I’m already scared when I wake up. My heart is racing and I can feel myself trembling, but I don’t know why. I try to remember if I had a nightmare, but I can’t remember anything, there’s just this overwhelming feeling of fear. I roll onto my side and pull my legs up to my chest, wrapping my arms around them. And then I hear a sound of smashing – they’re collecting the recycling outside, I think – and I know that’s what it was that woke me.
I try to get back to sleep, but I feel wide awake. And I’m scared of dreaming about Dad, about that day. I scroll through my phone for a while and eventually find myself scrolling back to photos when Dad was still alive. Last year in Rome. I haven’t looked at them since he died. I haven’t looked at any photos of him, if I can help it. There are pictures up around the house and I glance at them sometimes, but I haven’t been able to really look.
I tap a Rome photo that I can see from the thumbnail is of Dad and as soon as it opens, my breath catches. I close my eyes and try to breathe, then I open them and look. It was taken in the garden at San Georgio, the trellis is showing behind Dad and there’s a bright orange Aperol Spritz on the table in front of him. He’s wearing one of his favourite shirts – an almost Hawaiian-looking thing, pale blue with big white flowers. He’s smiling directly into the camera and his forehead and cheekbones are sunburnt.
He looks so alive, so happy, so Dad. Before I can change my mind, I upload it to Instagram and type ‘I miss you’ and add a broken heart emoji.
I stare at Jules’s contact page in my phone. I could tap on FaceTime and be talking to her – to her face – in seconds. But we haven’t done that for so long. Not since before Dad died, I don’t think. I remember her calling a few times after, but I just ignored her. And then I turned my phone off for a while. Weeks.
I could send her an email, but we never really did that – unless it was e-invites or something but even that was more often a Facebook thing – so it would be weird. I could message on Facebook, but that seems too distant too. I open WhatsApp and scroll down to access archived chats.
And there’s Jules. In her little circle. She’s changed her photo since I’ve last messaged her on here. But when I see the date I’m not surprised – it’s eight months ago. Her new photo’s cute: she’s wearing red lipstick and sunglasses and she’s got a huge red flower tucked into her short Afro.
Her last message to me just says ‘Hope you’re okay’ and my chest tightens because I didn’t even reply. I know if I scroll back I’ll see a few other messages I didn’t reply to either and I can’t bear it. She kept trying and I just ignored it. And her. It was the same at school. At first she would go out of her way to ask if I wanted to talk about it. Then she’d ask if I wanted to be distracted. And then she said to tell her what I wanted. And then, eventually, she stopped asking. I’d eat lunch on my own, usually in an empty classroom, and we stopped hanging out altogether.
But I miss her. And I miss the band. And most of all I miss the me I used to be.
So I tap the message box. And I type. ‘I’m sorry. I miss you.’
And I hit send before I can change my mind.
I get out of bed, pull on yesterday’s sundress, and tiptoe through the lounge. Luke is fast asleep on the sofa bed; the duvet and, as far as I can tell, a pillow pulled up almost over his head. I pause for a second and make sure I can see that he’s breathing – the cover is moving up and down slowly – then I tiptoe out onto the balcony. We left the door propped open last night because the apartment was so warm, and I’m glad – I don’t need to worry about opening the door and waking Luke.
The sky is brightening blue with some pink and peach between the clouds. The early sun is spreading over the buildings opposite like honey. It’s cool and I wish I’d thought to bring a hoodie or a blanket out with me, but instead I wrap my arms around myself and just stare out at the sea.
I’ve never been able to remember what woke me that morning. I’ve tried, but it’s as if I was fast asleep and then instantly wide awake and everything had changed. Everything. I think about it a lot. How if Dad hadn’t died, I would’ve carried on sleeping – oh, I might’ve woken up to turn my pillow or cos my T-shirt had got rucked up, but I could easily have just stayed asleep. And then I’d have woken in the morning when my alarm went off. I would probably have snoozed it. But eventually I would’ve dragged myself out of bed and into the shower and then, on the way downstairs, I would’ve smelled coffee brewing and heard Dad singing. ‘Ain’t No Sunshine’, maybe. Or something by Tom Jones – he used to sing Tom Jones quite often in the morning, said it got his pipes going.
I wish I could remember the weather. If I could remember the weather, it’d be easier to think of what he’d have been singing. Maybe ‘Weather With You’ by Crowded House. It could easily have been that one. But I don’t remember the weather.
I remember Mum shouting. I think that was the first thing I heard. Or maybe it was a door slamming. No, not slamming, banging back against the wall. To Mum and Dad’s room, I think. But I was already awake. So it must’ve been the lorry coming to empty the recycling from the pub a couple of doors down. It happened every week back then until too many people complained and they stopped. It didn’t always wake me, but it must’ve done that day.
Elyse was the first of us to go in there. And then I heard Mum shouting at her to get out. And then there was sobbing. I remember the sobbing, but I don’t know if it was Mum or Elyse.
I knew Dad was dead, I remember that. I don’t even remember thinking it, I just remember knowing. The sound Mum was making – I could hear Elyse by then, saying, ‘Mum, Mum’, over and over. And then Leonie was in my doorway, her eyes wide, her hair all over the place. She was wearing a Spongebob T-shirt over red knickers and she looked terrified. Absolutely terrified. And I told myself that I was the older sister. I should take care of her, tell her it was going to be okay, but I just sat there, staring back at her, my fingers grabbing the duvet and after a couple of seconds she left again, went to Mum and Dad’s room.
I remember hearing Elyse ask Leonie if I was still asleep, but I didn’t hear what Leonie said. And then Elyse was at my door and she was sobbing so hard she couldn’t properly speak. And I didn’t want her to. I didn’t want her to say it, didn’t want to hear it. I got up and crossed the room and shut my door in her face.
I knelt on my bed and looked out of the window and I saw the ambulance arrive. I don’t think it was raining because I think I’d remember raindrops on the glass. I don’t think it could have been sunny either because I don’t think I had to shield my eyes. Maybe it was just a grey day. A nothing day. That would make sense. Although I want it to have been storming, with rain hammering, lightning splitting the sky, thunder shaking the house. But that wouldn’t have been Dad. Dad was sunshine and music and laughter. But a hot day doesn’t seem right either. Maybe one of those winter days that’s so freezing you can see your own breath, but with bright sunshine making everything look new and exciting and possible. That’s what kind of day it should have been. But I really don’t think it was.
I hear a sound from inside – springs creaking and then Luke groaning. I hear the loo flush and water running in the bathroom, then water running in the kitchen and then he steps outside onto the balcony.
‘Hey,’ he says.
I look up at him. His hair is all mussed up and he still looks tired; his face is sort of unfocussed and his eyes are puffy.
‘Hey. Did you sleep okay?’
He nods, scratching at the back of his neck. ‘Not too bad. There was a spring in a delicate area at one point, but other than that … You?’
I nod. ‘Yeah, I woke up suddenly, but apart from that it was fine.’ And then I shake my head. ‘Actually, no. I woke up and then I couldn’t get back to sleep because I was thinking about what happened … with my dad.’
‘I don’t know what happened exactly,’ Luke says. ‘I mean, I don’t know how … You don’t have to tell me.’
‘No, it’s okay. He just died. In his sleep. He and Mum had gone out the night before for dinner with some friends and they came home and had a drink together – I was still awake when they came home, I heard them laughing. And I was thinking how lucky I was that they were so happy together, that they loved each other, that we were all happy as a family. And then when Mum woke up in the morning he was dead.’
My eyes fill with tears, as they always do when I say those three words.
‘Did he have heart problems before?’
I shake my head. ‘Never. It was just a massive heart attack. Nothing anyone could have done. He probably didn’t even know.’ My voice cracks. I hate thinking that he might have known, that he might have been scared. But the doctors kept telling us he wouldn’t have known. I really hope that’s true.
‘I’m sorry,’ Luke says. ‘He was a lovely man.’
I smile even though I’m crying. ‘He was. The loveliest. And he had all these plans. For himself. For all of us. I hate that he was so young and he’s going to miss out on so much. I’m sorry,’ I say, wiping my face with my fingers. ‘Sometimes I can talk about him without crying and other times …’
‘It’s fine,’ Luke says. ‘You don’t have to apologise.’
I take a breath. ‘Do you know what I kept thinking about?’
Luke shakes his head, his eyes on mine.
‘We used to watch Grey’s Anatomy together. All of us. Dad loved it because he loved hospital dramas and he had a crush on Sandra Oh cos of that film, Sideways? And Mum always liked to talk about how ridiculous the medical details were. She’d sit there saying “That would never happen!” and we’d always say “It’s not a documentary!”’
Luke smiles.
‘And now he’s never going to see it again. He’s never going to know what happens to the characters. And I don’t know either cos I can’t stand to watch it without him. It seems so stupid thinking about a TV show when my dad’s dead, but … I just know he’d be sad to be missing it.’
Luke nods. ‘It was something you shared. It’s okay to miss that.’
‘Do you know what’s even more ridiculous? I recorded the last season. I couldn’t watch it, but I recorded it. In case he comes back.’ I wipe my face again. ‘I know he’s not coming back. But I still can’t believe it.’
Luke shifts in his seat so he’s next to me and curls his arm around my shoulder. He strokes the back of my hand with his thumb.
‘Do you want some tea? I’m going to make tea?’
‘Tea would be good,’ I say, sniffing.
While Luke’s inside, I watch the early sun shimmering on the ocean in the distance and stretch my neck from side to side. When we left Rome and when we arrived here, I just wanted to get Leonie and go. But now I feel like I could stay. I don’t know who I am without my dad. But I feel like it’s time I started trying to work it out.
Luke comes back out with teas and sits down next to me. I relax against him, my forehead brushing his neck, and I just let myself breathe.
‘Watching the sunrise?’ he says.
I nod. ‘Can’t see it from here, but it’s nice just watching the light changing. Mad to think it’s setting now on the other side of the world.’
‘I couldn’t understand that when I was a kid,’ Luke says. ‘I thought it went and hid behind the horizon and then popped up again. I still kind of think that now.’
I smile at him and he leans forward and kisses me. He tastes like toothpaste. I want to climb into his lap, but there’s plenty of time for that. Instead I press a few small kisses along his lips and sit back in my chair.
‘I mean, I know the earth’s revolving and the sun’s not really moving …’ he says as if he hadn’t been interrupted. ‘But I just don’t buy it.’
‘There’s a lot of things like that,’ I say. ‘How planes stay in the air. They’re metal. Metal’s really heavy. It’s impossible.’
‘I still don’t even get that the stars are still there in the day,’ Luke says, shrugging.
‘And we’re all made of stardust,’ I say. ‘I just read about it in a magazine on the flight over. All the atoms in our bodies were once in stars.’
‘I’ve read that too,’ Luke says. ‘It made my brain bleed.’
I nod. ‘And it’s in other people and things too. In everything. It’s kind of incredible.’
‘It really makes you think about how we’re all part of something much bigger,’ Luke says, before adding ‘maaaan’ in a hippy voice.
I smile at him and he smiles back at me, squinting a little against the watery sunlight.
And I know what I want to do with Dad’s ashes.