to be a games developer,’ I say, my voice coming out a little shrill. I look at Rhys. ‘Tell them about wanting to be a games developer.’
Rhys blinks at me, then turns obediently to Karam and Tem. ‘I want to be a games developer.’
‘Cool,’ Karam says, nodding. ‘Want kind of games?’
‘Video games,’ Rhys says.
‘Cool,’ Karam says again. ‘I wish I had more time for games. I used to play them more when I was a kid. All the Mario games, you know?’
Rhys has a genial, placid smile on his face, so I have no idea if he’s offended by the implication that video games are for kids. ‘Me too,’ he says. ‘They’re great.’
‘What kind of games should I look out for?’ Karam asks.
I leave them to it and scoot closer to Tem, who is making quick work of her vodka and lemonade. ‘Hi,’ she whispers, giv
ing one of my panda ears a friendly tug. ‘How’s it going, Panda Two?’
I look over at Rhys, who’s leaning on to his right knee, watching Karam’s face intently as he talks. With his mime make-up on, he looks like he’s taking part in some kind of screwball comedy sketch.
‘Great,’ I say. ‘It’s going great.’
After a while, Tem and Karam excuse themselves to ‘go and check the alcohol situation’ and leave Rhys and me alone together on the blanket again. The garden lamps that had been shining since we’d first sat down must be solar-powered, because they’ve dimmed so much now it’s getting harder to see Rhys’s face. We’ve given up trying to have a conversation as we normally would and have arranged ourselves so I am sitting between his legs, my back against his stomach, my head leaning back against his warm chest. Rhys is holding his phone out between us.
Rhys:
Yours is the best costume
Steffi:
No, yours is
Yours! Mine’s barely a costume.
I’m a mime every day.
A cute mime
Just cute?
Very cute.
Anything else?
Steffi:
Handsome?
Rhys:
Getting warmer
I laugh, wrestle the phone from him and start to reply, but he yanks it back and we end up sprawled over the blanket, all lips and tongues and hands.
I’m so distracted by all of this that he manages to grab hold of the phone, scuttle away from me and write a new message. When he turns to show it to me, the glow of the phone lights up his face. He seems suddenly shy and unsure. The message says: Will you be my girlfriend?
My whole body goes ZING! but I frown thoughtfully, as if I’m considering. I take the phone from his nervous fingers and pretend to type back a long message. The longer I pretend, the more alarmed he looks.
When I finally turn the phone around, it takes him less than a second to read the three letters on screen. Y.E.S. His eyes lift to meet mine and I’m ready for him. Obviously, I sign.
Rhys leans forward and cups my chin in his hand. It’s a movement I’ve seen in films, read in books, imagined so many thousands of times you’d think it wouldn’t be a surprise. But it is. It feels unique even though I know it isn’t. It feels special even though a gesture like this is surely a cliché. It still feels like it belongs to us.
