Animal

by G S Banks

  ANIMAL

  BOOK ONE OF

  The Anitar Chronicles

  G.S. BANKS

  Copyright © G.S. Banks 2017

  G.S. Banks asserts the moral right to be

  identified as the author of this work.

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction.

  The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it

  are the work of the author’s imagination.

  Any resemblance to actual persons,

  living or dead, events or localities is

  entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication

  may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted,

  in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical,

  photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the

  prior permission of the author.

  www.gsbanks.com

  For my dad

  1. My Sweetest Friend

  Manhattan, New York

  I had been in love with Terence Bonfant since I was four years old. By the age of 15 I have to admit, even though he had already announced that he was gay, I was still a little bit in love with him. When you bear this in mind – and our proximity – it wasn’t a surprise that I was the first to see him up there. On the edge of the Bonfant’s rooftop, teetering. It had become a habit over the years to glance out of my bedroom window to see what was going on in the grand townhouse that stood directly opposite ours.

  That evening, before I spotted him up there, I had been happy as a clam as I practiced the Kung Fu moves Mum had taught me. I punched and kicked imaginary bad guys with a new precision and power. I was delighted, utterly delighted, because I was close. I knew it. Mum knew it. Dad knew it. My sister knew it.

  It was time.

  That night there were no lights on in the Bonfant’s five-storey house. The place looked dead apart from a light on the rooftop garden. There he was. His chocolate coloured hair shone under the Manhattan lights. What on earth was he doing? At first I thought he was just being his usual dramatic self but as I looked closer I saw that he was peering down and he definitely, yes definitely, looked too close to the edge. My heart flew into my mouth.

  I pulled on a pair of trainers, ran to the wardrobe, grabbed a fluffy purple sweatshirt and pulled it over my plaid pyjamas. I curled my long brown hair into a bun on top of my head and shot a glance at Terence, out there like a lemming on a cliff edge, all alone. Whatever he was up to I knew I had to get him down. Could this be my moment? What did Mum always say? Who we are springs forth from what we do. It was time for me to do something. Right then, in that moment – I was pleased, actually pleased. If Terence needed me then I, his best friend in the world, would be there for him.

  It was just me and my younger sister Kelci in the house because Mum and Dad, as usual, were on a nighttime mission and it was my job to look after her. I sped over to her room – aware that my parents would kill me if they knew I was about to leave her alone. I darted into her room and crept amongst the gigantic piles of comics and clothes on the floor to get to her bedside. She was asleep under the covers with tufts of dusty blonde hair sticking out onto the pillow. She was 13, and looked angelic whilst she was sleeping. Another pile of comics teetered on her bedside cabinet looking like they were about to fall on her head and her glasses lay folded on the top.

  ‘I’m going to leave you just this once,’ I whispered, steadying the books with my hand. ‘I’ll be back as quickly as I can.’

  Seconds later I was hurtling across the street and flinging myself at the door of the Bonfants. I knocked hard and yelled like a madwoman through the letterbox.

  Give me the strength of a Bear.

  Yet the door would not move and no one came. My heart pounded in my ears. I found a rock underneath the sculpted bushes dotted around the front garden, grabbed it then clambered onto the sill of the sitting room window. I drew back my right arm, rock in hand and pounded it through the window. It smashed and I leant in, undid the lock, pulled the window open and climbed through. I raced through the house and up to the roof. There he was. His face, usually so soft and lovely, was pale and sad, lit from below and giving him an eerie glow. Something terrible had happened. That much I knew straight away. All the life had been sucked out of him. But how? My heart ached to see him like this. His puppy dog eyes, with lashes so thick and long they brushed the tops of his cheeks, were empty. It was like he wasn’t there anymore, but where was he? My sweetest friend.

  He stood on the outer ledge of the roof with nothing – absolutely nothing – between him and the ground below, with his hands clinging to the garden railing, his knuckles sickly white. He wore a faded t-shirt with the faint outline of Elmo’s exuberant red face on it, his sleepover t-shirt, making him look about 12 again. He almost never wore t-shirts anymore, only the velvet jackets and cravats we picked out for him in vintage shops. New York shone glorious behind him. The whole scene made me feel queasy. I stood there, still as a mouse whilst his eyes darted around, until finally his gaze met mine.

  ‘Nina!’

  His eyes began to fill with shining tears.

  ‘No, no, no, no.’

  His hands clasped the bar and he swayed back and forth and all I could think of was the massive drop below.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ he said, his voice slurred. ‘You shouldn’t be here. You can’t see me like this … not you.’

  I gulped. I wanted to scream at him to get down but I knew that wouldn’t work. All I could do was try to appear calm.

  ‘I saw you from my bedroom window, Terence,’ I said softly. ‘You know I like to spy on you.’

  But he didn’t smile. Not like he usually would. Neither did he poke fun at me or accuse me of stalking him. He just looked so … lost. It made my heart sit like lead in my chest. I just wanted him to come to me, his usual self, drop into my arms so I could ruffle his hair and we could go downstairs for a hot chocolate and curl up on the sofa together.

  ‘Why don’t you come over into the garden and tell me what’s going on?’

  He didn’t look at me. Instead, his eyes rolled in his head.

  ‘I can’t do that.’

  The wind blew around him, rippling his t-shirt against his chest. I saw a bottle of Scotch sat next to him on the ledge.

  ‘Are you drinking whisky? You could’ve invited me,’ I said, still trying to sound normal.

  I gave a nervous laugh, hoping, praying, that he might break out into the smile I knew and loved so well, the same smile that had welcomed me to this street seven years ago – the one he reserved only for me when the rest of the world scowled and pointed out my long, curved nose or imitated my British accent. But that lop-sided, adorable grin made no appearance. He didn’t even look at me.

  ‘It’s the only thing that makes it stop.’

  ‘Makes what stop?’

  His eyes met mine for a second with a crazed look.

  ‘I can’t tell you that, Nina,’ he replied. ‘I can hear them. Can’t you hear them?’

  ‘Hear who?’

  It felt like the world was beginning to spin around me. I took a deep breath and thought to myself that if only I could concentrate hard enough perhaps I might, just might, be able to hear his thoughts. I focused on him with every fibre.

  ‘Terence, come back over the railing.’

  ‘I don’t know what’s happening to me. I can hear them! Can’t you hear them?’

  He lifted one hand from the railing and reached for his hair, scrunching it between his fingers, moaning, leaving only one hand holding the railing. I lurched forward, unable to stop myself.

  ‘Terence, oh god!’

  He turned his head to face me, eyes wide.

  ‘Don’t come any closer.’


  The remaining hand loosened on the bar and his whole body wobbled as he shook his head. He was like a puppet hanging loose on its strings. I stopped moving entirely and stood as still as I could, my chest ready to burst.

  ‘Ok, Ok,’ I said, trying to hide the panic. ‘I’m here. I’m right here.’

  ‘Just stay back ok?’

  His voice was slurred. I watched his feet shuffle further back towards the edge, leaving less and less space between him and the abyss below. I wanted to cry out. His right hand clutched at the railing. Tears fell down his face, like he was a little boy again. I let my eyes scan the area. There was about ten feet between us. It wasn’t a clear path from me to him because there were chairs and potted plants all around. I needed to get to him, without him noticing … one step at a time.

  ‘All right. You don’t have to come down but tell me what’s going on.’

  ‘You wouldn’t understand,’ he said, mournful.

  ‘Try me.’

  His dark eyelashes were wet and sticky. As soon as I saw him lower them I crept forward one small step, keeping my eyes on him the whole time. He pursed his lips and I remembered how those lips had tasted the one and only time I had kissed them. Sweet and salty all at the same time. And soft, so soft. That kiss had been a game to him, but to me it was the most treasured moment of my whole life.

  ‘It’s just…’

  He broke down in sobs.

  ‘Everything is just…’

  ‘It’s me,’ I said tenderly. ‘You can trust me.’

  He looked at me again.

  ‘It’s all too much. I don’t know what’s real anymore. Dad says I’m making it all up, in my head…’

  His words petered out.

  ‘Your Dad?’

  His eyes closed again and I took another small step closer.

  ‘When I told Mum and Dad. About being gay.’

  I couldn’t help but cringe inwardly. When Terence had told me he was gay I had thought, right up until the last moment, that he was about to declare his undying love – to me! My cheeks burned at the memory.

  ‘My Dad. He’s disgusted by me.’

  ‘Your Dad? He wouldn’t say something like that…’

  ‘He didn’t have to say it. It’s just… what he thinks. I’m a disgrace, I’m not his son any more.’

  He swung his head back keeping his hands clamped to the railing. His feet shuffled even closer to the edge. It made my heart stop.

  ‘He doesn’t think that. Your parents love you, Terence.’

  His parents were the nicest people in the world and good friends with mine.

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘No they don’t. Not now. I couldn’t believe it either. But it’s true.’

  He raised his hand to his hair again, scrunching his eyes closed. I lifted my foot a step further, over the top of a plant pot. He opened his eyes suddenly and I thought he had seen me, until his voice came out softly.

  ‘I can’t help who I am, can I Nina?’

  The puppy dog eyes returned for a moment as the lights caught the curve of his jaw.

  ‘I love who you are.’

  I couldn’t stop the tears rolling from my eyes. His head lolled downwards.

  ‘Well, you shouldn’t.’

  My heart cracked open.

  ‘But I do. I always have.’

  I didn’t know if he had even heard me. That was not how I had planned to tell him my real feelings. He turned his head away from me and looked over his shoulder. I took another step forward. I was closer now, too far to reach out but closer. It felt as though a new strength was building inside me.

  It’s going to happen.

  ‘It’s different for you,’ he said. ‘Your family is perfect. There’s nothing to deal with, not like this.’

  I wished with all my heart that I could tell Terence the truth of my life, what my family deal with every day. But I had never been able to share that with him. No normal people knew the truth about that.

  ‘You don’t know how it feels. You don’t know how alone I am.’

  ‘You’re right,’ I said, ‘I don’t know how it feels.’

  I wish I could disappear, fast, reappear by his side, grab him, pull him down…

  He frowned suddenly then his voice came out almost as a scream.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘Did you say something?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Oh no,’ he said, grabbing for the bottle. ‘It’s happening again.’

  He guzzled the whisky.

  ‘What’s happening again?’

  He gasped.

  ‘I’m going insane.’

  ‘Please, Terence. Just come down.’

  He lolled his head to the side and I remembered how playful, how innocent we were as children.

  ‘I can’t… face it… anymore.’

  He took one hand from the railing and a horrible sense of doom came upon me.

  ‘Terence, no…’

  My mind scrambled. Should I leap forwards? Try to grab him?

  ‘We can talk with your parents, make sure you get help, I’ll help you. I promise.’

  He brought his eyes back to mine with a distant stare. His shoulders sank and his voice came out a whisper. He looked empty, utterly alone, all the life, all the laughter – gone.

  ‘I can hear them. Can’t you hear them?’

  ‘I don’t think I can,’ I said, as I edged forward another step.

  This time he saw me.

  ‘Don’t come any further.’

  That’s when he took both hands off the railing. My chest almost burst. All I could do was look at him.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ he said, eyes brimming with tears. ‘It’s just easier for me, this way. You weren’t supposed to be here. I’m so sorry.’

  ‘Terence, please, don’t….’

  He leant back and let himself fall backwards.

  ‘Oh God. No. Please!’

  I heard my own voice but it didn’t sound like me – it was more like some terror-stricken creature that itself was about to die. All I could do was run to the edge with my arms outstretched and a scream tangled in my throat. I tried to find him but all I found was a blustery void. Moments later, a nauseating crack. I couldn’t breath. I leaned over the railing. I looked down. What I saw made my heart fly apart into a thousand pieces. Terence Bonfant, my best friend, down there on that pavement – like that. It made me sick, so sick – and not just in that moment. What I saw that night makes me sick to this very day.

  2. The Peach Ones

  One Year Later, Manhattan, New York

  It is exactly one year since Terence jumped from the rooftop, and my heart has never stopped aching since. Not once. Maybe sometimes, on the outside, I look like my old self but, deep inside, I will never be the same. Ever. The pain stays with me, a dark cloud that casts a long shadow. It’s always there, even when the rest of the world laughs and trips along as though nothing ever happened. It’s there as I stand at my window, staring at the never-changing spot where he jumped. It’s there when I put my make-up on, when I take a shower, when I walk down the street, like a miserable but constant companion.

  Sometimes the pain gets less and there will be whole stretches of time where it is not so stabbing, not so all consuming, but it always comes back. Whenever I realise he will never ever knock on my front door again with some crazy piece of clothing he wants to try on for me. He will never drape his arm around my shoulders and tell me a juicy piece of gossip as we stroll along the sidewalk. He will never make me giggle, braid my hair, tell me a story, describe to me in unbelievable detail a delicious bagel he just ate, or bring me a handful of green M & M’s that he’s saved for me, because he knows they’re my favourite. There’s just nothing I can do, when it dawns on me that my best friend won’t ever wrap his scarf around me when it’s so cold I can’t face the wind blasting down our street. Or hold my hand in the snow as our boots crunch through the white powder. Or sneak into a movie with me on a Saturday aftern
oon, just so I can wish he would lean over and kiss me. It’s always that moment when I realise, once again, that he is gone and he’s never coming back.

  I have replayed that night in my head thousands of times, remembering every detail, going over every word, every look that passed between us, trying to figure out why, trying to see what I could have done differently. Sometimes, I can’t help but wonder if I should have jumped over that ledge too and in a way, it feels like part of me did. It’s the same part of me that is just as lost as Terence was. In the end, it always comes out the same. Even though I was all he had, I could not help my best friend in his darkest hour.

  ______

  Today I am with the one person, apart from my family, who didn't crucify me for being there that night. Mason Williams, my boyfriend of two months.

  ‘Which do you prefer, baby?’ he says, pointing towards the shoes that are on display like the crown jewels in this ridiculously expensive shop. ‘The cream ones or the peach ones?’

  He knows exactly what day it is and I’m pretty sure this is his attempt to cheer me up. Sweet really. If only shoes could do it. Which ones would Terence prefer?

  ‘Peach,’ I say.

  Terence always said I looked good in pastels. I run my finger across the leather noticing how the purple of my nail contrasts with the pale, orangey tones of the shoe. If Terence were here we would spend ages browsing, trying to act like we were old enough to buy stuff in a shop like this.

  ‘Sounds good,’ says Mason, turning to the beautiful shop assistant who hovers in the corner like a gazelle hiding in a forest.

  ‘We’ll try a pair of these peach ones.’

  She looks him up and down, frowning a little. He flashes her a smile and looks at her like ‘don’t-you-know-who-I-am’? He’s been doing that a lot lately, ever since he posted some videos on the internet of him singing and they got a few thousand hits. However, the girl clearly does not know him from Adam but so far I haven’t had the heart to tell him that there are a lot of people living in Manhattan and the chances of a stranger having seen one of his videos is pretty slim.