“Is Kayla working today?” I ask.
He looks at me blankly. “I don’t know anyone else who works here.”
I look right past him, thinking of her sitting in that same chair with her feet up on the counter. Maybe it’s better that she isn’t here.
I leave, walking slouched over with my hands in my pockets. I should head home or go jam with Monkey. But I don’t. I follow another route to Kenilworth station and scan my ticket. The compartment is empty and reeks of piss. I pull my feet up onto the plastic seats and watch the suburbs flash by, remembering.
Her friends are all at the skatepark under the bridge in the city, but she’s not there either. I stand against a cement pillar and watch them for a long time, but she doesn’t appear. She was such a good skater.
She was good at everything except keeping us together. But I sucked at that too.
What would I even say to her if I saw her? I don’t know what I’m doing. Looking for her? Hoping to bump into her? There’s no way I can go to her house. I don’t think I’d manage to ring the doorbell and wait for her to come to the door. Or worse, see the hurt reflected in her folks’ faces. It’s easier to hunt for her ghost as if somehow I’ll run into a happier version of us from the past.
I get back on the train that edges along the southern peninsula, remembering our journey to Kalk Bay together. She was so cold and distant that day. I never found out why. Was she planning on cheating on me then already? I clench my fists as the sting of betrayal works it’s way through me. She always shut herself off from me, locking herself up inside.
I should have tried harder. I should have realised something dark was growing inside there.
The afternoon sun sinks into the horizon like a gold coin. I get out at the station and pass tourists and fishermen on their way home. Even the ice-cream vendors are wheeling their bicycle carts away for the day. The smell of gutted fish is heavy in the air. I walk to the harbour wall and stare at the colourful little boats rocking back and forth. The water is a dark green here, but further along it’s a bright silver as the last of the afternoon sun glints off the surface.
What are you doing, Fin?
Truth is, as much as I’m hurting, I need her. I even want the pain she causes me. We’re both damaged beyond repair. There is no one out there better suited to be my girl.
I walk along the harbour wall, towards the lighthouse at the far end. And that’s when I see a huddled figure sitting on the edge in a red-and-black striped hoodie, blue hair blowing everywhere.
I SLOW MY STEPS, wondering if this is just a hallucination. I was once so trashed I hallucinated an entire black-and-white Mickey Mouse cartoon on a wall in Cape Town station.
But it really is her. I watch as she stands up and surveys the ocean from the edge of the wall. The sunset happens all around her, framing her in gold, like she’s witnessing the end of the world. My lips form a smile. It’s good to see her lit up for once. She was always so cold, like she was being followed by her own personal storm cloud, covering her whole world in grey.
Her shoulders hunch and she leans forward. And the harbour wall crumbles to dust around me.
“Kayla, no!” I run forward towards the lighthouse.
SHE STAGGERS BACK and turns around, eyes wide with shock. I grab her by the sleeve of her hoodie and yank her away from the edge, slamming her into the lighthouse.
“Are you crazy? What were you doing?”
I clutch her to my constricted chest and she doesn’t resist, but she stays tense.
“You left me,” she says.
“You pushed me away,” I reply.
She seems to shrink. I lift up her face by the chin. Her eyes look away and I shake her.
“Look at me,” I say.
She lifts her scabbed chin defiantly.
“Come out of yourself and hear what I’m saying for once. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. Talk to me, damn it. Tell me what’s going on inside your head.”
A sob escapes her lips. “I don’t deserve to be happy. I’m so screwed up, I can’t even hold on to the good things I do have. I sabotage everything.”
“I know.” Because that’s the truth. She cheated on me because she was looking for a way out. To punish herself. “We’re the same person,” I say. “Don’t you see that? You and I are made from the same stuff.”
She blinks through her tears.
I smile and collide my mouth with hers. She tastes like a mixture of tears and sea salt. She relaxes in my grip and eases into me, falling into the rhythm of my breathing. We fold our arms around each other and crawl into each other’s skin through our mouths. She’s going to break me into a million pieces and claw my heart out, but I can’t walk away from the certainty that she is mine. I knew that the first time I saw her. I’ve known since the day we broke up. And this time, I won’t walk away.
She pulls away from me and shakes her head, swiping blue hair out her face. “Are you messing with me? I won’t be able to take it if you are.”
I reach out and touch her hair. “I love you.”
She inhales sharply. “Say it like you mean it.”
I smile and cup her face in my hands. “I love you. I’ve never stopped loving you. You’ve always been my girl.”
The waves crash around us. I hold her tight, touching her face, her hands, her hair, just to make sure she’s real. I shut my eyelids, count to ten, open them. She’s still there.
I exhale for the first time in weeks.
Part III
Kayla
CITY CENTRE, SATURDAY, A WEEK LATER
I keep thinking he’s going to disappear the moment I look away.
We’re at a shoe exhibition in Long Street. It’s hard. I’m still no good at social interaction, even after trying to disguise myself with new pink hair. I want to enjoy myself, for Fin’s sake. It really spooked him seeing me standing on the edge of the harbour wall like that. It means a lot to him to see light in me again.
There are so many people. There are even groups outside on the pavement.
He looks over at me from a crowd and smiles. I smile back. I’m pretending to look at the colourful vinyl Dunny and Munny figures that form part of the exhibition while Fin speaks to media friends and scenesters. I just want us to be home, together, which is strange because this is my sort of place. Sneakers, street art, creative people with hair all the colours of the rainbow. But all I can think about is how badly I messed up the last time we had this, and how quickly he turned on me.
“Come here, baby. I want you to meet Sanjay, he writes for Vice.”
He pulls me through the maze of people and I let him guide me towards a group of smiling strangers holding sponsored energy drinks. I feel my own mouth arrange itself into something more pleasing.
Everything is fine. Everything is going to be okay.
I keep looking at him. Wondering what’s going through his head. Has he really forgiven me?
He seems so happy.
He even buys me a pink pair of kicks to match my new pink hair.
BACK AT MY house, we pull my mattress and all my pillows onto the floor to make a kind of a fort. Fin has just bought a second-hand PS4 with his gig money and EP sales, so we’ve spent the whole evening playing Mortal Kombat X. I don’t know if he’s letting me win or if I’m just really good at this, but I’m totally kicking his ass with Mileena. He keeps pausing after every match to kiss me. He’s wearing my pale-blue throw like a cape.
We’ve decided to try again – TRY in capital letters. We don’t trust each other properly yet, like we’re enemies pretending to be friends. That’s what it feels like.
I reach across for a chocolate chip cookie and take a large bite. He leans forward and snatches the rest out my hand.
“I can’t believe you’re really here. It’s like a dream,” I say.
I’m treated to a broken-toothed smile. “The same thought crosses my mind at least ten times a day.”
I smile, but it doesn’t reach th
e inside. I feel like the DC villain Two-Face. Half of me is still angry at Fin for abandoning me, the other half is scared he’ll do it again. I don’t think I’ll ever forget that look on his face at the festival – when I knew I was dead to him.
I sit up and push my hair behind my ears. “Fin. You’re sure about us, right? This is what you want?”
He places his hand over mine. “More than anything.” He moves his fingers up my wrist before plunging into my side in a surprise tickle attack. I yelp and draw my knees up, the sound of his rough laughter like music in my ears.
A loud rap on the door makes us spring apart. “Behave yourselves in there,” Jerome says through the door.
“Sorry,” I call, patting my hair back into place. He’s loving this new “involved stepfather” role, apparently.
Fin reaches across and kisses me. I put my arms around his neck and we fall back into the mattress, smiling and kissing and trying not to laugh. Mileena glares at us from the screen, waiting impatiently for her next match.
The last few weeks feel like they’ve been a bad dream. I lift up Fin’s face and study his expression, searching for a glimmer of that hatred. But all I see in his eyes is love. He looks so vulnerable and happy.
But I know the hatred is still in there, somewhere.
Maybe that’s why I’m so afraid to love him back. It might feel like nothing has changed, but that’s just the outside view. In reality, all the puzzle pieces that make up the final picture are broken.
“What are you thinking?” he asks.
I smile. “Nothing.” Some habits are hard to break.
He kisses me again. “I don’t believe you.”
Well, you wouldn’t trust an enemy, now would you?
We play for another hour before Jerome raps on the door again, which is Fin’s cue to leave. When he’s gone, I reach behind my bedside table for my new Moleskine notebook and open up at a new page.
Did I jump and this is just a false memory created by my comatose brain? Fin and I have been back together for one week and counting. Everything seems to be going okay, except when it isn’t. Whenever he leaves, I plummet and panic that he’s going to abandon me again.
I want to change. But is it worth it? What if I go to all the effort of reinventing myself into a perfect, normal girl and it just backfires again? What if I can’t change?
Because I know he’ll leave me the moment I make a mistake. I know. Despite all his promises. And then what? How long before I’m standing on the edge of a harbour wall again? No, no, no. Not this time.
Besides, he doesn’t know what love is, not like I do. He doesn’t lie awake at night and cry because he can’t stop thinking about me. He is never so overwhelmed by terror at the thought of me leaving. It was so easy to turn his back on me. I couldn’t do it. I almost destroyed my body trying. What’s happened to me? I used to be okay.
I put the book down and chew on the end of my pen.
I love Fin. I really do. But I can’t let anyone hollow me out like that again.
I’ve become so unsure of myself, but I do know one thing: If he hurts me again, I will destroy him.
Just like he’s destroyed me.
Finlay
CITY CENTRE, SUNDAY
Everything’s better now that my girl is back. I’m on solid ground again.
Whenever I’m not in school or practising, she’s at my side, where she belongs. I like having her where I can see her. I don’t know if it’s because she’s distracted, but she’s got really clumsy lately. She keeps falling off her board and hurting herself.
She still hasn’t told me why she’s not rolling with her old crew anymore, but I don’t really care. More of her for me.
“Who are you messaging?” she asks.
I look up from my phone to see her sitting straight-backed at the other end of the restaurant table. I can see the wheels turning in her head. She’s not angry. It’s fear. Fear of losing me.
“Sorry,” I say, turning my phone face down. “I’m busy negotiating with this dude who owns a studio in Muizenberg. Everybody records there. And the rates aren’t bad.”
“I thought this was supposed to be a lunch date,” she teases. Her food is sitting untouched in front of her.
“It is, baby. I’m sorry. I’ll behave.”
We laugh and the moment passes. She picks up her fork and dives into her fries. It’s cute the way she drowns them in tomato sauce, just like I do. I always wanted to take her out for lunch. I’ve been so busy with the new album this week, so it seemed a good idea to take a break. And this place is great – a burger bar with a rockabilly theme. All the waiters have tattoos. I thought Kayla would appreciate that – she’s been talking about getting one.
My girl looks so pretty today with her hair tied up in a high ponytail with a leopard-print ribbon. I like the new pink hair. It softens all the faded bruises that streak her arms like tiger stripes. Skating accidents. I stare for too long and she notices. I catch a flicker of familiar uncertainty.
“What?”
“I’m just admiring how beautiful you are.”
I catch a hint of a satisfied smile.
At least her reaction is not forced. I’m only just learning how to spot the difference.
The music is great here. Jack White, The Black Keys, Led Zeppelin. Our waitress appears in a swish of flared skirt with skulls on it. She leans down low, resting her hands flat on the table. There are two swallows tattooed above her breasts.
“You lovelies doing alright? Anything else I can get you?”
“We’re great, thanks,” I reply.
Kayla says nothing. Small talk is a no-go for her.
“Just shout if you need anything,” the waitress says with a wink.
I realise too late that I’m gazing after her, not because I’m checking her out, but because my mind was somewhere else. I clear my throat and return to my food, but I can already sense the frostiness creeping across the table. I risk a look and catch Kayla stabbing her food with her fork.
I reach across for her hand, all bandaged up from her last fall. She doesn’t look up or respond in any way, which means one thing. She’s disappeared inside herself again. It’s just as devastating as when she ignores you.
I pull my hand away with a sigh and take a large bite of my burger. I don’t want today to be like this. Steeling my resolve, I force myself to smile.
“Best burger I’ve ever had. Somebody told me they give you mac and cheese on the side like this in America.”
She blinks at me without expression and doesn’t answer. I might as well be talking to myself. For a split second I want to grab her by the shoulders and shake her to see if anyone’s home. It’s a cringeworthy thought, laced with guilt. I have to keep reminding myself that I’m not going to be that angry sonofabitch anymore. I came too close to losing her forever.
“Odin Son, ’sup?”
I look up to see Piotr entering the restaurant with another guy. Piotr is the owner of Vamp, and we know each other from around the scene. Vamp is a great club – it’s in that sweet space where it’s new enough to still be cool and full of scenesters. I stand to bump shoulders and slap palms.
“This is my good friend, Paul. Paul, this is Fin. Amazing artist.”
“Thanks, man. This is my girlfriend, Kayla.”
She barely smiles or looks up. “Hey.”
“Can we join you?” asks Piotr.
Paul is already sitting down on the bench next to Kayla and waving for our waitress’s attention. I can’t exactly say no. I swallow.
“Sure, man, have a seat.”
Kayla doesn’t look at me, but swipes her ponytail over her shoulder and continues to quietly stab what’s left of her food while Piotr talks to me about open slots at his club.
This is a big deal – I mean, the guy approached me. It’s usually the other way around. I try not to look like I’m sweating.
I turn to Piotr. “I’d dig to play at your club, man. You know I would. I’m laying do
wn tracks on a new album right now. I can test them out. Frame it like it’s a secret reveal.” I’m talking fast. This is a gig I can’t afford to lose.
Piotr nods enthusiastically. “Brilliant. Love it. Do you have a manager that I need to chat to?”
“No. I’m doing my own thing for now.”
“Yeah, yeah. It’s easier. Less red tape.”
While I’m speaking to Piotr, Paul makes the mistake of trying to chat to Kayla. But she’s ice cold and he soon gives up, and stares out the window instead.
I love my girl. I really do. But the track of our relationship keeps skipping. It’s going to take hard work to get back to where we were.
I switch my focus back to Piotr, wishing I had a joint to calm my nerves.
AS WE WALK to grab a taxi, I jump over the low wall of a church and pick a rose for Kayla. Pink like her hair. Her smile returns.
“Why did that turn into a disaster?” she asks as she pulls the leaves off the stem. Her bad mood has slackened but she’s far from happy.
“I don’t know, baby. It’s still early days.”
“Why can’t things be the way they were before?”
The answer drifts silently between us: Because you cheated. Because I couldn’t bear looking at you after that.
I want to reassure her, but I think she’s still punishing me for leaving.
“I don’t trust you,” she says after a while. She doesn’t look at me when she says it.
I don’t think she realises how her words slice into me. I have more reason not to trust her – but I’m trying my best. Because living without her was hell on earth.
“I wasn’t flirting with that waitress, Kayla. I was just being polite. You shut down. You didn’t say one word after that.”
“So it’s my fault?” she says in a small, cold voice.
“That’s not what I’m saying. I was just trying to be nice.”
Mine Page 18
