I Love You to Death

by Natalie Ward

  I was using black, red and grey.

  "Grey is not a colour." I heard Mike, the biggest instigator of my teasing, say to his two little side-kicks. "It’s just the same as black."

  The three of them sniggered at me, and while I wanted to disagree, I didn’t say anything, just kept painting and trying very hard to ignore them. Problem was Mike just kept going, he kept telling everyone I was too stupid to pick three separate colours. That I didn’t even realise black and grey were the same thing and that I couldn’t even paint right. I was desperately trying to ignore what he was saying, desperately trying to ignore the three of them laughing at me, but all I wanted to do was disappear. All I wanted to do was paint myself a colour which hid me from everyone, especially Mike.

  Eventually when he saw he wasn’t getting a reaction from me, he walked over to my canvas with his paintbrush. As he pushed me out of the way, he started flicking yellow paint all over my painting. He was holding a pot of it in one hand and he just kept dipping his brush in and flicking more and more paint over it. I stood there mute. I just couldn’t say anything. I couldn’t even bring myself to cry.

  Then out of the corner of my eye I saw Grace. I saw Grace walk over with her pot of black paint. I saw Grace walk right up to Mike and dump the whole pot over his head. Then I saw Grace reach out and take my hand. Pulling me away from my ruined painting and over to hers, where she was painting with the same three colours as me.

  "I don’t like him very much," was all she said to me as the teacher came rushing over to find out what had happened.

  I smiled at her. "Neither do I."

  After that day, talking to each other was not a problem anymore. And the teasing stopped too, especially from Mike. I think he was kind of afraid of Grace, while I was just in awe of her. We hung out every day after that, sitting together in class and during lunch. We’d spend many afternoons at each other’s house and would often have sleep overs on the weekend. I was so relieved to finally have a friend, someone to talk to and so very glad the teasing had stopped.

  And just like that, we became best friends forever.

  Well, three years to be exact.

  ∞

  Eventually I pull back from Luke’s embrace, taking my hands from my face and turning my head away from him. I see leaning against the wall are three guitars; electric and acoustic.

  "Do you play?" I ask, wiping the last of my tears as I turn back to him.

  "Yeah," he says turning to look at his guitars.

  I look up at him. "Are you any good?"

  He laughs softly and turns back to face me. "I don’t know. Why don’t you come watch us play one night and then you can let me know," he says, his fingers reaching out to wipe a tear from my cheek. I let him. His thumb is soft against my skin.

  "You’re in a band?" I ask, surprised. He’s never mentioned this in his emails.

  "Yeah," he answers the tiniest amount of pride lighting up his face. "We actually have a gig next Saturday night, you should come along, see what you think, tell me if we’re actually any good."

  I think this would be a very bad idea. I also think I really want to go and see him play, because I really love live music. Love nothing better than losing myself in a crowded room or stadium, anywhere that’s full of people who are all feeling the same thing. Who are all affected by the music that’s being played. There is nothing like it, the energy that surges through the room, the emotion that’s felt as a note is played or a word is sung. I love it. And it’s one of the few things I can do alone and still enjoy.

  "You never told me you were in a band?"

  Luke looks at me, half grinning, possibly half embarrassed. "Yeah, I think maybe I was kinda working up to it, you know. Waiting until we had a show sometime that you could come and see?" He seems a little nervous now.

  I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I realise though, standing here looking at Luke, that he’s the nicest anyone has been to me since Sam died. That he is the first person to just be normal with me, to talk to me as though I’m normal, even if I’m clearly anything but. And he’s the first person who has touched me, comforted me. That it has been months and months since someone has held me at all. And right now, all I am is surprised that it hasn’t been as hard as I thought it would be. And there is some part of me that’s strangely grateful for all this.

  I shouldn’t go though. It’s not fair on him. It’s not safe for him to be around me.

  "Ash?" he asks quietly. "Will you come along?"

  I look back at him. He’s watching me, concern in his eyes, worry on his face. If only he knew.

  What happened out there?" I suddenly ask, nodding towards the door. "With Liam?" For some reason, this matters to me now and I want to know.

  I watch as his face changes slightly, as he thinks about my question, maybe trying to decide how to answer it.

  "Luke?" I ask again.

  He smiles at me now, but it’s only half a smile, like he doesn’t really mean it.

  "Why did you come in?" I ask, trying to get him to answer me. I wonder if he knows what I’m talking about, but he must because he eventually says, "It just didn’t seem like you were comfortable in there with him. I don’t know, maybe I was overreacting, but it just didn’t feel right." His voice is a whisper now.

  "Why?" I ask.

  He takes a deep breath as he runs his hand over his closely shaven head, his eyes looking away from me.

  I’m surprised at the sudden and unexpected thought that pops into my head. To wonder what that would feel like, what it would feel like to run my hand over his hair. I clench my hands by my side, digging my nails into my palm and stopping the temptation. "Luke?" I ask again when he remains silent.

  Finally he looks back at me, takes a deep breath and answers. "Because of the things he said and did to you Ash, what he was trying to do. It’s not right, it wasn’t right." He looks away from me now, like he doesn’t want me to see whatever it is he’s thinking.

  What. Why?

  I want to ask why that matters to him, but I’m too afraid to. We are both silent and I know he’s waiting for me to ask what really happened, why what Liam said and did matters to him. But I can’t bring myself to ask the questions. I’m not sure I want to know the answers. This weirdness between us, it’s happening again and it’s making me uncomfortable. That he would stick up for me or that he would even care at all. I should go. It’s really not a good idea for me to stay here now.

  I want to go. I want to stay. I can’t decide what to do.

  I look away from him as I whisper, "Thank you." I don’t know what I’m saying it for, or even if he hears me. But when I try to go, my feet won’t move. I feel locked to the floor. I’m standing here and I’m suddenly unable to move. Luke is looking at me now, right at me and I don’t know what is happening.

  Finally Luke says, "Do you want to go Ash?" At the same time I say, "I should go."

  I’m talking about now, at least I think I am. I don’t know if he’s talking about now or next weekend. I want to go now but I want to go next weekend too. I don’t know what I want anymore, but I know I need to get out of here. Luke touches a finger to my cheek again. I didn’t notice him step closer. I look up at him and all I see is sadness and sorrow on his face, and I don’t know if I’m the reason for that too. Still I can’t say anything.

  "Ash?"

  "Let’s get another drink," I finally blurt out. A compromise for tonight, without the commitment for next weekend.

  Luke’s fingers move and tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. He looks surprised as if he didn’t plan on doing it and we are both just standing here watching each other now, unsure about exactly what’s happening. The whole room is filled with a tense silence that I didn’t expect and neither of us seems able to break. I feel like I’m being pulled in every possible direction by some unknown force, and the strongest one is pulling me towards Luke. I don’t know where this feeling is coming from, or why I’m having it, but it doesn’t feel right. None
of this feels right, none of this should be happening.

  Not now.

  Not after Sam.

  Not after everything.

  I have to force myself to step back and I watch as his face changes briefly, his hand as it drops to his side. I wonder if he’s felt the same thing. I wonder if the room feels like a pressure cooker to him too. I try to smile at him and he smiles back and is once again Luke. We both turn towards the door, reaching for the handle at the same time. He glances at me, and I pull my hand back so he turns it first, gesturing for me to go through. We leave his room and everything changes. The tension that was just between us stays back in his bedroom as we walk out to re-join the party. I watch as he goes into the kitchen to get us some more beers. I watch as someone comes up to see if he’s ok, before they both turn and look over at me. Before I can look away, whoever it is smiles in my direction and then turns back to Luke. Someone else hands me a drink, saying, "You look like you could use this?"

  I take it gratefully.

  In the end, I stay for a couple more drinks and try to have a good time. I meet a bunch of people, including the guys from his band. One of them is Jared his flatmate, the one who was talking to Luke in the kitchen, the other voice from the bathroom. Another is the guy who gave me the drink, Ben I think his name is. Apparently there is a fourth guy too but I can’t remember his name. Liam is gone and I don’t see him at all. Most of the other people I barely speak to and I don’t remember much of them anyway. Luke stays near me for the rest of the night and when I do talk, it’s mostly to him. I’m not sure if he sticks close because he really doesn’t like parties, because he’s worried about me having a good time or if it’s because of something else.

  I’m not sure about a lot of things, and I’m especially not sure about what passed between us back in his bedroom.

  I don’t want it to happen again, not a third time.

  ∞

  When I was ten, Dad took me and Seth to New York for Seth’s sixteenth birthday. Seth got to take a friend but I didn’t. I complained and generally didn’t act very grown up about it all, even though I knew it was Seth’s birthday and not mine. The main reason I acted that way was because finally I had a friend I wanted to take. Finally I had someone I was close enough to that I could share this with.

  I remember Dad comforting me telling me, "Ash, come on kiddo, when it’s your birthday I’ll take you somewhere and you can bring Grace along, ok?"

  "Promise?" I’d asked him.

  Smiling at me Dad answered, "Of course. I promise next birthday, you get to bring a friend and Seth doesn’t."

  His words worked and I knew he really meant it. Unfortunately by the time my birthday rolled around, I no longer had my best friend and in the end I told Dad I didn’t want to go anywhere.

  New York though, turned out to be a lot of fun. Even though I wasn’t allowed to take Grace, Seth was still nice enough to include me so I couldn’t help but have a good time. Even his friend Matt didn’t seem to mind me hanging out with them. And of course my Dad was there too.

  On the last day, we were in Time’s Square when we came across the M&Ms store. Going in I remember being overwhelmed by the walls of candy, each colour separated into its own container, stretching right up to the roof. Everywhere you looked there was M&Ms merchandise – toys, bags, everything.

  "Dad, can I get something for Grace?" I asked, wanting to let her know I was thinking of her even if she couldn’t be there with me.

  "No chocolate though ok?" he’d answered.

  "Some for me though?" I asked, hopeful.

  He smiled at me, rustling my hair like he always did. "Some for you kiddo, yes."

  We’d arrived back home late Sunday night and after school the following Monday, I asked Grace to come over. I hadn’t taken the bag I bought her with me to school, wanting to surprise her with it later on.

  She loved it and immediately tipped all the things from her old bag onto the floor so she could use her new one. Neither of us noticed where everything went and neither of us saw the problem that could possibly occur. I was too busy trying out her new lip gloss and Grace was too excited by the present I’d bought her. She packed all her stuff in it before standing up to put it on, admiring herself in my mirror. "Thanks Asha, I really like it."

  She always called me Asha, she was one of the few.

  Smiling back at her I said, "I’m glad, next time you can come with us."

  "Cool!"

  We hung out until dinner time. We should’ve been doing homework, but we didn’t, I spent the rest of the afternoon telling her all about New York and about all the cool things we’d do when we went there. Eventually Grace had to walk home. I waved goodbye to her from the front step.

  Unfortunately she never made it home. Almost, but not quite.

  Grace’s neighbour found her lying on her front lawn, right outside the front door. Grace was having an allergic reaction; she was really allergic to peanuts. Her mom was going through her bag, trying to find the epi-pen. God knows why she didn’t run inside and grab one of the others. Panic I guess. But it didn’t matter. She was never going to find it because no one knew it was lying under my bed at home. No one knew it had fallen out and rolled under there when Grace had emptied her old bag to throw everything into the new one I’d bought her. Neither of us saw it happen. I was too busy trying out her new lip gloss and she was too busy checking out her present from me. I never even found the epi-pen until years later when I was rearranging my bedroom.

  The big question was how Grace had ever come into contact with the nuts in the first place. She knew she couldn’t eat them, knew she couldn’t go near them. Even I knew she couldn’t. It’s why I hadn’t bought her the chocolate M&Ms in the first place. Even the plain ones were made in the same factory as the peanut ones. All chocolate was bad for her.

  I knew this.

  Of course, I didn’t stop to think about what I’d been eating when I tried on her lip gloss. Didn’t stop to think about the peanut M&Ms I’d snuck in after school when I was getting us something to drink in the kitchen. The peanuts that still would’ve been on my lips when I tried her lip gloss on. The same lip gloss she probably used when she was walking home from my place.

  But nobody ever knew, nobody ever worked it out. Grace’s mom, my Dad, they all asked me and I swore she didn’t eat any of the chocolate I brought home. I promised, I was certain, it wasn’t even in my room. I mean, I couldn’t work it out, didn’t work it out until years later. I was ten, remember. All I knew was that my best friend, the one person I could talk too, had died. Wasn’t going to be sitting beside me at school the next day or ever again. All because of what turned out to be a stupid, dumb decision on my part. A stupid, stupid decision that meant Grace, my best friend, my saviour, died.

  The teasing started up again not long after she died and this time I had no one to stick up for me.

  The human heart, four chambers supplying life to the body in repeated rhythmic contractions

  ∞

  Playlist:

  1. Dakota – Stereophonics

  2. Talking to the moon – Bruno Mars

  3. Punching in a dream – The Naked & Famous

  ∞

  Music is an escape for me these days and sometimes I think it’s the only thing that keeps me sane. It’s hard to believe that a combination of sound and silence can have such an effect on you. But it can. And it can affect you in ways you never thought possible.

  It can make you smile. It can make you cry. It can make your heart stop and it can make your heart race. It can make you feel things you never even realised were inside of you. And it can stop you in your tracks before you even realise what’s happening.

  Watching someone create music like that is amazing. Seeing, feeling someone have that affect on you, on a whole room full of people….it’s unbelievable, indescribable, breath taking. There’s no other way to say it. It’s why I love watching and listening to live music. Why I love going to see a band pla
y, no matter if it’s a huge concert or a tiny pub.

  It’s just always had that effect on me and for a second, it almost lets me forget everything else.

  ∞

  Selena was my mom’s baby sister. I never knew my grandparents on mom’s side because they had both died long before I was born. Growing up with an older brother and my Dad, I always longed for the girlie things. Someone to go shopping with, to talk to about boys, someone to ask about all the stuff my Dad was only going to be too embarrassed to talk about. I remember watching Grace and her mom when we were kids and being envious of their bond, their connection. Although I was very close to my Dad, there was still a hidden longing to have my mom, even if it was something I’d never grown up having. But, Selena did that for me, she took on that role and helped fill the gap of my mom not being there. She did a lot more too. She was the mother I never had, and the best friend and confidant I needed. We were very close and I loved her very much.

  She lived in Boston but I would still see her pretty regularly. Every couple of weeks I’d go up and stay with her. She was younger than my Mom, so it was easy for us to grow close. And we used to talk about everything. She knew about the teasing at school when I was a kid, she even tried to talk to the teachers for me. She knew about Grace and what she did. She knew all about Adam too, she was the one who’d told me to be prepared, to make sure I had protection. She didn’t judge and she didn’t criticise, she was just there for me to talk to.

  She was also the first person to introduce me to music, really introduce me and show me what it was all about. She taught me what music could do to you, how it could change you. My Dad had always been into the soft rock kind of stuff. My brother on the other hand, he was into rap and heavy metal. I grew up never really forming my own tastes or ideas about it, just listened to whatever they liked or put on. Selena changed all of that for me. She actually played the piano, really well. She probably could have done something with it, but instead just chose to play and enjoy it, teach it to the kids at the school she worked at. It’s not the only thing she was in to though. She also introduced me to so much punk and alternative music that from time to time I had to ask her, "Why the hell do you play so much classical?"