before i die Jenny Downham

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Hes uglier than I remember. Its as if he warmed up in my memory. I dont know why that should be. I think how Zoey would snort with derision if she knew Id come knocking on his door, and that thought makes me want to never let her know. She says ugly people give her a headache.
Youre avoiding me, I tell him.
He looks surprised for a second, but covers it up pretty quick. ve been busy.
Is that right?
Yeah.
So its not because you think Im contagious? Most people start acting as if they can catch cancer from me in the end, or as if Ive done something to deserve it.
He looks alarmed. No, no! I dont think that.
Good. So when are we going out on your bike then?
He shuffles his feet on the step and looks embarrassed. I havent actually got a full licence. Youre not supposed to take passengers without it.
I can think of a million reasons why going on the back of Adams bike might be a bad idea. Because we might crash. Because it might not be as good as I hope. Because what will I tell Zoey? Because its what I really want to do more than anything. But Im not going to let the lack of a full licence be one of them.
Have you got a spare helmet? I ask him.
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That slow smile again. I love that smile! Did I think he was ugly just now? No, his face is transformed.
In the shed. Ive got a spare jacket too.
I cant help smiling back. I feel brave and certain. Come on then. Before it rains.
He shuts the door behind him. Its not going to rain.
We go round the side of the house and get the stuff from the shed. But just as he helps me zip into the jacket, just as he tells me his bike is capable of ninety miles per hour and the wind will be cold, the back door opens and a woman steps into the garden. Shes wearing a dressing gown and slippers.
Adam says, Go back inside, Mum, youll get cold.
But she keeps walking down the path towards us. She has the saddest face Ive ever seen, like she drowned once and the tide left its mark there.
Where are you going? she says, and she doesnt look at me at all. You didnt say you were going anywhere.
I wont be long.
She makes a funny little sound in the back of her throat. Adam looks up sharply. Dont, Mum, he says. Go and have your bath and get dressed. ll be back before you know it.
She nods forlornly, begins to walk up the path, then stops as if she remembered something, and turns and looks at me for the first time, a stranger in her garden.
Who are you? she says.
I live next door. I came to see Adam.
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The sadness in her eyes deepens. Yes, thats what I thought.
Adam goes over to her and grips her gently by the elbows. Come on, he says. You should go back inside.
She allows herself to be helped up the path and walked to the back door. She goes up the step and then she turns and looks at me again. She doesnt say anything, and neither do I. We just look at each other, and then she goes through the door and into her kitchen. I wonder what happens then, what they say to each other.
Is she OK? I ask as Adam walks back out into the garden.
Lets get out of here, he says.
Its not what I imagined, not like cycling fast downhill, or even sticking your head out of a car window on the motorway. Its more elemental, like being on a beach in the winter when the wind howls in off the sea. The helmets have plastic visors. Ive got mine down, but Adams got his up; he did it very deliberately.
He said, I like to feel the wind in my eyes.
He told me to lean when we go round corners. He told me that since it was my first time he wouldnt go top speed. But that could mean anything. Even at half speed, we might take off. We might fly.
We leave the streets and lampposts and houses. We leave the shops and the industrial estate and the wood yard, and we go beyond some kind of boundary where things belong to the town and are understood. Trees, fields, space appears. I shelter behind the curve of his back, and I close my eyes and wonder where hes taking me. I imagine horses in the engine, their manes flying, their breath steaming, their nostrils flaring as they gallop. I heard a story once about some nymph, snatched by a god and taken somewhere dark and dangerous on the back of a chariot.
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Where we end up is somewhere I didnt expect – a muddy car park off the dual carriageway. There are two large trucks parked here, a couple of cars and a hotdog stand.
Adam turns off the ignition, kicks the stand down with his foot and takes off his helmet.
You should get off first, he says.
I nod, can barely speak, left my breath behind on the road somewhere. My knees are shaking and it takes a lot of effort to swing my leg over the bike and stand up. The earth feels very still. One of the lorry drivers winks at me out of his cab window. He holds a steaming cup of tea in one hand. Over at the hotdog stand, a girl with her hair in a ponytail passes a bag of chips across the counter to a man with a dog. Im different from them all. Its as if we flew here and everyone else is completely ordinary.
Adam says, This isnt the place. Lets get something to eat, then Ill show you.
He seems to understand that I cant quite talk yet and doesnt wait for an answer. I walk slowly after him, listen to him order two hotdogs with onion rings. How did he know that would be my idea of a perfect lunch?
We stand and eat. We share a Coke. It seems astonishing to me that m here, that the world opened up from the back of a bike, that the sky looked like silk, that I saw the afternoon arrive, not white, not grey, not quite silver, but a combination of all three. Finally, when Ive thrown my wrapper in the bin and finished the Coke, Adam says, Ready?
And I follow him through a gate at the back of the hotdog stand, across a ditch and into a thin little wood. A mud path threads through and out to the other side, where space opens up. I hadnt realized how high we
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were. Its amazing, the whole town down there like someone laid it at our feet, and us high up, looking down at it all.
Wow! I say. I didnt know this view was here.
Yeah.
We sit together on a bench, our knees not quite touching. The grounds hard beneath my feet. The airs cold, smelling of frost that didnt quite make it, of winter to come.
This is where I come when I need to get away, he says. I got the mushrooms from here.
He gets out his tobacco tin and opens it up, puts tobacco in a paper and rolls it. He has dirty fingernails and I shiver at the thought of those hands touching me.
Here, he says. Thisll warm you up.
He passes me the cigarette and I look at it while he rolls himself another one. It looks like a pale slim finger. He offers me a light. We dont say anything for ages, just blow smoke at the town below.
He says, Anything could be happening down there, but up here you just wouldnt know it.
I know what he means. It could be pandemonium in all those little houses, everyones dreams in a mess. But up here feels peaceful. Clean.
m sorry, about earlier with my mum, he says. Shes a bit hard to take sometimes.
Is she ill?
Not really.
Whats up with her then?
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He sighs, runs a hand through his hair. My dad was killed in a road accident eighteen months ago.
He flicks his cigarette across the grass and we both watch the orange glow. It feels like minutes until it goes out.
Do you want to talk about it?
He shrugs. Theres not that much to say. My mum and dad had a fight, he stomped off to the pub and forgot to look when he crossed the road. Two hours later the police were knocking on the door.
Shit!
Ever seen a scared policeman? No.
Its terrifying. My mum sat on the stairs and covered her ears with her hands, and they stood in the hallway with their hats off and their knees shaking. He laughs through his nose, a soft sound with no humour to it. They were only a bit older than me. They hadnt got a clue how to handle it.
Thats horrible!
It didnt help. They took her to see my dads body. She wanted to, but they shouldnt have let her. He was pretty mashed up.
Did you go?
I sat outside.
I understand now why Adams different from Zoey, or any of the kids I knew at school. Its a wound that connects us.
He says, I thought moving from our old house would help, but it hasnt really. Shes still on a million tablets a day.
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And you look after her?
Pretty much.
What about your life?
I dont really have a choice.
He turns on the bench so that hes facing me. He looks as if hes really seeing me, as if he knows something about me that even I dont know.
Are you afraid, Tessa?
No ones ever asked me that before. Not ever. I look at him to check hes not taking the piss or asking out of politeness, but he returns a steady gaze. So I tell him how Im afraid of the dark, afraid of sleeping, afraid of webbed fingers, of small spaces, of doors.
It comes and goes. People think if youre sick you become fearless and brave, but you dont. Most of the time its like being stalked by a psycho, like I might get shot any second. But sometimes I forget for hours.
What makes you forget?
People. Doing stuff. When I was with you in the wood, I forgot for a whole afternoon.
He nods very slowly.
Theres a silence then. Just a little one, but it has shape to it, like a cushion round a sharp box.
Adam says, I like you, Tessa.
When I swallow, my throat hurts. You do?
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That day you came round to chuck your stuff on the fire, you said you wanted to get rid of all your things. You told me you watch me from your window. Most people dont talk that way.
Did it freak you out?
The opposite. He looks at his feet as if theyll give him a clue. I cant give you what you want though.
What I want?
m only just coping. If anything happened between us, its kind of like, what would be the point? He shifts on the bench. This is coming out all wrong.
I feel strangely untouchable as I stand up. I can feel myself closing some kind of internal window. Its the one that controls temperature and feelings. I feel crisp as a winter leaf.
ll see you around, I say.
Youre going?
Yeah, Ive got stuff to do in town. Sorry, I didnt realize what the time was.
You have to go right now?
m meeting friends. Theyll be waiting for me.
He fumbles around on the grass for the crash helmets. Well, let me take you.
No, no, its OK. Ill get one of them to pick me up. Theyve all got cars.
He looks stunned. Ha! Good! Thatll teach him to be the same as everyone else. I dont even bother saying goodbye.
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Wait! he says.
But I wont. I wont look back at him either.
The path might be slippery! he shouts. Its beginning to rain.
I said it would rain. I knew it would.
Tessa, let me give you a lift!
But if he thinks Im climbing on that bike with him, he can think again. I made a fatal error thinking he could save me.
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