before i die Jenny Downham

twenty

Dads taking ages to discover Im missing. I wish hed hurry up because my left legs gone to sleep and I need to move before I get gangrene or something. I shuffle to a squatting position, grab a jumper from the shelf above me and push it down with one hand amongst the shoes so that I have a better place to sit. The wardrobe door creaks open a fraction as I settle. It sounds very loud for a moment. Then it stops.
Tess? The bedroom door eases open and Dad tiptoes across the carpet. Mums here. Didnt you hear me call?
Through the crack in the wardrobe door I see the confusion on his face as he realizes that the bundle on my bed is only the duvet. He lifts it up and looks underneath, as if I mightve shrunk into someone very small since he last saw me at breakfast.
Shit! he says, and he rubs a hand across his face as if he doesnt understand, walks over to the window and looks out at the garden. Beside him, on the ledge, is a green glass apple. I was given it for being a bridesmaid at my cousins wedding. I was twelve and recently diagnosed. I remember people telling me how lovely I looked with my bald head wrapped in a floral headscarf, when all the other girls had real flowers in their hair.
Dad picks up the apple and holds it up to the morning. There are swirls of cream and brown in there that look like the core of a real apple; an impression of pips, blown in by the glassmaker. He spins it slowly in his hand. Ive looked at the world through that green glass many times – it looks small and calm.
I dont think he should be touching my things though. I think he should be dealing with Cal, whos yelling up the stairs about the aerial
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coming out of the back of the TV. I also think he should go down and tell Mum that the only reason hes asked her round is because he wants her back. Getting involved in matters of discipline goes against all her principles, so hes hardly looking for advice in that area.
He puts down the apple and goes to the bookshelf, runs a finger along the spines of my books, like theyre piano keys and hes expecting a tune. He twists his head to look up at the CD rack, picks one out, reads the cover, then puts it back.
Dad! Cal yells from downstairs. The pictures completely fuzzy and Mums useless!
Dad sighs, moves towards the door, but cant resist the temptation to pull the duvet straight as he passes. He reads my wall for a bit – all the things Im going to miss, all the things I want. He shakes his head at it, then bends down and picks up a T-shirt from the floor, folds it and places it on my pillow. And thats when he notices my bedside drawer is slightly open.
Cals getting closer. m missing my programmes!
Go back down, Cal! Im coming now.
But he isnt. Hes sitting on the edge of my bed and sliding the drawer open with one finger. Inside are pages and pages of words Ive written about my list. My thoughts on the things Ive already done – sex, yes, drugs, breaking the law – and my plans for the rest. Its going to freak him out if he reads what I intend to do for number five today. Theres the rustle of paper, the shift of the elastic band. It sounds very loud. I struggle to sit up in order to jump out of the wardrobe and wrestle him to the ground, but Cal saves me by opening the bedroom door. Dad fumbles the papers back into the drawer, slams it shut.
Cant I have any peace? he says. Not even for five minutes?
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Were you looking at Tessas stuff?
Is it any business of yours?
It is if I tell her.
Oh for Gods sake, give me a break! Dads footsteps pound down the stairs. Cal follows him.
I clamber out of the wardrobe and rub life back into my legs. I can feel the curdle of sluggish blood at my knee, and my foot has gone completely dead. I hobble over to the bed and plonk myself down just as Cal comes back in.
He looks at me in surprise. Dad said you werent here. m not.
Yeah, you are!
Keep your voice down. Wheres he gone?
Cal shrugs. Hes in the kitchen with Mum. I hate him. He just called me a bugger and then he said the f-word.
Are they talking about me?
Yeah, and they wont let me watch the telly!
We creep down the stairs and peer over the banister. Dads perched on a bar stool in the middle of the kitchen. He looks clumsy up there digging around in his trouser pocket for his cigarettes and lighter. Mum stands with her back against the fridge watching him.
When did you start smoking again? she says. Shes wearing jeans and has tied her hair back so that strands of it hang loose around her face. She looks young and pretty as she passes him a saucer.
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Dad lights the cigarette and blows smoke across the room. m sorry, it looks like I got you here under false pretences. He looks confused for a moment, as if he doesnt know what to say next. I just thought you could talk some sense into her.
Where do you reckon shes gone this time?
Knowing her, shes probably on her way to the airport!
Mum chuckles, and its strange because it makes her seem more alive than Dad somehow. He smiles grimly at her from his stool, runs a hand over his hair. m bloody knackered.
I can see that.
The boundaries change all the time. One minute she doesnt want anyone near her, then she wants to be held for hours. She wont leave the house for days, then disappears when Im least expecting it. This list of hers is doing my head in.
You know, Mum says, the only really right thing anyone could do would be to make her well again, and none of us can do that.
He looks at her very intently. m not sure how much more I can manage by myself. Some mornings I can hardly bear to open my eyes.
Cal nudges me. Shall I gob at him? he whispers.
Yeah. Get it in his cup.
He gathers spit in his mouth and gobs it out hard. His aims rubbish. It barely makes it through the door; most of it just slimes down his chin and onto the hall carpet.
I roll my eyes at him and gesture for him to follow me. We go back upstairs to my room.
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Sit on the floor by the door, I tell him. Put your hands over your face and dont let either of them in.
Whatre you going to do?
m getting dressed.
Then what are you going to do?
I take off my pyjamas, step into my best knickers and ease myself into the silk dress I bought on my shopping spree with Cal. I rub the fizz of pins and needles from my feet and pull on my strappy shoes.
Cal says, Do you want to see my Megazord? Youll have to come to my room because its defending a city and if I move it, everyone will die.
I get my coat from the back of the chair. m in a bit of a hurry actually.
He peeps at me between his fingers. Thats your adventuring dress! Yeah.
He stands up, blocking the door. Can I come?
No.
Please. I hate it here.
No.
I leave my phone because they can trace you from that. I stuff the papers from the drawer in my coat pocket. Ill chuck them in a bin somewhere later. See, Dad, how things disappear in front of your eyes?
Before I send him downstairs, I bribe Cal. He knows exactly how many magic tricks he can buy with a tenner, and understands hell get written out of my will if he ever squeals I was here.
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I wait until I hear him down there, then I follow slowly behind. I pause on the turn of the stair, not only for breath, but also to look through the window over the flat of the lawn, to brush a finger along the wall, to encircle a spindle of the banisters, to smile at the photos at the top of the stairs.
In the kitchen, Cal squats on the floor in front of Mum and Dad and simply stares at them.
Did you want something? Dad says.
I want to listen.
Sorry, its grown-up talk.
I want something to eat then.
Youve just had half a packet of biscuits.
ve got some chewing gum, Mum says. Do you want a bit of that? She looks in her jacket pocket and hands it over.
Cal stuffs the gum in his mouth, chews it thoughtfully, then says, When Tessa dies, can we go on holiday?
Dad manages to look vicious and surprised at the same time. Thats a terrible thing to say!
I dont even remember going to Spain. Its the only time Ive been in an aeroplane and it was so long ago, it might not even be true.
Dad says, Thats enough! and he goes to stand up, but Mum stops him.
Its all right, she says, and she turns to Cal. Tessas been sick for a long time, hasnt she? You must feel really left out sometimes.
He grins. Yeah. Some mornings I can hardly bear to open my eyes.
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