Glimpse

by Renee Wakefield

  “All right. Shall we go in?” Tash asks.

  I nod with enthusiasm.

  Tash knocks on the front door. No one comes to greet us. Tash knocks again. After a while, some other guests arrive and they simply open the door and walk straight in, giving us a funny look as they pass. Tash giggles, as in ‘Silly me’ and follows them inside. This confirms my thinking that despite her confidence Tash doesn’t know everything. I’m not sure if that’s good or bad.

  We edge our way along the hall. There are more students here, engaged in grown-up conversations. They observe us enter without stopping talking. Are they thinking ‘Who let those children in here?’ Or have we managed to fool them into thinking we are the same as them? People always say I look mature for my age. At least friends of my parents do. Although you can never really trust them.

  Tash leads us towards the noise. I do my best to absorb a little of her confidence. She squeals, spotting someone.

  “Oh my God!” She hurries up to a group of five people standing about the end of the hallway. She hugs them one by one, acting as though this is a group of her long lost best friends. Tash talks and laughs that little bit too loudly, making the whole things appear forced to me. None of the group seem terribly pleased to see her. She introduces me. I don’t catch any of their names. We keep moving, Tash promising these guys she’ll catch up with them later.

  The main room of the party is sensory overload. The first thing that hits me is the smell. The stench of smoke and beer and sweat. The place is crammed full of people. Music blasts. Strobe lights flash on and off.

  Tash says something I don’t catch.

  “Hey?”

  “I said, a bit different from Katie Matthews’ party.”

  That’s so Tash. That desperation to appear older and past all that immaturity of our friends. Like she’s beyond all that. It’s a mask. Katie and Tash used to be close but not any more, so Katie didn’t invite Tash to her party and Tash is cut. At the same time, she is right. This party couldn’t be much further from Katie’s. Katie’s party was a sleepover where we ordered pizza and watched dumb DVDs with cute boys.

  I can feel the excitement bubbling inside me as I watch partygoers yell and dance and drink and smoke. I have entered a whole new world. All my concerns about being young, about the other guests not wanting us here were so foolish. Nobody cares. Everybody is way too busy doing their own thing to have any concerns about us.

  Tash takes another drink from the bourbon and passes me the bottle. As I take a swig, a cute boy pushes past me. I say boy, but he is nothing like the boys I am used to. By comparison with them, this boy is a man. No, man makes him sound like my Dad or one of his gross friends with their lingering eyes and huge bellies. No, not a boy or a man, a guy.

  The guy grins at me as he squeezes past.

  “We can get you some Coke to go with that bourbon if you’d like.”

  The unexpected attention makes me cough into the drink. By the time I manage to blurt out “Sounds good” all I can see is his back moving through the crowd. Tash gives me a knowing smile. A reminder that she belongs here and I am merely her guest. Welcome to my world. I smile back. From what I can see I like this world. I have no idea where this evening will take me. The possibilities are endless.

  I’m not sure if it’s the alcohol or the party or what but I’m feeling great. Tash reckons there are parties like this every weekend. Is this what life is going to be like from now on? I’m going to kiss one of these guys. Maybe more than just kiss. Maybe more than just one guy.

  “Ellie?”

  Oh, God. Go away, Brenda. Brenda is about the last person I want to see now. It is like having my mum here or something.

  “Ellie? Where are you?”

  Brenda’s voice clicks something in my brain and I remember this isn’t my life. At least not any more. It takes a moment or two for me to place Brenda’s voice. My real life outside of these teenage memories comes flooding through my thoughts and for a moment I don’t want to go back. The sensation of being in two places at once is somewhat peculiar and yet entirely natural all at once.

  “Ellie?”

  Back in Brenda’s office, I remain on the daybed, eyes closed. My voice has an airy, dreamy quality about it. “I’m at a party.”

  Tash and I stand against the wall. We haven’t made our move yet, whatever move that might be. For now, we are happy to stand and observe as we acclimatise ourselves.

  “It’s 10 years ago. I’m 15.” I gaze about the party. “We feel very cool. Everybody here is older.”

  The music takes me captive, forcing me to groove. Tash smiles. She eyes the crowd, looking for someone. Donnie or Michael.

  “Why are you there?”

  “My friend, Tash…” I reply dreamily. “She kissed this guy, Donnie. It’s Donnie’s sister’s party.”

  Tash pokes me in the ribs and points across the room.

  Donnie’s sister prances about the room as though she is Queen of the world. Touchy-feely with all the guys, laughing with all the girls. Her shirt is so tight I can make out every detail of her expansive breasts, even from across the room and she wouldn’t want anyone following her up stairs in such a tiny rara skirt. Or maybe she would. Maybe that’s the point. She looks happy to see everyone until she sees us. Her eyes narrow into a mean, cold stare that would strike us dead if looks could kill. Uncertainty grips me. I fumble for Tash.

  “Don’t worry about her. Donnie mentioned she might be a cow about us being here.”

  “I don’t think Donnie’s sister wants us here,” my dreamy voice narrates to Brenda back in her office. “It’s all a mess, cos Donnie thinks he and Tash are together, but now Tash wants to get with this other guy. This friend of Donnie’s.”

  “Ellie…”

  “It’s so Tash. There always has to be a drama. Anyway —”

  “Ellie.” Brenda’s voice is soft and calm yet firm. “You are there for a reason and it has nothing to do with this girl Tash or who she wants to kiss.”

  On the daybed a concerned look crosses my face.

  “Try and find out —”

  “Something is wrong,” I tell her.

  13

  The party is too hot. I can’t seem to cool myself down and it’s worrying me. The smoke and the lights and the alcohol are making me feel sick. I glance about. I’ve lost Tash. She can’t have gone home, can she? I decide to go to the bathroom. There’s a queue. Every moment I wait my concern spikes a little more. Finally, it’s my turn. I hurry in. Luckily the door has a lock. The bathroom and the toilet are all in one room. I feel awkward enough as it is. I don’t fancy sitting on the toilet with the door unlocked and no way to keep it shut.

  The fluorescent light flickers ominously. The tap hasn’t been turned off properly. Water trickles into the sink. Party sounds climb aggressively through the walls, stalking me.

  I splash water on my face. I tell myself that there is nothing wrong. The last thing I want to do is make a scene at the party in front of everybody. Tash will never forgive me. I try to swallow. It is as though a ball has lodged itself in my throat. Why am I feeling like this? Everything was fine a few minutes ago.

  “Something is wrong,” I repeat to Brenda.

  “It’s okay, Ellie. You’re fine. What is it?”

  My stomach plummets as I catch a glimpse of movement in the mirror. Someone or something. Behind the frosted glass of the shower door.

  “There’s something in here with me.”

  Has it been here the whole time? Watching me? I gasp into the mirror, frozen to the floor. Wanting to run and yet terrified to move.

  “What is it?” Brenda asks, a ripple of tension invading her voice.

  I can’t bring myself to look. I can’t bring myself to leave either. Is it still there?

  Bang! Bang! Bang!

  Someone bashes on the door, causing me to jump. I grip the sink with both hands, my knuckles going white.

  Bang! Bang! Bang!

  “Ellie…�
��

  “No.”

  “Ellie…” Brenda’s voice is calm and patient. “Ellie, whatever this is, you have to face it.”

  Bang! Bang! Bang!

  An unintelligible voice follows the pounding.

  On the daybed, I flinch, throwing my head from side to side. My eyes squeezed tight.

  “This is why you are here.”

  “No.”

  “Ellie, turn and face it. Now.”

  At the sink, I build up all of my courage and force myself to let go. First one hand, then the other. With a sudden burst of speed, I rush to the door. The stupid lock doesn’t want to open. I manage to wrench it loose and throw open the door.

  In one world I hear Brenda sigh.

  In another, the dark shape behind the frosted glass watches me go.

  A pimply boy with greasy hair waits next in lines for the bathroom. I grab him.

  “There’s something in there,” I yell in his face like a lunatic.

  He glances from me to the empty bathroom and back. He gives me a look that suggests I am nuts as he makes his way in, closing and locking the door behind him.

  The party is a horrible mess. All the things that tantalised and excited me have now turned against me. Unfriendly faces surround me, scowling. Looking down their noses at me. Their eyes scorch right through me, seeing the scared, little girl.

  Heat pours off everyone, stinging my skin. People jump erratically within my field of vision thanks to the strobe lighting, appearing up close to my face one moment, then vanishing just as swiftly. The smoke and the heat and stench of beer all combine to make me feel even worse.

  I desperately need to find Tash. We have to leave, now. Do I look as upset as I feel? If I do, why isn’t anyone helping me?

  I stumble out into the backyard. More people out here. No one I know. Where is Tash? She could be anywhere. Eventually, I happen across a face that I know. Or the closest approximate to one.

  “Excuse me…”

  She ignores me. Or maybe she doesn’t hear. I tap her on the arm. “Excuse me…”

  Donnie’s sister regards me like something she has scraped off the bottom of her shoe. She is sitting on some boy’s knee, his hands wandering all over her. Her unfocused eyes suggest they don’t appreciate being disturbed.

  “Have you seen Tash?”

  “Who?”

  “Tash…”

  Donnie’s sister gets to her feet unsteadily. “I have no idea who that is.” She pokes a finger into my chest, rocking back and forth and barely maintaining her balance. “And I have no idea who you are. How did you even get in here?”

  The boy she was sitting on lets out a guttural laugh. I consider attempting to explain myself except it’s all too convoluted and she doesn’t care anyway.

  “What are you doing at my party? Nobody invited you to my party. Nobody wants you here.”

  The boy laughs again. This isn’t good. I hurry away, doing my utmost not to cry. Donnie’s sister goes back to her boy, never giving me another thought.

  My night is spiralling out of control. Bad as it feels now, I’m concerned as to where it all might end. Should I simply leave? Can I do that? I am supposed to be staying at Tash’s house. Besides, I can’t afford the taxi ride home by myself anyway. Even if I managed to find one. I wander back into the main room of the party, trying to stop the tears leaking from my eyes.

  Mercifully, I spot Tash. She is on the edge of the dance floor, gyrating against some guy. Is this Donnie? His friend? Someone new? Who can tell with Tash. She gives me a loose smile and throws her arms around me.

  “Ellie… Isn’t this the best?” she slurs, suggesting the alcohol and the party are having a vastly different effect on her than me.

  “Can we go now? Please.”

  Tash grins and nods, my words taking longer than they should to penetrate her brain, even with the bombastic music.

  “Wait… Go? As in go home?”

  “Oh, God…”

  “What is it, Ellie?” Brenda’s voice enquires, once again bridging the gap between my two worlds.

  “It’s here.”

  I freeze on the edge of the dance floor, as stiff as a board. Whatever it was in the bathroom is no longer contained. “It’s right behind me!”

  Teen me struggles to keep it together. Tash has gone back to her male friend, her tongue buried halfway down his throat. Hoping that ignoring me will solve the problem of my wanting to leave.

  “Ellie…” Brenda’s voice is a beacon of calm amongst the insanity. “Where is it?”

  “Behind me. On the dance floor.”

  “Turn and look. You have to face this.”

  Both of us, the me on the dance floor and the me on the daybed, are visibly distressed.

  “You have to face this.”

  She is wrong. I don’t have to do anything. And I am not about to turn around and look at whatever this is. I shake my head.

  “Confront the fear.”

  Not going to happen. My eyes are still tightly shut on the daybed. I’m moving more though, thrashing erratically.

  “Confront your fear, Ellie.”

  At the party, I look for someone to help me. Anyone. Tash is no use. No one else knows I’m here. Or cares. The only way through this is to help myself.

  “Turn around and face it. This is the first step towards getting better.”

  Brenda, God love her, is making sense. I have to get better. This is the path I have to take. The way out.

  From the edge of the dance floor, I turn myself around. I fight myself the whole way. I don’t want to do this.

  What I see shocks me. There’s a dead girl. Convulsing on the dance floor. She is younger than I am now, older than I was when I attended the party. The dead girl flops around on the dance floor like a fish out of water. Her skin is an unnatural grey colour. Her eyes are taped shut with two thin strips of hospital tape. She has a tube attached to her mouth, leading to a ventilator.

  As she flops about I stare desperately for help. Why isn’t anybody reacting? Why aren’t they doing anything? What is wrong with these people? Why isn’t anybody helping her? As the guests continue to party, oblivious, it dawns on me. No one else can see her. Only I can. My own personal slice of hell.

  The dead girl can’t see either, not with that tape over her eyes. And yet she knows I am here. Her head twists around in my direction and she locks onto me. Imploring me. Begging. She attempts to speak. The tube in her throat prevents anything from coming out. The poor girl is terrified. Desperate for help. She stops flopping and reaches out a hand towards me. Dragging herself forward.

  Her quivering hand extends out. Closer. Closer.

  Brenda’s voice intercedes. “Okay, Ellie. Good girl.

  The Dead Girl keeps reaching. Almost touching me.

  “Ellie, it’s okay. You can come back now.”

  The party evaporates around me.

  In the calm of Brenda’s office I observe myself. My eyes are still shut hard. My hands grip the side of the daybed, holding on for dear life.

  “Ellie, you can open your eyes now.”

  I am still split in two, and even though we are both back in the same room, in the same timeline, I am not ready to go back. Not ready to be whole again.

  “Ellie, you can open your eyes again now.”

  I detect a slight titter of concern creeping into Brenda’s voice. This wasn’t the intention. I like Brenda and I don’t want to worry her. It’s not enough to bring me back though.

  “Ellie…”

  I watch as Brenda becomes more and more agitated. Do I have to go back? What if I never do? What if I stay here, wherever here is… Is that possible?

  “Ellie.”

  Not that I know where I am exactly. The me on the daybed can stay where she is for a bit. I want to explore. I will come back. At some point. What happens if I leave this room? Where could I go? What —

  I don’t get to finish that thought. A splash of water hits me in the face, waking me up
and unifying me into a single person once again.

  From the daybed, I stare up at the frankly terrified Brenda, a now empty jug of water clutched tightly in her quivering hands.

  14

  I go to the bathroom to dry my face. Fortunately, Brenda’s bathroom has paper towels. Not a blow dryer. I don’t fancy sticking my face under a blow dryer, instead using a few towels to mop the drips of water running down my face. I examined my reflection in the mirror, in no hurry to get back to Brenda.

  Brenda paces aimlessly yet quickly, making me a little dizzy. “Sorry about the water, Ellie. I didn’t… I didn’t know what to do.”

  Her hands are still shaking. There is a flustered tone to her voice and she seems to have lost the ability to be still. I feel bad for whatever part I played by not coming back to reality more quickly. I could have killed her. Judging by how white she appears, the shock still might.

  “I remember that party.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes. It’s just… A vague recollection. I remember going there and feeling happy and being too young. But I don’t remember it like… that. Not at all.”

  Brenda attempts to sit. “We can’t trust our memories. They’re not real. They’re just creations of our mind. Loosely constructed around events that we have half-forgotten or that may not have happened.”

  She is up again. Back to pacing. I worry her heart can’t take this kind of stress.

  “Was that real? What I just saw?”

  “It’s hard to say. Do you know much about repressed memory?”

  “Not a lot. They’re not true, are they? Isn’t it all nonsense?”

  “Nonsense?”

  “Yeah, like people get hypnotised and suddenly they remember they were molested as a child. Except it never really happened.”

  “I believe you are conflating a few different things there. What you are talking about is false memory and suggestive hypnosis, where an idea is planted in somebody’s head. They don’t allow that sort of thing as evidence in court cases anymore, for example.”